The morning after the card game, there was only one thing I wanted to do: Sleep in. A simple pleasure I was denied.
At twenty three minutes past eight in the morning, I was woken up by the sound of knocking on my front door. The sound of four knocks echoed throughout my house, and each wave was harder and faster than the last. I groaned, rolled over and covered my head with my sheets. Ignore it, and it’ll go away. After one last desperate series, the knocking stopped. I sighed in relief and relaxed again.
Tap-tap-tap-tap
Now it was at my bedroom window. “Turner, I know you’re in there!” a dreadful voice called. Another four taps and it called out again, “Come on, wake up.”
I curled up and bucked my sheets clear off my bed, rolled, threw myself off the bed and onto my hooves. The pegasus hovering outside my window looked rather happy to see me stomp my way over.
I threw the window open and growled, “What is it, Thunderlane?”
“Dude, I got a date,” he said as he landed.
“Really?” I asked. I was starting to wonder if this was a dream.
“Yeah,” he said, as he seized me by the shoulders. “And I need advice. Like you promised. Because…” he drifted off into babbling about something.
“Lane, please.” I yawned as the adrenalin from my wakeup faded away. “It’s twenty seven past eight in the morning. Talk slowly.”
“Oh, right.” Lane took a breath to calm down. “You remember how you told me to send Merry May an apology for my last date with her?” I nodded slowly and Lane continued, “Well I don’t have any note paper at home, so I decided to tell her myself this morning at the weather team meeting.” A smile crossed his face. “She accepted my apology and when I suggested we try something less dangerous for a date she said dinner, tonight.”
I blinked again and gave my face a rub. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, but I have no idea where to take her.”
I thought about it for a bit. Mornings are not my strong point. “Uhh. What about Pokey’s place?”
Lane’s enthusiasm died a sudden death. “That’s the most expensive place in Ponyville.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Lane, this is a make-up date. It is not the time for half measures.”
“But, you need to make reservations a week in advance,” he said in some half ditch attempt to save his bits.
I snorted a bitter laugh. “It’s expensive, and they’d never fill all their tables in a town like this. They just say that so they can jack the prices up.” I shrugged. “Just have a word with the maître d and you’ll get seated.”
“You think so?”
I nodded. “I’ll swing around tonight to make sure, and I’ll check in with Pokey so he knows to show you two a good time.” I yawned again. “If that’s all, I think I’m going to go back to bed.” I turned to stumble back toward my bed.
Lane caught me on the shoulder. “Wait, you said you’d give me advice about not screwing this up, again.”
I blinked again as I looked back at his desperate face. “Alright, umm, I’d start on confidence, but you’ve got enough to keep you flying.” Until you hit a mountain. “Just remember this: you’re the one doing the courting. So everything is about her, not you. So ask about her life stories, be interested in what she says, make her night interesting and fun. What happens to you is completely irrelevant.” I gave him a pat on the back. “And if you do everything right, then this chapter of your life will end with a bang.”
“That’s all?” he asked. “Nothing else?” You could hear the sound of his ancestors crying out in desperation through his voice.
“Don’t be nervous,” I added. “You’ll do fine. I’ll also make sure that I’m there tonight to try and stop anything going wrong, but I don’t plan on being your third wheel, Lane. You’ll have to manage on your own for the most part.”
I flipped myself down onto my bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get some more rest before I go see Carrot Top. I seem to remember being told to go see her today.”
“Okay,” Lane said as he backed toward the open window. “Then I’ll see ya tonight.”
I lifted a hoof to wave goodbye and I was asleep before it fell down again.
My alarm clock went off at eleven thirty and got me out of bed. A bath saw me ready for whatever I’d have to deal with today. I spent time thinking while I soaked, mostly schemes for Lane’s date tonight. The biggest problem would be how to interfere in a date I wasn’t in on, and as an observer I was crippled. There were some things I could still try though.
Ten minutes past noon I set off for the farms surrounding Ponyville. The weather was clear except for a few clouds out for special irrigation requests. It keeps the weather team busy.
I passed one farm that was getting a lot of attention and looked up to see if I could figure out who was herding the clouds. I caught a hint of a yellow tail, so I figured it was probably Cloud Kicker’s team.
Before I could pick anypony else out I heard a buzzing sound. Looking down I saw the Cutie Mark Crusaders barrelling past on that scooter setup of theirs. I saw a brief flash of a smirk on their driver’s face before they shot through a mud puddle on the side of the road, and splashed me with a darker shade of brown.
I gazed over my back as they disappeared off into the distance. I added their driver, the orange pegasus, to my mental list of fair targets. All that time in the bathroom just minutes before was ruined. Hopefully Carrot Top wouldn’t mind getting some extra earth with the earth pony.
I kept walking. Right now the best thing I could do was to just keep going along. Vengeance can come later once I’ve decided on some suitable scheme to get back at that filly.
The mud had mostly dried when I reached Carrot Top’s farm. The flat plain of furrowed earth was broken only by the stalks of thousands of root vegetables planted in neat rows. In the middle of this field was Carrot Top herself: She was slowly making her way down a row, picking carrots up by the stalk, and flipping them over her back into the cart behind her.
I stood at her gate watching for a minute. She had the vegetable picking down to a repetitive rote. Hopefully she was daydreaming about something non mind numbing. That sort of thing was why I left my family’s farm.
Her gate was left wide open, the hinges rusted in place, and her mailbox was labelled: Golden Harvest. So, she wanted company, and despite being universally known as Carrot Top she still had to use her original name where postal bureaucracy was concerned.
The gate was open, so I walked right in. Carrot was busy enough with her harvest that she never noticed me as I walked up a path toward her and then as I came up behind her. I stood there for a couple of moments and she still hadn’t noticed me. So I pulled a carrot out of her cart and started chewing on it loudly, mouth open. Carrot Top froze halfway through pulling another carrot up and turned to look over her shoulder.
I swallowed. “Hey there, Golden Harvest.” She didn’t respond at first, probably in awe of me as I leaned casually on the cart while covered in dried mud. On second thought, I probably should have asked somepony on the weather team to drench me to get the mud off.
Seconds passed as she kept staring at me. “I got splashed by the Crusaders my way over,” I explained. “With what was probably the only mud puddle this side of the Everfree.”
She snapped out of her trance., “Yes. Well, a little dirt never hurt anypony.”
I brought a hoof to my chin in thought. “I’m sure Rarity wouldn’t agree with that.” That brought a slight smile to both our faces. Ice broken, I congratulated myself.
“It’s… good to see you,” Carrot said awkwardly. “I didn’t think you’d actually accept my invitation.”
I gave her my best reassuring smile. “I couldn’t turn down the offer of cake.” That and the other guys said I should. I decided to throw in a complement as well, “Especially since the last one was so nice.”
“Thank you,” she brightened up into a genuine smile. She looked around, humming in thought before something clicked. “Oh, would you like to go inside?”
I was starting to have my doubts. I mean, in my experience, ponies aren’t usually this nervous around me. I’d wondered if she’d jumped to some conclusion in her own mind, and if so then I had to change her mind before she got the wrong ideas.
“If that’s fine with you, Golden Harvest,” I said formally. I nodded toward the cart., “Assuming that you’re not busy.”
“They can wait.” I assumed she meant the carrots. Harvest turned her cart around. “I don’t think I have a cake ready right now, but there’s a mix ready to cook.” She gave me a smile. “That is, if you’d like another carrot cake?”
The way to a stallion’s heart is through his stomach. “It’s your cake, Harvest,” I said with a shrug. “I’m just sharing a bit with that coffee and conversation you offered.” I started walking slowly and she started pulling her cart alongside me as we walked toward her home.
“Umm, Time Turner,” Carrot Top said. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Harvest’? Most ponies call me Carrot Top.”
“I’ve always preferred to use a pony’s actual name, not what everypony else calls them,” I replied and she threw me a curious look. “There’s something almost magical in how a parent names their foals, because that name helps define what that foal will grow up to be. Perhaps a nudge of destiny inspires a name.” I shrugged. “Or more likely the foal simply decides to live up to their name and receives a mark confirming their choice when they grow older. The exceptions come in when a pony decides to call themselves something else, or when they’re called by another name enough that it sticks and becomes part of their identity.” I noticed that Harvest nodded absentmindedly at the last part.
“You didn’t pick the name ‘Carrot Top’, did you?” My question brought her to a halt as she stopped to think.
‘Carrot Top’ shook her head. There was a touch of wistfulness in her voice as she spoke, “I got it back in school. ‘Golden Harvest’ is a bit of a mouthful, so a lot of the other foals started to call me ‘Carrot’, probably because of my mane.” She gave her curly carrot orange mane a flick. “Soon the teacher called me by that as well, and that was it. I’m used to it, even if I’m not entirely happy with it,” a pouted at the thought and started walking again.
I followed, asking, “Something wrong with ‘Carrot Top’?”
“The top of the Carrot is the bit left behind when the rest is gone.” She sighed. “Sure you can eat it, but the taste gets bitter as it grows larger.”
Quality symbolism right there. I gave her a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to take on every name that ponies give you. Hay, I’ve been given a lot of names over the years by different ponies and I don’t let them define me.” A grin crossed my face, “Though I do like being called, ‘That Bastard’.”
Carrot Top snorted with laughter. “Why would somepony call you that?”
“Well,” a grin covered my face. “She thought she’d managed to get away, but she soon found that I’d switched her prize with a coconut.”
Harvest tilted her head in thought. “How did you know she called you that then?”
“I could hear her scream it from across the harbor.”
Carrot gave me a weird look.
“You had to be there,” I said with a shrug. We came up to Carrot’s farmhouse and she parked her cart. “So, back to what I was saying before: Which name would you prefer?”
She thought as she unhitched herself. “I suppose it’d be nice to be called Golden Harvest again.”
“Good, I can call you ‘Goldie’ for short then,” I said as I walked inside. I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel the hint of frustration as she sighed.
“This is nice.” Nothing says ‘family home’ like a big open space. Carrot Top’s house had what was effectively a single room on the ground floor with kitchen, living and dining in different sections. Then there are the extra details: The dining area was equipped for six, the kitchen had enough bench space to feed a small army, and there was a good selection of couch space in the living area. There were probably a lot of bedrooms upstairs as well.
I wondered where her family was. Farmers don’t usually live alone in family houses.
Carrot was over in the kitchen preheating her charcoal oven to boil the kettle and bake a cake. “Dad built it with help from the other farmers. It didn’t take long. You know how it is with earth pony construction.”
“A song, some hammer time, material from around the farm, and you have a house before the day is out.” Neither unicorn or pegasus could match earth in that field. “Never saw much of that around Trottingham though, only while I was traveling.”
“You never built anything in Trottingham?” Carrot asked, surprise on her face. Ponyville’s regular construction and rebuilding efforts leave us a bit spoilt.
I shook my head. “Trottingham is a town stuck in time. Most of the buildings are a decade or so shy of nine hundred years old.” I smirked, “Earth pony work, build it once and live in it forever.”
Instead of the smile I’d expected, Carrot sighed. “Yeah.”
I decided to bite. “Something wrong, Goldie?”
She gave me a withering look at the sound of her new nickname before going back to a slightly dejected look. “Well, I just miss my family, is all.”
My ears drooped down, Oh dear. I walked into the kitchen area to be supportive, or something. I had no idea what to do if Carrot Top started to cry.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said. “What happened to them?”
“Well it started last year with my big sister running off to Applewood to be a film star, and my grandparents were getting old. My parents and little sister have gone up there as well, leaving me alone with the farm that I promised to manage without them.” She sighed., “And I have managed, but it’s been hard being on my own.”
I nodded consolingly. “It must be hard losing your parents and sister like that.”
She looked around her house. “I wish Noi could be here at least, she loved baking with me.”
A mental image of Carrot Top making cake mix with an adorable gold coated filly came to mind. It was followed by an image of them eating carrot cookies and then one of them playing together outside.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.
“Huh?” Carrot blinked. “What are you sorry about?”
I suddenly felt like I’d swallowed a block of ice. “I’m sorry about the death of your parents and sister?” I asked awkwardly.
“They’re not dead. They’re with my grandparents on their farm near Vanhoover.”
I brought a hoof to my face and groaned while my dignity swan dived off the edge of Canterlot.
“Are you okay, Time Turner?” Carrot Top asked, her voice filled with concern.
“I will be,” I grumbled. “Reset.”
Time flipped backwards. Alright, take two.
I walked into the kitchen again. “I take it that your family is away then?” And not dead.
“My parents went back to my grandparent’s farm outside Vanhoover because they’re getting too old to run it by themselves. They took my little sister with them as well, and my older sister wasn’t interested in running a farm,” she said bitterly. “So I’ve inherited this one to run on my own.”
“Must be hard doing it all by yourself,” I prompted.
“I manage, but it’s been hard and I’ve been getting lonely out here by myself.” It was the response I’d expected. She gave me a smile. “It’s nice to have some company.”
We’re getting into fresh territory again, time for a distraction. I generally try to stall after a Time Turn’s forewarning runs out so it can recharge. Normally that’s around two minutes.
“Well I can’t resist cake. Speaking of which…” I said as I turned around. I decided to take a page from my future book and take a look in the fridge. “Got everything you need?”
The fridge primarily held eggs and milk along with a large assortment of leafy green vegetables that needed to be kept chilled. The eggs and milk were probably for her baking hobby, but she was keeping a stock of them instead of getting it fresh. Carrot was probably too busy to look after chickens. There was also the notable absence of any fruit, including apples, so what Big Mac said about a rivalry between the farms seemed likely enough.
The fridge was also clean, and everything not intended for baking was only kept in small quantities. I would have continued my analysis but I felt a pull on my tail and was yanked out of the fridge. Carrot, my tail in her mouth, shut the fridge door.
When I looked back at her, Carrot looked indignant for a moment before realising what she’d just done. “Sorry, but I can’t let you in my fridge like that,” she said. “You’ll get dirt all over everything.”
“Huh?” Then it clicked. I looked back at myself, “Oh, that.” I was still covered in mud by the Cutie Mark Crusaders Drive Byers. How quickly we forget.
“I can’t really sell food if my kitchen’s dirty,” she explained uncomfortably before she brightened up. “You know what, why not go out and have a quick shower. I’ll put the cake mix in the oven and make some tea while you’re gone.”
“Coffee please, if you have it.” I looked around, I hadn’t noticed before but there was still only one room on the ground floor with a staircase up to the loft. “Um, so where’s the bathroom?”
Carrot almost blushed as she rubbed the back of her head awkwardly, “It’s outside. Just go out the back door, and you’ll see.”
I nodded and went out the back door to find this alleged bathroom.
The farm on the other side of the house was more of the same, with the addition of an outhouse for a toilet. That wasn’t the bathroom though, the bathroom was a shower head attached to the water pipe that lead out of a rainwater tank and into the kitchen. Under the shower head was a drain opening that probably led out to a dam somewhere.
While earth pony construction does tend to be solid and rapidly built, it’s not always well planned. Case in point, Carrot Top’s father seemed to have forgotten that his house needed a bathroom and just tacked it on outside instead. The unicorns must be laughing.
I tried to turn the handle to open the valve but it wouldn’t budge. I frowned as the earth pony’s first rule came to mind, ‘When in doubt, buck it’. I turned and gave it a kick. As you might expect, the valve slammed open and the shower drenched me in water.
I rinsed myself down quickly in the cold water. As you might guess, this shower wasn’t connected to the town’s communal hot water supply either. To be fair, if you’d been out in the fields working all day and wanted a quick rinse without treading mud inside, this was ideal. I imagine there was a portable bathtub somewhere that could be dragged out when somepony wanted a more thorough wash.
Once I was clean I shut the water off and shook myself dry. Oh, this gave me flashbacks. I mussed my mane around so it would stand up straight and went back inside. As I went back toward the door I heard a clatter of hooves, and when I opened it I found Carrot sitting at her table with a coffee pot doing her best to seem nonchalant. I guessed she’d been peeking out the window, but I wasn’t going to call her on it. Well, not directly.
She gave me a little wave as I came inside. “How was your shower?”
“Breezy,” I summed up in a word. “Though I’m surprised that you’d use that shower, Goldie. You’d be forever wondering if you’re being watched.” Her face twitched a little. So she was watching. I suppose I should take it as a compliment, but it mostly confirmed my earlier guess that Carrot was scoping me out.
“It’s not like there’s anything to hide,” she said reasonably.
“Speak for yourself. A lot of stallions like the wet mane look,” I returned on reflex. Wait. That came out wrong…
Carrot smiled. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked as she pointed at the pot, milk and a small plate of biscuits. I nodded and she took up the pot in her mouth to pour us our drinks.
“Actually,” I began. “Showering like that reminds me of back when I was living rough and washing myself in rivers or streams.”
Carrot’s eyes widened and she put the pot down to say, “You were homeless?”
I snorted. “Well ‘homeless’ implies I didn’t have anywhere to go, I just didn’t want to stop. Besides, I always had the option of going home.” I tilted my head in thought. “Still do really.”
Carrot pushed a cup of coffee over and the milk jug over. I added a civilized amount of milk to my coffee while she asked, “So, what were you doing?”
I put the milk down. “It’s a long story, I’ll be babbling for a while if you want to hear it.”
“Cake’s going to be a while. We’ve got time.”
“Alright,” I said, and took a drink from my coffee cup.
“I’ve already mentioned I’m from Trottingham, and you might have noticed the accent as well,” I said and Carrot nodded. “Well, Trottingham is one of the oldest earth pony towns, dating back to the original migration and beginning of Equestria. However, it hasn’t grown and remains more or less how it always was. Most kids leave once they grow up and head to one of the bigger cities carrying the ‘Trottingham Way’ with them. We think of ourselves as a bastion of culture and we spread it out to make sure the rest of Equestria doesn’t get boring.” I laughed a bit. “One example is the running joke is that the Trottingham accent isn’t an accent: It’s how this language is supposed to sound when spoken properly.”
I shook my head as I remembered home, a smile on my face. “My family lives just outside town on a wheat farm. We use older varieties and grind up the flower ourselves. We sell most of it to high class gourmet bakers in Canterlot.
“I’m the middle child of three siblings. My parents decided to go with a naming theme for us, so we’re all called Turner. My older sister is Mill – or Millie – and she’s going to inherit the farm someday. I was next, Time Turner, and unlike my older sister I was terrible at farming. Last is my younger sister Page, and she’s trying to become a playwright at the Horseshoe Theatre in the town itself.”
“The Horseshoe Theatre?” Carrot asked. “Isn’t that where Spear Shaker did all those plays?”
“Spear Carrier,” I corrected. “That’s where all of them were first performed, ‘Macintosh’, ‘Hamlet’, “Roamer and Tulip’, and so on. Even to this day it’s still tradition for the playwright or director to walk on stage, say one line, and then walk offstage. A ‘spear carrier’, carrying on the old tradition. Everypony in Trottingham knows those old stories by heart, but I’m getting off topic.
“I mentioned before I’m terrible at farming. To borrow a unicorn term, I’d be rated around epsilon in terms of earth magic. Weak enough that I might as well be a pegasus or unicorn when it comes to plants.” That was my curse. My talent for time turning left me without much in the way of ‘normal’ earth pony ability.
I got a sympathetic look from Carrot before she narrowed her eyebrows in thought. “How do you look after your garden then? Yours is fairly well tended.”
“I get Rose to do it,” I said honestly. “I let her grow flowers for her market stall, and it keeps everything looking nice. Moving on. Since my older sister had the farm covered, I decided to follow an old tradition and go on tour.”
“Tour? Like a band.”
I shrugged, “In the more traditional sense. Basically a young pony leaves home to see Equestria, find out what’s out there and learn from it. I told my family what I planned and the day after I graduated from school I set off with their blessing.” I brought hoof to chin as I remembered. “I travelled by hoof over the Unicorn Ranges just to the north of Trottingham with a set of saddlebags on my back. I ate grass, slept under the stars, and swam across rivers as I travelled.
“I stopped at inns and washed dishes to earn something more filling than grass for dinner. Sometimes I solved a few ‘problems’”– I said with air quotes– “while passing through and got gifts in return. I kept traveling from town to town and solving more problems. Occasionally other ponies would join me for a while, but soon we’d part ways when they found something to stop for, while I lived for what was over the horizon.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Carrot Top said dreamily. “What made you stop?”
“Well, the thing about traveling is that you start picking up souvenirs. I couldn’t carry everything anymore, and so I started to settle down. I started with a place in Canterlot near the train station where I’d keep my trophies, and soon it became a home to rest at between travels.” I emptied my coffee cup and filled it up again from the pot.
“So why are you in Ponyville then?”
I sighed. “Did you want a refill?” I nodded at Carrot’s cup. She nodded and I filled it for her. I put the pot down and rubbed my forehead. “Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate,” I quoted. “I ‘inconvenienced’ a lot of the nastier types out there, and soon they were actively coming for me and anypony associated with me. So I was forced to go into hiding. An ally of mine suggested Ponyville: It’s still centrally located and small enough that I can keep track of who’s from around here, and who’s not,” I finished darkly and then lent forward against the table to rest my chin on my fore hooves. “Nothing wrong with Ponyville, but I miss traveling.” Celestia, I sounded bitter. But in those days I couldn’t leave Ponyville without pissing somepony off, and gradually my adopted home had become more my cage.
A clarion call sounded from the kitchen to break me out of my funk. The oven timer had declared the cake was ready.
We both stood and made for the kitchen. Carrot Top beat me there and gingerly pulled it out of the oven while I stood dumbly behind her enjoying the smell. Then with the fine motion of experience, Carrot took the cake pan, held between her hooves, and flipped it over. The cake fell out, bounced off the bench, and onto a waiting plate. I whistled, impressed at the display and wondering how many times it had taken to get that right.
Next was the icing. Carrot had a bowl of the white goodness sitting on the bench already. It was the work of moments for her to cover it and she gave me a smile as she got the final touch out of a cupboard: Walnuts. She shook the box over the cake and sprinkled them across it.
Finished she stepped aside and asked me, “You want it?”
“I need it.”
We slowly worked our way through the cake and another pot of coffee. We talked for a few hours across a breadth of subjects: making our way from the intricacies of carrot farming, milling, then windmill design, clock design, and then somehow we ended up comparing the princesses.
I was all for Princess Luna: the old speech patterns and manner straight from a Spear Carrier performance won me right over. I blame nostalgia. Unfortunately I wasn’t in Ponyville during Luna’s Nightmare Night appearance, much to my disappointment.
Carrot was, surprisingly, a supporter of Princess Cadenza. Apparently Carrot met the young princess when she’d visited Vanhoover, and placed a large order of carrots from the family farm while Carrot was there. She felt that Cadance was very nice, kind, honest, upfront, and she suspected the princess might once have been an earth pony. I knew differently, but I wasn’t going to disabuse her of those notions.
It was starting to get late when we finished the cake. “I really like those walnuts,” I said while giving my belly a satisfied rub.
Carrot glowed in the light of my complement. “If you want to stay for dinner I can whip up something nice.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, but I’ve got a date tonight.”
I watched a flash of disappointment cross Carrot’s face before she hid it. She swallowed and asked, “So, who is the lucky girl?”
I couldn’t resist. “It’s Thunderlane actually.” Carrot’s eye twitched. “I’m going to try to get him into Pokey’s place for dinner.”
Her face was blank for a few moments before she gave me a polite little smile and said, “That sounds nice. Is this a first date?”
“No it’s a second date, actually,” I said matter-of-fact. “Lane botched his last one with Merry May, so I’m going to do my best to make sure their date doesn’t fall flat on its face this time.”
Carrot blinked, “Oh.” A surprised tone crept into her voice as she asked, “Thunderlane’s dating Merry May?”
“Yeah he is.” Something about her response nagged at me. “Is there something wrong?”
“Merry’s my weather pony,” Carrot explained. “We were talking a few days ago, and when she brought up her date on Hearts and Hooves day I said she should try again.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “I told Lane to apologize to Merry last night, and now they’re trying again.” I tapped the table idly, “I said I would help, but there’s not much I can do without being on the date myself.”
Looking back over at Carrot, I saw what might have been a look of revelation. Her mouth fell open before curling up into a grin. “We join them!”
“Pardon?”
“We go with them, on a double date,” she said before elaborating, “I look after Merry, you look after Lane, and we’ll make sure they have a good time.”
I considered this for a moment. “You know, ponies will start to think we’re dating.”
Carrot shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Well, I did promise Thunderlane. “Alright, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She pushed her chair out and stood up. “I’ll just go do my mane up, and I’ll be back in just a minute.” She ran off upstairs, while I was left waiting with the empty coffee pot.
I took the pot over to the kitchen to refill it. Somehow I knew she’d be up there for a while.
We were waiting outside Pokey’s place when Thunderlane and Merry May flew down to meet us. Carrot had done her mane and tail done up with a few extra curls and put on some perfume I couldn’t identify.
“Hello, Lane,” I said as he landed in front of me.
“Uh, hey, bud.” He looked over at Carrot and stepped closer to talk quietly. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Carrot Top and I decided to go out to dinner.” I gave Lane a sly smile. “It just so happens we’re going to the same restaurant.” I winked at him. “Perhaps we should share a table.”
Right now Carrot was whispering a similar suggestion to Merry. If you want ponies to go along with a scheme, then just make them think they’re in on the big secret. I caught Carrot and Merry glancing at us while Lane thought about it.
“Okay, bud. If you think it’ll work.” Lane turned and led us over to the girls. “Hey, Merry, you okay with having these two join us?”
Merry turned to give Carrot an only slightly obvious wink before saying, “Sure, It’ll be nice.” The two mares giggled together.
Lane and I gave each other a worried glance.
“Shall we go inside?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Lane replied.
The pair of us led while the girls followed, whispering to each other.
We walked into the doorway and stood waiting for the maître d' to seat us. Looking around, I noticed the restaurant wasn’t even half full and most of the tables remained unoccupied. After leaving us to wait for three minutes, the maître d' strode up to us with his nose held in the air. He wore a fastidiously well fitted suit and pencil thin moustache that had to be a fake.
He took his spot behind the podium. “Can I help you?”
“Table for four,” I asked. “In a corner if possible.”
He regarded me and my companions. “I am afraid zat is quite impossible,” he said with an upturned nose. “We are full tonight and for ze next week. Would you like to make a reservation instead?”
I regarded him blankly. “So you’re a ‘glass is more than half full’ kind of guy.” I looked around again, “Call me pessimistic, but you don’t look full.”
“I assure you, sir, zat we are quite full.” He primped himself up. “It would be impossible to seat you all tonight.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” I said and added inwardly, I should know. “It would be a little more effort than usual, but it’s also an opportunity to be tipped with a little more effort than usual,” I gave him a nod as I mentioned the tip.
The maître d' glared at me. “Are you trying to insinuate that I would diminish ze service zat we provide for a little money?”
“I was, but apparently I need to upgrade to a lot of money.”
“I am shocked, sir,” he said as he put his hoof down. “Our reputation means nothing to you, and so now I must ask you to leave.”
“We’ll be back.” I turned and walked out, motioning with my head for the others to follow.
We gathered outside the restaurant and Merry asked, “So what now?”
“Plan B,” I grumbled. I sighed. “I’ll be back in five or so minutes and we’ll have our table. Just wait out here and…” I shrugged, “get to know each other I suppose.”
“You’re going to talk to Pokey aren’t you?” Thunderlane asked.
“Ehyup.”
Lane snorted, “Good luck.”
“Yeah,” I said as I turned to walk around the back. “I just hope he’s in a good mood.”
I walked around to the staff entrance at the back of the restaurant, cleverly hidden behind a bush. In larger cities there are alleyways to hide the necessary back door and cart unloading dock. In the sparser areas all you could do was try to hide it from the customer’s view.
There were other uses for the privacy the bush granted. I found a pony sitting on the doorstep with an apron over her shoulder and chef hat on the ground in front of her. She didn’t look at, or acknowledge me as she stared off into the distance.
I stepped around her and through the back door into the kitchen.
“Pumpkin!” Somepony yelled as I shut the door behind me. “Do you know what this risotto is missing?”
“No, chef.”
“Pumpkin, that’s what it’s missing, Pumpkin. How can ye forget that? It’s ya bucking name. And it’s emblazoned on ya flank,” The unicorn holding the incomplete dish gave the mare’s mark a poke with a spoon.
“I’ll fix it, chef.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear, and next time put a bit more salt in with the pasta too.”
The unicorn chef put the dish down on the bench and turned to look toward me, “I hope ya came to your senses ya—what the buck are you doing back here?” He said when he saw it was me at the door.
“Hello, Pokey,” I said neutrally. If there’s one thing that Pokey’s good at doing, it’s poking holes in things. Balloons might dread his approach, but it’s the other things that he can poke that have helped him run his restaurant. He’s a harsh critic and a perfectionist who learned to cook from the infamous Royal Chef, Ram Sea. Unfortunately he also picked up his kitchen management skills from his former mentor.
“Get out, ya sorry excuse for an interloper. I got a bucking—“
I cut him off before he could start rolling, “Pokey, drop it. I need a favour.”
Pokey’s eyes narrowed and he looked around to see who else was watching before he stalked forward to me. “What kind of favour?” He asked quietly.
“The returnable kind,” I replied. It was a little phrase used by members of the Gentlecolt’s Club. Saying that was basically a guarantee to return the favor, or risk my membership and honor.
“What is it, Time Turner?”
“I need a table for four. Thunderlane and I are here with Merry May and Carrot Top on a date,” I summed up. Pokey’s face scrunched up as he considered it. “It’s not like you’re short on tables,” I added.
He rolled his eyes, “It’s not about tables, I have to provide a service to my existing customers. And it has to be perfect,” he hissed. “I only have two assistants and one’s blubbing on the back-step like a filly.” His eyes flicked to the side and as I followed them I noticed that Pokey was still cooking as we spoke. “Things are getting tetchy enough back here. I can’t spare the time.”
“I’m not asking for perfection, Pokey,” I countered. I snorted. “Beggars can’t be choosers, take what time you need, we can wait, and we won’t complain if our meal doesn’t meet your standards.”
“If it were that easy I’d have sat ya flanks down already.” He started cutting up an onion from across the room. “As for time ya eatin’ it now.”
“Look who’s talking to who about time,” I said. “If you’d used a bit of it to think, you’d see the obvious solution.”
“Yeah, come back tomorrow and I’ll seat ya then.” He moved to turn and I followed him around to stand in front of him. “Get out of the way.”
I pointed over his shoulder, “You just need to get your other assistant back in the kitchen, Pokey.”
“Not gonna happen, Banana Fluff has fluffed up for the last time.” Pokey shook his head in disappointment. “She doesn’t want to try anymore, and I can’t be bothered forcing her.”
I thought for a moment. “Give her a challenge then.”
“What?” Pokey looked at me like I was mad.
“Here’s what I’ll do. I convince… Banana, wasn’t it? To come back inside and try again.” I pointed out towards the restaurant itself. “She takes things easy and manages our table alone, while you deal with everypony else. She gets her confidence back, we’ll shower her with praise to cheer her up, and you won’t have to find a new assistant chef.” I shrugged. “Easy.”
Pokey looked over his shoulder at the door. “I suppose this would count at that favour.”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” I shrugged. “Think of it this way, it’s a chance for her to make or break: If she fails, we both lose. If she succeeds then we both win.”
Pokey grunted. “Alright, but if ya convince her to come back in here I won’t have time ta help her.”
“That’ll be fine,” I said. Anyway, your help is the last thing she needs right now. Pokey’s a good critic, but sometimes you need to throw somepony a carrot and lay off the pointed stick.
“Go get her then,” Pokey said and returned to his workstation.
I went over to the door and stood waiting on the inside while I figured out how I was going to pep talk Banana Fluff into cooking again. I picked up a half full bottle of wine sitting open on a bench and went outside.
Banana Fluff was still staring off into the distance when I came out. She’d probably been sitting there while her mind fought a re-enactment of the Lunar Rebellion within itself. She looked like she needed a quick bit of courage, a pep talk, and a carrot.
I put the bottle on the ground in front of her and sat down on the doorstep. It’s always good to start with a joke, “There’s an old earth pony saying: ‘Never play leapfrog with a unicorn’.”
I chuckled quietly to myself and she turned her head a bit to glare at me out the corner of her eye. Whoops, I thought when I realized that I’d completely missed the banana yellow horn half hidden in her purple mane.
“What?” I said as she kept glaring. “It’s valuable advice, and it’s no good doing it with a pegasus either, they cheat.” Her glare relaxed a little and I pulled some pseudo-philosophical sounding argument together. “It’s all about the fundamental differences between ponies, and those don’t really change. Pokey Pierce is always going to be a loud ass and working for him will never be easy.” I shook my head, “He’s forever poking holes in things: whether it’s your ideas, your work, or your dreams. That’s a major part of what he is. The key thing is being able to consider what he’s saying, use it to patch the holes, and carry on.”
“You say that,” Banana said quietly. “But you don’t have to work with him every day.” There wasn’t much life in that voice, but getting it out was progress.
“No I don’t,” I admitted. “But neither do you. He’s your boss, you work despite him.”
A slight smile came to her face. “I try”. Her face fell again. “But nothing ever seems to go right in there. I keep making mistakes and he never lets them go.” She noticed the wine bottle in front of her and took a swig from it.
“Ms Fluff, there’s another earth pony saying I’d like you to hear. ‘From the ashes of disaster, grow the roses of success.’” I gave her a smile. “If you know that you make mistakes, then you’re doing something right.” I stood up. “Banana Fluff, I’m here to give you an opportunity.” She looked up at me. “Standing at the front door is a group of four ponies who have been told there’s no table for them. What I want you to do is to: get them a table, take their orders and fill them.”
“Won’t Pokey stop me?”
I shook my head. “He won’t stop you or interfere, he’s too busy, and if you do well then you’ll have proven to yourself that you can run a restaurant.” A smile crossed my face. “And if, for some reason, that you decide to open your own…” I shrugged. “Well, this place can’t handle enough ponies, so Ponyville probably needs another restaurant anyway.” I gave her a wink. “Just tell the mayor that Time Turner suggested you go see her, and she’ll see to it that you get approval.”
There was a look of dawning realization on her face, perhaps a glimpse of a dream she thought crushed. I started to walk away and called back over my shoulder, “Also, you might want to go easy on that bottle, you’ll probably need it for cooking.”
I went back around the front and found Thunderlane standing apart with his back to the two mares, who were talking in that hushed tone saved for girl talk. Lane was doing his best to look disinterested while also concentrating on turning his ears to try and listen in.
I looped around and quietly came up into his blind spot him. A small smile crossed my face as I crept forward and said, “Hey, Lane!” Lane started slightly and his wings flared out a bit before he caught them.
Lane casually turned around and said, “Hey, Turner,” pretending that I hadn’t made him jump. “Did you catch Pokey in a good mood?”
“I was out of balloons,” I replied. “But I did manage to wrangle us a table.”
There was a flash of relief on Lane’s face before a different thought hit him. “Uhhh, what did you promise him in return?” He flicked his eyes around. “I don’t need to—“
“No, nothing like that,” I said and Lane relaxed again. Some of the rumours floating around about Pokey Pierce weren’t very flattering. “Anyway, it isn’t him that I did a deal with. We got one of his assistants.”
“Okay then.” Thunderlane started trying to listen in on Merry May and Goldie again. I glanced over at the pair myself, they were still chatting animatedly at a volume just above a whisper that I couldn’t make out. Every now and then, one or both would shoot a glance at us.
“What have they been talking about?” I asked Lane.
“Can’t say, bud. They drifted away after you left and clam up if they think I can hear them.” He looked over his shoulder at them. “I think they’re planning something,” he said quietly.
The mares noticed us looking and turned away, blocking any chance of hearing them. “Probably some form of nightmarish villainy,” I said seriously. “Involving carrots and enforced merriness.”
Lane snorted. “The merriment will last forever!” He drew out in a reasonable impression of one of the town’s less welcome guests.
“And the Ponyville shall be the carrot capital of the world,” I finished with a shake of my head. Terrible jokes aside there was something serious to ask. “How are you holding up, Lane?”
“Hmm?” He said with a surprised look on his face. “I’m fine.”
“Then why aren’t you over there talking to them?”
Lane shot a glance over his shoulder again. “There’ll be plenty of time once we’re inside. I’m just saving myself. For later.”
“Sure, and I’m sure you remember what I said this morning?”
“It’s all about her.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Be as much of a gentlecolt as possible and listen to everything she says, she might quiz you on it. Make her happy and perhaps she’ll forget freaking out after your Ghastly Gorge run.”
“Yeah, well… that shouldn’t be hard.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Like, she’s always happy, it’s kinda her thing.”
“Good. Then you won’t—”
“Oh, boys,” we were called. “Our table’s ready.”
We turned to look and I saw Banana Fluff, in a new apron and hat, standing with the girls by the door. There was a flash of surprise on Banana’s face when she caught sight of me and I winked back as we walked over.
“Good evening sirs,” Banana greeted us with a quick curtsy. “I apologize for the delay in seating you. My name is Banana Fluff, and I shall be your chef for tonight.” She pointed a hoof toward the door. “Please, follow me.”
We entered as dinner was starting. Most of the other tables already had their meals and the maître d' was returning from the kitchen with another table’s food held in his magic. The decorations, I should probably say decor, was an attempt to seem rustic, but upmarket at the same time. The walls were kept a light wood colour with dark pink highlights, and regular paintings of landscapes were everywhere.
“You know,” I remarked aloud. “You could make an open air restaurant and save on construction costs while providing a better decor.” I noticed Banana’s ears flicking as she listened.
“You’d have trouble with weather,” Lane countered.
“Cloud roof?”
Lane nodded. “You could do that and it’d look nice too. I could easily set that sort of thing up, but if you wanted a real work of art you’d want Cloud Kicker to make it.”
I looked over at Lane. “Does she cloud sculpt in her spare time?” I knew Cloud was good with her namesake material, but I had no idea she could sculpt the things.
“Sometimes,” Merry May said. “Mostly stuff for cloud houses, and sometimes she carves something when’s she’s bored at work. They look really good, but I don’t think she actually practices it.”
“They’re not really for display,” Lane added as a dopey grin crossed his face. “I like’em, but Blossomforth has a fit everytime she sees one.”
“Uh.” Carrot looked over at Thunderlane. “Why doesn’t she like them?”
“Because Cloud always makes—“
I stuck a hoof over his mouth. “We’re in public.”
“What gives?” Lane asked while he pushed my hoof down. “They’re just made from Blossom’s cloud, that’s all.”
The table we arrived at was round with four chairs, set up on the empty side of the restaurant. A fruit bowl with bananas and grapes was thoughtfully provided as well.
I stepped forward pulled out a chair and nodded politely to Carrot Top. She thanked me and sat down. Thunderlane took my example and did the same for Merry May. Merry’s wings fluffed a bit and her smile widened as Lane presented her a seat with a wingspread bow.
Once we were seated, Banana Fluff’s horn lit and four menus flew across the room, enclosed in purple magic. “Here are your menus.” she passed them to each of us. “My chef special for tonight is a roast pumpkin and garlic jambalaya, served with a side of fresh garden salad.”
“I’ll take that,” I said with a hoof held up. The name sounded funny, I’d never had it before, and it’d help build up Banana’s confidence. If you’re going to eat at the most expensive restaurant in town you might as well try something different.
The others agreed with my choice and selected the same dish. A grin broke through Banana’s tableside manner as she excused herself and she nearly skipped back to the kitchen.
“She seemed to like you, Time Turner,” Merry May said from across the table.
“Yeah, bud,” Lane agreed with his date. “She kept looking at ya when she said stuff.”
“Really?” I blinked. “I didn’t notice.”
“Probably, because your view of the world revolves around you,” Merry teased.
I put my eyebrow up for a quizzical look and said, “There’s another way for me to view the world?” I pointed a hoof at my face. “I’ve only got one pair of eyes.”
Merry shrugged. “Good point.”
Carrot peeked over her shoulder at the kitchen. “So why was the chef so concerned about you then?”
I reached over to the fruit basket for a bunch of grapes and said, “She’s trying to impress me because I said I might get her permission to open her own restaurant.”
Carrot’s head flicked back around. “You can do that?”
I nodded. “I just need to convince the mayor to do it.” I bit a few grapes off the bunch on my plate.
“I’ve been trying to get permission to build a new barn on my farm for months,” Carrot complained. “And you say you can get that sort of permission like that?” She clicked her hoof on the table top.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “The mayor usually agrees to anything you tell her will bring in more tax, improve the town, or will make her look good at the next election.”
“Could you talk to the mayor for me?” she asked.
“Sure,” I nodded. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I’ll try to make it up to you.”
“No need, you’ve given me enough cake today to get a favour,” I replied. It was good cake.
Getting permission for a barn raise would be quick and painless. Out here in Ponyville it was mostly just letting the town know so the records could be updated, but in the major cities everything would be scrutinized: The quality of the construction, the location, drainage, tax rates, and even ensuring it was in keeping with the local aesthetic. In Ponyville it just had to look a little rustic and you were golden. Getting permission for a restaurant would be a little more difficult. The mayor would probably want me to do a little community service or a task none of the other ponies in town hall wanted to do.
A few minutes later the kitchen door opened and Banana Fluff came out again with a wine bottle and glasses. She left the bottle in the centre of the table with a set of glasses.
“With the complements of the chef.” She curtsied again. “Your meals will be ready in fifteen minutes. Is there anything else?”
Carrot put a hoof up. “Do you have any carrot juice?”
Banana nodded, “I believe we do. I’ll go get that for you.” The chef turned and returned to the kitchen.
“Carrot juice.” Merry shook her head, “Do you eat or drink anything else?”
“What?” she said as she looked around. “I take pride in my produce.”
“Like the Apples,” Thunderlane said as he took a cue from his date. “I’ve never seen Mac eat or drink anything but apples: apples for breakfast, apple-pie for lunch, apple-crumble for dessert.” A grin crossed Lane’s face. “He probably even pisses apple juice.”
I couldn’t help but snicker at the thought, but Thunderlane was laughing his flank off at his own joke. It was funny, and it explained why Mac’s bathroom smelled like apples, but Lane was too busy laughing to notice that the girls weren’t.
It took a minute for him to stop laughing. As soon as he started to slow he’d splutter something about the joke and laugh louder again. The girls looked at him like he’d gone insane. I sat there considering a time turn, but it seemed a bit pointless.
Then everything boiled down into one of those awkward silences as Thunderlane’s laughter faded. I took a moment to appreciate it. It’s hard to find good awkwardness; I could almost scoop it out the air and sell it to pranksters looking to ruin a Canterlot party.
It wasn’t long before Thunderlane started looking around for an escape; something, anything that would break the silence before he was forced to leap out a window and flee into the night. As he looked toward me I rolled my eyes around to get his attention and nodded slightly toward the wine bottle. He caught my look, noticed the bottle and looked back at me. I nodded.
He picked up the bottle saying, “Um, anypony wanna drink?” I nodded toward Merry and Lane turned to her, “Merry, would you like…?” He bounced the bottle in his hooves.
The normal smile Merry wore returned to her face. “Thank you, Thunderlane. That would be nice.”
Lane brought the bottle to his mouth, pulled the cork out, and then he used a wing to bring over Merry’s glass. While he poured, I leaned forward to push the glasses from my side of the table over. “While you’re up, Lane,” I said cheerfully.
Lane dutifully followed through without grumbling, while Carrot gave me an annoyed flick with her tail. I noticed she was giving me a disapproving look from the corner of my eye. I slid her glass, now full, back over to her. “Sorry, I forgot about the carrot juice.”
I took a sip from my own glass. The taste was very fruity, but it left a burn on the way down. It was sweet, yet quite strong afterwards. “It’s good,” I said, my voice was a little hoarse.
Encouraged, Carrot Top tried it as well. “Where’s this one from?”
Lane spun the bottle around. “Berry Punch, about six years ago.”
“Oh that makes sense,” Carrot replied.
“Hm?” Lane and I said, expecting great wisdom.
“It’s from before she got on the wagon and cleaned up a bit.” One of Carrot’s ears flicked. “She used to drink more.”
“She drank more?” Thunderlane asked skeptically. I’d only been in Ponyville a few years, so this was news to me as well.
“Yeah,” Carrot nodded. “Then she cut back for some reason. Since then she’s brought down the amount of alcohol in her wine. She still drinks a lot, but she doesn’t let herself get really drunk anymore.”
“That’s good of her,” Merry said.
“Any idea why she cut back?” I asked. Sure that was nice to hear, but ponies are creatures of habit and rarely change without a good reason. That made me curious.
Carrot shrugged. “She never told me. But the thing is, this wine?” She tapped her glass. “It’s probably one of the last bottles she made at the old strength, and it’s rare now.”
I looked at the glass with a little more appreciation. I took another sip, this time trying to taste it properly. I wonder if Pokey noticed Banana making off with one of his best wine bottles. That aside, I made another mental note to find out what happened to make Berry clean up.
The kitchen doors opened and Banana Fluff came out with a half dozen objects held in her magic above her. She’d never admit it, but it looked like she was struggling to hold it all and wore a slight grimace on her face as she walked over.
“The chef’s special jambalaya with garden salad,” Banana said as she put plates in front of us. “A bottle of carrot juice.” That she gave to Carrot. “And a complimentary serving of sourdough bread,” she added as she left a further pair of plates between the pairs of us. She bowed to us. “I hope you will enjoy your meals.”
As Banana left she took the covers off our plates and left us to bask in the smell of our food. Jambalaya is very thick stew mix: made from rice, a lot of vegetables, and a lot of spices. Thunderlane and I were tied for the first to go face first into it.
I savoured a mouthful and swallowed. “Oh this is brilliant.” I ran my tongue around my mouth to try and pick up some of the leftover sauce.
“It’s just so… thick,” Thunderlane said, before he took up another mouthful. “I can really taste this,” I think he said as he spoke while tasting it.
The girls weren’t as enthusiastic as us guys. They took smaller bites while trying to avoid covering their muzzles in sauce. Thunderlane and I on the other hoof were card carrying stallions, and had no such shame. Lane added a slice of the sourdough bread to his bowl as well.
“You know what’s awesome?” Thunderlane said between swooping attacks on his meal. “I can’t even taste any sugar.” I had to agree, normally around here ponies tend to think that flavour equals more sugar – Sugar Cubed Corner being a prime example. It was nice to have something earthier.
“Boys, it’s not a race.” Thunderlane and I stopped. Merry May’s smile had gone thin – practically a frown for her. “We’re in public, you know.”
I looked around. Most of the dinner guests had finished their own meals and left. The rest were more interested in their desserts. But mares always assume that other ponies are watching and are criticizing everything they do. Far more likely they just think we’re unimportant, and thus not their problem.
Bowing to the whims of his date, Thunderlane sat back up and wiped his mouth clean. “Sorry.” Merry smiled a bit more and led him off into a conversation about weather work.
Carrot Top looked at me expectantly. I shrugged and finished the rest of my wine instead – it went well with the food. I reached over to get the wine bottle for a refill, and as I was pouring I noticed Carrot’s glass was empty. “Want some more?”
Carrot looked up from her plate, at the unopened carrot juice and then at the bottle in my hooves. “Yes, that would be nice.”
I leaned over with the bottle neck in my mouth and topped our glasses. Carrot held a hoof up to her glass for a toast and I did the same. “To your carrot juice,” I said.
“To Berry’s wine,” she echoed. We tapped our hooves against the glasses with nice clink sound from our shoes. Then we drank again. I was starting to feel a pleasant buzz.
“Think things are going well?” I asked Carrot with a nod toward the other two who were talking between themselves.
“Nothing’s blown up,” Carrot said with a shrug. “It’s been a nice day so far. If we hadn’t come here I’d have just made myself some carrot soup, had a bath, and gone to bed.” She finished her drink. “Thanks for making things interesting.”
“Don’t thank me yet, we haven’t seen the bill.”
Carrot Top froze. Her eyes staring off into the distance and her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “Oh dear.”
“The farm not making too much money?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “I can’t harvest and sell carrots at the same time.”
“Considered hiring some help?”
Carrot slumped down against the table. “I keep thinking about it. It would give me more time, and probably help the farm turn a better profit, but it’s always been…” Her hoof twirled in the air as she tried to find the right word.
“Something you wanted to keep in the family?” I supplied and Carrot nodded. It’s practically the biggest problem in earth pony farming families. We take great pride in the produce, but it goes to our heads and we can’t imagine anypony else can do it as well as us.
“You’re in a bad way Carrot, you’re alone out there and you nearly had a panic attack over paying for dinner just now.” I tried to be the voice of reason. “Sometimes you just need the extra pony power, and I think I can help.”
“I thought you were terrible at farming.”
“I am, but I know ponies that are much better at it.” I topped up our glasses again. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to Caramel. He’s always looking for extra work. If that’s not enough, then there’s got to be somepony else in town looking for a job.”
Carrot hummed in thought. “It would be nice to have somepony to talk to out in the field.”
“See, I don’t even need to convince you.” I said cheerfully and gave her a pat on the back. “You already knew. You just needed to admit it to yourself.”
Carrot Top smiled to herself. “I don’t need to burn myself out like Applejack did last year, do I?”
“No, you don’t.” I looked around and lent forward to whisper, “Anyway, I’m well informed that she doesn’t do as much as she says she does. It’s Big Mac that does all the work while Applejack’s off gallivanting around with the other elements.”
Carrot Top giggled. “You know, I always wanted to ask him out someday, but my parents always had this thing against the Apples. Not that I could get past Applejack anyway.”
“Well, Cheerilee seems to be working on it, and if anypony can deal with stubborn, it’s her.”
Carrot’s face fell. “Yeah. Cheerilee.”
I gave her a reassuring shrug. “You win some, you lose some. Anyway, Cheerilee hasn’t won yet. You can wait.”
“I guess so.” Carrot refilled her glass with more wine. I couldn’t blame her, it was good stuff.
I took the bottle to refill my glass once Carrot finished, and was disappointed to find only a trickle left. “When did the wine disappear?” Carrot shrugged, and sipped at her glass. I noticed the pegasi had half-filled glasses and so I figured that they’d refilled theirs as well.
I returned to what was left of my dinner and finished it off. The others had more or less done the same as well and we settled into that after-dinner period of casual conversation. We drank the unopened carrot juice while Merry regaled us with a weather team story about how Ditzy had somehow managed to set a tornado on fire. I had to get a second opinion from Thunderlane to believe that one.
When it came to my turn to tell a story, I related one of the difficult parts of my job as Timekeeper: Keeping the clock tower running. “It’s terrible inside. The mechanism is an experimental design from a few decades from before I was born.” I shook my head. “There are mismatched parts and nopony’s written their name to it, so I think it was just cobbled together at last minute using the old parts. It only keeps the time for a month or so before it’s wrong enough to become noticeable.”
“Why hasn’t it been replaced?” Lane asked.
“Experimental design, you can’t just replace parts,” I explained. “The entire mechanism needs to be replaced, and that’s expensive.” I rolled my eyes, “It’s easier just to send the timekeeper up once a fortnight to do the first part of the Earth Pony Way.”
Merry scrunched her eyebrows together. “The first part of what?” She looked at Lane and he shrugged.
That sent my eyebrows up. “You both live in an earth pony town and you’ve never heard the first part of the earth pony way?” The two pegasi glanced at each other and shook their heads.
Carrot and I shared a smile. I gave her a nod and she recited, “When in doubt, buck it.”
“When in trouble, run,” I said.
“When cornered, charge,” Carrot finished.
“There’s usually a dozen or so more,” I said with a shrug. “But they tend to change while the first three are the same everywhere. I take it the pegasi have similar pearls of wisdom?”
“Yeah,” Lane piped up. “Never buck yellow clouds.”
After a bit of laughter Carrot Top started on her own story while we finished the rest of the carrot juice. She told us about the ‘silly’ wager she’d lost last year and been forced to dye her mane and tail green. She brushed her mane unconsciously a few times during the story. The pride she’d taken in her long orange curls had apparently been measured against a month’s worth of farm work.
After the story Carrot Top asked to excuse her so she could go the bathroom and ‘powder her nose’. The phrase must be a secret female code word because Merry May stood up, said the same thing, and followed Carrot out of the room.
With just the two of us at the table I asked, “How you holding up, Lane?”
“Not too well,” he said flatly.
“Huh.” I blinked a few times. Everything had been going well so far. “Lane?”
“I’m just not feeling it,” he explained flawlessly. “Merry’s nice and all, but we’ve only talked about weather and stuff.” He held up his hooves. “Is that all we do? It’s our job, but it’s like… there’s nothing else.”
“You can always try to talk about something else,” I reasoned.
“But, I don’t wanna risk it,” he said, and I arched an eyebrow. “Merry’s always smiling right? But after our first date when she stopped smiling, she flipped out. It’s like she’s got two personalities or something, there’s happy Merry May, and then there’s Merry Mad.” He held a hoof to his head. “And now I’m thinking,” – which made me smile – “What if I screw this up? I gotta work with her, and I want May, not Mad.”
Lane took a breath to calm himself. “You said this morning that the date had to be all about her, right? I’ve made all night about her, but I’m not sure I can keep this up.”
I leaned back in my seat. “This isn’t just nerves talking?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
Well that was disappointing. “Alright,” I said. “No big deal, you haven’t exactly asked for her hoof in marriage. Once this is over you can just say that you had fun, and that’s all.” I ran a hoof over the table cloth. “Just be honest and she’ll smile this all away.”
Lane nodded, “Alright.” He looked over at the bathroom door. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”
I shrugged, “Probably talking about us. Merry might feel the same way you do.”
“What’s the chef’s name again?” Lane asked, while his focus was still across the restaurant.
“Banana Fluff, why?”
“She just peeked out the kitchen at us.” Lane sat himself down in his seat properly. “You actually going to get her a restaurant?”
“You remember dinner, right?” I gave the empty plate in front of me a tap. “She’s good, and if she wants to get out from under Pokey then that’s fine by me.”
“Are you going to build it for her?” Lane asked.
“No, I’ll just get her permission from the town and requestion a spot of land for her to build on.” While permission can take some convincing, the small plots of land within Ponyville can go for as little as a song – literally. “I think she’s earned that much.”
“Yeah, if she opened a place I might eat there every night if she always cooks like this.”
There was a thump as the bathroom door opened for the two returning mares. For all their talk of powdering noses, their appearances hadn’t changed at all. Polite ‘hellos’ and ‘welcome backs’ were traded as they sat down again. A moment later the kitchen doors opened again and Banana came out with another selection of items in her magic.
Banana curtsied to us again and said, “Tonight’s dessert is my own signature dish: Bananas Fluffed. It is vanilla ice cream served with caramelized cinnamon sauce, diced bananas, and a rum flambé.”
“That sounds nice,” Lane said, and the rest of us agreed.
She removed the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and replaced it with a huge bowl of ice cream covered in a thick sauce. Then she peeled the bananas from the fruit bowl and used a knife to rapidly dice them in the air above the bowl.
Finally she brought out an almost empty bottle of rum and poured it out over the ice cream. “This rum is just to provide flavour, it doesn’t flambé well,” Banana explained as she emptied the bottle. “Normally I use a bottle of 151 proof rum for the ignition…” She looked remorsefully over her shoulder. “But I’m afraid that bottle is spoken for. So, tonight we’ll have to make do with an alternative.” Banana produced an additional bottle labelled ‘Crystal Clear 190’ with a picture of a griffon twirling a moustache.
“Woah,” Thunderlane breathed. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah, 190 proof grain alcohol,” Banana said, as she let Lane see the label. “It should flambé properly and won’t ruin the rum taste.”
“I thought that stuff was illegal outside Westmarch,” Carrot Top said quietly.
“We’re licenced,” Banana explained. “Pokey uses it occasionally, and since he’s got my bottle, I’m using his.” She opened the bottle and poured it liberally over the ice cream.
As she poured I was starting to wonder how much the bottle of high grade, import restricted, griffon made alcohol cost. Not to mention the rest of my meal and possibly Carrot’s too. This one would be chipping into the savings account.
“And now the fun part,” Banana announced. “The flambé will cook some of the alcohol off, caramelize the sugar and cinnamon, while leaving a glaze over the ice cream. The remaining alcohol will mix with the ice cream to create a mixture of hot and cold taste” She pointed her horn directly at the bowl…
And then it exploded.
Strictly speaking, a flambé should be a small ferocious blue fire that burnt for a few seconds. Obviously nopony accounted for the extra 39 proof, or it didn’t mix well with the bit of rum already in there. So you can forgive me for being a little surprised to see the wall of flame hitting me in the face, and understand why I did the temporal equivalent of wetting my bed.
The flame made me panic and the primitive grass eating corner of my mind screamed at me to run away. So I ran through an uncontrolled time turn, no plan, no call phrase, just like it was when I was a colt. Without the years of self control, I only went back a couple of seconds. Then instinct threw me off my chair, grabbed Carrot top, and pulled us both to the ground just in time to avoid the blast.
A few seconds later I let go of the shocked Carrot Top, and pulled myself up with legs shaking from the adrenaline rush. The others were just sitting in shock. Merry and Banana’s coats were now black where they faced the fire and their manes had been blown back as well. Thunderlane was only slightly darker, and his mane seemed a little shorter and crispier.
Carrot was the first to speak when she pulled herself up. “Oh, Celestia…”
Still shell shocked, Thunderlane reached out a wing – missing a few feathers – took a scoop from the bowl and gave it a taste. A second later he threw the rest of the scoop into his mouth and almost moaned in pleasure. “It’s awesome,” he said around the mouthful.
Merry May reached up to straighten her blown back mane and it crumbled to ash in her hooves. She took one look across at the shocked expressions on our faces before making a sound halfway between a squeak and a groan, and then keeling over.
Banana Fluff brushed at her blackened coat which crumbled away to reveal pale colourless skin beneath. “I might have used too much…”
As you might expect, Pokey Pierce wasn’t happy.
He came out of the kitchen at the sound of the blast. The first thing he did, in accordance to his reputation for good service, was to bring a set of cushions and chairs together to rest the unconscious Merry May on. Once she was comfortable he retrieved the bottle of Crystal Clear 190 and dragged Banana back to the kitchen with him. I had expected a loud tirade, but Pokey didn’t say anything in front of us.
The rest of us sat down at the table and ate our dessert with a bowl set aside for Merry. The mix of caramel sugar, banana, ice-cream and the remaining alcohol made something amazing. If Banana could work out the kinks she would have something really special.
A few minutes later Banana Fluff came back out of the kitchen with her head held high and joined us at the table. “Well, I’ve been fired,” she said as filled a bowl for herself.
I paused. “Sorry then.”
“It’s fine, I was going to quit tonight anyway.” A goofy smile crossed her face. “At least I went out with a bang.”
“And without your mane,” Lane said dryly. Banana had lit the fire with her horn and her mane had taken the blast head on. Her coat had taken the hit as well but the pale skin beneath didn’t contrast too heavily with Banana’s yellow coat. On Thunderlane it was a different story. Lane’s mane had just been shortened, while his dark coat had fallen away and left the front a naked pale contrasting against unchanged rear.
It’d probably be a week before any of them had even coat colours again.
“It won’t stop me opening my own place.” She winced and looked at me. “That is if you’re still going to let me.”
I looked up from my bowl. “As long as you don’t burn the town down.”
“Thank you, any ideas on what I could call it?”
“Umm,” Lane thought. “The Naked Chef?”
Banana giggled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Let me know when you do,” Lane said. “I’ll be your first customer. Everything you made was awesome.” He paused for a moment. “Or sooner, if you’d like that.”
“I’d like that,” she replied.
Carrot Top leaned over to me. “So, it looks like this wasn’t all for nothing.” I nodded a smile on my face.
“Oh!” Banana said and brought up a couple of slips of paper. “Pokey asked me to give these to you.” She put one in front of Carrot and the other in front of Thunderlane.
Carrot took one look at it and paled. “Umm,” she pushed it over to me. “Little help?”
I looked at it myself and gulped – and not just because I had ice cream in my mouth. “Looks like this is one for the chequebook.”
After putting a significant dent in my bank account, Carrot and I left the restaurant for the bright night sky of Ponyville. We set off toward my place while Lane and Banana took Merry home.
“Thank you for doing that,” Carrot said as I closed the door behind us.
“It’s fine, Goldie,” I said to reassure her – and myself. “Coming here was my idea in the first place.”
“But that wine bottle wasn’t cheap.” She was right, that bottle had been the single biggest item on the list. While Banana Fluff had intended it to be on the house, she was fired before the bill was tallied up. I still felt a buzz from the alcohol. “Are you sure there’s no way to make it up to you?” She asked.
“It was a shared bottle. Anyway, I wasn’t using that money for anything.”
“Okay.” We walked quietly for a moment. “Um, would it be too much to ask you to come back to my place, so I can show you something?”
“Oh,” I thought about it. Ah, yeah, the barn she wanted. She’d have the paperwork filed away in her office somewhere. Strictly speaking, since this was technically a date, I should accompany her home regardless. Letting the other pony get bored walking home alone wasn’t a good way to underline a night out. “Sure, I can take a look.” I said.
“Shall we then?” she asked. I nodded, and she led the way out of the town toward her farm.
We slowly made our way in the dark. There was enough light to see by, but if you were careless a pothole would be all too happy to introduce you to the hard truth of things.
“The stars look nice tonight,” Carrot said as she walked beside me. “They always seem to be now a days.”
“Princess Luna’s back and settled in,” I supplied. “They weren’t this nice a few years ago.” I looked up at them for a moment. “Princess Celestia probably had other problems, but now it seems more welcoming than it used to.”
“It’s a nice end to a good day,” she said. I mumbled an agreement while I tried to pick out some of the patterns. I was following the path of a shooting star when one of my hooves caught in a pothole. I stumbled but didn’t fall over. “You okay?” Carrot asked.
“It’s nothing.” Perhaps there was more alcohol left over in that ice-cream then I thought. It made me feel a little silly.
We soon came to the farm and the farmhouse. Carrot stepped forward to open the door and shut it behind me. Carrot didn’t bother to light a lamp. “It’s upstairs, down the loft-hall and in the second door on the left. Watch your step on the stairs.”
“I’ll be fine,” and rolled my eyes in the darkness. You let them see you trip once and they never believe you. Carrot followed me up the stairs and was right behind me when we went through the door.
I’d expected her office to have a desk, perhaps a few filing cabinets and maybe a ‘miscellaneous’ pile or two. I didn’t quite expect the double bed. It wasn’t made up and showed signs of being recently slept in. The curtains in the window were open and the moon shone in with a slight hint of blue reflecting off the white sheets.
There wasn’t a desk either. In hindsight I blame the alcohol; otherwise I probably would have seen this coming.
The door shut behind me. I looked over my shoulder and I could dimly see a sultry smile on Carrot Top’s face in the light off the sheets. At this point it was kinda clear where this was going.
“When in doubt…”