//------------------------------// // Fireflies // Story: Flowers, Blossom! // by Monsieur Bleu //------------------------------// Sweet warm, summer skies, evening mists slumber across our meadow, effervesce from between our groves of pecans—the west opens up. The night air is a welcome respite from the day. I swirl the wine in my glass for a time; the purple vortex—not too long ago I was the student of a student, now I am my own student, so still the student of a student. Like a servant in my own mind I grow wistful, wanting something. I have everything, and then— "So, darling, you have to tell me all about the university." I again see the wine, now still, in my aura. "Hard to complain, I guess. Finally, the faculty are not above hiring pegasi." "That long—good lord, Harvard has been keepin—" "Oh lord, do I now, I spent the last two years arguing," \ I comply dramatically. "As if we are any less proficient at teaching!" my wife interjected. "Of course not to play for the devil: but the bulk of higher learning is magic oriented, particularly at the university… but of course with the liberal arts it isn’t some farm manual of magic, but a broad course of learning. Unicorn skulls can be thick with it!" My wife’s gaze turned from puckered to gleeful as I progressed. You never had subtly—it‘s why I love you. But, really, leading me on, for a flash I wanted to show you something… not anger… foolery maybe—anyway, after depletion, my heart grows fond of us. Not the past, but the future—us together. Bodies are bodies and sex can have less emotion than a handshake, believe me I will always love you. ~*~ Ah was sittin high and mighty, sista let me have a swig of last year’s cider. It was a bitter sweet kinda tastin', but it felt good an warm goin' down. "Gets betta with age, she told me." If what ah tasted was aged or not, it was good. "Not allowed to much Appleblooom, ya hear, you’re still just a filly." Don’t know if letting her at that drink was wise, ‘Bloom’s been all silly all night—of course how’s that at all different from the usual, oh well, bein who we is might as well learn to escape early. Pie and cider—the dirt pony refuge. Afta supper ah went out to watch the fireflies with Scoots. Scoots is a free girl, but she ain’t got all that much. She’s been livin in the barn on and off—she moves around quite a bit. I know mistress and the professor don’t mind havin her around though. Come Heartswarmin, Granny lets her stay with us and celebrate—she’s an honorary Apple, mah sista said… well, least durin the winter months she is. Of course durin the warmer months it ain’t too much of a problem livin outside. If ah could be a free girl, ah wouldn’t mind livin outside. Scoots was out by the stream near the far end of the Mastas’ meadow, rod in hoof. "Catchin supper?" ah asked "Yep." Ah sat down next to her. "Scoots?" "Yea." "Ye ever tried cider? Ah mean hard cider." "Yes-er, in fact your Masta gives me a drink every now an then." "Mistress Dash?" "Yep." "She's a nice mare." "Want me te tell er that for ye?" she winked. "No… she is decent, far as ah’m concerned she’s damn near swell fo’a mistress." Ah winked as well. "Least you got fine mastas, it’d been gangly, if they’d been—" Sweetie Belle jumped up on us. "Hey girls, she said in her gentle sing-songy way." "Well evenin Sweetie," ah said. "What brings you around?" Scoots asked. "Mah sista’s visitin the Professor and Miss Dash… talkin bout they usual stuff." Sweetie’s an awful cute girl. If ah—well, she’s a perty thing, coat all white. Not to say that Scoots ain’t a cute girl, but Sweetie, she’s a tad more delicate. Anyway, Scoots and ah are use to ruough livin an Sweetie ain’t. Still, though, she’s the muse that does a betta job of ticklin mah fancy than anything else. Oh mah… sorry oh lord? Ah have felt sinful… ah have thought sinful thoughts, feels kinda right. You don’t need to mind too much; still trying to figure things out in this world. Yea, even though she’s a filly too. It shouldn’t make a difference. True, but— If you’re going to bother with faith—embrace its imperfections. Sounds bout right. Seetie started talkin, ah blinked a few times. "So what are you two doin this weekend?" "Workin." "Workin." "Got a job scoots?" "Nothin steady." "Somethin?" Ah shrugged. "Yea." "Doin what?" "Well… Mistress Dash is having me run some… errands fer her in town." "That ain’t work!" "Well it’s something ah get paid for, besides she ain’t gonna go and you know they don’t let dirt ponies go into town alone. "Ah guess so." "Ah know it ain’t nearly slaven work… ah mean…" Ah giggled some. "Scoots don’t worry ah know what ya mean." Scoots rolled her eyes, smiled; Sweetie just grinned and shook her head. Fireflies are comin out now. Little lights flickerin in the lavender grass, awful pretty. I look over to Sweetie, she’s still lookin out across the stream over at the meadow. She turned to me… ah looked away, blushin. She scooted right up next to me… an rested her head on me. Don’t know what to think now. ~*~ Poured myself another glass of whiskey; lord knows if I have to keep on hearing Dr. Pants drone on… The status of the dirt ponies—dirt ponies isn’t even an acceptable term in academics. For Faust sake speak formally! Earthgros, or earth ponies, call them whatever in your head, but when you talk use the right words; you are a professor! "So what would you say Professor?" "I am sure that you all know my position: that earth ponies are good, honest, and hardworking… They may not be our equals, and their position of servitude is legitimate—but we must treat all kinds, hooved and cloved, with kindness and generosity… Because we are unicorns and pegasi, we must show that we do deserve our status." How much of that is bullshit?