Wishberry

by mushroompone

Week of July 3

“Where’s Red?” Fiddle asked brightly.

“Yeah, we’ve got data,” Lightning said with a flick of her tail. “The juicy kind.”

Fiddle and Lightning Dust exchanged an amorous look which was so over-the-top it bordered on the grotesque. Someone giggled, and Strawberry couldn’t be certain which one it had been.

“She’s not here,” Strawberry replied.

“Oh.” Fiddle waited patiently for more information, but none came, so she stuttered out more: “W-well, we wanted to tell her about our wish. Could you pass it along?”

Strawberry arched a brow. “We’re doing joint wishes now?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Fiddle explained, a blush overtaking her cheeks. “I think we’ve been wishing for the same thing for a while now. Pot finally boiled over, wouldn’cha say?”

Lighting snickered. “Something like that.”

They exchanged another long look, tails thrashing in unison, both nuzzling briefly.

Strawberry heaved an enormous sigh. “That’s beautiful. Pots boiling over. Love it.” The tone seemed to fly over the lovebirds’ heads. “Are you buying or just basking in PDA?”

Lightning’s face went stony and she stomped one hoof.

“Relax, Light,” Fiddle said, pressing a hoof into Lightning’s chest. By some miracle, this worked, and Lightning seemed to find an inner peace in a matter of moments. “Is it her shift? We didn’t miss her, did we?”

“I dunno where she is,” Strawberry said.

Fiddle and Lightning exchanged another look.

“Isn’t she your friend?” Lightning asked.

“Doesn’t mean I’m tracking her movements.”

“I know that.”

“Didn’t sound like it.”

Lightning ground her teeth. “Fine. I guess we’ll come back next week.”

Strawberry shrugged. “No guarantee she’ll be back then, but sure.”

Fiddle furrowed her brows. “Did somethin’ happen? You two seemed… on good terms, at least,” she said carefully. “I got the impression you sorta ran this whole show together.”

“Nope. Just me.”

“Oh.” Fiddle frowned. “So… did somethin’ happen?”

Strawberry gave a theatrically sarcastic shrug. “You could say that,” she offered. “Final offer: strawberries?”

“Pass,” Lightning said.

Fiddle seemed less sure, but also shook her head. “I guess we’ll see you next week?”

“I guess you will.”

Fiddle gave a half-hearted wave as they departed, quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

Strawberry sank ever lower in her seat, barely even visible behind the chalkboard sign which sat propped up against an old cement-filled glass bottle.

She snatched it off the table.

STRAWBERRIES FOR SALE

Delicious fresh

Perfect for baking

Rumors of wish-granting capabilities greatly exaggerated

12 bits/pint

With the back of one hoof, Strawberry wiped away the line about granting wishes. She took a bit of the line above with it, and decided to erase that, too. Her messy and erratic motions cannibalized more and more of the sign’s content until little remained beyond white smudges and the single line:

12 bits/pint

She thought it over.

Struck it through.

12 bits/pint

Half off!

6 bits/pint

She held it out at leg’s length and read it over a few times.

It seemed about right, at long last. About fair for non-magical, non-wish-granting, perfectly mediocre backyard strawberries.

But even fair felt like too much.

12 bits/pint

Half off!

6 bits/pint

4 bits/pint

All of the text was now crammed into the lower half. It looked ugly, trashy, cheap.

She erased it all.

4 bits

Stared at it.

It looked small.

Stupid.

Who would bother paying anything for her dumb strawberries? She’d already stuck herself with the stall right at the end, selling one weak product, barely bothering to chat with customers or improve her approach or really try at all.

She didn’t deserve customers.

She didn’t deserve profit.

She didn’t deserve anything.

She erased it all, held the chalk hesitantly, then scribbled her final directive:

Pay what you want

And she walked away.

Comments

[Bicyclette]

“Where’s Red?” Fiddle asked brightly.

probably loving this fic

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Fiddle explained, a blush overtaking her cheeks. “I think we’ve been wishing for the same thing for a while now. Pot finally boiled over, wouldn’cha say?”

Lighting snickered. “Something like that.”

They exchanged another long look, tails thrashing in unison, both nuzzling briefly.

Strawberry heaved an enormous sigh. “That’s beautiful. Pots boiling over. Love it.” The tone seemed to fly over the lovebirds’ heads. “Are you buying or just basking in PDA?”

i can just imagine how not in the mood for this Strawberry would be lol

All of the text was now crammed into the lower half. It looked ugly, trashy, cheap.

love how this is Strawberry’s self-harm and self-devaluing expressed as prices on her sign. i mean not as a thing that is happening but as a metaphor it is good!