The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A tavern is normally a place where one can find all sorts of colorful personalities. This tavern, however, was permeated by various shades of brown. Lots of assholes, basically, and all of them loud and drunk. Tap managed to put up with it, though. She had to, otherwise she’d have gone crazy a long time ago.

She ran the tavern, more or less, along with her younger brother, Barrel, a tawny, slightly fat earth pony who at that moment in time was in the cellar, trying to figure out which of two bottles of cider was fermented. The two of them were almost constantly busy - got to bed late and got up early, though sometimes they were able to take turns. This occasionally allowed for one of them to sleep in or leave the tavern to shop or walk. Sometimes, however, the tavern required both of their attention.

Like when Barrel couldn’t tell which bottle had the fermented stuff.

While she loved her brother dearly, she had to admit that Barrel was always a few pints short of a hogshead. Since their parents died in a pegasus attack years ago, she’d had to take care of everything for both the tavern (which had needed to be rebuilt several times) and her brother.

Tap’s days were rarely interesting. In the morning she woke up and walked downstairs to the bar, opening it for business. She and her brother then served drinks for the next few hours. Shortly before noon there was a break in the flow of business, and at this time Tap left the tavern. She needed to buy some hops. This, however, turned out to be a problem.

“Five bits?” she asked. “It was four last week.”

“Well, a pony needs the money. I can barely support myself as is,” protested the merchant.

“You and me both,” Tap sighed, not in the mood to try arguing prices.

That left a slight block of free time, which she used to think to herself on things that had happened to her recently. She’d lost a door, for one thing. Those two goody-four-horseshoes missionaries seemed to keep cropping up. Of course, that wasn’t too difficult when...

“We want to be your friends!” she heard that familiar, almost whiny voice call. Brother Scroll, trying his damned hardest to sell. She felt bad for the guy. Then she spotted the little pink colt in their wagon, which she quickly realized was the garbage collector Brother White had mentioned the last time they met. Which reminded her...

She went back to the tavern, deciding that she’d see just what it was that was in their miraculous little book. She went upstairs and into her room. She had a dusty but fairly large bed, and a nightstand with a broken drawer. Unlike the door, she was in no hurry to fix that. Not a priority. It opened with a painful scraping sound, and she took out the book. She also decided that the lighting wasn’t good enough, so she went to the windows and opened the blinds. Sunlight flooded into the room, forcing her to blink. The room seemed so different in the light.

She sat down on her bed and opened the book. Twilight Sparkle...

She snorted. What kind of a name was that? That sounded like the kind of name she made up as a filly when she wanted to pretend she was a princess or something. But apparently Equestria was actually run by princesses...

Oh, and Twilight Sparkle was also a unicorn. Great, thought Tap, I’m reading lessons from a horner...

While Tap wasn’t as aggressively racist as many other ponies, she found it hard to admire a unicorn when most of her encounters with unicorns were violent ones. Except for Brother White, that is. He was nice, if a little full of himself and hopelessly naive. It might’ve helped that he hadn’t drunkenly hit on her and thrown demeaning terms in her direction, but then again, she almost took it for granted that he was a coltcuddler. She wasn’t too sure about Scroll, though.

The story was a silly one, she thought. So basically this unicorn gets together with another unicorn, two earth ponies, and two pegasus ponies, and they have these magic things that enable them to defeat this maniacal pony that’s somehow both a pegasus and a unicorn (she found her an easy antagonist to dislike, funnily enough), and... they make friends with her in the end. Sort of.

She had to stop there. It was too ridiculous. And these ponies were obviously lesbians.

Actually, that made her think a bit. Maybe the ponies in Equestria were all just really nice to each other like that. Damn, she thought, maybe those two aren’t gay. It left her puzzling.

The next story in the book involved some sort of confusion about tickets for a big fancy party. Dumb, she thought, I would’ve just scalped ‘em. Then it turned out that all she had to do was ask for more tickets. These fillies must have been as old as she was at the time these letters were written, but the most pressing concern on their minds was “who gets the ticket?”

That was enough of that for the day. Seriously, if the worst they had to worry about was a matter of who to give tickets to... well, they must’ve had pretty good lives.

“Hey, give those back!”

She raised her head, looking towards the window. Getting up from her bed, she walked over and looked out. Those two again, and this time a group of rambunctious foals had grabbed Scroll’s glasses and were running off with them.

The glasses, however, seemed to lift right out of the foal’s mouth and floated over to Scroll’s face again. Unicorn magic, she saw. She saw Brother White walk over to Scroll, who had sat down to adjust his glasses, and White said something. She couldn’t hear what it was, but it made Scroll smile. White had to break off, though - the foals had moved on to teasing the garbage collector who was in the wagon.

Well, that was about the entirety of her free hour to herself. She closed the blinds, put the book back on the nightstand (she didn’t want to wrestle with the drawer again) and headed back downstairs. Her brother Barrel, however, was not at the counter. Sighing, she checked the cellar.

“Barrel?”

“Just a minute!” her brother shouted frantically. He had several cups out and he was pouring cider into, mixing them together. It seems that his solution to the “can’t tell which is which” question was to simply mix the contents of the two bottles together.

___________

One particularly plastered pony was demanding another drink. “Ehy, ahm payin’!” he protested.

“Keep up like that, you’ll drink us out of house and home,” said Tap. “Besides, I’d rather you didn’t pass out in a pool of your own vomit in here.”

“Jus one more...”

“No. That’s it. Get out if you can walk straight enough to get to the door,” Tap said emphatically.

The drunk pony grumbled in between hiccups, and got up, walking to the door... of the bathroom. As he didn’t come out for quite a while, Tap was led to assume that he had either passed out or was taking an extraordinarily long piss.

Mid-afternoon, and business had slowed to a crawl, which allowed Tap and Barrel to catch their breaths a little. It’d be a few hours before the ponies started pouring in, and there was sure to be a cavalcade of fighting and bad singing.

She sighed. “Barrel?” she said, “I think we’ll have to close the tavern for a bit sometime this week.”

“Huh?” asked Barrel, who was thinking to himself about exactly how much water he should use to dilute the beer.

“Close the place down for a day so we don’t have to deal with this. Brew some more drinks so that we’re able to keep up. That sort of thing.”

Barrel shrugged. Managing stuff was not his strong suit.

“Is this ‘terrible doors week’ or something?” asked a voice. Tap looked up. It was General Quake, accompanied on either side by two lieutenants of his. Quake was wearing a fancy uniform, which meant one thing – “important” military meeting.

He was sneering at the curtain they were using for a makeshift door. “See how that keeps anything out,” he muttered, walking to a table in the corner with his two lieutenants. “And bring us some ales,” he ordered.

Tap wondered which was worse – a tavern filled with normal assholes or a tavern with just one reigning asshole?

She never complained out loud, though. Snarked at drunkards, yes, but didn’t complain. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all, and in such a setting one can’t be too picky with patrons. Besides, pissing off the general was a bad idea.

She got a tray and placed three bottles on it before carrying it over to the table.

“...they’re avoiding each other,” said one of the lieutenants.

“Figures,” said the general, “buncha cowards. That’s why they got big flying things - so they can run away! Not us, though. Whatever it is they’re planning, we’ll be right here, ready.”

“Think they might be joining each other?” asked one of the lieutenants.

“Don’t be retarded, they hate each other as much as they hate us!” said the other.

Tap, deciding that their conversation didn’t have anything to offer her in the area of maybe-this-information-will-keep-me-from-dying, placed the tray on the table.

“I think we can probably expect an attack in the near future,” said the general, “if those little shit-wings gave us the right information and Tap don’t go away just yet.” The rapid change in the topic was not accompanied by a similarly rapid change in tone. “I’d like you to go upstairs and wait for me in a few minutes.”

Tap sighed and took the tray away as one of the lieutenants got annoyed. “What, now?” he asked incredulously.

“Not now, in a few minutes,” said the general.

“You call us out here for a meeting and then you...”

“Listen, it’s my fucking island and I’ll do what I fucking like, got it?” said the general. The lieutenant backed down. Pissing off the general was a bad idea.

“Think you can hold down the fort for the time being?” asked Tap, putting the tray back at the counter.

“Yeah, why?” asked Barrel. Tap nodded over at the general. “Aww, no...” said Barrel, disgusted, “no, don’t...”

Tap ignored him and just trudged upstairs, while one of the lieutenants (the one that had suggested that the other two factions might’ve formed an alliance) started snickering at Barrel’s reaction. The other lieutenant (who had called him retarded) promptly smacked him upside the head.

She decided that now would be as good a time as any to continue reading. There was that thing where the farmer pony learned that she needed help. That was the section Scroll read from when they broke the door.

The next story involved a griffon... she had absolutely no idea what that was. But apparently she was a bitch that needed to be put in her place. It was also at this point that she decided that Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were definitely lesbians.

She skipped forward into the book, and to her surprise, found that the letters had ended. This section was title “Party Games.”

Spin the Bottle - you and your friends sit in a circle and place a bottle in the middle. One pony spins it. When the bottle stops spinning, the pony has to kiss whoever the bottle is facing.

Truth or Dare - ponies take turns. When it’s a pony’s turn, they have to choose between truth or a dare. If truth, that pony has to answer a question (preferably an embarrassing question). If dare, the pony has to do whatever he or she is told. In some variants, the pony whose turn it is selects the pony who calls truth or dare and then selects either the question or the challenge, and in other variants the truth or dare that the selected pony has to answer is open for anyone to call.

The door opened, and in walked the general.

“Anything we commonponies need to know?” asked Tap dryly. The general ignored her.

“What’s that?” he asked, seeing that she was reading.

“It’s that book the missionaries are handing out.”

The general groaned. “I am getting fucking sick of those two,” he said through his teeth as he undid his uniform, “them and their fucking combed manes and their fucking little smiles and their fucking little ‘oh I want to be friendly, come on and be gay with me’ shit.”

“I don’t see a problem with them,” said Tap, turning a page (card games and tricks, the last entry being 52 Pickup), “they aren’t really hurting anything.”

“This morning I got a complaint from somepony about how they stole one of his employees.”

“Garbage collector?”

“Yeah, that was it, I think.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she asked, somewhat apprehensively.

“Nothing, don’t give a shit about his garbage collectors. But if those two keep butting into everything with ‘oh, we can save you all with the magic of friendship,’ they’re gonna be in deep shit.” He turned around. “What’s that book about, anyway?”

“It’s about a horner and her friends,” said Tap, closing it, “it’s... pretty stupid.” She concluded, placing it on the nightstand. The general approached the bed.

___________

A few days later, Tap went for a walk. She was going to the mission house - despite their regular visits, she’d never actually seen this place on the inside. She was going to try to run some errands a little later, but she didn’t have very high hopes. A pony couldn’t have very high hopes in this place.

Except for those two missionaries. Ever chipper, if occasionally rattled. She wondered how long that would last. Probably not - their foundations were already crumbling. She felt bad for them. Anypony else and she’d likely just suggest they suck it up, but these two... they were practically kids.

The door had some boards on it to cover the bullet holes. That didn’t really do anything for the aesthetics that the general seemed to have been complaining about. She checked the door - unlocked. In fact, the door didn’t seem to have a lock on it. This baffled her. Still, she wasn’t one to completely turn down their hospitality.

She entered and saw Brother Scroll, his back to the door, reading something.

“So you think we should try limbo or musical chairs?” asked Scroll.

“Huh?”

Scroll jumped, turning around. “Oh, uh, sorry...” he said, fidgeting with his glasses (nervous again, thought Tap), “I thought you were White. The pony, not the color, that is...”

“Where is he?” asked Tap.

“He went out,” said Scroll, “he wanted to, uh... check something out...”

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, can’t tell you,” said Scroll, “it’s a surprise...”

“And it involves either limbo or musical chairs?”

“No, that’s something completely different,” said Scroll, “we were hoping to throw a party. A bit of a problem when we can’t make cake, though.”

“I see...” said Tap. Scroll wouldn’t stop fidgeting, like he was antsy about something, but then, Scroll seemed like he was always antsy about something. “How’s the mission going?”

“Fine, fine...” said Scroll. The air felt thick with awkwardness.

“It isn’t, isn’t it?” asked Tap.

“No,” said Scroll, letting out a sigh like the air being released from a very worried balloon, “still nopony interested and I almost got beat up again. Same with White. Somepony tried to kill White the other day and the general almost killed me and what if the general gets mad again because of Clip...”

“I can tell you he doesn’t really care about the garbage collector...”

“...and all the ponies here are just so mean and they curse at you and throw racism and homophobic slurs and ponies keep dying and being violent and there’s all these guns and booze and did you see what they do to the little pegasus ponies they catch it’s horrible and... and...” and by this point he was nearly hyperventilating.

“It’s okay, it’s okay...” said Tap, nuzzling his shoulder, “just calm down.”

Scroll took a few deep breaths. “Okay... I think I’m fine... it’s just... it’s just really hard.”

“Well, that’s life,” said Tap, “well, life for us. I guess it’s different where you’re from.”

“Uh-huh,” said Scroll, nodding, “so, uh... wanna see a fridge? We got one in the kitchen.”

“Sure, why not?” said Tap, hoping that the awkwardness of the visit would be over soon. Scroll led her into the place, and Tap was rather shocked that they got a fancy clean kitchen while hers was, well, not. Hell, just how pampered were these Equestrians, anyway?

“So, here we are,” said Scroll, throwing open the fridge. Tap looked in it, unimpressed. “Well, we had to throw all the food out. Expired...”

Tap stuck her head in the fridge. It was cool, like they said, but she found it surprising. It was just so alien to her.

“How does it work?” she asked.

“Unicorn magic,” said Scroll, “same with the stove and the oven here. It all runs on unicorn magic. A lot of inventions were made by unicorns. And I mean, if they’ve got a floating city... I’d like to see that, actually.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Tap, “it’s hell when they come.’

“Oh...” said Scroll. “Well...”

“Helloooooo!” called out a familiar sing-song voice as Brother White merrily swung the door open. “Scrooooll, I got your favorite snaaaack.”

Tap gave Scroll an amused look, and Scroll laughed nervously. “We’re in the kitchen!” he called.

“We?” asked White, stepping into the mission house and poking his head through the kitchen door. “Oh,” he said, seeing Tap, “glad you came over for a visit.”

“Hi,” said Tap.

“Soo...” said Scroll, “I’m not sure if we should do limbo or musical chairs...”

“Limbo, definitely,” said White, dragging in the wagon (Clip was sitting there looking cute) “requires less setup and it’s easier to jump in.”

“Alright then, limbo it is!”

“So,” said Tap, trying to sort it all out, “you two are throwing a party?”

“Uh-huh!” said Clip enthusiastically, “With balloons even!”

“And we’d like you to come!” said White happily, “You and anypony else you’d like to invite!”

Tap opened her mouth. She was about to say no, but that smile on White’s face (along with the accompanying squeaking sound he made) largely prevented her from doing that.

“Oh, alright,” she conceded.

“YAY!” exclaimed the other three in unison.

___________

Tap returned to the tavern to find Barrel leaning on the counter, looking a little forlorn. There was a bottle next to him.

“Oh, Barrel, you’re too young to be drinking!” she said, walking over to him.

“Gotta start sometime...” Barrel mumbled. Something, however, seemed off. Tap inspected the bottle.

“Barrel... this is ginger ale,” she said.

“Yeah, so?”

“Ginger ale doesn’t have alcohol in it,” she explained, eyes narrowed slightly.

Barrel sat up. “Oh. What about ginger beer?”

“Sometimes. And you shouldn’t slouch like that. I don’t want you to get a crooked back.”

“Where were you?” asked Barrel.

“Oh, I went to see the missionaries.”

“What do they want, anyway?” asked Barrel, “one of them was in here the other day. Got a bottle of gin. He seemed nervous about something...”

“Blue one?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he’s like that. Anyway, they want to have a party or something,” said Tap, “invited us.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. I think they just want to be... well, nice to everypony,” she reasoned. “Now get cleaned up, we’re gonna get a lot of ponies in here who want their booze and it is not going to be fun.”

___________

The next day it was Barrel’s turn to take leave. He didn’t usually run errands or anything - every time he tried, he always forgot something. More likely he was going to go down to the docks and watch the sea birds as they carried out their mundane activities. He could sit for hours just watching them.

Today, however, it appeared that he hadn’t gone down to the docks. When he came back, he was sporting some heavy-looking saddlebags and a big grin on his face.

“Hiya, sis!”

“Hey, Barrel,” said Tap, trying not to betray a sense of surprise, “...where were you?”

“At the mission!” said Barrel enthusiastically. “Look!” He puffed out his chest, showing the shiny name badge he had. “They’ve accepted me into the Fraternity! I’m Brother Barrel now!”

Tap blinked, somewhat dumbfounded.

“And the bags?”

“Books!” he said, setting the saddlebags down on a table, “we can set up a little table and it’ll have all the books there, and the patrons can just come in and take them.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Tap, nervously. The last thing she wanted was to be ridiculed for being associated with the Fraternity.

“Aww, c’mon, sis,” said Barrel.

“Oh, alright,” she said, deciding that there was no conceivable way it could make things worse.

___________

That night, they had a small table near the counter, stacked with books and a sign inviting patrons to “Take One.”

General Quake happened to come in that night. After scoffing at their lack of a proper door, his eyes fell on that table. He stared at it for a full minute, and then looked at the two ponies behind the counter. Tap ignored him, while Barrel looked back at him with a hopeful smile. He even made the squeaking noise that White had (how do they do that? she wondered).

“Fuck, now I really need a drink...” grumbled the general.

Comments

[Ponyman]

I think there's going to be a bonfire soon.

Shame nopony else is reading this. Perhaps another cameo?

[BrightIdea]

Wait. Is Barrel a Brony now?

[Draco Dei]

“Keep up like that, you’ll drink us out of house and home,” <-Not possible unless he can't pay. OTOH it could be just a turn of phrase, or it could be a matter of having to limit the intake of any one customer, to make sure they didn't run out, and therefore end up with a lot of unhappy customers who might take their business elsewhere in the long-run.

Was the idea of taking a few days off influenced at all by reading "Applebuck Season" (not that the book would call it that)?

[Blue Thrush]

Squeaky smiles are best smiles.

[DerpedRainbow]

Is it bad that I am starting to like the General?