The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“White?”

“Yeah, Scroll?”

“I’m sorry.”

Brother White was silent for a minute. “Sorry?”

“Yeah,” said Brother Scroll from his bottom bunk, “about the mess I got us into. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s okay,” reassured Brother White from the top bunk. Brother Scroll took the bottom bunk because he was afraid of heights. “We all make mistakes. After all, we’re only pony.”

“I just thought...” said Brother Scroll, “this place is scary. The ponies here act so... so mean, and even when they aren’t mean, well...” his voice trailed off, “it’s like, I wanted to show that I could be as tough as they could, and well, that stuff, it just sorta came out of my mouth...”

“It’s okay, Scroll,” said Brother White, who really just wanted to get some sleep.

“I just don’t know what we can do,” said Brother Scroll, “I don’t know if we can reach them. They hate us.”

“Nah,” said Brother White, “just me. But they’ll see.”

“I don’t think they like me any more than you,” said Brother Scroll, “they called me a fag, too.” He sighed, “How can we make friends with them if they don’t want to be friends?”

“Aw, don’t think that way-”

“How can we win when there’s so much hate?”

Brother White was quiet for a minute. “We just have to keep trying. Remember the story of the buffalo and the settlers in Apple-oosa? How they were enemies until Twilight Sparkle showed them the magic of friendship? We can do that too.”

“Aaaaactually, Twilight Sparkle didn’t really do anything there...” Brother Scroll corrected him.

“Huh?”

“Well, y’see, the buffalo and the settler ponies did it all on their own. It isn’t important what Twilight Sparkle did as it is what she learned.”

“Well... maybe we need to learn something?” suggested Brother White.

“Learn what?” asked Brother Scroll, “This isn’t a very fun lesson.”

“Well, we’ll see...”

“If we don’t get lynched first.”

“We’re not going to get lynched, Scroll,” said Brother White, laughing. Me, maybe, but... “Look,” he continued, “let’s get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll start anew.”

“Okay,” said Brother Scroll, “good night, friend.”

“Good night, buddy.”

___________

“So...” said Brother White over breakfast, “water shortage?”

“Uh-huh,” said Brother Scroll, talking through his eggs.

The kitchen in the mission house was, by most Equestrian standards, modest. It was small, with a table, a stove, a counter, an oven, a sink, and a refrigerator. All of this was put into a small space.

“How am I going to keep clean and stuff?”

“Well, there are lots of ways to save water,” said Scroll, swallowing, “like when you brush your teeth, don’t leave the water on. Or when you shower, don’t leave the water running the whole time. You just turn it on, get wet, do the soap and shampoo and stuff, turn it back on to rinse it off, and then done.”

“Huh...” said Brother White, “that’ll be hard.”

“Well, I dunno,” said Scroll, shrugging, “you could also try the ocean. Showering with a partner also saves water.”

“Huh,” said Brother White, “well, I guess we can try those.”

“So, what are we doing today?” asked Brother Scroll, “More door-to-door stuff?”

“I dunno,” said Brother White, “why don’t we just go out today and meet some ponies? No books, no badges, no neckties, no nothing like that, just go out on the town. Just have some fun.”

He cheerfully made his way out of the kitchen and into the main room of the mission house, up to the door...

And then he ducked out of the way, shutting the doors with his magic.

BANG!BANG!

Two holes were blown in the door, as Brother White huddled off to the side. “Okay...” he said, breathing heavily, “I’ll have to wear the nametag.”

Brother White and Brother Scroll waited for a while, to make sure that the attempted murderer had gotten bored. After that, they stepped out (Brother White having made sure that his badge was at its absolute shiniest) and began their walk. Their walk did not last long.

“Spare change for a poor, blind old bastard?” asked a haggard voice. It was an old earth pony, his eyes apparently lost in the sags of his face, a cup with a scant few coins in front of him, “C’mon, I know you got some.”

“Why are you sitting out here?” asked Brother White, wondering why someone would just be sitting out in the street outside the mission house in the morning like this.

“Well, it’s as good a place to sit as any, heheHAKH!” the old pony laughed before hacking a cough.

Brother White and Brother Scroll exchanged an uneasy glance. Brother White turned to the old beggar. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Brother White. I’m with the Fraternity, and you happen to be sitting outside our mission.”

The beggar grunted. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll get outta yer way...” He began standing up.

“You misunderstand us, sir,” said Brother White, “we-”

“‘Sir?’” asked the beggar, reaching a hoof behind his neck to scratch, “That’s funny. Can’t remember the last time a pony called me that. What’d you say your name was?”

“Brother White, sir,” responded the unicorn, “and this is my partner, Brother Scroll.”

“Ah...” said the beggar.

“Anyway,” said Brother White, “you’re right outside our mission. You can come in if you like.”

Brother Scroll blinked, and Brother White continued. “It’ll be better for you. We’ve got food and bedding and stuff. Scroll, help him up.”

Scroll didn’t object. He decided he’d just let Brother White do whatever it was he was thinking, though he did feel a little uncomfortable with the whole thing. He wasn’t quite sure why. Still, he did as White said. Supporting the old stallion was, however, awkward. Gave him a bit of a worry - he imagined he’d be needing to do a lot of this “helping little old mares cross the street” business throughout his career.

“Thank ye,” said the old stallion.

“Don’t mention it...” mumbled Brother Scroll.

It became apparent that “fun day on the town” would not be on the table. Instead, Brother White went about preparing the mission house for their sudden guest, and he seemed very cheerful about it, opening a can of soup and pouring it into a pot on the stove. Scroll, meanwhile, set the stallion in a chair before joining White in the kitchen.

“This is great, isn’t it?” asked Brother White, stirring the pot, “We get to really, directly help somepony. And no chamber pots!”

“Uhh, yeah, it’s great,” said Brother Scroll, nodding, “was kinda surprising.”

“I know!” said Brother White, “I remember doing bake sales in school. Those were always fun, raising money for the choir. I mean, this is what missions are about. You know, some missionaries get sent to vacation places that are full of rich snobs and the like who are too up with themselves to care much about friendship. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but here, places like this, this is where you really have to, to... to dig in and start helping out and stuff.” He took a deep breath. “Man, I feel good.”

“Umm...” said Brother Scroll.

“What?” asked Brother White, “Something wrong?”

“Well, I was just wondering...” said Brother Scroll, “so, this guy’s gonna be staying here.”

“Of course.”

“And spending the night?”

“You bet.”

“Well...” Brother Scroll said uneasily, fidgeting with his front hooves, “we only have one bunk bed.”

Brother White stopped stirring.

___________

“I’m afraid of heights.” Brother Scroll was in the top bunk. So was Brother White. There was a soft snoring sound from the bed below. “That’s why I took the bottom one.”

“Ah,” said Brother White, who was having a little difficulty moving, because Brother Scroll had his legs wrapped around him, “well, if this thing falls down, I think he is going to have it a lot worse than us.”

Brother Scroll loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m just a bit of a worry-wart, I guess. It’s funny, last time I was in bed with somepony...”

He was about to say ‘was when I was a little colt and got scared of nightmares and walked to mom and dad’s bedroom,’ but then he remembered. Brother White could feel how awkward it was.

“You okay?” he asked, “About... that whole thing?”

“I guess,” Scroll said, shrugging, “it’s just that, well... how was your first time?”

“My...?” Brother White asked. “Well...” he whispered awkwardly, “I’m still a virgin.”

There was a magnificent silence as Brother Scroll basked in the stupefying fact that he’d lost his virginity first. Brother White took advantage of the silence to change the subject.

“We should probably write a letter back to the Fraternity,” said White, sitting up, “tell them what’s happened. Like that thing with Brother Sky and Brother Shine. We could also send a request for some extra food and bedding and stuff.” He started rubbing his hooves together. “We’re gonna get really started here!”

A very loud snore from below made them jump.

“...First thing in the morning.”

__________

Brother White was sitting at his desk, writing a letter with a quill.

...Brother Sky and Brother Shine were not here to receive us upon arrival. They seem to have vanished. The general claims that they left to join the group of pegasus ponies and unicorn ponies - I assume Sky with the pegasus ponies and Shine with the unicorn ponies. All in all, the mission is going...

He paused.

...well. Brother Scroll has...

He paused again.

...already made a new friend. Although new to the Fraternity, he’s shown himself to be a true Brother, and I’m proud to have him as my partner.

That is not to say that everything is pinkie keen. If there was ever a place in need of the magic of friendship, it’s Earthquake Island, and there are a lot of ponies and not a lot of missionaries. We need everything we can get if we’re going to help these ponies. To that end, we would like to request additional supplies: books, food, blankets, and especially bedding.

Signed,

Brother White

“Uhh, White?” asked Brother Scroll, poking his head out of the bunk room.

“Huh?” asked Brother White, looking up from the desk.

“The guy’s still asleep,” said Scroll, “aaaand... isn’t it a bit late to be sleeping in?”

“I don’t see why,” mused White, putting the letter in an envelope, “this is probably the first time he’s been in a bed instead of on the concrete. By the way, you think you could take this letter down to the dock before the boat leaves?”

“I think I should be able to...”

“Wonderful!” said White, stuffing the letter into Scroll’s mouth, “I’ll see how our guest is doing.”

“Moh-hay,” mumbled Brother Scroll, walking out the door. After he left, Brother White was sure to close the door. He found himself wishing that he’d asked for new doors. Ah, well, can’t always get what you want, he reasoned. He decided to check up on their old guest, who was still lying in the bottom bunk.

“Mmm...” he groaned.

“Hello,” whispered Brother White, “you sleep well last night?”

“Not really,” said the old stallion, “was hard to sleep through your pilla talk.”

“Oh,” said Brother White, “sorry about that. Scroll gets worried about things. He’s new.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like breakfast or...”

“No, I don’t think so,” said the old stallion, “don’t know what good it’d do me. I think I’m dyin’. But if ya got some gin that’d be fine, though.”

“Gin?” asked Brother White. He didn’t know what that was. “I dunno... I’ll see about that.” He walked out of the room as the old stallion hacked another cough.

“Just managed to get the boat!” called Brother Scroll, walking back into the mission house.

“Good, good, umm...” said Brother White, walking back into the main room. “Gin.”

“Gin?” asked Scroll, “What about it?”

“You know what it is?”

“I think it’s another one of those umm... those drinks.”

“Ah,” said Brother White. That explained why he hadn’t heard of it. “Well, think you could run down to the tavern and get some?”

“What? Why?”

“Our guest wants some,” said White, “and I think we should oblige.”

“Well, if you say so,” said Brother Scroll.

“Good. That’d be wonderful,” said White, turning back to the guest, “so, everything okay?”

“Well,” said the old stallion, “I’m blind, and I have maggots in my scrotum, but aside from that... no.”

White’s ears drooped.

“Never had anyone to bother me for a while, though. Wife died. Son got killed by the wingers. After that, nopony had any use for an old washed-up stallion like me. Except you, for some reason. Why?”

“I just wanted to help...”

“Peh,” said the stallion, “wanted to feel good about yourself, more like. Taking time out of your busy schedule to help little old me...”

“Well, that actually kinda is my busy schedule...”

“What, so you can call yourself a ‘good guy?’ That it?”

“Well,” said Brother White, trying to find the right words to say, “is it wrong for me to want that?”

“Eh...” said the stallion, “I don’t see why you bother. I’m dyin’, y’know. Been dyin’ for a while, and you actin’ all nice isn’t gonna change that.”

“I can’t really do anything else,” said Brother White, “listen... I’ve had a pretty good life so far, and other ponies... haven’t.”

“Oh, you just noticed now?”

“All I’ve ever wanted to see is smiles,” said Brother White, “that’s my cutie mark. You can’t see it, but it’s a smile. I’m normally a pretty happy pony, and... and I’d just like others to be happy. That’s what I want to see.”

“But you don’t see that.”

“No...”

“Then tell me, what have ya seen here?”

“Well...” said White, thinking back on the last few days, “when we got here we saw a pegasus pony get murdered. Then we got threatened by the general...”

“Asshole, ain’t he?”

“Kinda. Then we tried going door to door, and that didn’t work. Then we saw a pony get lynched... Then we got drunk and I got a black eye and Scroll lost his virginity. Then we felt bad in the morning and Scroll got upset. Then we went out and I got doused in... in pee. Twice.” The stallion gave a weak chuckle. White couldn't help buy smile at his own folly. Like he said the other day... it was funny. “And then we got into another fight. And then today somepony tried to shoot me. They, uh... they don’t like me. They don’t like unicorns here, obviously.”

“Waitaminute...” said the stallion, slowly sitting up, “you’ve been a... a horner all this time?”

“Yeah.” Brother White’s voice didn’t betray any sort of shock or indignation.

“Sonuva... ach!” the stallion coughed again, “Eh. I don’t have any fight left in me now. But that just goes to my point. Everypony here hates you, why are you here?”

“Maybe because everypony hates me,” Brother White shrugged, “I was assigned a mission. I’m going to do that. What else can I do?”

“You could go home,” said the stallion, “you and your boyfriend. Then you wouldn’t have to have your... your ‘guilt’ or whatever at us not meeting your standards and we wouldn’t have to be annoyed by your prancing.”

Brother White was silent for a minute. “I can’t do that,” he finally said. “I refuse to believe it.”

“Well, thanks for the soup, at least.”

___________

Brother Scroll returned to the mission house with the bottle of gin in his mouth. As he hadn’t been saying anything on the errand, he didn’t encounter any trouble. By himself, he was not a very noticeable pony, despite the bright red necktie. He stopped at the door. Those holes made him feel uncomfortable - what if there was a draft or something? That’d be awful.

He opened the door, knocking on it as he did so. There was no response. He would’ve called out from White, but there was a bottle in his mouth that prevented him from doing that. He slowly walked over to the door of the bunk room and peered in. White was right where he’d been when he left, slouched over the bed. Scroll gently placed the bottle of gin on the floor.

“White?” he asked quietly.

Brother White didn’t turn to look at him. “He’s dead.”

____________

It took several hours for somepony to come take the body. Brother White, meanwhile, sat on the curb in front of the mission (this time wearing his badge, so he didn’t get shot). He didn’t say anything, but just looked out, surveying the dilapidated town. Scroll quietly walked up behind him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” said White, “I’m always okay. Besides, there wasn’t really anything we could do. He was dying before we even invited him in. We made him a little more comfortable before he died, so... at least he liked the soup.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Brother Scroll, sitting down next to him, “I think you did the right thing.”

“Thanks,” said White, still surveying the town. One thing stood out that caught his eye - it was a little pink colt wearing some bizarre harness with saddlebags that were a bit bigger than an earth pony his age should be carrying. The little colt seemed to be collecting garbage and putting them into the saddlebags, and he moved very slowly.

“Hey!” called out White. The colt didn’t respond. “You there! With the garbage!” The pink colt looked up at him.

“Me, sir?”

“Yeah, you,” said Brother White, “what are you doing?”

“Collecting trash, sir...” the colt said. He walked up closer, staring at Brother White’s horn.

“What’s your name?”

“They call me Clip, sir...” he responded.

Scroll looked at the colt, then at White, and then back at the colt.

“You’ve never seen a unicorn before?” asked Scroll.

“No, sir,” said Clip.
“Only when they attack, I’ll bet...” muttered White. “Clip, why are you out collecting garbage?”

“Well, I kinda have to,” said the colt, lowering his head, “it’s kinda my job... I have to get back to doing that.”

“Well, Clip, before you go, I want you to know,” said White, “that our mission’s doors are always open. You can come in here anytime you want, and bring your friends, too.”

“I don’t have any friends, sir...” said Clip, slowly shuffling away. Brother White opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted.

“Times like these, it’s the best job there is,” said an earth pony, emerging from the door, a shovel for a cutie mark, “there’s good money to be made as a gravedigger when there’s plenty of graves to dig.”

“So you say,” said a second earth pony with the same cutie mark.

“When’s the funeral gonna be?” asked Brother White.

“Funeral?” asked the first gravedigger.

“Old bastard didn’t have a family,” said the second.

“But-”

“Listen, we don’t deal with that stuff,” said the first gravedigger, “we just dig holes and fill them with bodies, and that’s what we’re doing with this old stiff.”

“I wouldn’t be too broken up about it,” said the second gravedigger, “he got to die in bed. That’s quite an accomplishment. If you’re really broken up about this, you should just pop open that bottle of gin.”

“Well, we, uh...” Brother Scroll looked at White, who seemed to bear an expression of complete resignation.

___________

“O whether we be many
Or whether we be few
I’ll never want for anything
While I have faith in you.”

The bottle of gin was now covered in a dull glow, suspended in mid-air, as the two Brothers sang the Fraternity’s hymn. It was late, and White and Scroll were up on their hind legs, attempting to dance while supporting each other. This worked about as well as could be expected for two drunk ponies, and they lost balance and fell over, Scroll on his back with his glasses having fallen off, and White on top of him.

White managed to catch the bottle with his magic before it shattered on the floor and gently set it down.

“We shouldn try that again...” Brother Scroll slurred, giggling.

“Probly not,” said Brother White. “Y’know, Tap says you look cute without your glasses.” Scroll giggled more. “I think she’s right,” said White, smiling, and Scroll’s fits of giggles grew uncontrollable. When he was able to suppress his fits, he saw that White was looking up at the door. Scroll followed his gaze to see a stern-looking General Quake in the doorway.

“Hi, general,” said Brother White, levitating the bottle, “care to join us?”

General Quake raised a leg, and then stomped it on the ground. The whole mission house shook, and the missionaries scrambled to get up.

“What was in that letter?” he asked angrily.

“Huh?” Scroll asked, “letter...?”

“What was in the fucking letter, you fucking little fairies?” the general barked, walking up to Brother Scroll with a surprising bit of speed and knocking him down, “Tell me!” he pressed a hoof into Scroll’s mouth, pushing down, “You don’t send fucking letters without my approval!”

Scroll gagged on the general’s hoof, and his eyes went wide. If the general kept up the pressure he’d crush his skull.

“Stop! Please!” pleaded White, “We just sent for supplies! Just for some... some food and bedding and books! Things we need for the mission!”

The general paused, and then lifted his hoof. Scroll chocked, wheezing for air, and White ran to his side. “You okay...?”

“Fine,” said the general, “from now on, you send the letters through me.”

“Why?” asked Scroll, coughing.

“Because I fucking say so,” said the general, making Scroll cringe, “got it?”

Scroll nodded.

“And fix the door,” said the general as he walked out, “it’s a damn eyesore.”

Comments

[Balkanboy]

I'm just waiting for the general to die a horrible death...

[littlerobotbird]

Man, got to fix that first pair of chapters. Now I'm kinda pissed at myself for not getting past them on the initial read. Starts out with a double dose of "shit's f*cked" before getting to the fun stuff. Dat cart chase... the visual on it is just great (especially with upbeat ska behind it, give it a shot).
Anyways, so far this story is swimming in a great quantity of assholes, but at least you seem to have picked up some more... I guess 'normal' might be the word--characters in the process. Tap was fun. Scroll seems to have the better persona of the two (White is a bit insufferable at times, but in a way that it seems to be on purpose at least) and maybe the more fun of the two as well.
Waiting to see if you will/what kind of overarching plot you may devise for these two, but it'll have to wait a while.

[Blue Thrush]

And the adventure continues. General shows up at the end to remind us that he still exists (and to establish that he controls the postage I suppose). The bit with the blind pony was good (knew what was coming with the whole "I didn't know you were a horner this whole time" bit, but it worked), and the story's progressing nicely.