Curious

by I_Post_Ponies

Chapter 3

So, about that party…

I’m not exactly sure why I chose to go. Perhaps I wanted to try listening to thoughts again. Maybe my earlier conversation had piqued my curiosity.

I liked that it was outside. I’m not one to pay too much attention to the sky, but I love surrounding myself with all forms of nature rooted in the ground.

Pinkie Pie was excited to see me, but I think she’s that way around everypony. I had only time to acknowledge her before she was off, redirecting her excitement to whatever had grabbed her attention.

She’s a pleasant enough pony, but can be a bit much at times.

I perused the party, making small talk with strangers. Always in search of curiosity. I’m weak like that.

The moon rise was just like every other, except it wasn’t too. It followed the same course it always had, but to the ponies below, it was something fascinating.

At least, to most of them.

My gaze, however, had found something—well, somepony—else to admire. The lyre-marked unicorn was here. She was watching the moon with all the others. I wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t understand her curiosity.

Perhaps another day.

---

Ah, my parents.

It’s not something I often talk about, though I don’t actively avoid the subject either. My feelings toward it are closer to apathy than anger or sorrow.

My parents were fine. They took good care of me, made sure I never failed classes or turned into a delinquent. They put a roof over my head and provided meals without begrudging me for it.

That’s what I assume, at least.

I never really felt like calling them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, though. They were more guardians than anything else. Like a couple that adopted a foal and realized a few years too late it wasn’t something they were passionate about. I don’t think I was adopted, though.

My guardians loved each other, that’s for sure. I think that was probably the most important thing they taught me, since they didn’t really go out of their way to teach me anything else. They showed I could be happy, if I found the right pony. They did have arguments, but they were few and far between. A textbook marriage.

Just like I was a textbook colt.

How do I feel about them? I’m okay with how they treated me. I can’t blame them for not making extraordinary efforts to make me feel special. They owed me nothing. They fulfilled the duty society placed upon them, and I suppose I fulfilled mine as well: I was a decent colt, and I’ve never betrayed that.

Sometimes, I feel like I missed out on something. But how can I, when it was never my choice?

Apathy, yes… with maybe a tinge of regret.

---

What does a pony do with his life? That’s a pretty good question. I take care of property. I do all sorts of grounds-keeping, though mostly for one client in particular.

It suits me; I enjoy the outdoors. Not all of it, of course, but the benefits far outweigh the negatives.

That’s just what I think, though.

I wish I had some spectacular explanation of the philosophy of keeping grass green, but there really isn’t anything special about it. You keep an eye on it, water the grounds regularly, and kill weeds where they grow. Not the most impressive job in the world, but I take pride in my work, nonetheless. It’s good to stay focused, at least a little bit.

Now, I know I said there isn’t anything special about my job, but that client I usually work for, that’s a different story. I look after a fairly small patch of land, a little ways outside the town. It’s owned by the town government, ‘The Office of the Ponyville Mayor’, if you want to get specific.

I’ve always had a pretty good relationship with the government people who check up on the place. We don’t talk much, but there’s still plenty of communication.

Ponies tend not to say a whole lot around me on the job. It makes it easier for my mind to wander, which allows me to enjoy what I can about nature. It’s got it’s downside, too, though.

You see, on that land… they plant stones.