You Think You Know a Guy
Chapter 8: You Think You Know a Guy
Shafts of light broke through the large timbered house. As they did, the early morning sounds of Ponyville began to sound out along the road at the foot of the path.
Cupcake's father was the first to awake, as he always had been. Even the challenge presented by the presence of his grandchildren in the house had not wrested dominion of these small morning hours from him.
Light was becoming more evident every morning. As he breathed a morning Invoke, he stood in that light and took it as a promise that Celestia was raising the sun earlier each day, that spring was indeed coming.
As he put the kettle on, the light cascaded in through the skylight he had built all those decades ago. He gave a small curse as he saw a few drops of water hanging at the space where the brass met the ceiling. He would have to re-seal it this year.
That, however, was a summer job. As he waited for the water to boil, he stared out across his wide lawn to the road below. It was for the better that winter was ending soon, that he and his family would soon once more do their part in the annual Winter Wrap-Up.
How nice it will be to have children helping out this year. Though the circumstances of his eldest daughter's return were unhappy, he would have been a liar if he said that he did not like having his grandchildren with him.
Cupcake's father ran his hoof through his mane and gave a long sigh. As a few grey hairs came loose, he batted them through the air.
Soon the water began to boil. As he grabbed the mugs out of the finely appointed cabinetry, he made her tea first and then his own, as he always had.
Cupcake's father felt his ears perk up. There was movement overhead, and with a gruff laugh the old stallion knew that his grandson and granddaughters were now rising. He wondered how long it would be before they too learned the importance of sleeping in on Saturdays.
His name came echoing to him, and within seconds he was heading back up the stairs.
He turned and looked first towards the rooms beyond where the sounds of the hooves of his grandchildren echoed around in their bedrooms, the sounds of small games rising into the air.
His name came to him again, this time from the opposite end of the hallway. There a dear face met his, and he went up to her quietly.
"You alright?" he asked as he placed her offered hoof in his, letting her lean into him. "You want tah' head back to bed, or do you want to come downstairs at all? I got yer' tea on…"
"Oh," she answered in a thin voice, walking out of the bathroom with weak steps, "I think I'm alright to go downstairs today… I think I'll be better today than yesterday."
Yesterday had been horrible.
"Do ya' want the chair? Can you walk it?" he said as he brushed back some of her mane as it fell across her face. "Ya' want me tah' carry ya' down?"
"I should not have you carry me down these stairs!" she scolded in a light tone. "Oh, the fear that went through me the first time you did!"
"You know I'd never drop ya'," he spoke in a tone that almost seemed hurt, "you know that…"
"I know," she answered, rubbing her cheek to his tenderly, "I know…"
With that he led her down the stairs and placed her in the big soft chair before the fireplace. Seeing her safe, he went to retrieve her wheelchair from the upstairs room. He used the lift to retrieve it. It was another addition to his house he had built himself, had relied on his own prowess to construct.
As he returned, he suddenly felt himself assaulted, and he looked down to see the smiling faces of foals wrapped around three of his legs.
"Bwaahhhh!" he sounded out as he pretended to be a behemoth of old, stomping down the hallway as they clung to him, giggling as they went. His powerful legs lifted them, he only shushing them as they passed the room where their mother still slept.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he saw another familiar figure appear before him. As his family began to come awake, he smiled at another inhabitant of this home he had made, of this house he had built.
"Room fer' one more!" he spoke, offering Cupcake his last free hoof.
"Oh, daddy!" she said as she placed a morning kiss on him. With that she leaned down to speak with her nieces and nephew as they left his legs to give her a morning hug.
"Why don'tcha grab up some toys and sit and play with them in front of the fireplace? I'm sure grandma would love to play with you," she asked as she looked to them.
With small giggles the colt and fillies ran down the hallway. Before long they had gathered up some of their things and were coming down the stairs, their grandmother greeting them as they appeared.
Cupcake's father rode the lift down with the wheelchair. He was not as young as he had once been. In truth he appreciated it being here as much as he had been happy that it gave her back some of her movement.
He strode into the kitchen with the thought of beginning to make some breakfast for his family but, to his happiness, he saw his youngest daughter had already begun the process. As Cupcake went to work, he marveled at how much better she had become at baking over the last few months. He wondered from where the practice flowed. Her new job perhaps?
Always full of surprises, that is what his Little Cupcake was.
Instead he gave her a quick hug and abandoned the kitchen to her talents. He placed the mugs on the tray and walked them out to the living room, passing into the bright airy space that he himself had built.
His wife took the mug and smiled up to him as he sat nearby with his own mug in his hooves.
As the Saturday morning light of a late winter day fell across them, it mixed with the warmth of the fireplace, and he was very happy.
As though sensing his happiness, his grandchildren began to press toys into his hooves: begging him to become the fire engine, the delivery wagon, the post stallion and his cart.
As his wife smiled over him, he let his large frame become their mountain; the castles of Canterlot suddenly were perched regally upon his head.
That is how Cupcake found him as she came to tell them about breakfast being ready. As the grandchildren rushed off to the kitchen, he lifted his wife gently into her wheelchair and rolled her down the fine lacquered floor that he himself had laid and into the bright kitchen.
As they sat around the breakfast table, he led them in a small Invoke as his eldest daughter finally came down the stairs. As the entirety of his family sat around him, Cupcake's father was happy, and it showed upon his face.
The morning slid on, and as noon began to creep around the house, he went outside, began to look the structure over from the outside. Following the lines of his home, he noted where some of the cedar shingles were coming loose, where the paint looked to have chipped where the ice had grown against the side over the winter.
More summer jobs, more small tasks to accomplish to keep his home in the best possible shape.
He had built this home, had made this whole place a refuge from the world. It was a place where those he loved could be safe and surrounded by love. That was what he had built… a castle of heavy timbers and soft earth tones.
As he returned to the porch, he saw Cupcake there, getting ready once more to head off into that world, the Ponyville beyond.
"You off to work?" he asked. She jumped slightly as he walked around the spruce tree.
"Oh, yes… yes!" she answered, laughing at her own surprise. "Yes, I'm off…"
"You have a good day, Little Cupcake," he said while accepting her hug. He stopped and looked down at her. "You know," he said, "I'd love to meet yer' partner in this business of yours. What was it? Catering, cooking? I bet she's a clever girl."
"Yes," she said anxiously, "some-something like that. Food service."
She pointed to a tray of cookies sitting on the steps that she had made the night before.
"I-I thought they'd gone dry, but I think they are still good. Try one, will you, daddy?" she said quickly.
With that she headed down the steps, her hooves making rapid sounds down the sidewalk. She stopped to wave back at her father at the gate. As it came open, he waved back to her.
He did not blame her for not wanting to tell him until the time was right. He could sense that she was her own mare, that she was making her own decisions. She was decisive, clever. He knew she wanted to make her own name, did not want to rely on his business contacts, his reputation.
He was proud of her, knew she would do well. She was his little filly, his Little Cupcake. She had handled so much, had been his strength at times.
As he watched her go, he could not help but feel that there was more to it.
That worried him, that she did not trust him with that much more information. To him, trust was everything. He wondered why she would not… but he quickly stopped himself. He knew. Knew what he had done.
Trust. Trust matters.
As he pondered that thought, a collection of one of the few groups of ponies he trusted came up the street.
"Howdy!" he called out, raising his hoof as a smile went across the faces of the family at the foot of his path. They stopped upon the sidewalk, and as he gathered up the tray, the stallion trotted down to meet with them.
"Good morning to ye'!" answered Clyde as he took Cupcake's father's hoof in his own.
"You're lookin' a little plump there, Clyde," he answered with a wide grin, "Roxy's been makin' you far too much good food over the winter! I suspect that you'll burn it all off come spring on that farm of yours though!"
He bowed to the mare and looked down at the three beautiful fillies that smiled up to him.
"We've been eatin' mostly fine, most blessed, but it is our Pinkamena's mark that has been puttin' the weight on us!" Clyde spoke with a self-conscious laugh.
Cupcake's father smiled down at the girls, especially at the one he remembered as being called Pinkie Pie. The filly was literally bouncing in place as though she were a wellspring of energy that did not know which way to go, as though she were attempting to be in all places at once.
He looked up to this family, a good family, good ponies. Honest folk. As he did, he remembered the tray he had brought with him.
"Would you mind at all if I offered the girls a cookie or two? My Little Cupcake made 'em yesterday," he asked as he bowed to Roxy once again.
"Not at all! Please feel free to!" she answered.
As the fillies reached for the treats, their mother scolded them in a light tone.
"Inkie, Pinkie, Blinkie! What do you say?"
The three fillies looked up to him with crumbs already on their faces and chimed together in tune.
"Thank you, Mister Quarry!"
Being Quarry means that you have been stolen from and hunted since you were twelve years old. That was the year that one of The Wars stole the life out of your big brother. You never got to say goodbye. That was when you realized all of the meanings of your name.
Being Quarry means that you arrived in Ponyville with nothing, feeling like a hunted animal, pursued by those who had taken everything from you.
Being Quarry means that you had nothing until a colt your age took a risk on you, helped you find one little straw to hang on, and then offered you more.
As Ledger helped you gain your footing, he became more than a partner, he became a friend.
Being Quarry means that you grew this one business, worked with the good, honest geoculturalists. They were a rugged and truthful group of ponies. They relied on you.
You did not disappoint them. Soon you were back in good fortune. Your efforts earned you the respect of the rock farmers, especially this one and his wife.
Being Quarry means that you branched out and started other businesses; you fought hard to regain all that you had lost.
Being Quarry means that the first time somepony tried their old tricks on you here in Ponyville, your old rage returned, your wrath, and it was only by some miracle that he survived and you did not go to jail.
Being Quarry means that acts of spectacular violence are directed at those who would deceive you, and against those who would hurt those you love.
Being Quarry means that only one mare ever realized that you were hurt, that you had been the victim of so much, that all you ever really wanted to be was respected.
Being Quarry means that Wishing Well, Ledger's sister, saw more in you than any other pony you'd ever met. It means that she fell in love with you, and you with her.
Being Quarry means that you wanted to give her everything, surround her in your love… prove to her that her admiration for you was deserved.
Being Quarry means that when you contracted for your new house, the contractors missed their completion dates.
Being Quarry means that you taught yourself how to build, how to transforms stone and wood into a structure using the pallets of building materials that they left on your lawn for weeks at a time.
Being Quarry means that when they threatened to sue you for breach of contract you very firmly, loudly, and violently pointed out that they did it first. You then shoved whatever building materials remained into places on their bodies that were not designed for such.
Being Quarry means that first she filled your life with love, and then she filled the house you had built for her with children.
Being Quarry means that whatever happened outside these walls, inside them you were allowed at all times to offer love, receive it… be a father.
Being Quarry means that your anger never left you, that it was too far engraved upon you to ever be expunged.
Being Quarry means knowing that your wrath accomplishes things that would otherwise be denied you.
Being Quarry means that they cannot ignore you because they fear you.
Being Quarry means forever being afraid. It means that at night you whisper Invoke after Invoke that your family may never have reason to fear you.
Being Quarry means that the knowledge that they do haunts you.
Being Quarry means knowing that your wrath is what sent your oldest colt off to Manehattan to run your interests there.
Being Quarry means that when your second son joined the military, he did it to learn the discipline to never be like you.
Being Quarry means that your third colt did not live more than a week.
Being Quarry means that you held his little body to yours as the life dripped out of him. Even the lives of your children have been stolen from you.
Being Quarry means that after her husband was killed in battle, your oldest daughter sat in the dark of her apartment, falling further and further into depression. It means knowing that the fear of your wrath actually kept her from returning home, bringing her children to a bright place where they could find refuge.
Being Quarry means that your middle daughter does not speak with you often, only comes around to see her mother. It means she is afraid that you will judge her unicorn marefriend, maybe even chase her out of her life.
Being Quarry means not knowing how to tell her that you only hope she is happy, and that this is all you want for her.
Being Quarry means you beat the Well out of a colt who made your youngest daughter call out "No!" in alarm.
Being Quarry means knowing that your anger scared her, terrified her, made her flee to the home of your best friend and the smart daughter he had raised.
Being Quarry means that on a cold morning, you awoke to find Wishing Well having a seizure.
Being Quarry means that you tried to use your strength to keep her from hurting herself.
Being Quarry means that the doctor said it was genetic. Something about having traces of pegasus genes, having the magic of the pegasi show up unusually strong against her earth pony magic, disrupting it.
Being Quarry means finding out that this was most likely what had killed your youngest son.
Being Quarry means that as she gets weaker, you have had to gently carry her into the bathroom, means that you've had to wash her like she was a child.
Being Quarry means that you built a lift inside your home. It means that even as you get older, there is nothing you would not do for her… for them.
Being Quarry means overhearing jokes in the tavern about her family, Ledger's family. You hear one pony joke that her pegasus ancestor had "kept the secret in the family," that her family tree had not branched.
Being Quarry means that you beat him into something best described as "paste."
Being Quarry means having to beg. It means having to beg your oldest daughter to come live with you, to bring the foals to a place where they can be safe and warm. It means that you promised her not to be angry in front of them.
It means blowing it entirely when you go to Ledger's mill to apologize to your youngest, your Little Cupcake. It means having to stand on Ledger's porch and beg her to come home as Ivory had prepared to go off to Canterlot.
Being Quarry means that you both rely on your wrath, your anger, and live in fear of it.
Being Quarry means that you hate and despise those who would use you, use your family to get to you.
Being Quarry means that even though you want what is best for your family, you would not hesitate to do devastating, horrible things to anyone who you felt was using them.
Being Quarry means that you know all of this, and you never wanted it to be this way.
Being Quarry means that you hope that there is some way out of it before you have a stroke or a heart attack.
Being Quarry means not thinking it very damn likely.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are very few sounds in the world of baking that sound like snapping gingerbread.
As Carrot had removed the foundation, he had set it carefully upon the table, making sure that there was nothing there that would endanger it.
As Cupcake had whipped up some more frosting, the two had taken great care to make sure that the gingerbread house was supported adequately, that no harm could come to it. They had laid aside the foundation as they prepared to insert the gift, each making sure that the critical piece was safe against all harms.
Both had taken their time in doing so, both had done what they thought was the right thing to do.
Yet as it lay there upon the table, some chance of air seemed to catch in it. Perhaps it was the further heat from the ovens, or the cold counter upon which the gingerbread house foundation had been laid. Whatever the circumstances that triggered it what followed was simply fact.
The foundation of the gingerbread house, that single critical piece, snapped.
There was a single little groan, and then a soft wet tear across the surface appeared and became deeper.
In the world of baking, there is no sound quite like the sound of gingerbread breaking.
As that sound flitted across the kitchen, Cupcake looked to her husband and gave a gasp. As he looked to her past the dollop of frosting that sat on his nose, he realized that the project was now in jeopardy, that everything they'd been working towards was now possibly going to waste.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The girls reentered the room, their hooves streaked with mud.
The mud had found its way up to their black dresses, even seemed to catch in their manes. Yet as they came forward, it was hardly the mud that caught the attention of those gathered there.
The funeral director moved to let them pass, let Inkie, Blinkie, and Pinkie smear the wet earth across the floor of the parlor, knew enough to let the girls mourn in their own way.
The flowers stood in their mouths, freshly gathered from the short lawn. There were no long stems, no fancy petals.
Instead what the girls brought with them across the purples and blacks of the rug to where their parents stood were bluebells, Johnny jump-ups, dandelions, buttercups, and the white flowers of crocuses.
These early flowers, the flowers of a world just awakening after Winter Wrap-Up, became their offerings. As they joined their parents, the tearful eyes of the assembly of mourners were upon the three little sisters.
Clyde lifted each girl in turn; let them lay the flowers among the still, quiet form of his mother. As they did, each girl laid a small kiss on the forehead of their grandmother, let their eyes fall over her sweet repose one last time before he lowered them to the floor.
"Goodbye, Granny Pie," Pinkie said as her voice caught. She too laid her flowers, lingering over the one who had taught her how to deal with her fears.
Roxy took the girls outside, the funeral director bringing her moist towels as they went.
Clyde watched them go, felt his brother place his hoof to his foreleg. Together the two stallions spoke an Invoke over the silent form of their mother, kissed her hoof, and with a bow backed away from the casket.
With a nod to the funeral director, the assembly watched the staff close the box. With that the casket was consigned to the flames.
"I love you, mother," he said as he watched the tears roll down Drexel's face, feeling them roll down his own. "Be with father, your parents. The waters of the Well keep you all…"
The brothers accepted the hugs of older family members, cousins, and friends. Soon the assembly began to depart. Soon it was only those who refused to leave them alone in their mourning that remained.
Clyde walked to the porch of the funeral home. There a wet, dirty pile of towels showed where his girls had been wiped of the mud they had gathered as they found the flowers and had prepared their offerings.
There was no talking, and as he passed along the porch, he saw his black-clad family sitting there, the rough breezes of the early spring tossing at them.
They were so very quiet, as quiet as the house had been before Pinkie had found her mark.
He saw the girls leaning against their mother with Inkie in her lap. He sat down beside them, Blinkie squeezing between her mother and father, Pinkie hiding in his lap and beneath his hooves.
Clyde looked down over Pinkie and realized that her hair was once again straight and limp, without the life he had come to see in her. It was as though she were, suddenly without the very life he rejoiced in feeling flow from her.
As he worried over this, he felt her lean against his hooves and heard her voice stay small as she asked, "Daddy, is Granny Pie in the Well of Souls?"
"Yes, Love," he answered. "When a body kin' no longer keep itself alive, the mind and spirit have to leave it."
He felt her move, wipe her head against his forelegs.
"So," she asked as she looked up to him, "Granny Pie is just a spirit now, and she is in the Well? What's it like? What about the other parts? What about…"
Clyde gave a small chuckle even as he fought some new sobs. Questions. Questions, questions, questions…
"Her spirit is in the waters of the Well," he said as he forced his voice to rise. "'Tis as though she were swimming in love itself, and all the ponies she's loved who are gone are there with her."
He looked down at his daughter, across them all, saw that the girls were listening.
"Her body is going back to ash…"
He did not continue. In fact, as he thought on it, he knew that soon he would be spreading her ashes in all the little places she had loved. The garden, the spot by the brook, on the field where she had been married…
At that thought, new tears began to roll down his face.
"But… but what about," began Pinkie Pie.
"Pinkamena," Roxy continued as she saw her husband fading, "you know how your Granny Pie taught you to giggle at the things you were afraid of? How she had started to teach you how to sing and dance? Those, those things last as long as those we share them with. As long as you hold onto them, the part of your Granny Pie that shared them with you, her intellect, that will last your whole life, even the lives of those you share it with…"
"Oh," breathed a somber Pinkie, she and her sisters returning to hanging their heads as they reflected on what had been said.
Pinkie felt wetness above her, felt drops across in her mane. She looked up to see her father fighting tears. Soon he lost his little battle, and with a great gasp, the tears rolled down his face and around her as she sat in his lap.
A thousand images rolled through Clyde's mind. Memories, thoughts, songs… the whispers of his mother's voice, these all floated around him. A recent memory hung at the forefront. It was of his mother teaching Pinkie about music, a lesson that must now go incomplete.
"Don't cry, daddy," Pinkie said, turning and reaching up to him.
"No, it's alright," spoke her mother, leaning closer, gathering Inkie and Blinkie to their father as well. "Your Granny Pie was a lovely mare, and she's earned his tears. 'Tis no shame in cryin' for the ones we love, Pinkie."
"Oh," said Pinkie. As though she had been given permission, she too began to weep, and as the family sat there, the cold an early spring wind floated over them.
As Clyde felt his daughter's tears catching in his coat, he gathered her in closer. In his mind he begged that there should be somepony who could help her, reach into that part of her that his mother had brushed open.
With that he whispered the name of his mother once more and lay his head to that of his wife as his children sat near him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I know what a damned leveraged option is!" called Quarry, striking the desk. "Ya' talk to me like I'm a foal again and we'll be done with this damn quick!"
Silence reigned around the small office once more.
One of the three business ponies, the thin one he had immediately hated, cleared his throat.
"I-I apologize, I… we weren't aware that you…" he said while his throat constricted and he sat under the gaze of the massive stallion.
"I've been in business longer than you've been alive, colt," Quarry said, leaning far across the desk.
As he did, another one of the business ponies, the fat one he had immediately hated, gave a small whimper.
Quarry leaned back, saw that he had made his point. No point making them wet themselves. He would hate to have to clean it up.
"So what yer' proposin'," Quarry said, lifting the prospectus, "is that you'll buy my risk in my loans, and cover them, but you'll not actually buy the loan."
"That's exactly what we are saying," spoke the third businesspony, the angry one he had immediately hated, "and that is our offer."
"Sounds like a fool's errand, buyin' up risk with no reward," he said while looking deeper into the proposal and prospectus. There was an obvious plan here, of course, and he waited to see which of these three colts had the guts to say it.
"By-by buying up risk," stammered the fat one, "and covering it, we-we… can build our own credit!"
"By doing that, if the loan is paid, we get credit and you get paid back," added the thin one, jumping in as he saw his partner faltering under Quarry's gaze. "Ponyville is the last stop before Canterlot on both of the principal southern railroads, and with the third one in planning this…"
The thin one gave a gulp as Quarry's grey eyes shifted to him.
"… this city cou-could eventually grow into an imp-important city…"
The thin one trailed off as Quarry gazed down at him, leaned forward with a measured huff.
"These are good folks here in Ponyville," he stated matter-of-factly, the statement having little meaning apart from informing them of where his loyalty lay.
He looked them all up and down once more and then turned back to the prospectus.
"So," he said as his deep breath drifted out over the small, sparse office where the three colts sat squished together in front of him, "you buy up my risk. If everything works out you just grow your credit line and I still get my due, over a longer period I see, but there it is in print. If the loan fails… you get the liquidated assets, and I get my due in cash instead of an empty buildin'."
"That… yes, that's it entirely," said the thin one at the same time as he attempted to gain some room to move.
"I don't see why ya' just don't ask tah' buy the damn loans off me. It'd save you more money in the end if ya' did," rumbled Quarry, his voice once more judgmental.
"This-this way, it… it keeps up the appearance that you own the loan," said the fat one, sweat running down his face, "and-and it's your special… way of, way of doing business that we think will keep our risk at… keep our risk down!"
Quarry gave a series of satisfied laughs, deep rumbling ones that shifted around the office.
"And how is it that you colts are aware of mah'… unique reputation in the world of business?" he said, affecting the airs of the distinguished class of ponies that he so loathed.
"I grew up in the shadow of your… practices," came a voice, one that spun around the room in a low hiss.
Quarry shifted his eyes to the angry colt, the one who had been trying to keep his eyes up the hardest, trying to seem unafraid of him. He was failing at it. Quarry could literally feel him shaking beneath the table.
Quarry gave a low laugh, looked at the angry colt for a long while.
"You know me," spoke Quarry, his voice a low rumble, "but I don't remember beatin' the Well out of you before."
"My father is Penny Pincher," replied the colt, dropping the name before Quarry as though it were a challenge.
Quarry looked at the colt,saw the defiance there behind his eyes. As he gave some more laughs, he looked back up to the colt with a snarling grin.
"You're the foal of that son of a bitch, huh? That lying, thieving goat licker," he said as his wicked smile grew larger. "How's his limp?"
The anger dropped out of the colt. As he withered under Quarry's stare, his antagonism was replaced by fear and shame. Quarry laughed a little more and leaned back in his chair.
It was quiet around the room as Quarry read some more. He coasted along the list of names of his loans that they wanted to buy. He had to admit, they were smart ones if they were looking to get into Ponyville's business and win credit.
Quarry would have rejected the offer if it was for personal loans, college loans, but there were none. Instead they were all real estate and business loans. These colts were hedging their bets. Worse comes to worse and all these loans failed they would be left with swaths of property in one of Equestria's fastest growing cities.
Clever, very clever.
He looked at the names. Near the top he found himself tripping over one not once but twice. He couldn't help but ponder it…
"Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc."
… being as it was such a poor name and all.
Yet, as he did, he felt something pull at him.
"I'm gonna give all of these companies a chance tah' sign on with ya' or not," he said as he rocked in his chair, "we're gonna wait till' the end of next month…"
Three colts began talking at once, raising demands, trying to convince him otherwise.
As they blathered away, Quarry began to feel himself twitch, felt his blood pressure rising. Soon his muscles ached, and at once he stood, reared like a wild horse and caught them all in his gaze.
Though no record of what was said next exists, suffice it to say that the colts left the room looking rather white and with a promissory note in hoof.
They would pay him one hundred bits in advance for each loan, that had been decided as the color drained from their faces. Quarry would keep the money for each loan that subscribed to their risk-abatement program. It was easy money, that he knew. Almost all of them were assured to switch to these young entrepreneurs, young colts who might be more forgiving if they missed a payment, even if that meant having to take longer to pay back their loans.
Even if they still knew that they owed him money, it would allow most of them to think that there was now some sort of layer of protection between he and them. That fear was always there, and he would rather have it than not, had learned that it was the only real motivator. Some even hired employees just to bring him his checks every month just so they would not have to sit under his gaze.
However, if one of his customers chose to stay with him he would owe the colts the interest, the hundred bits, and the payment. It could be anywhere from as little as three hundred bits to as much as a thousand.
No fool would want to stick with him though. So it was a safe bet, and even if he did get somepony fool enough to turn down their offer he would only really be in trouble if the loan failed.
Would sting for a bit losing those bits though. He would let them know that.
He explained all of this to Paperclip, the secretary listening in intently. She too dropped her eyes across the list of proposed purchases.
"Oh!" he heard her give as a little sound of disappointment. "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.! There goes my treats every two weeks."
"Meh…" answered Quarry as the name once more rattled around in his head.
"He's not a bad colt, Quarry," answered the secretary.
"Naw," answered Quarry, "none of them are at first… then they end up like those three udder-suckers, just wantin' and schemin'…"
He closed his door. As he did, Paperclip raised her hoof to her mouth. In that moment she realized she would actually miss seeing Carrot Cake come around, would have to savor every bite of whatever treat she gave him the next time he came… most likely the last time.
Quarry sat at his desk, landed there with a grunt. He massaged his hips and legs. Rearing like that had done something to him. "You're getting old," he told himself, "old damn bastard."
"Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc."
The name of the bakery slashed through him once more. He simply couldn't figure out why.
He focused on his family, used them to drive all of the nonsense away. Yet even in his thoughts he couldn't help but think about those who had used him, those who had attempted to use Ledger's family to get to him, had attempted to use his own children to weasel their way into his business and money.
Rage grew behind his eyes. Old families that were long on history and short on funds had taken to trying to have their sons court his daughters. No wonder his middle daughter had run off, was living with a unicorn mare in Baltimare.
Some of them had even sent marriage proposals through the mail! The damn mail!
Undoubtedly, he thought, they knew what he would do to them if they even mentioned the word "dowry" in his presence, that ancient and laughable idea that only existed in the minds of the most affluent of families.
Instead he found himself pondering what type of colt he hoped Cupcake would find.
Of all unlikely ideas the name of Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc. once more flashed through his mind.
Paperclip could hear him laughing clear through his office door.
That gangly mess? That dizzy bakery colt? That under-biting, stuttering prick? That…
Quarry stopped himself, knew he was being unfair. It was hypothetical, just a trick played on his mind from thinking about two unrelated things. He doubted that they had ever even met apart from at the mill.
Besides, Cake owed him money. That doesn't mix, business and family. He would have some agenda, something he would want for being with her. That crossed the line, crossed it utterly.
No stallion was going to use his family, especially not his Little Cupcake, to get close to him and to his money.
The only way that colts with such damn notions were going to get close to his daughter was if the pieces he tore off of them landed near her.
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
ROLLERCOASTER OF EMOTIONS
Yeah, that is about what I was suspecting we were eventually going to learn about Quarry, as well as the reason for the Game. Nice reveal, by the way, having the start of the chapter be about 'Cupcake's father' right up until we got the "Thank you, Mister Quarry!" from Pinkie and her sisters.
Oh man, finding out who Cupcake's dad is...I had my suspicions that Quarry was important, but I didn't expect THAT important.
X3
Oh this will be most interesting.
Mind = blown right now.
Such a well-played chapter.....
1)WTF?!?! he's her father?!?!
aww don't cry pinkie!
2)Cried so hard at the funeral
3)now i don't think Quarry's such a douche. he's had a hard life and so many people taken from him. cut him some slack dudes.
4) you are the best fic writer ever. take all my monies. and my moustaches. and saturn. you earned it.
507364
Around and around and loop-the-loop, and we aren't done with the ride yet!
507495
I had several ideas about how to handle the reveal, but that was my favorite. Glad you liked it!
507596
Your suspicions proved true! We get to see the ramifications here very soon so stay buckled in!
507815
High praise, Red, and I appreciate it! I don't know what I'd do with Pluto but I'm thankful for the gesture!
507917
When you get to piece your mind back together wrap it around my thanks for reading and commenting!:
508131
I'm glad that it still came off as something of a surprise!
509801
I'm glad to see that Quarry has grown as a character in your eyes. Glad that the funeral scene brought up some emotion!
Wow big wham of a chapter so many things happened.
Carrot Cake is in trouble, he'd better hope Cupcake can stop 'Quarry' or else I don't like how things will likely play out.
Wow, is best I can think of to describe my thoughts of this Chapter, no, this story.
The twist and turns of this story have me on the edge of my seat and wanting to read more of your story. Definitely going as my top favorite.
Ever consider submitting this to EQD?
Quarry as her father... WHAT?
Okay, now it makes sense! The buildup earlier could have been better. The transitions to his scenes were very rough up until this one, and he seemed really dramatically ominous - a bit too much so. It's stated a few too many times that "Being Quarry means violence" (or something meaning the same) when your description of him jumping on the scene and Ledger scolding him already said as much. Spelling it out several times seems weird when he seems to be a minor character off to the side, or maybe it takes a bit too long for the big reveal for the repetitiveness to take full effect and flow right.
I really love how you're working Pinkie into this. I love the characterizations you've built. Transitioning could be cleaner, though.
Snap.
"Thank you, Mister Quarry!"
OH SHIT! Somehow I guessed that during the tax scene last chapter, but I didn't that that would be true. I was wondering when he would be playing a bigger role other than just the loan guy.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I shed manly tears when they held Granny Pie's funeral
Poor Granny pie, I felt bad for her;however, I feel even worse for Carrot in a few minutes.
I can't say I haven't known Quarry was Cupcake's dad for several chapters, but the connections to the Pie family were unexpected.
Poor, poor Quarry; that stallion has had a tough life. Both his monologues and Granny Pie's funeral got me tearing up.
So we have our reveal, that Quarry is in fact Cupcake's father. As for Quarry himself, I can sympathize with his pain; however, I don't exactly agree with how he's chosen to deal with that pain.
Also, not sure why I didn't mention this before, but when I first saw Ivory called "Ive," I mentally put an apostrophe there. Though I quickly realized it was Ivory's nickname, that didn't stop me from continuing to mentally put an apostrophe there every time I saw "Ive." Confound these confusing nicknames!
I thought so
And here I was thinking Quarry would be part of the Pie family because of his name. I was still right about him being the connection to them though. I love all your reveals and this was my favorite chapter yet. The funeral scene was pretty emotional.
For some reason, I already knew that Quarry was Cup Cake's father, that Carrot would be in trouble because of that, and that Quarry was related to the Pies somehow.
Accursed spoiler trolls orbiting me, Y U ONLY TELL ME STUFF WHEN THERE ARE NO CLIFFHANGERS?!
*continues reading without sleep*
CupCake and BonBon might be sisters. They both have sweet-themed names.
3267387
Glad to see I am not the only one who is having this thought. Its in my personal headcannon for this fic.
Now, onto the reveal. I loved the way you handled it, in a way that even the people who had their suspicions about his identity were taken aback by it. It was beautifully written and crafted that it somehow left me shocked even on a second read through. I also admit to loving hearing about Cupcake's other family members, her other brothers and sister (Bon Bon). I think what I also like about this whole thing is...Quarry. He is such a well developed character to me. You could've left him as a raging overprotective dad, but by doing these "Beeing Quarry means" segments, you turn him into a three dimensional character. A guy I hope I am giving life to in my live reads.
What I also love is how you give everything depth while turning the major things we WANT to see (the buying of Sugar Cube Corner, the bow tie) into just moments. As you are drawing importance to what we really need in order to make these moments special...the characters and how they lived.
Well you got me. Did not see that coming. I just assumed cupcake didnt want her wealthy family corrupt carrot, or have him want to loan money from them. Did not see quarry coming, but it makes such perfect sense now.
When the 3 sisters said "thank you mr quarry" I literally yelled "WHAT?!" In the middle of the dmv!
Carrot's royally bucked isn't he?
This is going to be good.