A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Pageant
by D. G. D. Davidson
V. Serious Business
“I’ll go talk to her,” Lyra said. “If I just explain—”
“No,” I said, “I’ll go talk to her.”
I marched toward the door, but Lyra quickly leapt in front of me. “Jack—”
“Lyra—”
“You don’t know her like I do, Jack. I can explain—”
I bent down so I could look her in the eyes. “No you can’t.” Thrusting a thumb at my chest, I added, “I can. And I can also give her a piece of my mind, because, quite frankly, I am sick of walking on eggshells around her.”
“Doing what? Why are you stepping on eggs?”
“It’s an expression.”
“Can’t you see that you two just misunderstand each other? If you let me—”
I waved a hand at the other ponies. “They don’t get on my case because I don’t understand Equestrian culture. Only Carrot Top does! This is between me and her, and I say it’s time we had it out.”
Lyra’s eyelids narrowed and her ears tipped back. Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “Maybe she’s too hard on you, Jack, but she’s right about one thing: you are an insensitive clod!”
“Yeah? Well, you’re a . . . a horse. So there.”
“Ooh, my feelings are sooo hurt! At least I’m not an ugly, scrawny ape. So there!”
“Yeah? Well, at least I’m not green!”
“Says the guy in a dress.”
“It’s a cassock, and have I told you that it looks gross when you don’t clip your ear hair?”
“I grew it out to match the hair in your nostrils.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
“That’s great,” said Berry Punch. “Now kiss.”
I realized that my nose was only an inch from Lyra’s muzzle. We looked over at the others, who huddled together in a group and stared at us. Berry Punch had a wide grin on her face.
“Berry,” Lyra and I both said at once, “shut up.”
I straightened, swept my hands down the front of my cassock, stepped around Lyra, and marched out the door. “You can be so frustrating, Jack!” Lyra yelled from behind me.
Carrot Top hadn’t made it very far. I found her slinking down the hallway like a fugitive.
“Hold up, Carrots,” I said.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Jack!”
“You’re gonna do it anyway.”
She paused near a potted fern. She didn’t turn my way, but she didn’t run from me, either.
I threw myself down on the floor beside her and said, “Sit.”
Wordlessly, but with her back still toward me, she sidled toward the wall and lowered her haunches to the floor.
“I know what you want to say,” she said.
“Do you? I come from a different world. Maybe you haven’t got a clue how I think.”
Her shoulders slumped. “You’re not really all that different—”
“And that’s what upsets you. If I were more outlandish, you could pass off everything that rankles you as a peculiarity of my race, because it’s easy to be ‘tolerant’ of exotic people. Your neighbors are the ones who really test your patience.”
She finally turned her face to me. Her brow was furrowed, but her expression bespoke more of sorrow than frustration. “Jack, I only came here because I was worried about Lyra, and because I didn’t want your disgusting behavior to infect my friends. But I realize now that I can’t control you, and I can’t control them, either. It’s best if I just leave.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need you here.”
She bit her lip, and the furrows in her forehead grew deeper.
“I don’t mean I need you in the pageant.” I tilted my head back toward the rec room. “I have enough actresses already. I mean I need you because you alone, out of this particular group, really care about Equestrian sensibilities. Lyra puts up with me. Bon Bon dislikes me no matter what. I’m not sure Derpy even knows what’s going on. Berry Punch is as bad as I am. And Time Turner and Minuette can stoically take any indignity except time-wasting. You’re the only one here who can teach me how to act like a proper pony.” I reached a hand toward her. “So help me out.”
She shook her head. “I really do not understand you.”
“Then let me explain.” I rubbed my fingers through my hair, cleared my throat, and said, “Carrot Top, I am well aware that I’m a jerk. You’re not revealing anything new to me there. The truth is, I only became a Catholic in the first place because I knew it was the one thing that would most irritate my parents. But I didn’t stay that way. I changed. I wasn’t sincere then, but I am now.”
As it always did when I was nervous, my Roman collar felt tight, and I could feel my pulse beating against it. I tugged at it, trying to pull it away from my throat. “And the truth is, I used to hate ponies—well, no, that’s not true. I was afraid of ponies. I was afraid of most anything with four legs and fur. But I changed. I’m not afraid anymore, and I care about the ponies, and that’s why I’m still here.”
I tapped my fingers on the floor for a moment. “And I didn’t want to come to Equestria. I hated the place, and I never imagined I’d accept a permanent placement here. I only came to get away from trouble back home, and I always figured I’d turn Bishop Van de Velde down eventually and go back to my old diocese later. Good gravy, coming to this place felt like getting strapped to a gurney and injected with estrogen—”
“Jack.”
“Sorry. What I mean is, I changed. I love it here now, and I want to stay. Do you understand what I’m saying? I may be a jerk, Carrot Top, but I can change. Don’t run out on me.”
After a moment, Carrot Top got to her feet, walked toward me, and sniffed my nose. “You haven’t changed at all, Jack.”
“But—”
“You are very good at telling stories. I suspect you even believe them. But you aren’t still here because you care about ponies or because you love Equestria.”
“But—”
“You’re here for Lyra.”
I opened my mouth, but could find nothing to say, so I closed it again.
“Everypony has a destiny, Jack, and everypony has to discover that destiny for herself. You need to discover yours—”
“I don’t have a cutie mark, Carrot Top, and, so help me, I will raise my cassock and drop my pants to prove it if I have to.”
I thought that would turn her red again and shut her up, but she merely shook her head. “Jack, nopony has a cutie mark except a pony. Cows don’t have them, elves don’t have them, goats don’t have them. But they still have destinies, and so do you. Don’t you have a word for that in this club of yours?”
I looked away from her and nodded. “Vocation.” I didn’t mean it to sound harsh, but the word came out like a curse.
“You need to figure out your vocation, Jack. This thing you’re doing, if you’re only doing it so you can stay here with Lyra—”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure? What happens if you decide you don’t want to be one of these priests?”
I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared at the marble floor. “I . . . well, they send me home. I mean, I don’t have any skills to market here. About the only people Celestia lets in permanently are missionaries and farriers, so—”
She put a hoof to my shoulder. “Jack, if Lyra is the only reason you’re doing this, then, hard as it might be, you need to go home. If this isn’t your destiny, it will make you miserable for the rest of your life.”
I felt one side of my mouth turn upward in a smile. “You sound like Sire August.”
“August Vision is a wise pony. Eccentric, maybe, but wise. If I were you, I’d listen to him.” She turned from me and walked to the door. “Goodbye, Jack. I know I am not easy to get along with sometimes, so I appreciate you for coming after me and trying to make amends.”
“One question before you go, Carrot Top.”
With a hoof on the doorknob, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me.
“Why did you take Derpy in?”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled. “You are not the first to ask that. Several ponies have asked, so humans aren’t the only ones who don’t understand me. It’s simply this: Derpy needed help, and that ought to be enough. When somepony needs help, when somepony needs a leg up, you give it. That’s the decent thing to do.”
From where I sat on the floor, with my knees tucked under one arm, I again reached out to her.
For half a minute, she stared at my outstretched hand. “Oh . . . oh, Celestia blast it.”
“Help,” I said.
“Yes, I get it, Jack. Yes, I’ll stay.” She chewed her lower lip for a moment before adding, “How did you do that?”
“Easy. I am many things, Carrot Top. And one of them is a low-down, self-serving, manipulative son of a bitch.”