Doctor Whooves is assigned to Ponyville to assess the mental health of the Mane 6.
Perhaps Doctor Whooves is not a medical doctor or a time lord, but a doctor of psychology.
The following are his journals after he receives instructions from Princess Celestia to permanently set up shop in Ponyville to keep an eye on Twilight Sparkle and her friends, where he learns more than he bargained for.
Apologies for any errors that may appear in this entry. I am forced to write with my muzzle, using pencil, as my phonograph–my usual method of transcription–is inaccessible at the moment. Not to mention that I am writing this in a carriage as it is drawn through the air, and I am not adept to flight. Earth ponies generally aren’t.
I’m writing this entry on the fly–literally–because I will have little time to set down events once I land in Ponyville. Also, I highly suspect that, in my rushed exodus from Canterlot, most of my previous entries have been left behind.
Which means that I need to set them down again, albeit in a brief fashion.
My name is Whooves, Doctor Whooves. And before you start jumping to conclusions, I am not a medical doctor or a surgeon. I am a doctor of psychology. Young, considering the ridiculous amount of schooling it takes to get said position. I was running a solid business in Canterlot up until two days ago, when the Princess herself paid me a visit. Since that visit, my life has been upside-down and unstable, sporadically shot with deductions from my physical property and mental health.
The good news is sparse, but comforting all the same. Truth is, I’m not really a stranger to Ponyville. In fact, I spent last winter there, helping with Winter Wrap-Up; I consider it something of a second home.
Ah, but my mission. I get distracted far too easily.
This is all confidential, of course. Apparently, Celestia’s star pupil had something of a mental breakdown a little while back, and now the Princess has considered it a good precaution to have an official psychologist in Ponyville to observe her–and the rest of the Bearers’–mental condition. Obviously, they can’t know of this mission, and so I’ll be opening shop in Ponyville as something of a cover. The Princess has already arranged for my residence and affairs to be in order.
Ponyville approaches, and my muzzle isn’t used to this much writing.
Later, via phonograph.
Well, that was interesting, to say the least.
I was deposited just outside Ponyville, to avoid any suspicion that might arise from my royal escort, with nothing but a pair of saddlebags and a scrap of paper with the address of my apartment. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if it was an apartment at the time. Turns out it wasn’t–I’m not quite sure why I assumed that. It’s not exactly comforting to have no idea where you are going or if you’re life’s accumulation of physical property is going to make it there successfully. Needless to say, most of it did, as this is being recorded on my precious phonograph.
Nevertheless, it was irritating at the time. But I’m getting distracted again. On with my entry into Ponyville.
I trotted into Ponyville sometime mid-morning, and began weaving my way through the streets, trying to track down the address. Trotting through the streets, my chaotic life began taking physical abuse as a certain pink pony slammed into me most unceremoniously. I’d seen her before. She’s a resident of Ponyville, and one of the Bearers too. I just can’t remember her name exactly. It was some kind of alliteration, I think.
“Hi Whooves! Welcome back from Canterlot! Oh! You know what this calls for? A PARTY!”
She gave me a last squeeze of her forced hug and bounded off.
I was starting to remember why I spent most of my time in Canterlot. Ponyville is nice, but lacks a certain quality of respect that Canterlot possesses.
And this particular pony is particularly obnoxious. But very, very interesting. From the information I received from the Princess, which included several stories for background information, this pony–ah yes, Pinkie Pie, that was her name–is bipolar. Or manic-depressive, whichever you prefer.
But not your typical bipolar case. Typically, manic-depressive patients are usually in a state of relatively normal emotional level, or slightly depressed, with only very occasional manic episodes. Pinkie Pie is a completely different case, from what I’ve seen and heard. She seems to be in a constant state of mania with the occasional onset of severe depression and aggression, likely induced by conditions similar to a past foalhood experience, or stimuli conflicting with her driving force (in her case, anything that impedes laughter).
Anyway, after brushing the mud off as best I could, I continued on my way. I found what I thought was my new home. I was impressed. The Princess didn’t skimp on this. I had my own house. So, imagine my confusion when two ponies trotted up and unlocked it, and entered.
“Excuse me, do you mares live here?” I asked.
The mint green unicorn stopped and looked at me. “Um, yes.” She smiled. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for this address,” I replied, pulling out the slip of paper with said information on it.
“Oh! Well, you’re only one house off,” she said, motioning to the house next door, which looked nearly identical. Built by the same company, probably. She continued, “Are you moving in there? It’s been empty for quite a while now.”
I responded in the affirmative.
“Oh, how nice to meet you! I’m Lyra, and this is, um...” She looked around. “Bonbon, come meet our new neighbor!”
A cream-coated earth pony with a purple and pink mane emerged from the house she had disappeared into moment before.
“Hello, I’m Bonbon. You’re... Whooves, right?” Apparently my reputation in this town is larger than I anticipated.
“Yes. Doctor Whooves.”
After a few more pleasantries, I took my leave and went to investigate my house. The moving company had already come and gone, leaving the key under the mat as arranged. At least they got the address right. I don’t want to imagine what would be happening right now if that had gone awry.
Most of my things made the trip without damage, although my previous journal entries and the few other things I kept tucked in away in a certain cranny at my Canterlot dwelling are missing, as I anticipated. The rest of the afternoon I spent settling in, unpacking, moving my furniture, and dusting. I could have sworn there was an inch of dust in here.
After cleaning up satisfactorily, I realized that I had missed lunch, and was excruciatingly hungry. I am used to rather scheduled meals from my time back in Canterlot, where things aren’t so flat-out hectic. So, home in a rough order, I locked up and went to see if there were any good restaurants in Ponyville. On my previous visits here, I had had the opportunity to plan ahead and bring my own trappings, but since the encounter with the Princess, I have planned absolutely nothing. The only reason I have a single ounce of sanity left is through the foresight and planning of the Princess. Kind of bittersweet; she tears up my life by its roots, and yet manages to have me thanking her for keeping some of it together.
There aren’t any restaurants here worth speaking of. A few that are suitable enough, but none that can hold a candle to Canterlot’s fine dining.
My choice (I forget the exact name now) landed me at a table within earshot of a conversation between none other than two of the Bearers! I didn’t think they saw me, so I sat still, with my menu covering my face, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Normally I don’t support eavesdropping, but I kind of had an exception granted by the Princess.
If it sounds like I’m covering my tail a lot by using Celestia’s title repeatedly, it’s because that’s exactly what I’m doing.
The conversation was between Rarity, the Element of Generosity, rising fashion star, and a yellow-coated, pink-maned pegasus. Fluttershy, I remembered.
“...no, Fluttershy, not that kind of doctor. He’s a psychologist.”
A chill ran through me as I realized they were talking about me. Cover blown, or so I thought.
“Oh, that’s nice. What does that kind of doctor do?”
“Oh, um...” Rarity tapped her chin as she tried to find a way to explain my job. “He’s a doctor for ponies who have problems in their mind, or problems in their life.”
“I hope he doesn’t get too much business. I mean, I want him to succeed, but I hope he doesn’t have to...” Fluttershy tried to explain. Oddly enough, I understand exactly what she means.
“Oh, many more ponies have problems than you realize, darling. These are the kinds of issues ponies keep under the surface. Most don’t even realize they have them!” Rarity informed. Fluttershy gave a small “Eep!”
Miss Rarity seems to have a more advanced understanding of what we psychologists do, possibly even having experience with one.
Rarity went on, slightly oblivious to Fluttershy’s reaction as ideas popped into her head. “I looked it up, but there never were any in Ponyville, till now!” She gave a clop of joy. “I wonder when he’ll be open, and where he’s at?”
“Oh Rarity, you don’t need a psych- psy- ...this kind of doctor, do you?”
“Well I surely hope not, darling,” Rarity responded, “but unfortunately, the dark depths of my past may be, even now, preying on me, an abyss left to fester since my foalhood.”
The drama oozed from her voice. She was one of those patients. Not that that meant there wasn’t something off in her psych, but yeah. Good to know I’d have business, though.
And actually, this will help my cover somewhat. What better way to have a look at somepony than to have them willingly come into the examining room?
I mean, “get a look at” as in get to know. Not... yeah. I am a gentlecolt.
...which brings me to something else I’ve noticed about Ponyville. There is an overabundance of mares, greatly outnumbering the stallions. And of the stallions I do see, not many of them are what I would call... exuberant studs. The only one I’ve seen that has the potential for this quality, given some time and training, is a farm pony named Macintosh, brother to Applejack, Bearer of Honesty. Canterlot isn’t exactly littered with handsome specimens, but at least Canterlot has some stallions.
Ponyville’s lack of males kind of worries me. Mainly because... well let’s just say I think a few mares in the restaurant had eyes for my flanks. Not that I mind, but it’s a serious worry when I’m getting attention without even trying to woo anypony. I may be young, but I’m... frankly, kind of boring. Brown mane, tan coat. Seriously?
Oh, distracted again. Apologies.
The waiter asked me if I was ready. Honestly, I hadn’t looked at the menu, so I told him to surprise me, not wanting to attract attention by his presence at my table. He left without a fuss, thankfully. I listened in on the conversation again.
It had turned to gossip, which I will not bother to repeat, as it probably doesn’t have much content concerning anything I would be interested in. Still, I stayed, in case something relevant should come up. Minutes passed.
I was about to leave and find someplace else to eat where I wouldn’t have to worry about being discovered, when a third voice joined in.
“Hello girls! How was your trip to the spa?” That was Twilight Sparkle, the prized student herself.
“Oh it was simply heavenly, darling. Care to join us for dinner?”
Twilight sat with a nod and smiled. “What’s the latest news?”
“Oh, Rarity was just telling me about the new mind doctor in town,” Fluttershy said quietly. Quietly enough that it was almost hard to hear.
“You mean Doctor Whooves? I saw him on my way in. He’s over-”
I didn’t stay to hear the rest.
Back here, I took a shower, then broke out this lovely piece of equipment, and now it’s about time I hit the sack. Big day tomorrow, what with setting up the business and all.
Today was full. And exciting. And strangely charismatic.
Where to begin... well, I guess at the beginning would be best.
I woke early–or rather, got out of bed early. I didn’t actually sleep much; I never do in new environments. While mid-way through digging the coffee cups out of their box, this rare period of silence was broken by an odd noise that took me a minute to place. It turned out to be the doorbell. In Canterlot, at the office, we have buzzers, and I regret to say the ringing of the doorbell at my personal dwelling was all too rare. Here, I am in the process of relearning myself, as my “office” is going to be what was the sunroom, an east-side room with large picture windows on three sides.
The pony ringing my bell was a mailmare. I was surprised at this, as I had only been here overnight so far, and wasn’t expecting any payments or bills yet. But I underestimated the strings the Princess was able to pull; she arranged for a subscription to my favorite paper, Equestria Daily, as well as forwarding any mail which arrives at my old address (among these articles were several well-wishes and goodbyes from other Canterlot psychologists, who were probably actually happy to see me go, and a letter from my younger brother [more on him later]).
The mailmare herself was a gray pegasus that I would have liked more time to looking at. She appears to suffer from a condition commonly known as a “Lazy eye.” I personally don’t know much about the condition, but I do know that it is considered common courtesy not to stare. So I instead diverted my gaze to her cutie mark (as though staring at a mare’s flank is any better!) but was surprised when it revealed what appeared to be bubbles–not anything related to mail as far as I know. But, I’m not about to judge someone based on their cutie mark. I know ponies are a good bit confused when they find out I’m an earth pony doctor with an hourglass for a cutie mark. More on cutie marks later.
The blond-maned mare delivered my mail, and then looked at me hopefully and said, “Muffin?”
I really wasn’t expecting that.
Nevertheless, I recovered fairly quickly and regretfully informed her that I didn’t have any food for breakfast at all, much less muffins specifically. She looked incredibly pitiful and crestfallen, but she left without another word, dodging off between some houses. I decided I’d do some research and contact some colleagues about her condition... and perhaps purchase some muffins if I got the chance.
I had only just located the espresso machine when my first visitor arrived. None other than Rarity. What a surprise. Anyway, upon spying her through the peephole, I made a vain attempt to stall for ten seconds while frantically pushing boxes hither and thither. The only good this did was allow me to stumble upon my glasses.
For the record, I don’t need glasses. Perfect 20/20 vision. The sole reason I wear them is to make myself look professional–and older. It is insane (not clinically, just figuratively) what I have to go through to get the respect my degree should get me.
Reaching the door, I adjusted my glasses straight and pushed my short mane into a decently respectable position. I yanked the door open.
“Ah, welcome! Miss... Rarity, I presume?”
“Why yes,” she said, entering. “And you are Doctor Whooves, then?”
I have to admit that my ego puffed itself up at that. Not many ponies bother with my title.
“Yes, of course. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely set up for business yet... please excuse the mess...”
“Oh, that’s quite alright. Where is your office then?”
“Yeah, um... that’s kind of the problem. I don’t even have the couch out of the shrink wrap yet.”
“Oh!” She stopped short. “Well, no matter.”
Her horn began to glow, and suddenly an elaborate red plush couch was summoned into existence. This was my turn to stop short. I’d seen transformation magic before, and even some summoning of smaller objects, like a bouquet of flowers or other trivial details, but an object of such scale as a entire couch would take some practice... oh. Definitely one of those clients.
I pulled up a chair and snatched a clipboard, but had barely sat down before she dived into a ocean of self pity and indecision and a whole lot of drama that really didn’t need to be shared.
See, the majority of clients that we psychologists handle in Canterlot suffer from phobias. Irrational fears. Emotional damage. Real problems, in other words. Let me put it this way: there are stupid questions. Very. Stupid. Questions.
Rarity is indeed one of those clients–one of those ponies that just need to vent. Typically, these are mares with a weakness for gossip. Not that I mind. I actually managed to set down the clipboard and return to unpacking while she continued. Right about when she was trying to figure out what ponies are supposed to wallow in, I found one one of the articles I consider key in my career, and also related to my cutie mark... my hourglass.
Of course, Rarity had already been going for a while, but nonetheless I flipped it and let it start going...
...something tells me it’s time for a story.
Well, I’ve always been interested in the way other ponies think. In school, when I was just a colt, I once broke into the filing cabinet and read all the class papers that had been collected earlier that day. Then I went and talked down half the ponies that got good grades, and watched when the papers were graded and handed out. I even recorded the results, and found that those that I had talked down were happier with their grade than those that I hadn’t said anything to. I continued these experiments until I got caught one day switching some labels in the cafeteria, and consequently got sent to the office.
Now, there’s many different ways for fears and mental barriers to form, but I have a particular knack for reaching into ponies’ pasts, one of the most likely places for the basis of a particular behavior to exist.
The Headmaster was a particularly grumpy and old stallion with a reputation for harsh and severe (or as severe as schools allow) punishments and consequences. Upon entering his office, however, I saw an ancient picture of of a colt and his father. I smiled. I knew I could talk my way out.
And I did. I got the old hoot owl to open up about his past, his bad relationship with his father, got him to talk about the regrets he had about not talking to his father before he died. The poor stallion was in tears at one point.
As it turned out, it didn’t get me out of trouble, but it did earn me my cutie mark. My skill is looking into a pony’s past. After my cutie mark appeared, my parents got me an hourglass identical to it, and I use it in my work to time visits.
Anyway, back to Rarity’s visit.
I did some more unpacking for the next two hours while Rarity talked, occasionally replying with the typical “...and how did that make you feel?” and other cliches–normally, I would never use these, except that this is exactly what clients like Rarity want you to say. Upon the approach of the third hour, I began dropping hints that she should leave (I prefer not to be rude when I don’t have to).
And, Rarity being the classy pony she is, picked up on them right away. “Oh, dear, I must get going! I have the... thing... at the... place.”
I nodded.
“Do you have any questions for me?” she asked, dawdling at the door.
I thought for a moment. “Yes,” I said. “I do have one actually.”
She brightened. “Oh?”
“Where can I get some good muffins?”
After she left, I deemed it safe to leave for the day, so I took her advice and went to a place called Sugarcube Corner to procure some muffins. It was only on the doorstep of the giant mock-gingerbread house that I remembered whom it was home to. I froze, and was about to turn and find someone else who could bake, before the pink party pony shot out the door and tackled me. Again.
“Yay,” she whispered enthusiastically. I didn’t know that was possible, but she did it. “Somepony decided to show up for their party!”
“Um, yes,” I whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”
“Because the Cake’s foals are sleeping.”
Now, I’ve had my Pinkie welcome party before, so I know what they’re like. I guess this one was some kind of welcome-back party.
“Pinkie, how can we have one of... your parties, if we have to whisper?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing! Auntie Pinkie Pie has everything under control!”
At this point I was thinking, yeah, right.
But, she actually did. Somewhat. The entire party had been moved to Twilight’s library. What better way to get close to Twilight, just sit around and talk, getting an idea of her mental health?
Eh, maybe not.
Pinkie really outdid herself this time. As the door to the tree-house opened, her cannon roared, sending confetti over the crowd of jamming ponies. A disco ball sent bits of colored light throughout the room, each chip of light shaking with the beat of some modern music I didn’t recognize... something I think they call dubtrot. Not entirely sure.
A pink hoof shoved me into the organ grinding mob. I bounced my way through, trying to find Twilight Sparkle. Surely she wouldn’t stand for this, right? It is a library after all; but I wasn’t sure I could find or recognise anypony in there. The lights distorted the colors of coat and mane alike, and the heavy beat drowned out any attempt at conversation.
I did, eventually, find Twilight though. Not that it helped any.
That pony was doing the most ungraceful, revolting dance in existence, eyes squinted shut. I think I would have just stood there and stared, if the hectic crowd hadn’t pulled me away first.
And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
I fought my way back to the door, avoiding Pinkie, and burst out into the real, rational world. I felt queasy, and wasn’t entirely sure Celestia’s fears were unwarranted. Not that I couldn’t handle my weight at a party, I just wasn’t expecting it. In a library. On an empty stomach.
I headed back to Sugarcube Corner. Upon arriving, I entered as quietly as I could, the bell above the door barely ringing. Looking around, the place seemed normal off hand.
“Hello?” I whispered loudly.
“Hi there, what can I do for you?” replied Mr. Cake, emerging from the back.
Seeing he wasn’t being as deathly quiet as Pinkie had seemed to deem necessary, I resumed a regular voice. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for something in the direction of muffins. And seeing as it’s about time, perhaps lunch as well.”
Mr. Cake nodded and began sifting through boxes on the shelf. “Um... uh...” He dug deeper. Eventually, he pulled out a box and set it on the counter, feigning a smile, sheepishly. I lifted the lid part way with a hoof.
“Mr. Cake, sir... these are cupcakes.”
Mr. Cake dropped his facade. “I’m sorry. What with the twins to take care of, we’ve been a bit behind, and I haven’t gotten around to restocking after the breakfast crowd.”
“Oh, of course... I understand. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could pick some up, though?”
“Well, most ponies would bake ‘em themselves.”
I froze in temporary paralysis. Something you should know about my talents: cooking isn’t among them. I can barely make toast without setting off the fire alarm. After a few seconds, Mr. Cake seemed to observe my reaction.
“I’d be glad to share our recipe with you...”
...And that’s how I ended up at home with a recipe in writing I couldn’t really read, a host of new equipment (I already had an oven, just no muffin tins. Mainly I used the oven for drying socks and the occasional book), and all the supplies I would need.
First step: unplug the fire alarm.
Now, picture the regular process of baking muffins, plus everything going wrong that could, and multiply it by six. Four tries and three hours later, I had a precious pan of half a dozen oatmeal muffins. I’m not entirely sure how I did it, so chances are I won’t be doing it again (successfully) any time soon.
I had forgotten entirely why I was doing this (for some mailmare I don’t even know!) until I stumbled over my stack of mail. I hoofed through today’s issue of Equestria Daily (over 100,000,000 subscribers!), before picking up the letter from my brother.
He is a pegasus, so besides having to write by muzzle, he also lacks an affinity for writing and literature in general. I know I shouldn’t stereotype, but in truth it’s not really that. I did grow up with him, after all. So naturally, upon seeing his letter, I assumed it was something important; it would have to be, for him to write about it.
It was a note saying he was going to be back in Canterlot for the next weekend, and he was wondering if we could get together. He doesn’t know I moved yet. Derp. Note to self: send out change of address cards.
I decided to stay in for the rest of the day, and try to finish getting moved in! Even now, as I record this, there are a few stray boxes that I haven’t gotten to yet. I did, however, manage to get the office put together, complete with unwrapped couch, armchair, clipboard, glasses, and all of my other equipment necessary for breaching the mind. I was about to turn to the kitchen, when there was that sound again. Oh. Right. Doorbell.
I was surprised to find my next-door neighbor at the door, Lyra.
“Hello, ma’am. Can I help you?”
“Well, Bonbon and I just smelled something burning and wanted to make sure...” She looked past me into the kitchen, where my multiple failures were self-evident. “Oh my! Um, is everything okay?”
I chuckled. “Cooking just isn’t my finest talent, that’s all. Apologies for the smoke.”
Lyra smiled. “No problem. I’m almost as bad, but fortunately Bonbon does most of the cooking. Say, if you want, maybe she could give you some tips sometime?”
“Sure, I’d like that. But hopefully this won’t become a permanent hobby. More out of necessity at the moment.”
“Aaah!” she exclaimed, smile widening. “Bachelor cooking. I’ll leave you to your cleaning then.”
It is my opinion that, if pegasi have a certain innate preference for abstinence from literature and anything that isn’t “awesome,” then unicorns are part troll. Just an observation from a poor earth pony.
After she left, I followed her advice and did clean up the horrific kitchen–which left me beat and hungry to boot. I managed to retrieve an apple from the ill-stocked pantry, which I am finishing even now as I make this record.
Things are shaping up to be quite exciting... actually, scratch that. Things are already spiraling down into hectic chaos.
Time to catch up on some sleep–hopefully, I’ll actually be able to do that tonight. I hate moving.
Today went relatively well. I’ve made progress, at any rate. On with the day.
The good news is that I slept in. Actually slept. The bad news is that I slept in, and woke to some weird sound I only vaguely recognized. I turned over, hoping in vain to retrieve the blissful condition of moments ago, until I placed the sound.
Doorbell.
Cursing, I sprang to my hooves and stumbled toward the door, upsetting an end table before arriving there. My hoof wrapped around the handle and I gave it a yank, only to have my face pulled into the door, mainly because the door was still locked and chained. I am definitely not a morning person.
More curses.
I fumbled with the security measures, again yanking the door open once I had unlatched and unhooked both.
“Hey!” I yelled out the door at the retreating mailmare. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at me, amber eyes uncoordinated as usual.
“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
She blinked, eyes focusing on me momentarily; an eyebrow rose, betraying her confusion.
“Muffin?” I asked holding up the tin that so much labor had gone into the day before.
Immediately, she visibly brightened, genuinely smiling and wings increasing tempo in elation. I returned the smile, just glad I could brighten somepony’s day, even if they weren’t a clinical patient. I should have been more worried about the projected damage to the wall opposite the door and possible bodily harm.
What happened next, I can only describe as a Pinkie-style “glomp” with the added propulsion only a pair of wings can provide. I was flattened and pressed into the wall, like a thumbtack on a cork board. Cracked plaster bits clung to my coat as I disentangled myself from the wall, coughing.
The gray pegasus offered her hoof as I pulled myself out of the pony-shaped hole in the wall, a clearly apologetic look mounted on her face. I accepted the hoof and gave a grunt with the last effort that popped me out of the new addition to the entry way.
“Wow. What a hole,” I said, shaking the dust out of my mane. I caught a glimpse of her cringing face. “‘S’okay.”
She hugged me.
Not a glomp this time, but a simple, clean, thank-you hug. I’ll be perfectly honest with you. I’m not a big hugger. In fact, physical contact of any kind isn’t my cup of tea. Not surprisingly, the source of this awkwardness (to be clear, this is not a phobia! Phobias are excessive and incapacitating. If this were to develop to the point where I would physically react violently to touch of another pony, then it would qualify as Haptephobia. As it is, I just get stiff and bite my lip till the offending party is through) come from my past, as do most things of this level.
As a foal, my parents never engaged or encouraged physical contact. Thus, when I got my first fillyfriend in college, things didn’t go quite smoothly. She took it the wrong way, and things got worse from there. Since then, I’ve managed to build up a decent facade and suppress most discernible reactions.
If you’re thinking that I’m not fit to be a therapist because of this, you can kindly desist. This is a minor issue with little or no effect on my clinical or personal life.
Apologies for the rant. I take a lot of verbal abuse for that in the psychological circles. Back to this morning.
After she disengaged, we ate our muffins in silence. Not a particularly awkward silence, she’s just not a particularly big talker, I suppose. Come think of it, the only word I’ve heard her say to date is “muffin.”
During our breakfast, I got a closer look at her. Her eyes are a mystery, but I made note of the specific behaviors I observed, and decided to mail them ere I get the opportunity. Specifically, the eyes seem to cross, an inward wandering, simultaneously wandering on the up-down axis as well. She seems to be able to temporarily straighten her vision with a blink and undivided attention.
Other than that, there isn’t a whole lot to tell. Gray coat, blond mane, typical wings. But not a typical pony, I think.
She left soon, indicating her still-full mail bag. But, she was more cheerful than I’ve seen her so far. She waved goodbye as she flew away, a gesture which I returned.
“Who is she?” I asked Bonbon, after briefly combing my mane and locking up.
“Who?”
“The mailmare. Gray pegasus, mail satchel...”
“Oh, you mean Derpy?”
“Her name is Derpy?” I replied in disbelief.
“Well, no. I think her real name is Ditzy Doo, but everybody calls her Derpy.”
“That’s hardly civil.”
“Maybe,” replied Lyra, who had just turned the corner onto the street, shopping bag floating alongside her in a field of levitation. “But not entirely unwarranted. Last Winter Wrap-Up she flew north to get the birds that flew south for the winter.”
Talk about a way to drive an argument. “That was her?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh... I just kind of pictured somepony a bit more... bubbly.” While I mused in thought, the two roommates continued chatting.
“What do you have there, Lyra?”
“Oh, just a little something I picked up for tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night? What’s tomorrow night?”
“It’s Thursday night, darling.”
“What’s special about Thur-” Bonbon stopped, understanding crossing her face. “Oh, Thuuursday night. What is it? Can I see?”
“No, I think I’ll save it for a surprise.”
“Awww...”
Well, apparently more than roommates. Needless to say I didn’t hang around to hear more.
My first stop was a mailbox. I deposited my observations and questions concerning Miss Ditzy Doo’s condition in a drop box, not particularly wanting to put it through the hooves of the mare that it concerned.
That done, I needed somepony who could tell me where to find a hardware store. Surely these ponies occasionally needed replacement plaster, right? Or was I the only one clumsy enough to let that kind of thing happen?
A scooter hauling a wagon, which contained some particularly troublesome fillies, popped into view. I dived into the bushes.
The trio came to a halt in front of my bush. “Are you sure you saw him over here?” asked the orange pegasus.
“He was here a second ago,” replied the familiar, strawberry-maned filly.
“You’re sure it was him?”
“Yep! The one I sold the apple to, a little bit back.”
The unicorn pranced nervously. “Come on, we have to find him so we can be... CUTIE MARK CRUSADER PSYCHOLOGISTS!”
Sweet Celestia have mercy and kill us all if that should ever happen.
They left, leaving behind a puff of dust. I emerged from my hiding place, trying to clear the air by waving my hoof. “What was I thinking? Of course they’ll have replacement plaster!”
I started on my way toward the library, thinking that Twilight should know where to find anything I might need. And, I might have a chance to start on my real mission. I turned and started a brisk trot toward the center of Ponyville, only to come muzzle-to-muzzle with...
...Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie is a very readable pony. And by this, I didn’t have to know her that well to see the openly suspicious look in her eye. She stood off-balance, neck far forward, snout as rigid as ice–in contrast with mine, which had crumpled inward from the impact.
“Sooo, did you have a good time at your party yesterday?”
Well, I thought I was bucked for sure. With the background the Princess had given me on each of the Mane six’s mental worries, I knew I was precariously close to eliciting another Pinkamena Diane Pie episode and/or mental breakdown. I wasn’t sure if this was a desirable position or not, at that moment. On one hoof, I could witness the event in person and possibly even treat and maybe even partially cure her insecurity. On the other, I risked alienating her and her friends from me, creating an irreparable rift that would impede any hopes for fulfilling the Princess Celestia’s mission.
Oh, what the hay. Life isn’t worth living if you’re not on the edge of it, right?
“Well, to be completely honest, I didn’t stay for more than a few minutes.”
She blinked. I waited. The staring duel continued, time compounding. If I was some kind of time-traveling wizard, I would have fast-forwarded this part.
Then she asked my favorite question. Unfortunately, it kind of spoiled my plan to throw her into an... episode. Or so I thought. “Whyyy?”
“Uh, to make muffins.”
Her mane expanded momentarily, before deflating and going flat. Her coat turned darker, grayer. The sky became overcast. “And... and... you didn’t ask me to come?” she sniffed.
This was a genuine surprise. From what I heard, her depressive onset had resulted in resulted in aggression, paranoia, hallucinations, and delusions; all common symptoms of schizophrenia. This was sorrow, regret, self-pity, rejection. It was time to turn up the heat.
“Obviously not.”
Still wasn’t enough. Instead, her eyes welled up with tears, and an instant later she was galloping away with little waterfalls streaming behind her.
I fell back on my rump. That wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Also, this was the first time I had made a mare cry. Sure, I hadn’t been exactly graceful in dumping the few marefriends I had had at the university, but most of them just brushed it off, or seemed relieved to have me gone.
In my defence, I wasn’t trying to make her cry. Although, I’m not sure trying to make a mare mad is any better.
As I was thinking all this, my hooves carried me back to my dwelling, on automatic pilot. Inside, I found myself hungry for lunch. Not that there was anything digestible. I turned to head out to get a bite to eat, opening the door only to find...
...the Elements of Harmony. Minus one.
Twilight Sparkle was front and center, brow furrowed in an impressive glare. Yay, my first contact with the object of my mission, and she was ready to shove my head under and applecart. On either side of her was Applejack and Rainbow Dash, each displaying similar looks. A hint of pink mane and yellow feathers was literally hiding behind Applejack, and in the back Rarity shuffled her hoof, no doubt feeling guilty for having come to me, confused because of what happened, and unsure about what to do next.
Twilight opened her mouth for what I’m sure would have been a very powerful and well-rehearsed speech, but I beat her to the first word.
“Save it.”
She stopped, momentarily stunned. Then took a new breath in preparation to restart, which I also headed off.
“Inside.”
I held the door open and ushered them inside. As they walked past me, they each glared at me in turn, except Fluttershy, who was still hiding behind Applejack, and Rarity, who paused and gave me a quizzical glance. I winked in reply, to let her know that I had the situation under control.
Which I completely didn’t.
I followed them into my office (merely choosing that room because it had the most seating), snagging a folding chair for myself. I flipped it around, straddling it, folding my forelegs on the back and resting my head on them. Now it was time to blow Twilight’s prepared rant out of the water and into the clouds, once and for all.
“So? Ask me a question.”
It had all the intended effect and more on Twilight. She blinked, once, twice, three times, stuttering a bit as she did so. She had been intending to talk at me, not with me. She’s just not all that frightening when she doesn’t have her plan.
But the cyan pegasus had no such qualms.
“Yeah, I’ve got a question. What makes you think you can pick on our friends?”
“Or anypony, fer that matter,” added Applejack.
I have to admit that it did cross my mind to inform them that I could say whatever I wanted to anypony, as long as it didn’t fall under verbal harassment, but I decided that was a bad route to go. Instead, I took their verbal assault for a while, composing a strategy.
“What kind of pony would do that?”
“Why would you do that?”
The insults disguised as questions kept coming until I put up my hoof.
“All very good points, and you are all completely correct.”
When I didn’t offer any further explanation, Applejack spoke up.
“Well then how in tarnation do you explain what happened with Pinkie?”
“I told her the honest truth.”
In all my career, I’ve never seen anypony shut up so quickly or fume so much after shutting up.
“Maybe that’s the problem. What did you do?” asked Twilight, finding a hoofhold to start her interrogation on.
“I left her ‘welcome back’ party early.”
“Oh...” said Twilight.
“Well that was a blasted fo-” started Applejack, before Twilight stopped her.
“He doesn’t know,” Twilight hissed to her friends, incorrectly assuming I was unaware of the situation.
“You see,” she continued, turning to me, “It seems you have accidentally pushed one of Pinkie’s buttons. She takes her parties rather seriously.”
“Aaah!” I said, feigning ignorance. “Her reaction did seem severe. Has this... happened in the past?”
“Um, yeah. It’s kind of a long story, though.”
“Please, enlighten me. I need to know how to make this right.” That last part wasn’t entirely untrue.
Twilight sighed. “Well, okay...”
And with that she dived into the whole story, each of the Bearers adding details where they were concerned. The story was, admittedly, more detailed than the version I received from the Princess. When they finished, a silence penetrated the room for a few seconds.
Finally, Rarity, looking straight at me, asked, “What now?”
“Well,” I said slowly, “I suppose an apology would be in order. And if all goes well, lunch would be convenient.”
While that last part may not have made me seem too sincere, it was certainly relevant. Because of the backstory, it was well past lunch.
And so, we left for Sugarcube Corner. On our way out the door, Rarity whispered quickly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
So did I.
I entered the bakery first, followed closely by Twilight and her fellow Bearers, bell ringing as I crossed the threshold. Mrs. Cake had her foal-saddle on, and looked like she had paused mid-conversation with Mr. Cake, a look of slight worry etched on her face.
“Oh, Twilight, Dearie,” she exclaimed, once said mare came into view. “You’re just the pony I need to talk to right now...” She paused slightly when she saw me, before drawing Twilight aside. I’m still not sure quite why she did that; I could still hear their conversation.
Mrs. Cake continued. “It’s about Pinkie, dear. She seemed... upset.”
I tapped Twilight on the shoulder. “Actually, I think maybe I should handle it.”
She hesitated, and then nodded. I turned and went up the stairs, stopping in front of Pinkie’s door. I tapped it with my hoof, sending it swinging silently inward. “Pinkie...?”
The room was dark, curtains drawn and lamps snuffed. Pinkie sat on her bed, looking down with half-closed eyes at a wilted turnip. She pushed it away, looking up at me as the door I was closing clicked shut, betraying my presence.
“Nopony likes my parties.”
I climbed onto the bed as well. It felt foalish, but Pinkie wasn’t going to judge me.
“Do you know why I was baking muffins?”
Pinkie sniffed, wiping her muzzle. She shook her head slightly.
“Because by doing so, I brought a smile to another pony’s face.”
She looked at me.
“That’s your gift, Pinkie. Don’t kid yourself about what other ponies are thinking.”
“I... I don’t know...”
“Well I do know. It’s my job. And my gift. Okay?”
“Okay...”
“Now, if the Cakes are in any condition like they were yesterday, then you’ll need to give me a hoof with some muffins.”
“Okie dokie lokie!”
And just like that, the sun came out, lamps lit, and her hair re-poofed itself. I’m sorry, I can’t think of a better word at the moment.
She bounced out of the room and down the stairs, her usual self again. Things were shaping up nicely.
...Except for that pathetic, purple-eyed alligator that attached itself to my leg at some point during the conversation.
I forcibly removed it from my appendage and discarded it onto the bed, shutting the door behind me as I followed Pinkie into the kitchen.
Following that, we baked muffins together. Or rather, she baked and I watched, occasionally handing her an ingredient when she asked for it. Taking advantage of our time, I began asking subtle questions about her past.
I didn’t need to be subtle. Nothing is subtle with Pinkie Pie. She willingly divulged her stories of her life as a young filly, including her cutie mark story. She ran on for the entire period that it took the muffins to bake, which, when Pinkie’s rate of speech is taken into account, is really quite a lot of material.
“...and that’s how Equestria was made!” The timer dinged.
“Wait, wha-” I was cut off as she shoved the strap to my now-boxed muffins into my muzzle.
“Come back soon!”
Outside, Twilight and her companions were waiting.
“We all good?” asked Rainbow Dash, an unspoken threat sewn into the question.
At that moment, Pinkie came springing out the door, a tall pile of wrapped pastries mounted on her back. “Everything’s super-duper!”
Like I said. No subtlety.
“I gotta do deliveries for the Cakes, seeya later!” She bounced off.
I slid the strap to my muffin-satchel around my neck. “Answer your question?”
And I trotted off toward my house. I’m kinda bad about having the last word. I also get caught up in the moment and forget about more important things, like lunch. Or by that time, dinner.
I was almost home, when passing by Lyra and Bonbon’s house, I was hit by the blissful aroma of...
...stir fry.
I’m usually not a big fan of Eastern cuisine, but I wasn’t in any condition to be picky. Without hesitation, I trotted up to the door and rapped on it with my hoof. Seconds later, Lyra appeared, a stack of plates, forks, and knives by her side in a field of levitation.
I got right to business. “Two tickets to front row seats at Octavia’s performance in Canterlot, showing of the 29th.” Yes, I have connections, and yes, I abuse them.
She stuttered slightly, obviously not expecting that. “F-for what?”
“Suppers for a month.”
Lyra thought for a moment, tapping her chin. “Okay, except Thursdays.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I will gladly be absent on Thursday. Sold to the green unicorn in the fourth row.”
She giggled, inclining her head for me to follow her.
Dinner was uneventful, albeit a few irritated looks from Bonbon towards Lyra at my unexplained presence. I hope I didn’t cause any rifts. I would hate to ruin things with Thursday night so close.
Anyway, after that, I came home and started this recording. And I see I ran a bit long at that.
One more thing to note before I sell my soul to the sandpony. As best as I can tell, Pinkie’s reaction of “sad” rather than “mad” was most likely a result of a mixture of two things. One, I’m not her friend. Acquaintance, sure, but friend is a title that should be reserved for those special ponies, ponies you actually know, heart, mind, and soul. Secondly, I was honest with her. Pinkie’s last experience was brought on partially by the fact that she thought her friends were lying to her. Just a hypothesis at this point, but worth mentioning.
I woke up early enough today, giving myself time to wash up before breakfast. Which, of course, was muffins–with a certain mailmare.
Ditzy arrived about when expected (to be honest, there’s quite some variability in her delivery times), with her usual mail satchel. She carefully removed my mail, which, besides the usual Equestria Daily, contained what I knew was a reply to my inquisition regarding Ditzy’s condition. My colleague had, per my request, used his personal return address instead of his office address. I’ll get to the contents of that letter later.
She returned to my small kitchen table, where we indulged in Pinkie’s muffins. Then I decided it was time to get her to talk.
“What should I call you?” I asked, in complete seriousness. I knew her name, but if I had a name like that, well, I would probably have a nickname.
She lifted her mail satchel, pointing toward the worn name tag.
“Ditzy Doo?”
She nodded.
Dangnabit. I needed a more direct approach, something that required her to have an answer besides a nod or shake of the head. But where to begin?
Then I remembered what day it was. Thursday. I didn’t have dinner arrangements for tonight.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
The question caught her off-guard. She paused mid-bite, before setting the muffin down and blinking me into focus.
“What?” I asked.
“Um... nothing,” she said, quietly but clearly.
Yes! She was talking; that was the first step. Now for answers.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What’s you’re answer?”
“That was my answer.”
“Oh...” Mental sharpness as well.
There were a few more moments of silence, these a bit awkward. Suddenly she stood up, backing away, wings flared.
“Something wrong?”
“Why?” she demanded with force, and perhaps a hint of worry.
“I... don’t follow.”
“Since when does the slick, hoofsome stallion move into town and ask the retarded mailmare out knowing nothing but her name?”
“Retarded? As far as I can tell, you’re in perfect mental health.”
“They ca-” She stopped, mid-reply. “Wait, what?”
“Being a doctor, of any kind, comes with its perks. And you could say my special talent is not judging books by their covers. Or ponies by their physique.”
“I... I... have to go.”
She stumbled backwards, out the door, taking to the air. She swooped out of sight, barely missing a gutter. My eyes fell.
...and landed on a mail satchel. Knowing I only had a few seconds, I snatched some junk mail and ripped off a blank corner. Snagging a pencil, I hurriedly scribbled on the shred, glancing up to keep an eye on the corner Ditzy had just disappeared around. I finished the note and stuffed it down to the bottom of the bag, retracting my hoof just as she reappeared around the corner.
“Forget something?” I asked, hoofing the satchel to her. She accepted it silently, avoiding eye contact, and flew away again.
This will be interesting to see play out, I thought.
I idled over to the counter on which my mail had been deposited, whereupon I sifted out the junkmail. I glanced at the headlines of Equestria Daily, snagged a few quarterly journals for looking at later, and lastly, came upon the letter from my colleague. This last article I opened and read on the spot, sliding a curtain out of my way for light. I’ll stow the original letter in its entirety along with this disc, so it should be accessible.
***
Whooves!
Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. Cleared out of Canterlot they say. Lot of rumors going around as to why. Most of your competition have given their egos an overdose and say you ran out cause you couldn’t take the heat. Honestly, most of ‘em were sweating ball bearings while you were around and are glad to have you gone.
But, you said you can’t tell me, and though I’d give my grandpa’s left horseshoe to know why, well, I reckon you got a good enough reason fer what you do.
Anyway, to business!
What you described to me is not the technical definition of a lazy eye, but I’m not sure exactly what to call it, if your observations are correct. It seems to be some kind of hybrid between hypertopia and hypotropia, and yet in combination with esotropia at the same time. This is something that I’ve never seen before, and likely nopony in my field has had a chance to see this phenomenon. Seeing divergence on one, let alone both of the visual axis is strange enough, let alone throwing in a double case of inward convergence.
As for treatment, I can’t really say without seeing this case myself and taking some tests. Also, I’m not sure how far it is impeding her vision and depth perception at the moment. Typically, vision impairments of this sort can be corrected in early foalhood, through use of eye patches to set a dominant eye, or adjusting glasses. But with her case, I doubt traditional methods would help much, mainly because both eyes suffer from these conditions. The good news is, chances are her brain has at least somewhat compensated already, judging by the fact that she can fly at all.
Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you. If she can function in her current state, and doesn’t want to come in for test and risk some extensive surgery, I’d say live and let live. This case really doesn’t give me much to go on, has little or no research in the specific area of its type, and is more or less an unknown.
Tell her, if she’s ever in Canterlot to drop by. I’d be ecstatic to get a few tests, if for no other reason than documentation.
Best of luck.
***
After reading and re-reading, the letter, I locked it away in my desk for the time, and then proceeded to load up my saddlebags for a day out. It was time to get on with my mission, and start observing Twilight Sparkle’s behavior.
But I wasn’t about to walk up to her with a stethoscope and magnifying glass. Naturalistic observation requires stealth, social skills, and charm.
It was time to talk to Rarity.
The Carousel Boutique was in its usual splendid condition when I arrived. I entered, and I heard the white unicorn remark “Just a moment!” from the other room, and hurry my way. She turned the corner, starting her catch phrase. But she never got close to finishing it.
“Oh, Doctor Whooves. Can I... help you today?”
“We need to talk.”
Rarity put on tea, and then we moved into the living room.
“So? You had something to discuss?”
“Yes. But it is essential that it remain under wraps, as it were; even from your friends, and especially from Twilight.”
The look that crossed her face told me clearly that she was uncomfortable with the idea, but her slice of society is particularly vulnerable to anything the requires secrecy and drama. Or in other words, gossip.
“Very well then, continue.”
I took a breath. “I am in Ponyville on a mission from Princess Celestia to observe Twilight Sparkle’s mental health.” I neglected to tell her that she and the other Bearers were included in that equation. A standard two-bird, one-stone scenario. I could simultaneously use Rarity to get closer to Twilight, while also obtaining a more accurate picture of the fashion designer.
Rarity’s face went from stoic, to shock and awe, then to confusion, and last to doubt.
“That’s quite an interesting tale...”
I produced the paperwork which confirmed my quest from my saddlebags, and rolled out the scroll in front of her. She began reading, and the farther she moved down the scroll, the wider her eyes expanded. At last, finished, she sat back and reexamined me. I knew she was now trying to figure out the angle for every action she had seen me take in Ponyville.
“I am still a doctor, I do still have a practice, and I will provide the best care possible to all ponies I can help, patients or otherwise.”
A brief look of annoyance past over her face, obviously irritated that I could anticipate her reaction.
After composing herself, she thought for a moment and asked, “This is all most interesting, but what does it have to do with me?”
“I need you to help me observe Twilight.”
“I am not the type of mare that engages in intentional eavesdropping and spying!” she exclaimed. “But, I have something else in mind that you might find useful.”
She proceeded to tell me her plan, which was exceedingly bold and risked my cover, but would be extremely productive should it succeed. We made the final arrangements, pinpointed some dates, and with that I left her to her work.
I purchased some supplies at the market before returning home and fixing myself lunch. Probably my first uninterrupted meal at my new residence in Ponyville.
The rest of the afternoon I spent catching up on my journals and quarterlies, additionally pulling out a few books on emotional damage, pressure to succeed, and various other topics that might apply.
When four o’clock struck, I put down my work and dug out my finer wear. My full suit was probably still at some cleaners in Canterlot, but I had managed to save a black bow-tie from the chaos of my move. I donned it with no little amount of trouble (it becomes clear why most fashion designers are unicorns if, as an earth pony, you are forced or choose to wear one of these accursed inventions).
When I went to head out the door, it struck me that the air seemed cooler than it had at lunch. Opening the door, more than a thought struck me. A sheet of rain tore in, wetting the carpet slightly. I yelped and slammed the door, only returning to open it again once I had procured a dusty umbrella.
The streets were relatively empty now. The few ponies still out galloped back and forth between cover, trying to make their way back to their dwellings. I trotted at a more leisurely pace, keeping my hooves out of puddles and the growing amount of mud. Eventually, however, I did arrive at my destination.
The restaurant was not as high-profile as I would have preferred, but it was the best Ponyville had to offer. I entered, folding my umbrella (another real art for an earth pony).
“Your name, sir?”
“Whooves.”
“Of course. This way sir...”
The stallion led me to a nice table for two on a corner with windows seats, which at the moment wasn’t any brighter than the rest of the place, the overcast weather sending the day into a premature dusk.
My gaze switched between the elaborate clock that hung on the woodwork and out the windows. Relax, it’s still a few minutes to five. She’ll show, I told myself. I’m not sure why I was nervous, or worried. I suppose I don’t like being put into a position where others can stand me up.
I waited. I got bored, too, in spite of my unnatural anxiety.
When I had degenerated to the point of breathing on the window next to me and drawing on it, I glimpsed a lone figure trotting awkwardly, cantering as she tried to avoid puddles and a streamlet that had spawned from the weather, holding her wings above her for makeshift cover. Catching sight of the restaurant, she broke into a gallop, aiming for the door...
...only to smack gracelessly into the window next to it.
I went to the door and opened it, looking down at her. “Need a hoof?”
I pulled her inside, where she stood dripping, covered in mud in multiple areas. The server stallion gave us an irritated glance as he passed. I swiped a tablecloth off a nearby table as soon as he’d left, and offered it to the wet mare.
She lifted a muddy hoof. “Uh... could you...?”
I gingerly ran the cloth over her back and mane, a difficult procedure to do (for an earth pony) without putting one’s weight on what you’re front hooves are on. What I wouldn’t have given for a horn then.
She handled it pretty well, and after wiping her hooves on the mat we proceeded to my table.
“You found my note, then?” I know, obvious, but I needed a conversation starter.
She nodded.
Buck me and my yes or no questions. I am a psychologist; I should know better than to ask those by now.
The waiter returned, deposited our menus and left, mood apparently sullied by my guest. I already knew what I wanted, as usual, but I picked it up anyway, keeping an eye on Ditzy across from me. She would blink, stare intensively at the menu as she read a few lines, and shake her head vigorously as her eyes involuntarily drifted.
Eventually, she reluctantly asked me if there was anything that I recommended, to which I responded in the affirmative; it was obviously her first time here. We placed our orders, which arrived quickly (note to self: order non-cooked entrees for quick results).
After the course of the meal ran its way, any sense of urgency was drowned out by the pitter-patter of the rain, the low light, and the full stomachs. Feeling relaxed and confident, I leaned back in my chair. Time for my favorite question.
“Why are you here?”
“Because... you invited me, remember?” Despite her slight sarcasm, I could see past the misaligned eyes and see her brain working, trying to decipher my real meaning. She’s really just like any other pony in that respect... if you get to know them, you can see them think, know what they’re going to do or say, and why.
“Ah, but why did you accept?”
She stared at me, eyes focusing in sync with her thoughts. “Do you want to know something, Mister Whooves?”
“Doctor Whooves. And yes, I’d like to hear whatever you have to say.”
“I wasn’t late because of the rain,” she said, “I was late because... I almost didn’t come.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I never got an answer to my question this morning.”
“I told you, I don’t make a habit of acting on surface judgements of-” She cut me off, waving a hoof.
“That doesn’t explain why you choose to remain in contact with me, eat breakfast with me, take me out to... what are we calling this?”
“A colloquy?” I suggested. Her eyes drifted again as she processed the word.
“Point is, your time is valuable. I’m not. What’s the connection?”
I reached up and brushed her mane out of her face, grabbing her attention and eye contact again. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that. Everypony has a gift, a purpose. Even mailmares. Especially mailmares.”
“What’s mine?”
I looked at her cutie mark, and her eyes followed my gaze. “You tell me.”
She sighed. “A story for another day.” She stood. “I should leave.”
I looked out the window. “Why not wait out the storm?”
“Dinky’s expecting me.”
“Who?”
She looked at me. “My filly, Dinky Doo.” And she left.
Dun dun dun... The plot thickens. And no, I’m not talking about that plot. I had low-fat salad dressing.
After I recovered from my slight shock, I returned home, not particularly noticing puddles or mud. Then I took a looong, cooold shower.
And now I’m here, and I don’t know what to think. I’ll sleep on it. Or rather, won’t sleep on it.
Lots and lots of talking today. Not unexpected, but trying nonetheless. I feel like going for a gallop or bucking something. Out with it.
I never saw Derpy. There was a noise (oh, right, doorbell!), but when I opened the door, there was nopony, just my mail on the doorstep. I’ll have to track her down this weekend. Our conversation last night was... unfinished, to say the least.
I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and what exactly I’m thinking; she did have a point. But ponies are just sentient organics; they think and take action based on what benefits them, and what they can’t list reasons for, they file under “emotion.” All I have to do is dig up my true reasons for doing this. Why is this so hard?
Ugh, distracted.
My first visitor was not whom I was expecting.
“Bonbon? What can I do for you today?” I asked upon answering the knock at my door.
“Umm...” She looked over her shoulder. “Can we talk about it inside?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied, curiosity aroused.
In the office, she sat in an armchair. “I know you’re a psychologist, but you’re the closest thing Ponyville has to relational help... and actually, this might call for expertise in your field too.”
I took my folding chair in my signature style. “Does this have to do with last night?”
Which would have been Thursday night, for those of you who didn’t read the label on this entry.
“Yes,” she squeaked, blushing.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, things started off well, wine with a nice dinner, music, and then we went to the... bedroom...” Her blush deepened.
“And things went... very well... there too,” she said, and then turned nasty. “Until she was ‘interrupted’ by a ‘equestria-shattering’ discovery in her ‘research.’”
“What?”
“Lyra is obsessed with finding ‘humans.’”
Humans... I didn’t know much about those. Not my field. All I knew really was they were some obscure controversial subject that archaeologists and anthropologists argued about.
“Um, what?”
“Well, we were doing the usual stuff, head to haunches and the whole bit, when-”
“Please spare me the details,” I said, rather quickly. Too much information is too much.
“Oh, sorry. Anyway, Lyra’s always been into this kind of stuff a bit, which is normally fine, just a little quirk of hers. But recently...” Bonbon shook her head. “It’s been getting worse.”
“Do you have any idea as to what might have caused this? Did anything significant happen?”
“Well... I’d stay it started interfering with her life and relationships, oh... about when she came back from Everfree Forest with that weird shiny, glowing box thing.”
“What now?”
“It’s about as thick as this,” she said, indicating a magazine, “and maybe as tall as a can and as wide as a serving spoon. The one side glows and the other side is black with an apple emblem. Heard of anything like it?”
I shook my head.
“Hmm. Anyway, she wouldn’t stop messing with it for four hours straight, until it finally stopped glowing. She’s been particularly bad since then.”
I tapped my hooves together in thought. “Perhaps she thinks it is evidence?”
Bonbon scoffed. “Whether humans exist or not is irrelevant. She’s putting it before priorities, like real life, relationships... eating...”
“Just remember, she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.”
“...That’s not very concrete advice.” Ah. One of those ‘tell me what to do step by step’ ponies.
“Okay... where does she spend her time and what is she actually doing?” I asked. Seemed like as good a place as any to start.
“She’s got an entire lab in the basement, and that’s where she is if she’s not in the kitchen. I don’t know what she does down there, and don’t really want to.”
My eyes closed as my brain began forming a plan. “She has equipment down there?”
“Yeah. Some heavy stuff.”
“Perfect!” I said. “If she can’t take it with her, then all she needs is a little physical barrier to break the course of this wave.”
“That wouldn’t work,” Bonbon replied, waving a hoof. “Humans are her passion.”
“Not her only passion. Do you think you can take it till the 29th?”
I revealed my deal with her marefriend and explained the reasoning behind my plan. “The 29th is this Sunday. When Lyra takes you to Canterlot, if you play your cards right, you should be able to impress music and love over humans and basement labs.”
Bonbon nodded eagerly.
“Well, not to be rude, but I need to eat lunch...”
“Oh! Allow me!”
“What?”
Bonbon winced slightly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Lyra thinks I’m over here teaching you to cook.”
Oh, nice. But I wasn’t about to turn down a chance at something besides canned carrots. Long story short, we ate and she left, after extracting a promise for dinner at their house.
I had just finished drying the last dish, when a strange...
...oh. Doorbell.
This time, it was my expected guest. Tossing the dish rag over the faucet, I trotted to the door and opened it for the two unicorns.
“So,” began Twilight, wiping her hooves, “shall we take a look at your collection?”
Behind her, Rarity drew a smile on her face with a hoof and winked.
“Uh, oh! Yes, of course. I’ve got most of my library on the shelves in the office...”
I indicated the way, allowing Twilight to proceed ahead of me, while I fell back to Rarity’s position.
“It was the only way I could-”
“It’s fine. Believe me, the couch is the hardest place to get the truth.”
We followed Twilight into the sun-filled room, where Twilight was already pulling books off the shelves with her magic. She opened one of the many that floated around her, flipping through the table of contents. I stepped lightly up to her side.
“You have a good eye,” I complimented, seeing the book she was looking through: The Pony Mind: A Reason for Everything. “Do you have a particular interest in psychology?”
“Not specifically, but I always like to understand how things work, when there’s an explanation available.”
“A crucial element when pursuing science, though.”
She nodded in absent-minded compliance as she scanned the index of a new book.
“Here’s a philosophical question: why should we desire to understand things?”
She stopped reading and looked at me for a second. “Psychology is the study of the mind; you should know the answer to that.”
Actually, strictly speaking, ‘psych-’ is from the Latin meaning something closer to ‘soul’ than ‘mind.’ But nevermind.
“I do, but I want to hear your answer.”
“Well,” she contemplated, closing the book, “We can fix things if we know how they work.”
“...which assumes they’re broken.”
“Yes. Everything breaks from time to time.”
Okay, this wasn’t working. Time to switch tactics.
“And who decides if something is broken?”
“Huh?”
“If you can get away with robbing a bank, why shouldn’t you?”
“Wha-? Cause it’s wrong!”
“And what defines what is right and wrong?”
“The authorities, obviously.”
Gotcha. See, at this point, most ponies try to explain to me that there are fundamental right and wrong. Twilight’s response gave me an insight into what she values–specifically, the opinion of those whose position she considers superior. More than likely, she still has personal moral standards of right and wrong, but in her current state she would, ironically, probably bend those rules to appease those whom she previously developed a high opinion for.
In other words, pressure to succeed. To be the best of the best. The best student–forever.
But, this is just what I extrapolated from one reply to one question. I’m not about to draw conclusions yet–consider this a hypothesis.
She continued, backtracking as she realized how forthcoming her rather severe answer had been. “...I mean, they’re the ones enforcing it... and, um, are elected by popular opinion...”
She pretended to get distracted in a book.
Conversation past this point was relatively trivial, and after a time she asked to borrow a few books and they took their leave. A start, at least. I think I’ll write a report to the Princess tomorrow.
After their exodus, I decided to head out. It was still too early for dinner, but I felt drained after my talks today, both of which had called for improvisation on the spot. My energy was taxed. Time for some caffeine.
So I went out and parked my plot at the first decent coffee shop I came across. At least Ponyville has some decent material where those are concerned.
It had been a few minutes, and I was nearing the bottom of my Double-Caramel Mocha-Latte, staring into space dully, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I saw a unicorn mare with an azure, sky blue coat and a mane split between silver and navy blue. Her similarly (yet slightly grayer) blue eyes blinked.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing important, I was just walking by and happened to notice that we have identical cutie marks!”
She shifted to show me her flank, which true to Celestia herself, had a cutie mark that was exactly the same as mine.
“Uh, uh...” I stammered.
She was taking it a bit better. “This is so cool! We should, like, start up business together, or something. I mean seriously, identical talents? How cool is that?”
At that moment I was kind of shocked that it was possible and depressed that I wasn’t unique, all at once. “Uh, um...”
“We’ll be like the ‘Pied Pipers of Ponyville’ or something.”
“Wait, what?” The words came out as I was thinking them.
She stopped short, mid-breath. “You’ve don’t know who the Pied Piper is? He was-”
“I know who the Pied Piper supposedly was, I just don’t see how that has anything to do with psychology.”
“Psychology? Huh?”
“What?”
“What the hay are you talking about?”
“What the hay are you talking about?” I groaned, and banged my head on the table. “Let’s start over. Hello, my name is Doctor Whooves. What’s yours?”
“I’m Colgate.”
“Like the-”
“Yes, like the toothpaste,” she snapped. “What’s your special gift, Whoofy?”
“Whooves, Doctor Whooves,” I said, grinding my teeth. “My special talent is looking into a pony’s past and helping them fix their problems. Yours?”
“Sleep.”
“Your special talent is sleeping?”
“Well not just me doing it, idiot. I can help anypony get to sleep, sleep better, sleep longer, that kinda stuff too.”
Oh. The sandpony. Hourglass. Kinda makes sense.
“Oh.”
“Huh.”
We sat opposite one another at the small table, reviewing everything we knew about cutie marks, and everything we knew about our talents, and everything we knew about the other pony’s talent, occasionally glancing between our cutie marks.
“I could use another drink. Want something?”
“Sure. Double-Mocha Caramel-Latte.”
Okay, that was just plain creepy.
Not to mention the look the mare at the register gave me.
“Look, you named these stupid drinks, not me!” I reminded her. She frowned but gave me the goods, with which I returned to the table.
“So now what?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, do we get a prize or award? Or will they shove us in a lab and run experiments on us? Are we gonna be on the lam for the rest of our lives, fugitives from, um, justice...”
“I’m fairly certain Her Majesty the Princess wouldn’t sanction something like that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “However, I would be interested to know if this has ever happened before... especially because we have the same cutie marks with different meanings.”
Another period of silence while we sipped our beverages.
I stood up. “Well, I should be getting back. See you later, perhaps.”
“Wait,” she said, standing up too. “Unless you’re busy or something, why don’t you come back to my place?”
“I do kind of have dinner plans, actually...”
Her ears went flat.
“...but I could make it Sunday.”
Ears up. Plus smile and shining eyes.
“Okay!” She gave me an address, and we went our ways.
I showed up at Lyra and Bonbon’s early, around four.
“Oh, hey! You’re just in time!” said Lyra, opening the door.
“I... am?” I replied, coming in.
“Yep. I figured that, since Bonbon’s teaching you, I might as well join in too.”
Oh. Right. Except, I didn’t know anything other than what I had happened to see Bonbon doing.
“Brilliant!”
In the kitchen, Bonbon was flipping nonchalantly through a magazine, bored, and answering Lyra’s constant questions. For her part, the unicorn was enthusiastically alternating between consulting cookbooks and floating half a dozen pans in the air as she attempted to coordinate timing. I took up my usual position of handing her ingredients.
Lyra actually did a good job. What is it about mares and talking themselves down? I, on the other hand, only get credit for the slightly burned asparagus.
I excused myself after an appropriate period of time and consumption, had passed, and returned home.
This is the first night I’ve had a bit of leisure, I think. Time to dig out the Flank Sinatra records.
And tomorrow’s the weekend. Finally some free time away from all this chaos.
I just got one of those chills that a pony gets when they unwittingly tell a lie. Shoot.
My prediction was right. My weekend is going to be busier than Applejack during applebucking season. I mean, today was tiring enough, and I have that thing with Colgate tomorrow...
Anyway, I missed Ditzy again this morning. I wasn’t really trying to catch her so to say, seeing as how the length of our discussion would intrude on her mail schedule. But I have a suspicion that she came early on purpose.
I think I fell asleep listening to records last night. I woke up on the couch, which comes with a 90% chance of sleeping in. This instance fell within the expected percentage.
I decided to write my report this morning, leaving time for Ditzy to finish her route. It wouldn’t do to track down her house just to find it empty. And for all I knew, it could be a cloud home.
So, after washing up and getting my coffee, I sat down and got my pencil warmed up for the best muzzle-writing I could muster.
To Her Most Royal Highness, the Princess Celestia.
From Doctor Whooves, on his Royally Appointed Mission,
Highest salutations and greetings, etc.
My mission in Ponyville has made its first notable advancement. Although delayed slightly with an incident involving the Bearer of the Element of Laughter–which has resolved itself without negative consequences and produced valuable insight into the Bearer’s thought processes–I have succeeded in recently obtaining a chance to question Your faithful student, Miss Twilight Sparkle. Additionally, this occurred in a naturalistic environment, and as far as I can tell, no suspicions have been aroused as to the nature of this mission.
I did take the liberty to let the Bearer of Generosity in on a portion of the secret; she believes I am here on Your orders to observe Twilight, and Twilight alone. This granted me access to my impromptu interview with Miss Sparkle later, additionally deteriorating any wards she might have which would prevent me from assessing her mental health.
Concerning the progress on Miss Sparkle; she seems at the moment to be stable enough under unprovoked conditions, but I advise continued observation. Firstly, I have only had one suitable opportunity to interview her, and secondly, that observational period provide possible clues to alternative forced behind the motivation to her action, and would be a crucial issue to resolve should its existence be confirmed. Currently I do not have enough information to say more.
The aforementioned incident with the Bearer of Laughter, however, provided me with more substantial observational data. And, while I have not attempted therapy (and in this specific case, I would not recommend it currently, at least, not as it exists in the traditional circles) my actions in the situation did remedy it. Whether this had lasting effects remains to be seen.
Your humble subject, Doctor Whooves.
I specifically left out the details to my suspicions concerning Twilight’s mental state, as it would be unwise to take such an action, when the Princess, my superior at the moment, could be contrived as part of the cause of the issue.
Anyway, I sealed up the letter, hiding it amongst other articles in my saddlebags (which I had donned) and set out. It was late morning by now, what with my cursed slow speed at muzzle writing.
The first drop box I came across was at the edge of a park. I deposited my message and turned to leave, only to bump into a mare, sending us both sprawling.
“Apologies, miss,” I said, helping the mulberry-coated mare up.
“The fault is just as much mine as yours,” she replied apologetically, dusting herself off. “Mister...?”
“Whooves, Doctor Whooves.”
“A pleasure. I’m Cheerilee.”
I’d heard that name before. I looked back at the park, noticing a particularly large population percentage of foals, some even without their cutie marks.
“I seem to recall that you hold the position of teacher here in Ponyville?”
She nodded pleasantly.
“Is it normal to take field trips on the weekends?”
“Oh, this isn’t mandatory. Extracurricular activities that the parents or guardians can sign them up for.”
I’d heard of this kind of thing happening in Canterlot. Mass government-funded babysitting to keep foals out of the streets.
“I see.”
As I watched the ongoings of the fillies and colts, an idea formed in my mind. I grinned at my own genius.
“Would you happen to have a filly named Dinky in your school?”
Cheerilee thought for a moment. “Yes, in one of my younger classes. Why? Do you know her?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
Looking back, that was probably a bit creepy.
I hung around the park trying to appear casual and nonchalant as I looked over the groups of foals in their various activities, everything from hopscotch to impromptu hoofball. As my favorite professor once said, “It’s not creepy, it’s science.”
But for some reason I don’t think the mothers are going to buy that one. Hence the attempt at disguising my slinking.
I made my way through the groups (taking special care to avoid the Cutie Mark Crusaders), eventually finding my way to a group of ponies playing Jacks. Add this to the list of incredibly hard yet incredibly useless talents of some earth ponies.
Among them, a specific unicorn filly caught my eye. Her hair and eyes were too similar to Ditzy’s to be a coincidence, and even her pink coat was grayed and looked akin to her mother’s. She was still too young to have her cutie mark; she was playing Jacks with an even younger earth pony colt who was white, and yet spotted with brown like a cow.
“Hi there Mister!” he said, shocking me out of my not-so-subtle observation mode.
My auto-reply kicked in. “Whooves, Doctor Whooves,” I said, and then collected myself, turning to the unicorn. “I’m going to make a preemptive hypothesis and propose that you are Dinky Doo.”
The filly blinked. The little colt cocked his head. “You’re gonna do what to Dinky?”
I facehooved. Note to self: remember the age of audience when speaking. “I said I was guessing her name was Dinky. Is that right?”
Dinky nodded slowly.
“And I’m Pipsqueak the-” The colt stopped, thoughts catching up with his words. “Wait, how did you guess who Dinky was?”
“I’m affiliated... uh, I know your mother from her mail route, Dinky.” The filly merely blinked. Shy and quiet runs in the family, apparently.
“Want to play Jacks with us?” Pipsqueak asked, enthusiastically.
Well, it’s better than hanging around like a creep with Cheerilee giving me the stare, I thought. “Okay, but it’s been a long time.”
Pipsqueak deemed it necessary to explain the rules, after which I attempted the feat. I’m not proficient by any means, but it was kind of like riding a bike; one of those skills that doesn’t go away. I was surprised when Dinky used her hooves as well; the unicorns in my school never went that easy on me. Buck them.
Our mini-championship was interrupted when a downward rush of air, followed by four hooves touching down, landed a familiar gray and blond mailmare next to me.
“Hello,” I said, feeling stupid; I was playing Jacks and I hadn’t any plan in the least of what to say.
“Mommy!” said Dinky, jumping up suddenly. “Seeya later, Pip.” The filly jumped into her mother’s now-empty mailbag.
“I see you met my daughter, Doctor.”
I nodded. “Um, yeah. And you can call me Whooves.”
“Okay...” She shuffled a hoof. “Later then...”
They took off, my hopes moving inversely to their altitude. I looked down at the ground, where Pipsqueak was looking up at me.
“Something wrong, Mister?”
“No! I mean, no. Well, actually, it could be, but I can’t know. Meaning, I could know, but I don’t. Which means the answer is more likely yes.”
Pipsqueak blinked, once, twice, three times. He started to form a question, but was interrupted as Ditzy landed between us. She mustered the concentration to look squarely at me for a moment. “So, uh... do you have any plans for lunch?”
A little unicorn face peeped over her head and winked. I think I just made a friend...
...which is weird, actually. I used to make my colleagues’ kids cry, unintentionally of course. Needless to say, they kept relationships strictly business after those experiences. Back to events:
“No...”
“We’re having soup, if you’d like to come.”
“That... depends.”
She looked taken aback, slightly (and rightfully so). “...on what?”
“Is there a Mister Doo waiting there?”
Dinky eeped and disappeared into the mail satchel. A scowl slowly formed on Ditzy’s face, before she replied simply, “No.”
Oops. Well, I had to know.
The foul mood cleared quickly in the bright sunlight, and minutes later I found our little group (I brought Pip along too, since he didn’t seem to have anywhere else to go or anypony waiting for him) in front of the Doo home. It was modest compared to the houses on my block, but it had all the elements to make it home. And, thankfully for my earth pony protege and myself, it was not a cloud home.
Lunch was quiet. I was honestly expecting the foals to dominate the conversation, but apparently foals here have a different idea of “good behavior” than the ones in Canterlot. After the meal, they went outside.
I carried the dishes into the kitchen as best I could (darned earth-pony genotype) while Ditzy was crating the leftovers. Upon entering the kitchen, I stopped short at the already-towering pile of dishes in the sink. I guess her week keeps her pretty occupied.
An idea sprouted in my mind. Glancing back, I saw Ditzy was already dragging on her hooves, despite it being only about an hour into the afternoon. I turned on the water, pumped some soap into a large crock, and got busy.
Minutes later, she came back in, before stopping in place and gawking slightly.
“Um... I, er... what are you doing?”
I looked down at my hooves in the soapy water. “Is that some kind of trick question?”
“You’re washing the dishes,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I would hope that much is obvious,” I replied, drying a ladle.
“Why?”
“You can barely stand. Comes from double shifts of work all week, I expect.”
She started to nod, before ceasing and saying, “Wait. That’s not a reason. Or, not according to you anyway. ‘Ponies are all logical and selfish’ and all that.”
“Well,” I said, quickly scouring my mind for a reason. “We have an unfinished conversation; I can’t have you falling asleep on me.”
She looked at me sternly for a second, presenting a surprisingly menacing look, despite her eyes which drift badly because of her exhaustion. I thought for sure she could see me sweating.
...Which is kind of a problem now that I think about it. I shouldn’t be worried about coming up with perfectly reasonable excuses for my actions. Especially because I refuse to use the cure-all label of “emotion.” I need to sit down and figure this out sometime. Argh, distracted again.
She seemed too tired at the moment to object. “Fine,” she said, taking over the drying and allowing us to finish in just a minute or two.
“So, what did you want to talk about so much?” she asked, flopping down on a threadbare loveseat. “I have to get back to the afternoon route in an hour.”
“You’re in no condition to fly!” I responded a little startled. I automatically grabbed a table chair, flipped it around in a practiced gesture, and assumed my usual pose.
“It’s the last run of the week. I catch up on sleep over the-” She yawned. “...over the weekends.”
I thought for a moment. “Tell you what, I’ll take the non-cloud-home deliveries, and you...” I stopped, realizing the mare had fallen into an unsettled sleep. I tip-hooved over to her, waving a hoof in front of her face to make sure she was actually asleep. She stirred slightly, but remained otherwise incapacitated. Peaking out the window at the foals outside, I snuck a hoof under the latch of the full mail satchel, examining the contents.
A lightbulb practically lit up over me. I smiled. Apparently, morning routes handle the few cloud homes around Ponyville and any second-story deliveries (of which, Ponyville has few). The afternoon routes are strictly ground level.
Snagging an abused pencil, I scribbled a note as quickly as my stiff jaw would allow and dashed out of the house with the satchel around my neck.
“When your mother wakes up, tell her I took the letters!” I yelled over my shoulder.
Looking back, that was a really stupid way to say it.
Fortunately, this batch of mail had been sorted (by Ditzy, I presumed) in order of delivery, in a pattern I recognized as a snake-like route across the southern part of Ponyville.
Surprisingly, I vaguely recognized most of the ponies I was dropping the mail off to. Often, I looked at the not only the address, but also the name, trying to address them by their name. That didn’t always work though, considering that a good portion of houses had multiple occupants.
And nearly all of them asked where “Derpy” was. I find it odd that they continue to use that nickname for somepony that they rely on for their daily mail. I usually replied to their questions with something along the lines of, “I’m substituting today.”
The end of the route led me along the edge of the Everfree Forest. I don’t particularly believe in all the ghost stories that surround the place, but it is still a forest–which typically do house things that don’t procure an existence in everyday life–and so I trotted along at a relatively hurried pace, with my last letter in hoof.
The place was awfully peaceful and–for lack of a better word–cute, considering its proximity to the Everfree. Additionally, the place was overrun by all of the fuzzy classes of the animal kingdom as well: Bunnies (mainly), field mice, hummingbirds, turtles, everything under the sun. I went up to the door and rapped on it, like I did on every other house.
“...just, um, leave it on the doorstep... if that’s okay with you, I mean.”
I did a double take. Fluttershy lives on the edge of Everfree? I guess that explains all the animals...
“It’s me, Doctor Whooves. I’m delivering the mail for Ditzy today.”
“...I know,” she squeaked, barely audible.
I suddenly occurred to me how avoiding she’d been during the confrontation after the incident with Pinkie. I’d been too preoccupied to investigate and see if it was an inhibiting factor. Note to self: interrogate Rarity about Fluttershy’s conflict avoidance.
But unfortunately, I was on kind of a tight schedule at that moment. “Okay then...”
I dropped the letter and lit out for Ditzy’s house. If I was lucky, I could get back before she woke up and panicked.
No such luck.
Halfway there, my brisk trot was interrupted as I was blindsided, direction shifting ninety degrees in a tenth of a second. My assailant and I tumbled head over heals in the dust, our roll stopped only when we smashed into a stand, sending debris flying in all directions.
“What the hay...” I started, trying to pick myself up, only to discover I was pinned to the ground on my back by an irritated Ditzy, eyes focused for once.
“What the buck are you trying to pull?” she almost yelled, confused, stern and possibly hurt all in one voice. She forcibly ripped the empty mail bag off me and looked inside. “What did you do with my mail!?”
“I-” I coughed. “I delivered it.”
“Oh...” she said simply, eyes drifting.
“If you don’t mind, could you get off me?”
She blushed madly and dismounted me, offering me her hoof for the second time this week.
“Um, are you okay?”
“I’ll live, probably.” I kept a straight face for upwards of ten seconds, staring her down. At first she backed up, ears snapping up in attention, looking me up and down for injury. Then we both collapsed in laughter. It wasn’t a particularly original joke, but sitting there covered in wreckage after she had just tackled me, it was the perfect moment for it.
And then there was the destroyed stand.
The angry owner disentangled herself from what had been the banner. “If Ah find tha’ this is another of yer crazy schemes to get yer cutie marks-”
Applejack stopped short on seeing us. “Derpy? Doctor...?”
“I’m terribly sor-” I started to apologize, only to have a hoof shoved in my mouth. It tasted weird. Like sweat and bubble-bath mixed together.
“This is... actually my fault, Applejack,” Ditzy said quietly, ears dropping. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you worry about it none, sugarcube,” replied Applejack, waving it off. “Ah am wonderin’ why the Doctor here has more bruises on him than you...”
“Oh, that’s simple,” I answered, mouth free of hooves again. “She tackled me because I stole her mail.”
Ditzy and I broke out laughing again, much to the confusion of Applejack.
“What’d you go an’ do that fer?”
“B-because,” Ditzy managed through her hysteria, “he’s trying to take my job.”
We completely busted at that point. I fell backward, Ditzy following a moment later–landing on top of me.
“Ah don’t get it.”
After recovering a few minutes later, and after picking herself off me again, Ditzy and I helped do what we could. Turned out, we only took out the stand–the apple cart was still intact; and being the end of the day, most of her apples were sold out. We piled salvageable debris into the cart, and I offered to haul it home. Then things got interesting.
“No offense, but I need to get home before sundown.”
I looked up. The sun was still hours off the horizon, and the trip to Sweet Apple Acres was under a half hour, even at a snail’s pace.
“Are you implying that growth of the muscles in the mind occurs at the expense of physical capability?”
“Uh, maybe?”
If I’d reversed the order, then you’d have just proved it, I thought.
I staunchly slid the harness around my neck. Normally I don’t give in to such lowbrow taunts, but Applejack is a subject of interest, and any time around her is quantifiable as research. Also, Ditzy was watching...
What did I just say? Nevermind.
During my trek (which I did succeed in finishing), I discovered that pulling cars, carriages, or plows isn’t based solely on strength. Upper-torso weight has a large influence as well. A larger stallion–Big Macintosh comes to mind–can just lean forward, and the wagon moves. Ponies my size have to actually push against that freakin’ uncomfortable harness.
Which Applejack managed to forget to tell me I was wearing wrong until we were there. Seriously, that is the type of thing I would expect Rainbow Dash to pull. I guess I should have remembered that Honesty ≠ Kindness.
Anyway, by the time I had unhitched and Ditzy and I were walking back, I felt as sweaty as Ditzy tasted. I sagged with weariness, often stumbling on the uneven path without the balance that the cart had provided.
Ditzy looked at me critically. “Maybe I should walk you home.”
Okay, that was just backwards.
“Oh come on, I did this to myself.”
“Actually, I did a good part of it to you.”
I snorted, but she continued to accompany me toward my house. We arrived at my doorstep unhindered.
“Well, have a good afternoon,” I said.
This. Felt. So. Wrong.
“Um...”
Oh she wasn’t. Please no.
“I do have a question...”
Whew. “Yes?”
“Why?”
Good grief. Why must she use my favorite question against me?
“Well, you were obviously exhausted-”
“I know that’s not a reason by your standards.”
I swallowed. When in doubt, tell the truth. “I...”
She managed to focus her eyes on me, all senses alert.
“...I don’t know yet.”
Her expression remained unchanged. After a moment, she said, “Let me know when you figure that out.”
And she flew away.
I went inside and pounded my head against the wall until there was a new, smaller hole next to the larger, still un-repaired impression that my body had formed earlier. Yet, both had been made by Ditzy in different ways.
I fell asleep taking a really long, cold shower.
Turns out Lyra and Bonbon went out to eat dinner. They’re leaving tomorrow, so they didn’t want leftovers. I stayed in and had a simple salad with what I could scrape up from my pantry. After that, I dug out any books I had on emotional theory.
I’m not quite as sure as I was before–emotion might in fact exist; but I still don’t know why it would exist. And as long as something doesn’t have a reason to do something, it probably shouldn’t.
Ugh. I should have the energy to do some partying tonight, but I don’t. I’ve been reading these books up until I made tonight’s recording, and I still don’t have any answers. Tomorrow is a new day; I need to clear my mind.
A little note: this is actually being recorded in the morning on my eighth day here in Ponyville, but I’m calling this Day 7 anyway because that’s the events it covers. Yesterday went as follows:
I woke without any great insights. Or rather, got up without any. Last night could hardly have been counted as sleeping. I was still as confused as I was last night. Deciding I needed to do some kind of physical activity to get my mind off things, I set off to find some plaster, my previous attempt at that having been interrupted.
Upon setting hoof outside my door, I immediately tripped over a small tent that was staked on my doorstep. Not a good way to improve a mood.
A yawning, purple-maned, orange-coated pegasus filly emerged from the collapsed structure, followed by her two comrades.
“Oh hey, we got him!”
“Ah told ya we should’a done this in the first place.”
I picked myself up off the ground. “What are three meddlesome fillies that stalk ponies and set up traps on unsuspecting strangers doing on my doorstep stalking and conspiring against me?”
“Getting our cutie marks, o’ course!”
Rarity’s younger sister–Sweetie Belle, I remembered–punched Applebloom in the ribs.
“In psychology, she means.”
“Well,” I said, trying to find a way to express how I felt without exposing the fillies to language they shouldn’t hear at their age. “I’m not doing any shrinking today.” I started trotting.
“Wow, you can shrink ponies? How does that work?” asked Scootaloo, who was trying to keep up, her peers right behind her. I resisted the urge to facehoof and strangle somepony at the same time. As it was, I rolled my eyes and went faster.
“What’s yer cutie mark mean?”
“How does the couch help?”
I made it to Ponyville’s fountain before I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped suddenly, causing the fillies to smack into me from behind.
Turning to face them, I said, “Do I look like I give two bits about your cutie marks? You want the truth about psychology? Here’s the truth. It lets you see the inside of ponies, and do you know what revelation accompanies that? All ponies are dark on the inside. They act like they love you. They act like they’ll always be there for you. But the only pony anypony gives a buck about is themselves! The sooner you accept that and ditch trust, the better off you’ll be.”
My rant had silenced and mostly evicted the square of equines. The three fillies in front of me cowered back.
“Um, maybe we should try something else now...”
“I would highly advise that,” I remarked. They turned and employed a hasty retreat.
I tried to slow my breathing. My emotions (what? They don’t exist!) were on a knife blade with anger on one side and despair on the other.
A flicker of movement pulled me out of my internal dilemma. I glimpsed a soft pink mane and a flash of butter-colored coat hiding behind a park bench. Fluttershy?
I started across the square, when a slightly familiar voice jabbed accusingly through the air.
“There you are!”
I looked to my side to see Colgate stomping swiftly my way, having just turned the corner and apparently missing the drama.
“Uh...”
“You are such a jerk!” She was in my face now.
“That depends on whether you’re speaking globally or relatively.”
She ignored my comment.
“A stallion that asks a mare on a date before even dumping the other one in his life–if you were even planning on dumping her at all–is either an idiot or a jerk. And I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
A perverted part of my mind wondered whether to take that as a complement.
“Okay, first off, I didn’t ask you out on a date; secondly, I’m not seeing anypony else anyw-”
“We were meeting in my apartment in the evening. What did you think we were going to do, sit around and play bingo?”
What the...
“And I’ve seen you with that basketcase, Derpy-”
“Ditzy,” I automatically corrected.
“-and I have like zero idea what you see in her. She’s not even attractive-”
“You lie.”
I realized later that my face was in hers, my eyes narrowed dangerously.
“W-well,” she said, backing up. “Consider tonight off.”
No, really?
I settled down on the bench, exasperated. Colgate left.
“Fluttershy?” I knew she was behind me, but I wanted her to know that I knew.
“...”
“I’m not a nice pony, am I?”
“...no.”
I laughed. The irony was just hysterical at this point. “I guess that kind of makes us arch-enemies doesn’t it?”
“Well... it doesn’t have to.”
I got up.
“Um, where are you going?”
“Back to Canterlot.”
I went straight back to my house, not really caring that things didn’t make sense anymore. Picking up the cursed pencil, I started a note to the Princess. With luck, it would reach her before I made it back to Canterlot, and it would save me an explanation I really didn’t want to make.
To Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, Kind and Benevolent Ruler of Equestria, From Doctor Whooves,
I regret to inform you that, do to unforeseen circumstances which caused excessive, unsustainable emotional stress, I am resigning my position in Ponyville. I have been restrained up to now, but my actions are getting too close for comfort anymore.
Apologies that this could not be a face to face conversation, but by the time it arrives I will have left; I haven’t told but one about my-
A rather peculiar sound...
...the doorbell, interrupted me half way through. I hastily shoved the unfinished letter under some magazines and moved into the kitchen, where I grabbed the nearest thing resembling a box and started packing.
“Come in,” I practically yelled, not missing a beat.
The door creaked open, and what only could have been Fluttershy stole in, what with the light footfalls.
“Oh, um, please don’t pack.”
“Fluttershy, I am your antithesis. Even when I’m not trying to... to fix ponies–and thus screwing with their lives–I say something stupid and it has the same effect,” I said, still pulling out pots from under the sink.
“But that’s not-” She stopped. “Um, could you please look at me when I’m talking to you?”
I kept digging in the cabinet.
“LOOK AT ME!”
The shear force of the yell propelled me across the room, sending me tumbling. I smacked into an end-table, upsetting a lamp. From my upside-down position, I saw Fluttershy nearly panting, eyebrows more than slightly furrowed, mane frazzled, pupils the size of a bit. She stalked up to my flipped form, prostrate against the wall. This was kind of scary. Okay, it was really scary.
“Nopony hurts my friends and doesn’t make up.”
I blinked. “Uh...”
“You are going to fix this, you big meanie.”
“Yes, of course,” was all I could collect enough thoughts for.
“If you step so much as one hoof outside Ponyville...”
I smiled sheepishly and attempted to nodded, even while my body’s weight was on my head. She turned to walk out, apparently having successfully delivered her point.
“And Fluttershy?”
“What?”
“Just FYI, the rage works well.”
She left.
I righted myself and what furniture was still intact.
“Dear Princess, one of your Elements is insane and threatened my life. Sincerely, Whooves,” I said to myself sarcastically. Her outburst wasn’t really that bad–I’d seen worse–it was just such a swing from her usual demeanor. Better to keep this under wraps for the moment, dig deeper, use it. In the meantime, however, I was stuck trying to put back the wreckage that had been relationships.
I decided to head out and get lunch.
My hooves took me to the same coffee shop and/or cafe that I had met Colgate in. I looked over at the table where we had been...
...and she was sitting there. At that moment, she looked up from a novel she was reading and made eye contact. She frowned, then snapped her book shut and lifted her beverage with magic, getting up to leave. I intercepted her, putting a hoof on her shoulder.
“Sit down.”
Her frown morphed into an angry pout of sorts, but she obeyed.
“I know what you think of me and I think I understand why,” I said. “But we can’t live the rest of our lives pretending the other doesn’t exist, or worse.”
“I don’t know about that. Let’s try it and see.”
I almost groaned out loud.
“I won’t pretend what happened didn’t happen, but I’m willing to start fresh anyway. With a few clarifications and healthy boundaries.”
She looked up with this, interested but not wanting to let it show. “Like what?”
“Well, to start, we will assume that the other party is not in any way romantically inclined towards the other unless explicitly stated otherwise and after both parties acknowledge its existence. As an extension to the previous statement, both parties will abstain from interfering or prying into the other’s romantic intentions or relationships without permission. Additionally, each party will refrain from using their respective talents against the other with malicious intent.”
Colgate blinked. “I have no idea what you just said. You sound like a lawyer or something.”
I sighed. “Clean slate. Don’t look for love that isn’t there, and don’t interfere.”
The unicorn thought for a few seconds. “Ugh, fine.”
“Oh, one other thing,” I said, as a thought occurred to me. “Can I get a raincheck on tonight? You could say that what happened earlier was just one part of all my follies today, and I kind of need to fix them.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I actually sorta made plans after I left, and I’ve got a date lined up for tonight.”
I blinked, but shook it off. She’s really out there sometimes.
I ordered something that would suffice as lunch, and sat down with Colgate. She’s not one to hold a grudge, especially after her jaw starts working. We talked about our lives, our pasts, our tastes in various subjects; all revealed we were almost complete opposites, with the exception of both of us liking a certain amount of the ‘cool’ factor in our appearances. It hasn’t shown up in me too much here in Ponyville, but when I have control over what goes on around me, I can get a little self-absorbed. Back in Canterlot, I was the personification of ‘hip’ among the psychological circles–which is a unique combination in its own right. Colgate claimed to be the laziest pony in 50 square miles. I’m not sure why anypony would aspire to that, but I wasn’t going to raise any objections. Besides, that’s what you could look at her cutie mark as, if you wanted to.
But I ramble.
My first objectives were the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Sweetie Belle was the closest, and also turned out to be the easiest. She hadn’t told her big sister about the incident, so I think it’s quite possible that I actually improved my standing with Rarity (turns out it’s rewarding to apologize to somepony in the presence of other ponies who didn’t see the regrettable act committed).
I wasn’t going to take back what I said... as far as I am concerned, most of it is still true, as a general rule. Or until they give you a reason to see otherwise. What I did tell the filly was that she shouldn’t let the darkness in other ponies turn her into one of them, and that I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And I also told her–in a moment when Rarity wasn’t around–not to use ‘buck’ in the sense I had used it.
Sweet Apple Acres presented a longer trot. Also, the fact that the temperature was dropping insanely quickly wasn’t making me any more comfortable. I glanced up, happening to see a group of weather pegasi herding dark, moisture-laden clouds.
“Hey!” I shouted to a nearby pegasus. “What’s going on?”
“Storm. Duh. Say, I’d find cover if I were you.”
“Why can’t you pegasi stick to the ‘half hour shower every Monday’ thing?”
He shrugged. “We post all the changes in the report.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. For having controlled weather, it is surprising how erratic it still is. “Where can I find that?”
“Cloudsdale Weather Factory, office in building 2,” he said, fly back to his group.
Bucking brilliant. I would have facehooved, except that I was worried I’d give myself a black eye. What good is the weather report going to do up there? What about all of us wingless ponies? Meh, stuck up pegasi.
I picked up the pace, arriving at the farmhouse just as the last of the sun disappeared in the clouds. The place was shut up tight, shutters locked up tight, doors barred, tarps strapped. They did answer the door after a minute, though. It was Applejack.
Her brow skewed itself slightly, as though caught between confusion and distaste. I shuffled my hooves in the rapidly chilling air.
“Can I come in?”
“Ah’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now,” she replied.
“Well, normally I’d love to go for a picnic,” I said sarcastically, “but I’ve got some things to say to somepony before I leave.”
She reluctantly made room for me to come in. The interior of the house was cozy. They already had a fire going strong on the hearth, lamps lit, blankets distributed, kettle on. An old mare I assumed was Granny Smith was snoring quietly on the couch, while Big Macintosh looked over some ledgers. He looks a lot different with glasses.
“Is Applebloom here?”
“Look, Doc-”
“I’m here because I blew my top and I’m sorry. Shall I tell her, or would you rather?”
She sighed. “Do what ya have to, but Ah don’t ever want ta hear you saying that kind of stuff around A.B. again, that clear?”
“Abundantly,” I replied, while thinking sarcastically, Oh, because you are the epitome of clean language and grammar.
“Well alright then.”
She directed me towards Applebloom’s room, stopping at the top of the stairs. The door was ajar, so I walked in as unobtrusively as I could. Applebloom looked up from the book she was reading and smiled when she saw me.
“Oh hey, Doc!”
“Oh, hello,” I replied, slightly confused at her cheery attitude. “Aren’t you even slightly... disturbed about my presence?”
Applebloom shut the book–homework, apparently–and hopped out of her chair. “You take my big sis too seriously. Sure, Ah thought it was a little weird–and kind of creepy–about yer rant, but it ain’t no big deal. Sis only got so irritated when Ah mentioned that it seemed odd for you–a non-farmin’ pony, that is–to use a word like ‘buck’ when you did.” She cocked her head a little bit. “Why did you use it like that anyway?”
Wow, ponies here are a way more sheltered than in Canterlot. Back there, foals Applebloom’s age were using that kind of language as often as not.
I grinned, sheepishly. “That’s... not really my place to say. Ask your brother, perhaps.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize for...” My thoughts drifted as I wondered if it was appropriate to apologize to somebody for something they didn’t necessarily find offencive. “...Uh, raising my voice?”
She laughed. Which I thought was kind of rude at first. “No need for that, silly. Besides, you better get moving if you want to make it home,” she said, and then continued. “Hey! Why don’t ya stay here tonight, till the weather gets better tomorrow?”
“I think I’ll take my chances,” I said, looking out the window. “Thanks for understanding.”
Applebloom nodded and picked up her book again. I trotted down the stairs as fast as I politely could, nodded to Applejack, and exited out the front.
Outside, the clouds stretched to the horizon, setting a premature dusk on Ponyville. Rain had started coming down, heavier sheets descending with every second. Wasting no time, I bolted off the porch and into the cold, depressing downpour.
After trotting for a hundred yards or so, the distinct sound of thunder in the distance rumbled through the air. I picked up the pace a bit. I have no way to find Scootaloo at the moment; better just call it a day and go home-
My thoughts scattered as lightning laced across the sky, with a practically simultaneous boom. I broke out in full gallop, suddenly heedless of the rain or wind. The sky’s electrical forces began touching the earth.
I yelped when a bolt struck a nearby apple tree on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, rendering the world in stark contrast for an instant, and splintering the tree to charred slivers. I had no choice then but to keep running.
The outskirts of Ponyville approached soon after leaving the orchard behind, but I could feel my breath flagging, hoofsteps becoming slightly uncoordinated. I’m not going to risk continuing to my house in this furry, I thought as I ran between the first of the lower houses. I need... hey, I know that house. I dashed the few yards to the Doo house, letting myself in and flattening against the door as another boom rocked the foundations. I sat down on the mat, dripping and panting.
Momentarily, Ditzy appeared around the corner. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her eyes mostly closed, as though she had fallen asleep somewhere she hadn’t planned to. She walked in unsteadily and sat down, yawning.
And all I could think was, Wow, she’s really cute in socks.
She blinked a few times, waking up fully. “Whooves? What are you doing out in-”
Another crack of thunder caused us both to look up at the roof.
“-this?”
I forced myself to stop looking at her fuzzy pink socks, but was only partially successful. She was just so cute.
I’ve never used that word to describe many things in my life, but she fit the ticket. I kicked my thoughts back to the present.
“I was on my way back from Sweet Apple Acres when the storm hit,” I explained. “Do you mind if I wait the worst of it out here?”
“Sure, that’s fine,” she said, returning to the room she had come out of. “Just shake before you come on the carpet.”
Oh. Shake. Right.
I’d never pulled a water-removal style shake in my adult life. It felt foalish as I braced my legs, widening my stance... and then caught a glimpse of Ditzy watching me through the doorway.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she lied, trying to hide her amusement.
I gritted my teeth and rolled my head back and forth as fast and hard as I could, then continued to shake my shoulders. It left me a little dizzy, but I was happy to discover that my mane was dry, along with most of my coat; my tail, however, was still soaking wet.
I sighed. “What did I do wrong?”
Ditzy giggled. “You have to shake your flanks too.”
That was uncalled for. Even if it was true.
Nevertheless, I did it, and it worked. And thankfully, she didn’t make any other comments.
Now dry, I followed her into the living room. It looked much more informal than most, however; stacks of mail to be sorted sat on the dinged-up coffee table, a few leftover dishes remained on a shelf, and books were stacked in the corners. Not really dirty, just... informal.
“So... where’s Dinky?”
“Oh, she’s sleeping over with Sparkler,” she replied, settling back into the loveseat, under a lamp.
“Is that somepony I should know?”
“Sparkler. Her sister.”
I think somepony dropped an anvil on me at that point.
“Well, half-sister,” she clarified.
Okay, that cleared some things up. It also added a new level of depth to Ditzy’s past.
I sat down in an armchair across from her. Despite always having been around armchairs, I never really sat in them much; it was kind of a foreign feeling. “I see.”
“So, do you have an answer yet?”
The question didn’t entirely take me by surprise. I thought back to what I had said that morning, about the darkness within.
“Because you’re different.”
“Hm?”
“You get abused every day, verbally insulted, whispered about. And you take it anyway. You break the rules of motivation. Sure, you’re wary at first–and you should be–but you give ponies a chance; that’s more than most can say. That’s more than I can say.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“What?”
“You didn’t assume I was mental just because I’ve got an eye condition.”
“Um, well... I just happened to be aware of the misconception.”
“You of all ponies should know that you can’t accurately judge a book by it’s cover.”
“I’ve gotten good at it anyway.”
She looked at me for a moment with crossed eyes, but it was still a thoughtful look. “As long as it doesn’t cover up what you really know about them...”
We sat in silence for a while, wrapped in our own thoughts. The only sound was the rain, pounding mercilessly against the window, sporadically punctuated with the rumbling of thunder in the dark afternoon. Eventually, Ditzy picked up a hardback book that had been open, sitting on the armrest. I watched as she struggled to read, focusing intently, trying to make the page stay in focus.
“What are you reading?”
“I’m trying to read ‘Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone,’ but it’s not going so well. I get about a page an hour.”
“Would you like me to read it for you?”
She looked up. “Out loud?”
No, just to myself. “Yes, of course.”
She paused for a moment, then scooted over, giving me room by the light. I moved over and picked up the book, resting it on the arm of the loveseat.
“Fair warning, my voice is kind of annoying over long periods of time.”
“You’re a therapist,” she said, unconvinced.
“My typical patients usually do most of the talking.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
So I picked up where she left off. At first she remained attentive, fighting the lure of sleep. But minutes turned into hours. Her eyes drooped, and her posture slouched; the drumming of the rain, in addition to my monotone speech, was enough to send Celestia herself to sleep. About two hours later, as I reached the part where Daring Do was dodging the spikes in the ancient temple, I felt Ditzy shift position...
…and rest her head on my side, eyes closed.
I immediately felt my nervousness flare up, my fear of physical contact manifesting itself. My heart rate increased, my breathing becoming shallow. Just chill, I told myself. There’s nothing to worry about. Touching other ponies like this is perfectly...
...normal.
My pulse quickened for an entirely different reason. I looked down at her, mane sprawled lazily over my flank, legs in pink socks curled up, chest rising and falling with her breath.
“Ditzy?”
“Mm-hmm...” she answered, absentmindedly.
“Was my answer right?”
She wrapped a foreleg around my chest hugging me. “...you have a reason... not an answer, and that’s... just the way... it... should... be...”
I was about to object, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. An answer is universal in nature; it is generally accepted as truth. Reasons, on the other hand, are different for everyone, even in the context of of the same issue or act. If you ask everypony in town why they are in town, you’ll get many different responses; in fact, you probably won’t get two exactly identical ones. If, on the other hand, you ask which princess raises the sun, you’ll get one answer. That’s the difference. I realized Ditzy had wanted a real reason, not one of my pre-prepared answers, which I am so good at giving.
The sound of Ditzy’s breathing fell into a deeper pattern.
Gently, I set the book down on the coffee table and clicked off the light. Only the diffused light that filtered through the thick storm clouds provided a minimal glow from the window. I rested my head on the arm of the two-cushioned couch. My foreleg, however, had no space to rest. Finally, I hesitantly let it fall to its natural position on Ditzy’s shoulder.
I let out a breath. This wasn’t awkward, like I thought it would be. This felt right.
Sleep tugged at me, and I didn’t resist; the day passed into night and the realm of dreams took control.
More has happened since then, but that takes place today, so I’ll wait and include that in the recording at the end of today.
I stretched my hooves over my head, yawning. Blinking a few times, I found myself on my back, looking up at a ceiling that was bathed in golden, early-morning sunshine. I contemplated it for a moment–something seemed a little different about the ceiling this morning–before trying to sit up on my elbows, only to discover I had a soft weight on top of me. I looked down to see Ditzy sleeping comfortably on top of me, faint smile lingering on her face. If I had stopped to consider it for a second, I probably would have indulged in the bit of happiness that was so rare on her face.
Instead, my brain froze, until a flood of memories from the night before rushed to the forefront of my mind. And then, all I could think was, Oh, B-bu-bucking HORSE A-APPLES...
She stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering open. She brushed her mane out of her face with a hoof and blinked again, focusing on me. What really worried me was the fact that she didn’t make any move to get off. We looked at each other for a few minutes, my eyes dilated, hers with a more typical half-lidded lazy look. Eventually she raised her head, crossed her forelegs where it had been, letting it rest on them instead.
“...morning, my little stallion.”
“Um, yes. G-good morning. Wait. What did you just call me?”
“Well, I’m not calling you your last name, and you never gave me your first. So I came up with a pet name I liked, ‘cause the usual ones just didn’t seem to fit.”
I started, sliding myself out from under her partially and recoiling to my side of the loveseat. Good grief, that name will now forever have other connotations attached to it now.
She sat back on her haunches, allowing me to draw back, but obviously regretting the cessation of the semi-snuggle, as evident from the look in her eyes. “Something wrong?”
Oddly enough, the logical side of my brain saved me here. Think about what you say next carefully, I thought. It will likely determine the status of this relationship for the foreseeable future. You can only test thin ice so many times before it cracks.
Ha. See? Logic and reason saved me when my initial emotional response would have blown the relationship asunder. Then again, why did I care about the relationship at all unless I was emotionally attached? Whatever. I’ll sort that out later.
“What? No. I just, um... don’t want to make you late for your deliveries.”
That actually came out smoother than I expected.
“Don’t worry,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively. “They have to bring the day’s mail first. And with all the extra pegasi on cloud duty cleaning up the storm, I don’t think it’ll get here too soon.”
“...Oh.”
We sat there for a few minutes, with her looking at me, and me finding a sudden interest in my hooves.
Finally, “What is your name?”
I grimaced. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I go by Doctor Whooves.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she replied, sidling up next to me. “Pleeease?”
“No. I’m not telling anypony. Ever. And no amount of pouting is going to get it out of me.”
I shouldn’t have mentioned that. She donned a blatantly exaggerated pout face, sticking out her lower lip and looking (approximately) up at me. It actually looks really cute with crossed eyes.
“Nope. Sorry. Talk to the hoof.”
“Well then, ‘my little stallion’ will have to stay.”
“Yeah, whatever. But, could we keep it to ‘Whooves’ in public until... um...” I’d put my hoof in it now. The implications of what I’d left unsaid were as bad as saying them.
We sat there for a bit more. Eventually, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
Anything that would get me off the couch. I followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled off her stockings off awkwardly with her teeth and started opening cabinets.
“I don’t have anything fancy... no muffins... maybe cereal?”
“Excellent.”
As we were getting it out, the door burst open, a familiar purple-tinted unicorn filly hopping in.
“Mommy! I’m back! Sparkler and I... we, uh... Doctor Whooves?”
I set the milk jug I was holding down with a testing twist of the neck. Curse all unicorn milk jug designers in history. “Good morning, Dinky.”
“Hi,” she responded, startled back into shyness at my unexpected presence. I looked at Ditzy, who looked at me as well, from the rim or her cereal bowl. She finished chewing her latest bite.
“You were saying? How was your visit?”
“Oh, it was... good.”
I was about to assist in the conversational effort, when a large duffel landed with startling velocity on the doormat, coming out of the sky above, apparently.
“That’s the mail. I better get going,” said Ditzy, slinging her mail satchel over her neck and transferring the first section of mail out of the bag. “Don’t forget to take lunch to school, Dinky,” she reminded, before stepping out the door and taking off. I looked back at the filly, who had walked a half circle around me, looking me up and down.
“So how do I compare?”
She stopped. “To what?”
Oh. Maybe this wasn’t such a good topic. “Well... your father.”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember him.”
Something about that wasn’t right. “What do you mean? I thought you were sleeping over at his house with Sparkler.”
She shook her head. “No, Sparkler lives with her mom, like me. But she’s old enough to remember. Maybe I should ask her.”
Dinky began to make herself a sandwich. Meanwhile, the cogs were turning in my brain. “Did Ditzy- uh, your mom ever say what happened with your dad?”
“Yeah, once- wait. Why the sudden interest?”
“Well, your mother and I are going to be spending some time together,” I said. Might as well get the filly used to the idea. “And I want to know what I can about her.”
That seemed to satisfy the filly. Surprisingly, she didn’t ask any questions, just went back to spreading the mayonnaise, and finishing her reply. “Oh. Okay. Anyway, Mom said that he went six foot under, so I looked it up in one of the Library’s geography books. I think she meant the ‘land down under,’ which is Australia.”
Ooooh. Sure.
The filly finished packing her bag, and I accompanied her out the door.
“Well, I’m off to school.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know if a pegasus named Scootaloo goes to your school, would you?”
She blinked. “I thought it was the only school in Ponyville.”
Oh duh. “I think I’ll come with you, if that’s okay.”
“Fine with me.”
We walked in silence. About half way there, I noticed Dinky was beginning to drag a bit. I offered to carry her books, but she refused. “I do this-” Huff. “-every school day-” Huff. “-it’ll make me-” Huff. “-stronger eventually.”
I know how exercise works, but foals can only grow so fast. Unfortunately, by the time I got done explaining that to her, we were at school.
“Have a good day, Dinky!” I said over my shoulder, catching sight of Applebloom, whom I trotted after.
“Hey Doc!”
“Hello, Applebloom. Is Scootaloo around?”
“No, Ah don’t think she came today. You still tryin’ to track her down?”
I nodded.
“Well, when in doubt, find Rainbow Dash. Scoot’s always followin’ her around.”
“And where would I find her?”
Applebloom looked at the sky. “Now that the sky’s clear an’ all, she’s probably conked out on a cloud somewheres napping.”
“Okay, thanks for the help,” I grunted, leaving.
Hours later (during which time I did stop off at my place to set events of the previous day down on record), I had finally tracked down Rainbow Dash’s cloud home, which floated a bit beyond the outskirts of Ponyville. I was tired and a bit worn out from the rigmarole I had gone through to get there, but on the up side, Rainbow was sure to be awake by now.
“Rainbow Dash?”
No response.
“Rainbow Dash!” I said again, raising my voice.
Still no response.
I took a few seconds to suck in my breath and brace my diaphragm. “RAINBOW DASH!”
“Geez Louise, what? What could possibly be so important that you had to wake me up?” said a sleepy voice from behind (and above) me. I whirled around to see Rainbow peering lazily over the edge of a smaller cloud that hung off by itself. “Wait, Whooves?” she asked rhetorically, becoming alert. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for a filly named Scootaloo, and I was told she hangs with you sometimes. Any idea where she might be?”
Much to my surprise, an orange face peered over the edge next to the larger cyan one.
“Well?” Scootaloo asked, the tone practically simmering.
“Oh, there you are,” I said, blinking stupidly. Her stoic face hinted at a frown. I glanced over at Rainbow before continuing, deciding that Scootaloo seemed to have told her everything that happened thus far, and it was probably just as well that she was here to hear this.
“Look, I’m sorry if what I said yesterday scared you. It’s just that I’ve had a bad sample for representation of ponies in general in my lifetime; I’ve learned to presume selfish until proven otherwise. I guess this is where the silver lining is; there are exceptions out there. I’ve known a few–and only a few, unfortunately, but the point is we can always be better than we are. To be better, so that, um... that is, for the good of...” I admittedly don’t argue well for something I don’t fully agree with. Be that as it is, I expected some kind of reaction from Scootaloo by this point, but her face hadn’t changed. Am I forgetting something? I thought.
As if in answer, the small pegasus said, “You said you didn’t care about our cutie marks.”
I considered my options. First, I could lie and say I was sorry and smooth over the conflict (which is the exact opposite goal of psychological therapy, I should point out). Alternatively, I could go with the dangerous but probably preferable route: tell the truth.
“Because, frankly, I don’t.”
She retreated out of my view back onto the cloud. Rainbow looked from Scootaloo to me, and then shook her head before following the other pegasus.
Buck mottos.
I sat down, stomach grumbling. The cloud was by itself, so nopony was leaving it without my knowing as long as I stayed there. There was only one thing to do.
I waited.
Fortunately, my time of depravity of sustenance was shorter than I expected. Five, or maybe ten minutes later, Rainbow appeared from the cloud and descended to earth.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Are you kidding? Nothing bothers that kid. She’s just not talking to you for a while.”
I don’t know which made me doubt that more: the fact that she wouldn’t look me straight in the eye when saying it, or the matter of her skipping school to come talk to her closest mentor. Hmm. Surely there’s an awesome, modern version of that word. Anyway, it seemed obvious something was going on that I was missing, even if it was unrelated.
“So... do you want to talk over lunch?”
“Yeah, gre- wait. You buying?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, of course.”
Minutes later, we were sitting under a restaurant overhang, waiting for our orders. I looked around uncomfortably. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave Scootaloo alone?”
“Relax, Doc. She hangs at my place whenever she’s not off crusading. She knows her way around.”
She paused, studying me for a moment. “I just don’t get you. It’s like all you ever do is run around breaking things and trying to fix them afterwords.”
“Yes, it seems like that at times. It’s rather taxing.” I sighed. “It wasn’t always this way, though.”
Rainbow perked up. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Back in my Canterlot life, I would burn bridges and not bother with trying to build them again.”
Rainbow’s ears drooped and an unimpressed look crossed her face. “Aha. I gotta wonder though, why the change?” she asked, then clarified, “But don’t bother answering that if it’s just gonna be some vague theoretical-psycho-whatever answer.”
I chuckled. “I have very concrete reasons, but all the same, I can’t tell you what they are.”
“Figures,” she replied, pausing as a pony hastily delivered our orders and continued on his way. “But all I can tell you without that info is to... well... stop being a jerk.” She forced a smile and a half chuckle, as though laughing it off.
I rolled my eyes. “Even I have gotten that much figured out.” I sighed. “What gets me, is that for all my books and understanding of how ponies think, I can’t keep a civil, casual, relationship going.”
“Well actually, that’s probably your problem.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You’re an egghead. It’s almost like you’re trying to find a, um, quantifiable? Quantifiable, universal response to a given situation. Sometimes, you gotta go with your gut feeling. I know that when you’re flying, books and calculations ain’t gonna do you no good. It’s you, the wind, and split-second decision making based on nothing but in- inte- intuition.”
“That’s right, you never finished Flight Camp, did you?”
Her unimpressed look returned. “If your gut told you that was the nice thing to say, then I guess you’re screwed.”
“Huh? Oh! I mean, that was very sage advise, Rainbow Dash.”
She groaned, licking her lips from her recently devoured hay fries. “Anyway, I gotta get going. Give Scoots her space for a while, and try to at least act sensitive when you apologize.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I answered, lost in thought. She shrugged and took off.
I thought about what Rainbow had said as I munched absent-mindedly on my salad. Gut feelings. Of course I had them, but most of my problems seemed to come about when I listened to them and lost self-control. My outbreak at the Cutie Mark Crusaders, retracting from Ditzy, even my annoying habit of telling the truth to ponies’ faces was a form of it.
My train of thought was interrupted as Colgate sat down heavily in the chair across from me.
“Wow, you eat at this place? The coffee shop is way cooler than this old joint.”
Without fully meaning to, I asked the question that had been building in my mind. It must have been really out of the blue for her.
“How do you be nice without blindly agreeing and withholding all of your personal opinions? I mean, I can’t listen to my ‘gut feelings’ without offending everypony on the block and ruining the friendship.”
She blinked in surprise, but answered coherently after a moment. “Those two questions aren’t related like you seem to think they are, ya know.”
It was my turn to blink. “Come again?”
“Your ‘gut feeling’ isn’t the same thing as the first thought that pops into your head. You almost never want to say what you’re thinking with somebody you’re not really, really close with.” She scratched an ear and looked down at the table. “I’m not particularly good at that in practice, but I try to anyway.” She shifted her mane. “Anyway, a gut feeling is like the overall impression you get from a character. Like after meeting a pony and you walk away feeling like he was a slick slime-ball trying to scam you. Obviously you don’t say that to his face, but you use it in deciding on your actions and whatnot.” She paused, trying to think of a better example. “It’s like... like how you know when you’re in love.”
That put things in a different picture for me. One that was going to take a while to re-frame.
“Oh, and Pinkie and I are throwing a party at my place Wednesday. Open house, so bring a friend if you want. If you have any.”
Har har.
I waved my hoof after her as she left. Eventually I followed suit, trotting back toward my residence.
In practice, I thought, words recurring in my head. Ponies don’t fit in books... stop treating them like they are experiments.
I knew just where I was going to start.
At that moment, I turned the corner on the street. A carriage was stopped in front of Lyra and Bonbon’s house, while they hauled luggage back into their house and dismissed the pulling stallion.
“How’d it go?” I asked, trotting up as said carriage rolled away. As far as I could tell, Bonbon looked happy, if a bit travel worn.
“Hi!” replied Lyra cheerfully. “You still coming for dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Okay! Be back here at four so we can start teaching you to cook for real,” she said, disappearing into the house.
“How did she-”
“I told her,” answered Bonbon. “Everything.”
“And?”
A smile crept up on her face. “Everything’s working itself out. She said all I had to do was say something in the first place.”
I walked calmly over to the side of the house and banged my head repeatedly on the siding. “Am I the only pony who can’t say what they want without everything going to horseapples?”
“Um, problem?”
I sat down and deflated. “I’m just getting a lot of mixed signals today.”
“Such as?”
I huffed. “My gut feeling tells me about a pony in general but shouldn’t influence my exact thoughts, but I’m not supposed to say those out loud, but apparently that does work for some ponies,” I said all at once.
“Wow, dude, you’re overthinking this,” said Lyra, startling me. She was leaning out of a ground level window next to me.
“I’m not sure exactly where all this is coming from,” continued Bonbon, thinking, “but just speak the truth in love. Anypony that hates you for that isn’t within your abilities to help.”
“Speak the truth in love?” How poetic. How cryptic. How completely useless.
Lyra nodded. “It’s your job to speak in love, it’s their job to tolerate the truth even when they don’t like it.”
A series of replays of my incidents played in my mind. Every time, I had been cold, cool, calculating. If I wasn’t blowing up completely. The other party had always retreated without returning offense, even if it was in various different states of emotion (okay, Colgate got a little angry, but I think most ponies would excuse her).
“Um, Whooves?” Lyra waved a hoof in front of my face. I snapped out of my trance.
“Okay, so speak the truth in love. That’s great, but I can’t fake emotion that well.”
Lyra facehooved. “You’re missing the point, idiot.”
Bonbon shot Lyra a look. “What Lyra is trying to say is, you need to feel what the ponies on the other side are feeling too.”
For some reason I can’t explain, my thoughts went back to this morning. She wanted a pony to hug, one that took the time to know her for more than the first look. Was I so blind not to see that? Obviously, a little voice in my head replied.
“I have some plans to make,” I said, getting up. “I’ll be back around four.”
Upon entering my house, I found a royally sealed scroll waiting. A reply from the Princess.
Most Esteemed-
Hey, wazu-
Whooves,
Is there a name four the fear of baseballs? You’re not ask- an- a’je nf... ^You spelled it wrong Sincerely, Love, Princess LunaCelestia Luq ae ag’a apb a,zqw e ; ___
I am still thoroughly confused. The style, the spelling, the frequent smears, inkblots, and careless sprawls... none of it was making any sense. There was no doubt it was the royal insignia on the seal, though. I guess I’ll ask for clarification in my next report.
I puzzled over that until four, when I went next door and got my unsuccessful cooking lessons from Bonbon while Lyra did the actual work. I turned out pretty good despite my few contributions, and so we ate and I went home. And this recording has sucked up most of my time before bed. Tomorrow... tomorrow I start thinking differently.
And it was Tuesday. Today was a day to think differently.
I made sure to get up early. Part of the new plan is fulfilling what you know other ponies want. And to do that you have to talk to them. So I snapped up a folding chair and went out on my doorstep. Nothing like watching the sunrise while your breath goes in waves of visible vapor. Providing you have a sweater. I was surprised by how low the temperatures were getting for this time of year.
The temperature rose quickly with the sun, however. A few ponies were even stirring by the time the sound of Ditzy’s familiar, slightly irregular wing beat came to my ears.
“Whooves? I wasn’t expecting to see you up,” she commented, touching down.
“I didn’t want to miss you,” I said as I stepped closer. The breach of typical societal standards caused my irrational discomfort to rise, but I smothered it as quickly as I could. Come on, come on, just keep it together...
I hugged her. It was awkward too, for a number of reasons. A) I don’t have much practice with hugs. B) She didn’t respond, which meant it was more like me leaning on her, and C) I had no idea if it was acceptable for me to do this, and was becoming less certain this was something she wanted. But it needed to be done.
After a few seconds I pulled back and coughed awkwardly. “...Sorry.”
She blinked. “For what?”
“Well, if that wasn’t something you wanted, I guess.”
“The question is, was it something you wanted?”
“It was uncomfortable at first, but... yes. Definitely.”
She smiled at me and started to say something, but was interrupted by the loud crash of metal garbage cans falling over. We looked in the direction of the noise to find Bonbon sprawled on the ground, apparently having tripped over the cans. When I made eye contact, she forced a wide smile, blushed profusely, and made a hasty retreat back to the house.
I stared after her for a moment before I realized the implications a pony could make from only hearing part of our conversation. Now it was my turn to blush. I’ll have to talk to her later.
I don’t think Ditzy superimposed as much onto the situation as I did. Not from what I could tell, anyway.
She looked back at me. “I’m glad.”
And then she kissed me on the cheek. I wasn’t expecting that, but I remained calm and didn’t panic. Afterwords, realizing she was expecting a response, I managed to stutter, “We should do this more often.”
She giggled, before bending back and retrieving a bundle of mail out of her satchel. “Thith mpgh yers.”
I hastily relieved her of the burden. She hugged me again and took off, but not before I told her about the party at Colgate’s that’s going down tomorrow. She said she didn’t know how busy work would have her, but that I could drop by and check on my way to it.
Inside, I checked my mail bundle. Besides my usual Equestria Daily and a few medical journals (and of course the daily supply of spam mail), the royal seal caught my eye. And not one, but two!
I tore into the first one as fast as I could.
To the Most Distinguished Doctor Whooves,
From Princess Celestia of the Royal Sisterhood, Current Rulers of Equestria and Guardians of Said Land,
Firstly, I am most grateful for your report and would like you to know that you have my full support in maintaining your position in Ponyville as long as you deem necessary. I understand that reports are not always the fastest way to communicate and so I want to make you aware that you can contact me instantly through use of Spike, Twilight’s Sparkle’s Number One Assistant, should any events occur that you judge are requiring of my presence. Be this as it may, I seriously doubt that we will require his services with your abilities.
Additionally, you may or may not have received a note yesterday that was somewhat out of character. If the former is the case, please disregard it. I was beginning to write this reply when my beloved but devious sister interrupted me and playfully took possession of the quill for a moment. I’m not sure exactly what got put down before she sealed it and teleported it to the mail bins. In any case, it would be best if the contents were kept confidential.
Finalis.
Huh. And don’t ask about the titles.
I moved on to the next one.
Whooves,
Forgive our- my informality. We are- I mean, I am trying to acquire the natural tongue of this day and age. When I found out about my sister’s operation going on in Ponyville, I thought that perhaps thou- I mean, you, would be the perfect counselor on the subject. We- I mean, I, took the liberty of contacting a few of thine- rather, your, old colleagues, who confirmed that you were what they called ‘hip.’ I was under the impression that said word was a body joint adjacent to the pelvis, but perhaps I am mistaken. We- I, understand if our- my sister’s ongoings occupy thou- you, sufficiently, but if not, then canst we continue correspondence?
Princess- Actually, just call me Luna.
P.S., Apologies for the haphazard scroll you probably received previously. The quill was in conflict while those words were transcribed.
P.P.S. This conversation would probably be better maintained without my sister’s knowledge of it. She is wise, but can be overprotective.
I sat down and grunted.
There I was, with a letter in each hoof from the Princesses, both whom were requesting continued contact for the foreseeable future. I knew I should be dancing like a school filly when she gets her cutie mark, but all I could think was, Buck. More paperwork, and likely my career if Princess Celestia finds out.
Living on the edge. But they say life isn’t worth living if you’re not on the edge. I’m not sure that’s completely true.
Well, whatever happened, I could at least procrastinate until this afternoon. I crawled out of my sweater (the weather more than permitting now), and trotted nonchalantly out the door without any particular notion of where I was going.
Until I saw the dented garbage can on its side. I should probably explain that before things spread...
You know how it is with mares.
I went to the door and raised a hoof to knock, stopping when I heard whispers.
“Lyra, I’m telling you-”
“Bonbon, whatever you heard, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. The Doctor is professional. He’s not about to sleep with the mailmare after just moving into town.”
That’s some awkward horseapples. “Now out of my way, I need to get to the park...”
The door opened, putting me face to face with Lyra, her lyre case floating alongside her. Both of our eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
I lowered my hoof.
“Whooves? What are you doing here?”
“Um...” Truth in love. Truth in love. Truth in love. “Bonbon may have caught the tail end of a conversation, and I just wanted to make sure she didn’t come away with a wrong, but completely plausible, idea.”
Bonbon put her hoof over her mouth, pupils shrinking. “I’m so sorry! I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping-”
Lyra cleared her throat. “I have a show to catch in the park, so I’m gonna pretend I didn’t here anything from ten minutes ago to present, and you two can work out whatever happened. Have fun.”
She left.
“...Perhaps we want to discuss this inside?”
Yeah, that would be best. I entered and shut the door behind me.
“You’re not wrong,” I said as we went into the kitchen by unspoken mutual consent. “But what you heard wasn’t about that.”
She looked at her hooves. “I wasn’t drawing any-”
“Of course not. But honestly, I don’t blame you. I have made some conclusions about you and Lyra from things that weren’t necessarily saying anything,” I said, thinking back to when I had been introduced to the concept of Thursday nights.
Bonbon blushed. “W-well, those are actually accurate.”
“Exactly. When the chance that something is what it seems becomes so great, we accept it as truth because it usually is.”
A pause followed.
“So, we all good?” I asked.
“I’m still a little fuzzy on one thing...”
“Yes?”
“If you are... y’known... with her, then why did you go to the effort of confronting me, even though what I heard was on a different subject?”
“Well, first of all, it’s not like that. I’m not sleeping with her, I slept with her. Once. By accident. On the couch.” Why is she grinning like a Cheshire cat? “And we were doing just that: sleeping. Secondly, we haven’t, um... we aren’t... I have yet to...”
I facehooved at my own awkwardness. “You’re the first person to really know about this, and we haven’t made it official or anything.”
“So... you slept with her but you’re not dating yet?”
Didn’t she hear the first part?
“I’d just appreciate it if this stays under wraps until I talk to her about it.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure it and the two ponies involved will stay under wraps.”
That’s it. I’ve said what needed to be said without breaking anything. No need to push my luck.
“Oh! Oh! Can I tell Lyra?”
I opened the door. “Yes, you can tell her,” I replied. For as energetic as Lyra is, she’s a bit on the nerdy side and so doesn’t have a big mouth.
Outside, the street was alive with ponies going about their business. A significant portion was headed to market, which I joined up with. I still didn’t know where to find plaster, and the market was as good a place as any to start looking.
And the first pony I saw there was Rarity. She was haggling with a cloth dealer over a bolt of patterned fabric, and had a (probably) faked irritated sneer on her face. The dealer seemed rather immune to her attacks, however. He’s probably sold to her before.
Rarity came away eventually with her merchandise deposited into saddlebags. She dropped her facade upon seeing me and smiled. “Doctor Whooves! What brings you to this part of town today?”
“A mare.”
“Oooh,” she exclaimed, prancing and settling into gossip-sponge mode. “Who’s the lucky pony?”
What, does everypony know-
Oh. I guess the way I said that did kind of make it sound like that.
“No, not like that. Ditzy smashed into my wall a while ago; I’m looking for plaster today.”
“Oh,” she replied shortly, in a much less feminine voice. “Well, I have work to do...” she said, suddenly less interested.
“Will I see you at Pinkie’s party?”
“Oh. That. Well, yes, actually. Normally her... parties... aren’t exactly my cup of tea, but apparently she has somehow managed to obtain an assurance of attendance from Sapphire Shores!”
Her pitch rose startlingly as she spoke the pop star’s name, assuming a level that usually accompanies by a screech owl. Or a school filly cheerleader.
“...so of course I’ll be attending.”
“Okay then. See you there. Save a seat for Ditzy and me,” I said, beginning to walk away.
“Wait.”
Oh horseapples. I was hoping she had missed that slip.
“Ditzy, as in the Ditzy that broke your wall?”
“Um, yes.”
“And Ditzy, as in you and Ditzy are attending the party?”
“Yes, work schedules permitting.”
The second part of the reply seemed to go right over Rarity.
“As in, together?”
“Yes. But it’s nothing official yet so could you please stop harping about it?”
Although it might as well be by now.
“Oh, how exciting! The fashionable Canterlot stallion just-moved-in going out with a local mailpony! How interesting! How scandalous!”
Gossip-sponge mode fully engaged. Thankfully we were a good distance away from market by now.
“Wait, did you say fashionable?”
She stopped, looking back at me. She looked me up and down, and nodded. I was about to protest, when younger stallion with three horseshoes for a cutie mark trotted by. I suppose it’s all relative in Ponyville.
“Of course, you could use a little help in the clothing department,” she commented as we continued on our aimless way.
“But I’m not wearing anything.”
“Exactly.”
Oh.
“She gave me a sideways look, then asked, “What are you planning to wear on your date?”
I gave her a unappeased stare back. “You mean ‘to the party,’ I presume?”
“Oh yes, of course.”
“I don’t know. Nothing, or maybe my black bow tie. My full green tie is still back in Canterlot somewhere.”
Rarity stopped, raising a hoof to her chest and donning a horrified look on her face. “You can’t wear nothing! And that little black piece of ribbon you have hardly qualifies.”
Oh dear. I could see where this was going.
“Why don’t you come back to the Boutique with me for an early lunch, and we can look over some of the new spring lineup for stallions?”
About the only upside to this was that her food would probably be good.
And that’s how I ended up in a tuxedo with several measuring tapes floating around me an hour later.
“I don’t think you quite understand me: I don’t want a tux, or a suit, or a blazer, or anything resembling any of them!”
“Relax, darling, we’ll find the perfect thing with plenty of time to spare.”
“Rarity, you do know the party isn’t until tomorrow, right?”
“Oh, is it?”
I hate being ignored.
“Can we move on to the ties already?”
“Oh fine,” she practically groaned, giving me a rack to look over as she continued to make measurements, now on a dinner jacket that I was serving as a model for, apparently. I flipped through them with a hoof. No, no, no, no... gosh, these are all so similar. No, no, no- “Yes!”
Rarity looked up over her red-framed glasses. “No. You can’t be serious.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That... thing... is a crime against fashion! It was a promotional freebie! I didn’t even order that. I wouldn’t order that!”
“Look at the plus side; it goes with just about everything.”
“...Except itself,” muttered Rarity.
Lunch eventually came around, and good to her word, Rarity fed me. But she did keep giving me a hard time about my choice. Looking for a change in topic, I asked if she actually liked Sapphire Shores’ music. Rarity latched onto the topic like a leech.
“I don’t actually know, really. I don’t follow musicians so much as their clothing preferences.”
“Well, I guess you’ll get to find out tomorrow.”
“Oh, I don’t thing Sapphire Shores is actually going to play. Pinkie’s using some DJ I once hired.”
“Wait,” I said, my hopes daring to rise. “The one you hired for the fashion show for Hoity Toity?”
“Uh, yes. Why?”
Though my tastes are much more... classic, even I have heard of the famous DJ Pon3.
“How did Pinkie manage that?”
“As I understand it, they got acquainted at the fashion show.”
Yes, well, to paraphrase Sapphire Shores, Pinkie does have that effect on ponies.
After we finished lunch and I bagged my... merchandise, I cut through the center of town back to my own house. Having stowed it away, I retrieved my pencil and some letter paper. Celestia’s report could wait, but Luna’s letter demanded a somewhat prompt response. Per her request, I decided to opt for a more casual format.
Luna,
I would be happy to continue correspondence. Writing isn’t my strong suit, perhaps, but my skills are more than sufficient and always looking for an opportunity to improve. Any help I can provide on the matter of modern pony language is yours for the taking.
Perhaps I can start with ‘hip.’ While it does have a relevance to biology, the word is a homophone. Its alternative meaning is something along the lines of ‘in accordance with the latest fashions, especially where clothing, hair styles, music, and like industries are concerned.’
Feel free to ask about any similar questions. Culture evolves very fast.
Whooves.
I dropped the pencil and stretched my jaw. I see why all the secretaries I’ve met are unicorns now.
I sealed up the letter and put it in my outbox. There! Now I had the afternoon to myself...
…well, after I sign off on this case from Canterlot. And better get that mover’s payment in the mail. And-
Aw buck. I was going to be here awhile. I moved to my writing desk in front of a window and opened it for the breeze and set to work.
I get a little involved in my work, actually. I hate it, but it doesn’t bore me at least. So that’s why I didn’t notice the time until an aroma wafted in through the window. I looked up and saw Bonbon cooking–tonight’s dinner was going to be especially good. I waved, trying to get her attention. No response. I looked around the room, and grabbing a nearby junkmail magazine, flung it across the distance that separated our houses.
At the smack of it against the windowpane, Bonbon looked up, at first surprised and then annoyed. She came to the window and opened it.
“Did you just throw a phone book at the house?”
I looked at the item of offense which lay in the alley now. Hey, it looked like a thick magazine. Flew like one too.
“Yeah, well, pebbles aren’t handy at the moment.”
“What do you want?”
“What time’s dinner?”
“Why don’t you come help make it and find out?”
I put my last piece of paperwork in the outbox and trotted the exhausting fifteen foot between our houses. In the kitchen, Bonbon was cooking alone.
“Where’s Lyra?”
At that moment a string of musical notes floated out of what was their sun/sitting room. They stopped as abruptly as they had started, and were followed by the scratching of quill on paper. Then the chord replayed, with a slight alteration.
“Practicing. Or songwriting. Something like that.”
“How’s she been doing?”
“Oh, better since our weekend trip. More of this,” she said, gesturing to the direction from which the music came, “and less of that. I never really thanked you properly for setting that up, you know.”
“It was really more of a coincidence. Both that I had the tickets, and that my plan worked. If my life is anything to go by, I know exactly zilch about relationships.”
“Well, that’’s going to change soon, right?” She winked.
Yeah, we hope. Or, at least she does. I’m still figuring it out on my end.
We served up dinner and got Lyra. And not a word was said during the meal. Yeah, that’s how good Bonbon is. Relative to the rest of us, anyway. I can only imagine what she can pull off with professional desserts.
Afterwards, we did something we haven’t before–we sat around the dinner table and talked. I don’t know if we were too full to move, or if perhaps my conversation with Bonbon had personalized things a bit, but it was new. And nice. And something somepony with friends might do.
Now, here I am full of tea and shortbread. I think I’m going to skip the music tonight and hit the hay now.
This being the record of the events in Ponyville on my tenth day here, but recorded on the eleventh.
I rose early, but even so, missed Ditzy. She must have really been moving. As I watched the sun rise, I heard another door open and shut. I trotted around the corner of the house and found Lyra sitting in a rather awkward position, watching the sunrise as well. A steaming cup of coffee sat by her side.
“I didn’t take you for an early bird,” I said, sitting in a more typical posture next to her.
“Me? No, Bonbon’s just a sleepaholic, that’s all.”
We watched the sun in silence as it crept over the horizon. Minutes passed.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I felt it was probably best to start prefacing my conversations until I get a better idea of what’s... normal.
“Of course,” she answered nonchalantly, taking a sip of her coffee.
“How long have you and Bonbon been an item?”
“Hmm,” she said as she thought, tapping her chin. “Two years for sure, probably three, maybe four coming up.”
That was longer than I expected. “Four years with no bumps?”
Lyra seemed to find that amusing. “It has its ups and downs just like every other relationship.”
“Huh.” I looked back at the sunrise.
After a moment, she said, “There’s something else you want to know, isn’t there?”
“Um, maybe?”
“Don’t be shy. Ask!”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Spit it out already.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “When... when did you know you were into mares?”
She laughed. “I knew it. Anyway... um, not until I met Bonbon. Before her, well, I’d bedded a few colts.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Nothing serious or long-term, but yes.”
“So... not born a fillyfooler?”
“Nope. Myth.”
There was a pause, then, “How did we get on this subject?”
Lyra smiled. “You tell me, Doctor. Maybe I’m mentally ill cause of my bedroom preferences?”
“Nope. Myth.”
“Oh. Nice to know that the psychological community doesn’t see us as freaks.”
“Welllll, I wouldn’t say that, necessarily.”
“Oh. Gotcha.”
After a moment, “I guess I just always attributed it to bad experiences with the opposite sex in the past.”
“I guess that might be the case for some ponies, but I chose Bonbon because of who she is. Not what she is. Heck, why am I telling you this? You know better than anypony that the personality is what makes or breaks a pony. And I’m guessing you know that from a professional and personal standpoint.”
“Yeah, hopefully.” Question is, what if your personality is broken?
By now the sun was well beyond the horizon. “I suppose, it’s time to start a new day.”
“Yes,” I agreed, standing up. “...and Lyra?”
She tilted her head.
“Thanks for sharing.”
She smiled back. “Just make use of what you learn. Catch you later.”
I made a quick stop by my house before continuing with my day. With today’s issue of Equestria Daily and a notebook in my saddlebags, I trotted toward a certain tree house. Learning all this emotional crap is great and all, but the Princess is still wanting her report.
When I knocked on the library’s door, a short little purple and green dragon answered. Spike, if my information from Celestia was to be trusted. I decided the best way to go was to play it cool and informal.
“Hi Spike,” I said, as though he was somebody I saw every day. I brushed past him. “I’ll be in the library if you need me.”
I left him standing by the open door, blinking.
Upon entering the library part of the... library, I found Twilight pouring herself into some star charts. I quietly found a cushion in the corner and unfolded my paper, keeping an eye on her.
It must have been a full fifteen minutes before she noticed me. Needless to say she was startled, and perhaps slightly irritated upon finding out that I had been there.
“W-whooves! What are you doing here?”
I looked down at my paper, and then back at her. “Is that some kind of trick question?”
“I mean, what are you doing here?” she repeated, with extra emphasis this time.
“Oh. Umm...” My mind raced as I realized that reading the paper is not something that has to be done in the library. “I was looking for a book on...” Just pick a topic. Any topic. Quick! “...dating.”
We both stared at each other for two full seconds.
“For a friend,” I added, plastering a smile on my face. It’s true if you think about it.
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m not sure how much you’re going to find on that subject in this type of library,” she said, “but anything we have would be over there.”
She was right. The particular shelf she pointed at had a lot of other unrelated stuff on it in addition to the few volumes there were on the scientific side of romance.
“Let me know if you want help finding anything else,” Twilight said, scooping up her astronomy-related work in a veil of magic and heading up the stairs.
Well, there went my chance at observation.
My attention returned to the shelf. I scanned over the seeming unrelated titles like Quality Time with Foals, The Egghead’s Guide to Not Looking Like an Egghead (which had a lot of bookmarks in it), The Mare’s Roadmap to finding... other mares?! (I almost picked this one up out of curiosity, but decided against it), before my eye caught on something which, though I hate to admit, seemed pretty relevant to me. The Operation Manual of Friendship: The Social Delinquent’s Edition.
I looked both ways before sneaking it behind my paper and starting it.
This took up most of the rest of the morning, so for the sake of completeness, I’ll include the opening paragraph or two.
Dear Reader,
If you are, in fact, reading this (which you are), then you’ve already made it past the first step; denial. If you are reading this to try and help a friend, continue reading this chapter, but if not, skip to Chapter 2.
*flip flip flip*
Chapter 2.
Here’s something you have to realize about other ponies. They have brains, just like you, and they think and form opinions, just like you. Here’s where it gets tricky. Those opinions are always different than yours. At this point, you need to accept that it’s okay for that to happen. Friendship doesn’t exist because of conformity of opinion; it exists in spite of it-
Okay, kinda cool but still abstract and dry. *flip flip flip*
-which resulted in multiple fractures to the core. The following instability produced an unconscious tension and gradual non-linear drifting in the relationship.
Whatever. You don’t want to hear about that though. Moving on.
I left for Sugarcube Corner to requisition some edibles. Mrs. Cake was at the counter, doing some accounting. I didn’t know bakeries did that. Good for the Cakes.
“No Pinkie today?” I asked.
“She left with a big load of cupcakes, saying something about a party a few minutes ago.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I’m sure you can help me...”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah. That is, if you have something besides cake and pie.”
“O’course. Don’t be silly, we’re a bakery. Particularly wide selection in the bread area.”
Minutes later, I was about to bite down on a fresh, delicious-looking daisy sandwich, when the door (and corresponding bell ring) opened.
“Mrs. Cake? You know where...” Rainbow let her question drift off as she noticed me. I stopped mid-bite as I noticed the orange filly standing next to her.
“You again.” stated Scootaloo flatly.
“Hi?” I said, with a raised pitch at the end, more characteristic of a question.
“Let’s find somewhere else,” she muttered to Rainbow and started to turn around. Rainbow hesitated, looking at me and blinking as if to say, Do something already.
“Hey Scootaloo, won’t you at least hear me out? Over lunch?”
She looked at me for a second. “Look, I’m the last one to get emotional and gooey and start singing and that junk, but I’m practically a fountain of feelings compared to you.”
“Odd... both of your friends saw reason and put it in the past already. And yet you’re the emotionally detached one, eh?”
Rainbow facehooved silently. I ignored her; in reality I suspected I was dealing with a less matured version of something that Rainbow Dash herself would be susceptible to. Just a hunch at this point though.
“But... that’s not, er... ugh!” stuttered Scootaloo. “They just... listened to your smooth talk, that’s all. Yeah, that’s it.”
“By smooth talk, you mean apology?”
“Wha-? Well, I don’t seem to remember any apology given to me.”
“That’s because the one I offered, you turned down.”
Scootaloo gaped for a moment, her argument falling to pieces before her. “I... I...”
“Look, Scoots, Equestria if full of ponies that don’t know you, and if they don’t know you exist they can’t very well care about your cutie mark, can they? It’s okay for people not to care. In fact, it’s okay for people to dislike something you like or like something you dislike.” I looked up at Rainbow. “You don’t have to impress anypony.”
She found a sudden interest in her own hooves. Scootaloo was looking close to tears. “B-but, what will everypony think of me?”
Alright, it was time to switch to positive encouragement.
“Ask yourself this: ‘why do I care what they think?’ And if you’re worried about your friends still liking you, remember that real friends don’t care if you let your mane down.” I took a breath. “Someday, you will get your cutie mark, and when you meet somepony, they’re going to make assumptions about you based on that. Don’t ever do this. I know somepony with an identical cutie mark as me, and neither of our talents are something you could guess.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, really.”
We had lunch together. Scootaloo’s quite the little talker once she gets going. I got to hear 28 different ways not to get a cutie mark. Rainbow looked bored out of her skull. I eventually alleviated her pain by excusing myself, heading on my merry way.
Lunch took longer than I thought. I headed straight home; the party started at seven and I still had some reading I wanted to catch up on in some academic journals. The time ticked by agonizingly slowly. Finally, it was time to get ready; first I was going to stop by Lyra and Bonbon’s for some ‘real’ food (Pinkie tends to go a little heavy on the sugar side).
I retrieved my merchandise from Rarity’s, spending a good eleven minutes trying to tie it with my hooves. And that’s a fast time. I looked in the mirror. Hmm, the tie is nice and flashy, but it needs a little something to go with it...
“Aha!” I went and dug through some closets and boxes until I pulled out the ‘summer’ tote. Dusting off some shades, I returned to the mirror and added them to my outfit.
Oh yeah. I was cool. Maybe I should take a picture and send it to Princess Luna.
I trotted over to the next house and rapped on the door. The sound of steps preceded the door opening, which revealed Lyra. She stared for a moment, before collapsing on the floor in laughter.
“Problem?” I asked, walking past her.
She snickered. “I think my parents used to dress like that, back before I was born.”
I popped my shades up. “For real?”
“Where have you been? Under a rock?” She rolled her eyes. “The fashion of those decades is what defined them.”
“Yeah, well, these things come in cycles,” I said, sounding more confident than I was.
Lyra shrugged. “Maybe in back-alley Canterlot.”
I was about to protest the prospect of ‘back alley’ fashion and explain that the top-hat, high-society styles that ponies usually associate with Canterlot really only represent a small portion of the elite aristocrats, when Bonbon put her head in from the kitchen.
“What’s taking so- Oh... my.”
“Is it really that bad?” I asked, exasperated.
“Bad? No, just... I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t know the party was a costume party.”
Lyra smirked. I blinked.
“Well, whatever the case may be, I’ll find out tonight.” Something occurred to me. “Uh, you know it’s open house, right? You two could-”
“No, but thanks for the offer. We have... plans tonight.”
“Oh?” I said, sitting down at my usual place at the table. Seemed as good a casual conversation starter as any. “What’s going on?”
“Well...” Bonbon looked at Lyra.
Lyra picked up the conversation. “Bonbon couldn’t wait to try out some of our new equipment, so we set up a preview for Thursday.”
Bonbon blushed and facehooved at the same time. “Could you at least pretend to be mature and keep a civil tongue in your mouth at the dinner table?”
“As I recall, you prefer something like the opposite of ‘civil’ when we... operate the machinery.”
Bonbon buried her head under her hooves in embarrassment. “...I cannot believe you just said that...”
Well, well, well. Dinner and a show.
Neither of the two had eaten more than a bite during their little episode, so I scraped the last of my plate up and carried my dishes to the sink. Still time for them to have a romantic dinner, perhaps.
I bade them farewell and started out at a brisk pace for Ditzy’s.
*Thump thump thump*
I repeated my knock and shuffled my hooves, waiting. After a pause, a hurried, unsteady gate announced the arrival of a certain pegasus. The door whipped open, Ditzy staggering back. “I’m here! I’m ready. I didn’t fall asleep!”
“Uh, Ditzy...”
Her eyes were crossed worse than usual, her hair was matted, and there were dark spots under her eyes. “What have you been-”
Then it hit me. Ditzy had been so early this morning; she must have been working her flank off all day to finish work in time. And I had pretty much sat around on my haunches all day. I could have at least helped with the ground deliveries.
I wished to any stars that happened to be falling at the moment for just one day without being on the outs with somepony or making a foal of myself.
“Wow,” commented Ditzy, having managed to focus her eyes on me after the third try. “That’s... quite the tie.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Listen...” Better now than later. “I was kind of a jerk about the whole party thing; making you work overtime just to come to something that was my idea. I can see you’re dog-tired, so believe me when I say I think you should make the call. We can stay in, read a book or something if you’d rather-”
“Shush, my little stallion,” she said, putting a hoof over my muzzle. “Yes, maybe you should use your brain a little more when planning, but this was my decision. And I think I still have the energy for a dance or two.”
Dance. Huh. I had had formal lessons in the past, but only for ballroom stuff and the square waltz. Somehow I didn’t think that was the type of dancing that was going to be going on.
“So, um...” Ditzy muttered, looking at her mane.
“We’re not in a hurry,” I offered.
Ditzy retreated into her room and returned in a minute, mane in place, face washed with cold water... and also wearing striped socks.
“You...” I drew a blank on words, even though I knew exactly what I thought she was. “...Have a sock fetish,” I ended lamely.
“You... have a tie fetish.”
Well, as long as we both got the idea, right?
“I dunno, I think I may be coming over to your side,” I joked.
She giggled. Girly, maybe, but freakishly cute.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
With that, we exited the house and I led the way to Colgate’s.
I knew from the address that Colgate lived in an apartment, but in the strictest sense, the party was in her apartment. The entire square in front of the building had lights strung about it, speakers in the corners, and was filling rapidly with ponies, the occasional equine flexing a glow-ring and sliding it on a foreleg.
By that time the sun was sinking below the horizon, the dusk forcing me to pop my shades up again.
“That’s... a lot of ponies,” noted Ditzy.
“Yeah... I’m guessing the al fresco design was by necessity.”
“So, um...”
“Maybe we should mingle a bit?”
“Okay.”
“See you-” Gulp. “-on the dance floor.”
I split off into the crowd, not waiting for a reply. Don’t panic. I happened to drift by a folding table covered end to end with sweets, where I noticed Pinkie exercising her tongue. She saw me, too.
“Mphgilcra ghcre dndf!”
“What?”
She swallowed. “Hi Whooves! Why are you wearing a rainbow-colored tie?”
Well, at least she came out and said it. I chose to ignore it.
“Hi Pinkie.” I looked around. “Isn’t Sapphire Shores supposed to be here?”
“Oh she was.”
“‘Was’? as in ‘was but isn’t currently’?”
Pinkie bobbed her head. “Yeah, she left in a bad mood when Vinyl showed up.”
“Vinyl?”
“Yep, Vinyl Scratch. Y’know, the mare doing the music?”
I stopped. Is she talking about-
“Yo, Pinkie, where’d you put that extra cable? Tunes in five!”
DJ Pon3.
“Cable? I don’t have any extra, silly. We had a lot of extra string for the decorations though.”
“Wha-?” The pale unicorn stood up on a chair and looked at the ‘string.’ “Aw hay. Really, Pinkie?”
“Nope! It’s fake. Wait, what are we talking about?”
The unicorn rolled her eyes and gave the line a telekinetic yank. Suddenly there was about 50 less streamers in the air and 50 more tangled among the crowd of the ponies.
“...Oops.”
“Hey! It wasn’t time for confetti yet!”
I shook one of the paper strips out of my mane and helped the musical pony out of the wreckage, coiling up the cable. Resettling her shades on her forehead above her ruby eyes, she stood up.
“Hey, thanks bro- Wow, that’s...” She scratched her head. “...Quite the accessory. A real blast.”
From the past, the little pony in my head finished. That’s it. “You really like it?”
“Um, yeah. Sure.”
I loosened it as best I could, slipping it off and tossing it over her horn. “It’s yours.”
I turned and trotted back into the crowd. I had a pony to find.
I found Ditzy outnumbered three to one in a conversation with a few other mares. And if first guesses mean anything, they were a bit stuck-up by the looks of things.
“Excuse me,” I intervened, taking Ditzy by the hoof and guiding her away. The three mares mouths’ hung open slightly as they gaped after us. I looked at Ditzy, who was staring at the ground.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?” I thought I knew, but it was better if she said it.
“For... coming along when you did.”
“Don’t mind them. Cheer up! You’re about to see something very hilarious.”
She looked up at me, questioningly. The large speakers about the square crackled to life. I chucked my useless glasses on a nearby table, glancing at the turntables, where Vinyl took her place in the spotlight, shades down (and horn absent of ties).
“Shall we?” I asked, offering my hooves in a traditional dance stance.
“Are you sure that’s-”
“Not in the slightest.”
She reluctantly matched the position. The music started, an edgy synthesizer fading in with a distinct pattern. Not ideal, but I think I can pull a square waltz out of that...
And then came the earthquake.
Actually, technically it was the vibrations from the bass in the track produced by what must have been a half-dozen subwoofers. But it might as well have been an earthquake. Additionally, all the ponies around us seemed to take that as their cue, starting what they call... dancing, I guess. I’m not sure why they classify it as that; it felt more like being in a blender.
I tried to focus on the ‘music.’ It has rhythm and beat, just count it.
“Um, follow my lead, okay? One, two... eh, let’s try that again. One, two, three. One-”
I smashed into the back of somepony, knocking me off my rear hooves. Luckily, Ditzy managed to keep hold of me and tried to counteract my fall with a beat from her wings. She overcompensated however, forcing us together, our muzzles inches away from the other’s. I blinked. She cocked her head for a moment, before comprehension came to her, causing her eyes to snap open. She stepped back, and after realizing her wings were still unfurled, closed them too.
“Maybe... we should get off the dance floor,” I managed to communicate over the throbbing techno beats.
Ditzy followed as I forced my way between ponies back to the dessert table (or one of them). I sat stiffly in a folding chair, watching the crowd and the sweets–and pretty much anything not in Ditzy’s direction, who had sat down next to me. I fiddled awkwardly with my hooves. What happened out there? Did she pull back because she didn’t want it? Or because she thought I didn’t want it? Sweet Celestia, I’m thinking like a mare now. Minutes passed.
I felt a touch on my shoulder. “Look, Ditzy...” I started, turning towards her only to find...
Oh.
She had fallen asleep, and was now leaning against me, breathing audibly.
“Let’s get you home.”
I nudged her awake and helped her to her hooves. At first, as we made our way back to her house, she tried to focus and keep steady. Soon however, the lights and sounds of the party fading behind us, she began to stumble and nod off. I found myself serving as a mobile support for most of the slow trip back.
“Easy, easy, woah, easy...” I said in hushed tones as I eased her onto her bed. I stepped back as she rolled in half-consciousness onto her back and tried to lift her head. This was getting just a little too awkward.
Ditzy managed to bend her head far enough to snag the tip of a sock with her teeth, whereupon she gave it a yank to the side, pulling it half off.
Oh, right.
I carefully caught the end of a rear sock and started pulling it off, when there was the squeak of a floorboard from the doorway. I froze and Ditzy rolled her head to the side.
“Hi Dinky!” she said cheerfully.
“Uh, Mom? Whooves? What are you doing?”
For answer, I backed up more, taking the sock with me as it slid off Ditzy’s hoof. Ditzy gave her foreleg another shake, the loose part of the sock flapping like a flag in a breeze.
Dinky laughed, something I wasn’t expecting–but was glad–to hear. “Oh, Mom.”
She took a leap into the bed and embraced her mother, settling in next to her in the middle of the bed after a moment. I stood still as a stone statue, watching.
Ditzy’s eyes closed very soon. She’d been in a daze for most of the night and desperately needed some well-deserved sleep. I started to move toward the door when Dinky’s voice stopped me at the threshold.
“Whooves, could you tell me a story?”
Truth be told, I don’t know any. But I knew I could think on my hooves relatively well. How hard could it be, really?
I moved over to the edge of the bed and sat. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind something original... and perhaps bland.”
“That’s the-” She yawned “-best kind.”
“Hmm, okay,” I mused. “Once upon a time...” Think think think think. Timber wolves? Too frightening. Humans? I’d have to explain what those are. Knight in shining armor? Too stereotypical...
I smiled. I was overthinking it.
“Once upon a time, there was a colt. This colt grew up in a city of cold stone until he was a stallion. One day, the Princess of the land came to this stallion and gave him a top secret mission. He traveled through rain, snow, dark of night, and many dangerous perils of the road. When he arrived at his destination, he was a hardened shell of his former self; he had locked away his love and empathy to keep it from being taken and not reciprocated-”
“What ‘reciprocated’?”
“Reciprocate means... to return a favor. Give an equivalent back.”
“Oh...”
I slid under a blanket and continued. “And there, he met a mare who had been through an equally harrowing life. But she continued to feel. She reminded him that there’s still ponies out there worth caring about...”
I looked at Ditzy.
“...She is a pony worth caring about.”
I gazed for another moment, before snapping my attention to Dinky, who had fallen asleep ten seconds ago.
See? Bland. But probably just as well nobody heard that.
I went to leave, but found that Dinky was sleeping on the other half of the blanket I was under.
If I move slowly, I could probably... naw. I fluffed a pillow and settled in for the night.
And for the first time since I trotted into Ponyville, I felt satisfied that I was adding something instead of breaking it.
“It’s morning! Get up! Get up!” cheered Dinky in rhythm with her bounces, before the third bounce sent her off the edge of the bed.
“Five more minutes...” I muttered, till I recalled that my alarm didn’t have a voice like that. In an attempt to sit up at the speed of sound, my head jerked what would have been up, had I been sitting. As it was, however, all I managed to do was ram the headboard.
“...ow,” I groaned, sinking back under the covers. I shook it off soon enough and reappeared.
Opposite me, Ditzy stretched and shook her mane into place. Behind her, the rising sun sent an amber ray lancing through the crack in the curtains, illuminating the edges of her hair like a lightbulb filament and casting her coat into a shadow of lavender. It gave me a timeless feeling of serenity.
And then I noticed that she noticed that I was noticing her.
“Good morning, my little stallion.”
“...morning...” I continued to look at her.
She turned her head self-consciously. “What?”
“Nothing... okay that’s not true. But I don’t think I could put it in words right now.”
“I... think it’s mutual.” She smiled. “It’s what you do to me.”
“Come on!” Dinky said impatiently, bouncing in and out in a flash.
“Heh...” I got up, trotting into the hall where Ditzy caught up along side. “Y’know, I’m not really comfortable with this happening again like this...”
She stopped suddenly, staring at me with a hint of a frown, lower lip quivering slightly. I curved sharply, coming face to face with her.
“...which is why I’d like to see us going steady. So that it can happen, over and over again. Would you like that?”
I had no warning before I was on a rug with an ecstatic pegasus squeezing the living daylights out of me. “Yeah,” I managed, “me too.”
“Wow...” Dinky stared at us with wide eyes. Ditzy quickly extricated herself from me and regained composure (relatively speaking).
“So does this mean Whooves is going to be hanging out more?” asked the filly.
“I’d say that’s safe to say,” I replied. “Come on, let’s get you ready for school.”
I helped her make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (not much that I can do wrong there) while she bounced around, grabbing various things she needed. She seemed in very high spirits, especially after she found out I was going to be hanging around more. She’s one of those not very outgoing, but very trusting ponies that takes a while to warm up to you.
Ditzy and I watched as she hauled her heavy pack off to the schoolhouse. “That’s one special little filly you’re raising.”
“Yeah...” She said, voice fading and eyes wandering as she drifted in thought.
She snapped back to the present. “Whooves?”
“Yes?”
“In your story last night...”
Oh horseap-
“Did they live happily ever after?”
I blinked.
“Well,” If I mess this up, I’m going to go put my head under a wagon wheel. “The great thing about that story is that it’s still being written as we speak.”
She smiled and leaned against me for a minute. Then, “I should get ready for the mail.”
“Do you need help? I can always take the ground deliveries.”
“Thanks, but it should be a light load today. You’ve got your own business to run.”
“If you’re sure...” I said, as it occurred to me that I hadn’t had any real customers–besides Rarity and maybe Bonbon–since moving in. Well, it might help if I was actually there some of the time. I really need a secretary.
I trotted home at a cheerful gait. Turning the corner onto my street, I only narrowly avoided a collision with none other than Fluttershy.
“Oh, I’m so sorry...”
“N-no problem,” I stuttered, flattening against the nearest wall.
She shuffled a hoof. “So, um... have you made any friends?”
Oh but it sounded so innocent. “Yes! Yes! Lots of friends! And we’re all getting along very well!”
I summoned a sheepish but toothy smile.
“Oh, how wonderful,” she said. After moment, she continued, “Um, I should get going.”
“Wait, what were you doing here?” I asked, before remembering that I was supposed to be fearing for my life.
“Oh, Rarity needed my... help with something. With somepony, actually. Bye-bye now.”
“Wha-?” I looked after Fluttershy as she trotted away, humming. How can she do that? She actually seemed sincere. I filed it away to be puzzled over later. Now what’s this about Rarity?
I continued to my house, where I came to a stop on finding the door ajar. Stealing in quietly, I overheard voices from inside–one of which I easily recognized as Rarity’s.
“-such a fuss. Now just look! You got my coat all sweaty!”
“Me!?” replied an exasperated Applejack. “You’re the one that drug me here with your spa pal.”
I had to do a double take on that one to make sure I heard it correctly.
“It’s for your own good, darling.”
“Ah have apples to buck... hold on now, just what exactly are you implyin’?”
It was just too easy to imagine this as a totally different conversation. Time to break up that train of thought.
“Good day, mares. What can I do for you?”
The two had been practically head-butting, but stopped and looked at me when I announced my arrival.
“Hello, Doctor Whooves! I was just keeping Applejack here company while we waited for you to return.” She smiled, then winked at me on the side the farm pony couldn’t see. Applejack huffed.
“I’ll be going then,” the unicorn continued, trotting out and closing my door behind her.
I idly tapped my hourglass. “Look, I can tell you don’t want to be here, so don’t feel obligated to stay...”
Applejack waved a hoof dismissively, choosing to settle down in an armchair. “Naw, s’okay. Ah give Rarity a harder time about things is all.”
“Interesting,” I replied, thinking. “Why?”
“Huh? Oh, she just needs it more. Gotta have somthin’ keepin’ her from floatin’ away in her own lil’ world. Has a bit o’ trouble keeping all four hooves on the ground sometimes. Needs to re-prioritize once in a zap apple harvest.”
“I... see.”
“So, uh,” she tapped her hooves together. “How does this work exactly?”
“Look, we’re not going to get anywhere if I have you talk about something I think you are thinking about that you’d like to talk about when you actually are thinking about something else. Tea?”
“Uh...” She stared at me as I put on some water, before shaking her head vigorously for a moment, throwing off my spiel. “Do I look like the kind o’ pony that drinks tea?”
“No offence intended,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Cider perhaps?”
“Yes! Ah mean, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Uh-huh, sure. I went and got what was left in my gallon jug. Personally, I don’t drink it very often; what I had was left over from the last shindig down at Sweet Apple Acres. Anyway, after obtaining our respective drinks, we sat and sipped for a few minutes.
“So...” I started.
“What?”
“Well, I guess that pretty much sums it up.”
“Yup.”
She swallowed the rest of her cider in a final swig. Then, wiping her muzzle, she said, “Well, mighty kind o’ ya to put up with this, but Ah reckon we both got things to do. Maybe Ah’ll... see ya around town?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I escorted her to the door in my typical rich-Canterlot-client style, which only earned me an odd half laugh, half snort. She trotted away, smiling to herself, till she went out of my view around a corner.
“That’s it?!”
Rarity’s voice blindsided me, causing me to stumble back in surprise, tripping over my own hooves.
“Rarity? What are you doing here? I thought you left.”
“Yes, well, um...”
I looked past her, and caught sight of a stepladder against the side of my house. I gave her a flat look.
“I seem to remember you having a problem with spying and eavesdropping, but I must be mistaken.”
“One could say it’s more that I have a problem with being used as a tool, Doctor.”
“Right. You’d fit in perfectly in Canterlot.”
I’m not entirely sure she took that the way I meant it. Anyway, I briefed her (briefly) on the nature of client privacy and anonymity, and also of the particular traits ladders can have on house siding when the ends aren’t properly protected. Afterwards, she left, excusing herself for lunch. I decided it was about time to think about that myself, too.
Nothing eventful worth noting occurred during lunch, except that a fly landed in my beverage.
I tapped my desk, bored. I had already reviewed The Equine Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for any information relevant to my various cases. Today’s Equestria Daily had been scanned for anything of interest multiple times now.
I knew I should probably write a report to Princess Celestia, but... I felt like what I had learned in Ponyville wasn’t something that should be widely known. Of course, these reports were only for the eyes of the Princess herself, but I still didn’t want to write one. Not until I had achieved something. Till I had fixed something.
But...
There was another Princess willing to talk, and about less nationally sensitive subjects. I caught up my writing utensil and a sheet of paper.
Luna,
Not that this has any relevance to me in particular, but as a random–not specific–hypothetical question, how did dating work a millennium ago?
Inexplicably unrelated, Whooves.
I tossed it in my outbox and headed for the door. For being a pony who usually sits and listens for his job, I sure can get the jitters sometimes.
My walking path happened to take me past Colgate’s apartment building, where I decided to stop and look in on things.
The square was deserted except for a handful of ponies, who moved around sluggishly, or in the case of one pink earth pony with grapes and a strawberry for a cutie mark, just lay there unconscious. I spotted Colgate sweeping up confetti and cake and anything else that happened to occupy the ground.
“Hello,” I said, trotting up.
“Oh, hi Whooves. Did you come last night?”
“Yeah... but where were you?” I asked, as it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen her there.
“I was... at my landlord’s place.”
“Okay... why?”
“Well, see she doesn’t actually condone this type of of, uh, well she calls ‘em ‘shenanigans,’ so I went to make sure she didn’t find out. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I said, scratching my chin.
“What?”
“Huh?”
“You’re thinking something, so say it already!”
“Hmm? Oh, it’s just...” I stumbled, trying to form coherent words. “It seems a little weird that you’d do that... usually hosts try to attend their parties.”
“Well I didn’t plan it that way, duh,” she said, sounding slightly insulted. “And besides, I made it here later. But I guess you were gone by then.”
“Um, yeah. We... left early.”
“Oh, so you did find somepony to bring along?”
“Well of course, I’m not a socially inept.”
Colgate cocked an eyebrow, which in combination with her lids half-closed, gave her face a clear ‘yeah, right’ look.
“Well... thanks for, uh, hosting the party, I guess. Anything I can do to help here?”
Colgate looked around. “No, I think I’d rather sweep up this big mess myself.”
I blinked.
“Grab a broom already!”
I did as I was bid, although not too happy about being told how to do it. But I had offered; I guess I should expect an answer like that from Colgate by now. We swept in silence for a bit.
“Sooo,” Colgate initiated after a while.
I wanted to tell her to shut up because awkward silences are still less awkward than anything she might say, but I decided it probably wasn’t a productive thing to say.
“Who exactly did you find to drag along? A mare I’m guessing?”
I knew it.
“Yes.”
A few more seconds passed with nothing but the sound of the brooms we swept with echoing in the square.
“You’re going to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes.”
“Ugh, fine.” She grumbled, simultaneously sizing me up. “Hmm... you’re a pretty good hunk of a stallion...”
I rolled my eyes.
“...moderate sized, symmetrical face, neutral mane and coat, decent wages-”
“Okay, okay, you can stop describing me now.”
“Probably have a selection near the top... I’m gonna go with... Rarity?”
I facehooved. “No.”
“Oh. Um... Lyra Heartstrings?”
Hehe... “No.”
Colgate was getting discouraged, but persisted until she was eventually just guessing. “Aloe? Twilight? It wasn’t Carrot Top was it?”
“None of the above,” I said smugly, confident she wasn’t going to get it out of me.
Then a gleam of suspicion came into her eye.
“You’re not seeing that bask- eh, that mailmare, Derpy, are you?”
“Ditzy. And yes, I am.”
“Oh. Huh.”
We went back to cleaning. Then, in an attempt to dissolve the proverbial wall that had gone up, she said, “So, uh, if you two left before I got back, like, where did you go?”
“Oh, um...” I tried to sound nonchalant. “...back to her place.”
I kept sweeping for a moment, till I noticed a distinct absence of the sound of Colgate’s broom. I turned to find her staring at me, mostly unresponsive.
I waved a hoof in front of her face. “Hey. Hello?”
“I... I... you... with her?!”
“Okay, first off, yes, we are dating now. Secondly, no, we haven’t ‘done it,’ I mean I’ve kinda slept with her once... okay, twice, but it wasn’t like that... Anyway! Thirdly, I... uh... Colgate? You okay?”
The unicorn was staring at the ground as she crushed a dirt clod to dust under her hoof. Upon hearing her name, she looked up swiftly and blinked repeatedly in an attempt to dispel the glassy layer her eyes had acquired.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
Wait a minute... “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” I immediately clamped my hooves over my mouth, but it was too late. I could only hope for a non-violent response now.
“I... um...”
She dropped her head. “Uh-huh.”
Huh. That went better than it could have.
“This might sound a little weird... but why? You’re an attractive young mare; you’re cool and hip... I guess I’m confused as to why you so desperately need a stallion’s attentions.”
“...anypony’s attentions,” she sniffed. “Wait, was that out loud?”
I nodded.
“Oh, brilliant.” She looked away. “Now you think I’m some kinda sicko.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” I said, putting hoof on her shoulder. “I happen to know and get along with two mares who are... you know, into each other. Sure, maybe bi isn’t me, but I can respect that choice; it’s yours to make.”
“Really?”
Our conversation continued into dinner time, whereupon we procured some wraps and found a deserted picnic table in the park; there wasn’t a lot of ponies out under the overcast skies.
“...I think that’s one of the reasons I kinda go for mares too,” she said halfway through our conversation and meal.
“What is?”
“Well... if a mare is willing to consider other mares, she’s more open-minded in general, usually.”
“Yes... certainly willing to break the rules anyway.”
“Uh, thanks?”
I smiled. “You’re more than welcome.”
I finished my wrap.
“Y’know...” I said, deciding to vocalize something that had been rolling around in my head for a while. “I’m going out on a limb here, but... you weren't always this way, were you?”
“...no.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Er... long story short, way back when, I had no luck attracting a stallion... so when a mare hit on me once... yeah. But I never turned down any stallions either.”
“If I may make a suggestion?”
“Oh, great, I’m gonna get shrinked. Shrunk. Whatever.” When I didn’t continue, she waved a hoof. “I was kidding.”
“Okay, well, you don’t seem particularly... satisfied.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, to me, it sounds like this all came out of trying to find ‘true love’ too forcefully... and now you’re stuck in a cycle. Maybe you’d find what you’re looking for if you didn’t sleep with every stallion–or mare–that gave you the opportunity. Think about it. Would the type of person you’re looking for find... your choices... attractive?”
“...maybe not.”
I got a shiver, suddenly making me aware that the sun was setting. “I really should be getting back.”
“Hmm?” said Colgate coming out of a deeper well of thought. “Oh, yeah. Thanks for the help.”
“No problem,” I replied, and turning and heading back to my house. As I trotted passed Lyra and Bonbon’s house, I slowed down. Something didn’t seem right... the lights were off, the curtains were drawn...
Oh yeah. It was Thursday night.
I hurried past and arrived at my place soon enough, where I’ve been making this and yesterday’s recording since.
The crack of thunder shot me out of bed in a flash. But not into the headboard thankfully.
I got up and trotted over to the curtains, sweeping them aside. I sighed. The overcast skies of yesterday afternoon had been precursors to the unrelenting rain that pelted down now, shot sporadically with lightning and corresponding thunder.
Across the gap between our houses, Lyra was looking at the sky in a similar manner. I retrieved a dry-erase whiteboard from the closet, and hurriedly wrote on it, “Now what to do?” and held it up.
Lyra peered at it for a moment before breathing on her window and making out with the tip of her hoof, “Back to the bedroom!” She gave me a half seductive, half teasing look before disappearing into the depths of the house.
I was getting slightly worried about them. They had been going at it pretty hard for two–and today would make three–days, and tonight marked the start of a weekend. I had gotten Lyra to stop obsessing over humans, but was this the cost? Well, at least Bonbon was involved.
Oh, who am I kidding? They’re adults.
I returned to the kitchen and began rifling through the icebox and cabinets. Luckily, there was a few eggs left and some cheese that was still good–the basics of an omelet, which I decided was worth a shot. Retrieving a pepper and onion which were to be diced, I added the eggs to the pan on the stovetop.
What was that strange noise? There it was again!
“...oh. Doorbell. Coming.” I looked out the window quickly, which confirmed that it was still raining relatively hard. Who would be out in this weather?
I answered the door.
“Ditzy?!” I exclaimed, pulling her inside. She was soaked to the bone and shivering with her forelegs wrapped around her torso.
“Please tell me they don’t have mail deliveries scheduled for today,” I said, retrieving a towel.
“N-n-no,” she managed.
Well that was good. If it had been otherwise I would have had to go buck somepony in the face, which probably wouldn’t have been healthy for my career.
Meanwhile, I rubbed Ditzy thoroughly with the towel, simultaneously drying her and warming her via friction. “What are you doing out in this then?”
“I... w-wanted to s-see you,” she said, sniffing. I couldn’t tell if it was from her cold trek or if my voice had been harsher than I intended. To insure she knew the latter wasn’t the case, I ceased drying her for a moment to lock her in a hug, which she returned.
“It’s j-just... I thought... with Dinky rained in at Sparkler’s and no m-mail... I’m sorry-”
“What are you apologizing for? I just asked why. And remind me to dig out one of my extra umbrellas.”
She started to apologize for apologizing, but was quick enough to catch herself. Instead, she simply nodded.
“Thanks for starting a fire,” she said after a while, shaking off the towel.
“Fire? I didn’t start a-” I sniffed. “Ponyfeathers!”
After we got the smoke out of the kitchen (during which Ditzy’s wings were quite useful) and discarded the omelet, which was far beyond saving, we considered what we should have instead. I elected that whatever we decided, Ditzy should be the one to do the actual hooves-on stuff.
“Well, I’m out of ideas,” I said after a minute of thinking.
“But you haven’t suggested anything yet.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Ditzy tapped her hooves on the table for a moment. “What about your recipe box then?”
“My what?”
“You don’t have any recipes?”
“Well, come to think of it... I do have one.” I went and slipped the index card from the Cakes out from under its magnet on the icebox and hoofed it to Ditzy. She took a moment to focus on the title, before letting out an adorable squee and accompanying full smile.
So we baked. I trotted over to the oven and started it while Ditzy extracted ingredients from my disorganized and chaotic cupboards. Twisting the knob to the appropriate temperature (I double checked), I suddenly caught the reflection of my record changer in the glass of the oven’s control panel. I looked back at Ditzy, who was absorbed in untangling the lanyards on my measuring cups, taking advantage of the moment to slip into the other room and select a peppy instrumental jazz track and set it spinning.
Ditzy had paused in her fiddling and was staring at nothing in particular when I returned. Her ear twitched and swiveled.
“I felt like some music... if that’s okay?”
She smiled and nodded, hoof tapping to the beat. Turning toward the counter to retrieve the baking soda, she impulsively did a twirl in time with music. She scooped up the box, literally not missing a beat, easily continuing on her way, mixing, blending and stirring, all with a kind of grace I hadn’t seen in her before. I joined in, albeit with less twirling and such; my movement mimicked a not-so-square waltz.
Together, I imagine we looked like what would happen if swing and ballroom waltzing were combined into a low-budget cooking show.
I think I actually do better at cooking with music on and pseudo dancing at the same time. I only messed up once; Ditzy caught me measuring out one and a half cups of her baking powder.
Seamlessly, we slid the filled muffin tin into the preheated oven and flowed into a continued into a fuller form of dance, taking each other’s hooves. Improvised still, but nonetheless we had nothing to focus on but each other.
A minute later, the music ended. By mutual consent we both came to a pause at the apex of a dip.
The next record dropped in place, the needle touching back down. For a brief second, I wracked my brain trying to remember what was next in the stack...
“You’ve been... *bumbumbum* ...thunderbucked!”
That was anti-climatic. And slightly awkward.
I grinned sheepishly and slipped into the other room, removing the record out of the stack. I looked at it again. I didn’t even know I owned this one. Turning off the record changer, I went back to the kitchen.
“So, uh,” I coughed self-consciously. “Should we... check on the muffins or something?”
We mutually shared unspoken consent not to say anything. I’ve given up calling these gaps in conversation ‘awkward silences,’ because it’s really not the same with everypony across the board. Ditzy and I didn’t have anything to say about what happened...
...or what almost happened the moment before. I tried to shake the thought out of my head, but found that not only I couldn’t, but I didn’t want to.
We sat in silence in front of the oven’s glass door, watching the confections rise, absorbing the excess warmth given off, inhaling the aroma.
Finally I looked over at her, which she also returned as best she could.
“Since we have nothing else to do for the moment, if you’re willing, maybe I could hear that cutie mark story?”
She looked at her flank. “Oh. Yeah. I guess it started-”
At that moment the timer (which come to think of it, I didn’t set, so she must have when I wasn’t looking) went off. Ditzy looked at the oven, and then back at me. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She tossed a blanket into a picnic basket (I have one of those? Apparently I do), and clustered the piping hot muffins on top.
“One other thing,” she said, trotting into my bathroom, returning a moment later with something under her wing. She happily caught up the basket in her mouth and trotted out the door.
“Ditzy...” I started, about to protest that we needed an umbrella, but I discovered that the weather conditions were changing. The stratocumulus layer was rapidly breaking up, giving glimpses of the fair blue sky above. The precipitation had taken a turn for the lighter, opting for a small-sized rain, drops being just large enough to still be classified as rain.
I ceased contemplating the sky and galloped for a few yards to catch up with Ditzy. I followed her, not having the slightest idea where she was going with our breakfast. Around us, Ponyville passed by, still seemingly deserted as most ponies had yet to realize the storm was winding down. Soon, as we continued, we passed Ponyville’s borders and kept going into the rural areas nearby. Trees above us filtered the rain into a mist as we passed under them, before eventually we emerged from them as well at Ditzy’s destination.
It was a lake. Not a huge one, but larger than a pond... had a small sandy edge and a flat, smooth rock like an island out at one end; it also seemed to have a relatively deep center considering the surface size. I looked at Ditzy questioningly, who had set down the basket, and produced the object under her wing: bubble bath. I tried to recall why I had had bubble bath in my bathroom, and the best explanation I could come up with was that it had been there before I came to own the house. It did, after all, come with cabinets and the more permanent furniture. Anyway, back to Ditzy’s use of it.
Using her mouth to grasp the bottle, she deposited a significant amount along the feathered edge of her wings, shuffling them afterward to rub it in. She winked and took off.
A few flaps took her above the center of the lake and gave her a bit of altitude, where she...
...snapped her wings to her sides, throwing her into a sharp dive towards the rain-dimpled surface of the lake. I gasped and was on my hooves in an instant, but inevitably she collided with the water and disappeared beneath the surface.
“Ditzy!” I yelled. I had no idea if she could swim or not, and whether or not this was on purpose. I was about to rush headfirst into the lake, my hooves already at the edge before she emerged, using speed gained underwater to give herself a push into the air. I halted my advance.
As she rose again from the surface with flaps that she kept strangely close to her body, I noticed a shimmering soap-bubble tube trailing her, but it was too far away to make out clearly–I could only tell it was about the width of her torso.
After she gained some height, she stopped flapping and extended her wings to their fullest. I fell back on my haunches.
The tube’s diameter expanded with the tips of her wings, seeming to draw it’s mass out of the trailing bubble to eventually disconnect with the surface of the lake, morphing into a gigantic pony-sized bubble. It quivered slightly from the breadth of wind in the air, the semi-transparent prismatic reflection that made up its surface shuddering as Ditzy used her extended wings to glide back to the earth next to me.
“That’s... it’s... you’re... amazing.” I didn’t have any other words to describe it. Beautiful? Awe-inspiring? Brilliant? All of the above!
From insider her bubble, Ditzy giggled, a distorted sound that had a resemblance to someone singing into a bottle. But it was her giggle, nonetheless.
After a moment, she shook her wings violently this way and that, the bubble wobbling dangerously before winking out of existence.
“That... makes some more sense now. But how did you discover you could do that?” I asked after I had recovered somewhat.
“Heh... it was kind of a miniature disaster, actually. Like most things.”
“How could any type of disaster result in something as stupendous as that?” I retorted, unconvinced.
“Back when I lived with my parents in our cloud home... before I had my cutie mark, obviously... I had just learned how to stay aloft with my wings, but still had trouble gaining height... so one day, while my mom was taking a bubble bath upstairs, I built a... contraption to give me some lift. It worked, a little too well, and threw me against the ceiling hard enough to poof the cloud-tub. Next thing I knew, I was falling through the atmosphere covered in bubble bathwater. I flapped my wings... and this happened. I’ve been perfecting ways to get it to form ever since, even at Flight Camp...”
At the mention of the Flight Camp she drifted off, spacing out slightly.
“Ditzy?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. See, after I... broke the house, my parents sent me off to Summer Flight Camp. Some of the other pegasi there didn’t... didn’t...” She dropped the subject and looked at the ground.
I sat down next to her and put my foreleg around her. “Muffin?”
Above us, the sun emerged, clouds drifting off, even though residual rain still fell on us, sparkling with glints of colored light. And so we ate our late breakfast on a beach, in the rain with soaked manes and coats, insulating ourselves from the world with each other’s company.
Time passed.
After a period of comfortable silence had passed, both of us with our backs on the blanket looking up at the newly cloudless sky, Ditzy sat up.
“I should pick up Dinky.”
“Oh... okay.”
She shuffled her hooves a bit, and then hugged me quickly but tightly, and flew off without another word. I watched her disappear beyond the tree line, before retrieving the remnants of the meal, folding the blanket into the basket as well, and setting off for my house again.
Ponyville was bustling by that time of day. Through the business district, ponies traded, bartered, and haggled for goods. I waved to Applejack as I trotted by, and was happy to see Lyra and Bonbon had abandoned the house for the time being and were enjoying some drinks at a cafe–it was around lunch time, but as I had eaten late, I wasn’t hungry again yet. I turned my head to try and see around the basket in my mouth while still looking at my neighbors.
I ran into somepony. Or they ran into me. Probably both.
Pulling the basket off my head with my hooves as best I could, I turned, apologizing to my unidentified victim (or assailant).
“I’m so sorry, see, I usually have the luxury of using saddlebags when I- oof!” A telekinetic force yanked at the wicker basket, snapping it off my head.
“As I was... Twilight?”
“Doctor!” said the lavender unicorn, whose face had adopted a smile. “You’re just the pony I was looking for!”
“I... am?” She hadn’t seemed to take any particular interest in my activities before.
“Yes! I...” She paused, fishing something out of her saddlebags with her magic levitation. “...finished these books of yours. Psychology is very interesting! Thanks for letting me borrow these.”
“Oh. No problem.” I placed my books in the abused basket, and turned to leave.
“And I’ve picked up another topic... one I think you can help we with, Doctor.”
“Oh?” I asked, interested. An opportunity to spend time on my actual mission here. “What’s that?”
“I’m studying the processes and behaviors associated with romantic love.”
She said it without even flinching, as though she was discussing quantum mechanics or interstellar travel of photons. Scientific. Calculating. I suddenly got a mental image of a terrified stallion strapped to a table, with Twilight in a laced up black leather corset with dark leggings standing over him... and a clipboard and quill floating alongside her, ready to record observations of changes in his behavior.
“Uh, Doctor? Doctor Whooves?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Sorry. But why do you need me again? I’m a psychologist, not a sociologist.”
“Well, you’re in a relationship, right?”
“Sure, but-”
“Perfect! I’ve just got a few questions...” She produced a three inch scroll and began unrolling it.
“Look,” I said, still staring at the huge checklist. “Why me? There’s lots of ponies here that have been dating for longer than me. Besides, why don’t you ask your brother? Isn’t he getting hitched soon?”
Twilight got a slightly irritated look on her face. “Everypony thinks it’s their business...”
“He is the Element of Magic’s brother, and marrying an alicorn princess. Kinda hard to miss.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just not used to ponies I don’t know personally talking about him like that.”
I rubbed an itch behind my ear. “I guess I never really thought about it. I’m sorry too.”
She smiled. “Don’t mention it.”
“So... what can I help with?”
She looked back at her checklist and took a deep breath, about to begin her interrogation, before I held up my hoof. “Ever consider essay questions?”
She blinked. “Uh, actually no, I didn’t.”
“Seriously? Why not?”
“Well... they’re not quantifiable. You can’t publish statistics or poll results with essay questions.”
“True... but here’s the problem. If you think it’s hard to classify ponies–physical attributes, reactions, thought patterns and the like–realize that it’s at least twice as hard to classify two ponies together... and that’s not even accounting for how the relationship they have is going to influence them as individuals. With that many factors, it’s not possible to figure it out based on some true/false and scale questions.” I looked at her list again. “No matter how many.”
“Oh, phooey. You’re right, of course. I just have a hard time with anything that isn’t a scientifically validated theory or a star pattern I can memorize.”
“This coming from a top fan and series owner of the Daring Do novels? Horseapples!”
“Actually, that title goes to Rainbow Dash now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But anyway, point is I end up reading those like textbooks too. I have to be fully awake and aware when reading them, and often have to go back and reread parts. And, I kinda...” She looked away. “...take notes.”
“Well, I guess that explains the weather recently.”
Twilight giggled. “Well, maybe just a little bit. But the weather team always has trouble with spring storms.” She put the now-obsolete questionnaire back in her saddlebags. “So... maybe you could come by the library sometime?”
“Sure! How’s next week, if I get a light day?”
“Perfect! See you later, Doctor!” she called as she trotted away cheerily.
Pondering if Twilight would actually want me to write an essay when I showed up, I leaned back in the shade of a cool stone pillar that was part of a lattice surrounding the outdoor portion of the restaurant Lyra and Bonbon were enjoying themselves at. Aware of their voices, my brain automatically sorted them out from amongst the chatter of the place.
“-I had actually forgotten. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to invite anypony to a party or something,” said Lyra. “My parents think I’m in Canterlot on music business, and yours...”
“Don’t approve of fillyfoolers,” finished Bonbon bluntly.
“...yeah.”
“What about friends? My co-workers at the shop have pretty much adopted a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy on those issues, but maybe some of your fans...?”
“As much as I love music, I’d prefer to keep them fans. And bringing... us... up to them might turn a few of them off, and my career can’t afford another scandal again right now. We should just stay at home and do something.”
“But Lyra,” Bonbon practically whined, “it’s our fifth! Five years! And doing something has been getting a little repetitive recently.”
“I could find a few ways to spice it up.”
“Oh shut up, you perv.”
There was silence for a bit, before Bonbon continued. “Hey, what about Whooves? He’s okay with us being us.”
“We can’t have an anniversary party with just one guest. That’s just... awkward.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I suppose we don’t have to tell him... we could just invite him over for dinner.”
“That’s... slightly retarded. But better than not doing anything I guess.”
“Whatever. Just remind me to tell him sometime today.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m done. Ready to leave?”
I double-timed it out of there, fleeing down a side street and back into the business district, where I slowed back down to a comfortable trot. I felt kind of bad for eavesdropping, but it wasn’t intentional... and besides, I was getting a few ideas right about then.
Every couple should get something on such an event. But what? I wondered as I looked into the stores, shops, and stands that passed me on either side, discarding one after the next.
No, no, no, no... wait. I backed up, taking a second glance through the window of a shadier shop. Something to shake it up... I’m willing to bet they haven’t tried this before. I looked to either side before entering, and reemerged shortly with a new acquisition hidden away in the basket.
Every couple... Every couple. Every couple! I suddenly realized that I could now also get Ditzy something... since we were ‘official’ and everything.
Ugh, I’m getting tired of that. Why does everypony assume relationships have to go through stages, rather than seeing it as the continuum that it is? Nevertheless, there’s not much one pony is going to do to overturn social norms. And I’d been wanting to get her something for a while anyway.
And after our morning today, I knew just what to get for her.
I headed for the spa. If anypony should know anything about products, ponies running a spa would be the ones.
A wave of humid air rolled out when I opened the door. I guess with some classical conditioning, it could be associated with some nice bath time. For me, it just felt like some of the sticky days some of the southern cities can get. I entered dutifully anyway.
“‘ello sir, and welcome to ze spa! My name tiz Lotus! How can help ‘ou today?” inquired a voice before I had so much as set hoof inside the door, much less had a chance to identify the speaker. I looked to the side to find a blue earth pony, displaying a shiny smile, and accented very fashionably with a headband to keep her mane back and a sweat collar as well. She also had a slight amount of (presumably waterproof) eyeshadow on, but not enough to be over the top. And I say waterproof because both her tail and mane were slick from the atmosphere. Not sweaty slick, but sporty slick. Not that that would be avoidable in here.
I shook my head. Gosh darned humidity’s getting to me.
“I was actually wondering if you sell any of the stuff you use.”
“Oh...” she said. “Well I see no reason why we should not. What specifically is it ‘ou require?”
I couldn’t quite place that accent. Something out of the East. Germanic of origin, maybe. Stalliongrad, even.
“Bubble bath. The sudsiest, soapiest, most bubbly stuff you have.”
She blinked twice. “Oh. Eh, of course. I’ll be jez a moment.”
Lotus departed into one of the wings of the spa, which presumably held a section for a specific treatment. A moment later, a nearly identical pony, except sporting a reversal in coloration, put her head out and looked me up and down quickly, before disappearing again. I looked myself over to make sure there wasn’t something obvious about me that I was missing.
In a few seconds, both ponies emerged at once, with the pink-coated one carrying a bottle with her. She set it down in front of me.
“‘ou were looking for somet’ing like zis , yes?”
I tried to read the label, but to my dismay it was in a language I didn’t recognize. “I... guess? You tell me.”
“Oh,” she apologized, and then giggled slightly. “Please excuse me. My name tiz Aloe.”
“We are twin sisters!” offered Lotus.
“Really? I never would have guessed,” I replied sarcastically. I’m not sure they caught it though... what with the accent hinting that this wasn’t their first language.
“Oh yes! We are similar in many ways. Even our marks are nearly identical.” The other nodded in agreement as the both advanced on me slowly, with myself retreating proportionally.
“We do ze same things...”
“...have ze same preferences...”
“...see ze same stallions...”
“...at ze same time...”
I was inches from dropping the bottle and turning tail for home right then, but then a most timely interruption came in the form of Rarity.
“-what’s taking so long... oh! Whooves, fancy seeing you here. Are you here for a treatment as well?”
The twins looked back at me and nodded encouragingly.
“Aheheh... no, thanks. Just picking something up for a marefriend.”
The twins’ smiles didn’t falter, as almost as if they hadn’t heard. Rarity, however, seemed to comprehend the situation from my emphasis.
“Well we wouldn’t want to get in the way of the Doctor here, would we? I’m sure he’ll be back soon, right?” I was about to say ‘fat chance’ before I realized it might, in fact, be the best way to escape at the moment. Consequently, I nodded, deposited some bits and skipped out the door. Behind me, I heard Rarity saying she’d be a moment and hurriedly follow me out.
“Are you freaking out?”
“Just a little.”
“I understand... just please don’t get the wrong impression of them.”
“Oh? Then what’s the right one, if it’s not it’s not ‘spontaneous threesome with anypony because it’s Friday’?”
Rarity cringed. “I don’t know exactly what they said to you, but unless they actually said they wanted to do it with you... well... it may have been partially my fault.”
“Come again?”
“You’ve probably figured out that they’re not from around here, and... anyway, on one of my visits without Fluttershy, I got to talking with them. They asked what was different around here; wondered what kinds of things ponies talk about. You know me... I went and started talking about Canterlot scandals and-” She covered her face with a foreleg. “I gave them a Cosmarepolitioin!”
“Rarity...”
“Yes?”
“What in Equestria made you think that was a good idea?”
She gave me a flat look. “I know it probably wasn’t the best choice, but what’s done is done. Just realize they’re probably as confused as you were. And to top it off, they get many... okay, don’t get any stallions in there, so you could say they don’t have much experience interacting. They probably just thought they were having a normal conversation.”
“I know you were just trying to help, Rarity, but you really need to re-educate them. Somepony’s going to get their heart shattered if they don’t reign it in a bit.”
“I... I’ll work on it.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. I can’t keep this town sane by myself.” I gave her a smile I hoped looked encouraging. “I should get going though. Good luck!”
Rarity waved a hoof after me, turning and re-entering the spa.
That settles it. All the ponies in this town really are crazy. I looked at the sun’s distance from the horizon. Hmm. I’ve got time for another stop... I really should check on Colgate.
I trotted into the square her apartment building was on, which bore few enough signs of the party to be considered normal again. I found her button on the buzzer box and held it for a few seconds.
And then waited a few minutes, shuffling my hooves.
I pressed it again, holding for almost a minute this time.
When there was still no response, I turned my track toward home. She’s probably just out somewhere... she’s always out. Nothing to worry about.
Bonbon flagged me down before I made it through my door, but I pretended not to see her and quickly stashed the basket before returning and continuing to their house, where I ‘helped’ Lyra cook with Bonbon’s supervision.
I didn’t ruin anything. Or, if I did, it was in something I didn’t eat and they kept their mouths shut.
At a brief pause during the meal, I caught Bonbon giving Lyra a not-so-subtle wink.
“So, uh, Whooves, got anything interesting going on tomorrow?” the unicorn asked.
Let’s make this easy. “Well, nothing specific. I’ll probably see Ditzy, but I don’t have my dinner situation worked out yet.”
“Oh! Well in that case, why don’t you come here again?”
“Sure, as long as I’m not intruding. Anything specific I can bring?”
Bonbon and Lyra looked at each other. “Uh...”
“Salad, dessert...?”
“Oh! No, that’s okay. We have it covered.”
“Right then. Time?”
“I was thinking five, but whatever works for you.”
“Perfect.”
The rest of the meal progressed fairly regularly, which got me back in my house at dark.
I stowed tomorrow’s surprises better, writing myself a note to remember to get them wrappings or bags of some kind.
And now I’m here, tired but looking forward to the rising sun.
As recorded on the fifteenth. Things have been more than a little crazy between the last recording and this... but I’ll still be keeping these separated by date per entry.
It was Saturday. Which usually means no mail. But, nonetheless, I received a special delivery. Two, actually, but I’ll keep this chronological if I can.
The first came at the hoof of a goat, who I’m inclined to believe isn’t the smartest bun in the breadbasket. I didn’t draw this from profiling either... it was rather the fact that he came up and knocked on my door and seemed to completely miss the fact that I was sitting not two meters away on my folding chair, sipping my tea in the crisp morning air. I just love the mornings after a rain.
“Excuse me, good sir, can I help you?”
The goat slowly swiveled his head towards me, revealing a headset to go with the tie he was wearing. He brayed and shook his head.
“Oh. Okay then.”
The goat knocked again. I would say this is pretty good affirmation of the initial appraisal.
“Sorry to interrupt again, but am I correct in assuming you are trying to contact the pony who lives here?”
Blinking once, twice, and thrice, he nodded very slowly.
“I am he.”
The goat shook his head and pointed at the door. After waiting for a few moments, he deposited the brochure he was promoting through the mail slot and left, moving on to the next house.
Whoever this is needs to reconsider whom they choose for sales representatives, I thought, getting up and going in to see what the salespony (salesgoat, perhaps?) was not-so-effectively selling. I picked up the pamphlet.
“The incredible Iron Will turns doormats into dynamos! Assertiveness seminar today, Hedgemaze Center.”
I flipped it over, but found the back blank. That’s it? No more information? This guy really needs some better PR.
Next door, Bonbon’s voice suddenly exploded into the higher end of the decibel range. “JUST WHAT ARE YOU INSINUATING?! What kind of little hayseed goes around disturbing ponies mid-breakfast to call them names? I-”
Lyra’s voice interrupted, but spoke at a normal volume, so I couldn’t make out what she said exactly. I trotted over, passing the same goat... who was at that moment enacting a hasty retreat.
I looked toward the door of the mares’ house, where Bonbon stood with legs spread, pupils dilated, and nostrils flared. This was by far the most upset I’d seen her. Lyra had her forelegs around her lover’s neck in an attempt to restrain her. She talked calmly, seamlessly, and persuasively into Bonbon’s ear, which twitched occasionally–the only visible sign that she was hearing a word the unicorn said.
Eventually, however, Lyra forced the earth pony to look into her eyes, lifting her chin with a hoof. Bonbon’s ears flopped back and her eyes avoided Lyra’s, resolve wilting. Still talking, Lyra steered Bonbon back into the house.
As she turned around to shut the door, I caught her attention via flailing my forelegs in the air. Having made eye contact, I mouthed, What was that?
Later, she mouthed back, and shut the door.
I blinked, and retreated back to the street and caught site of the door-to-door traveling goat. Most ponies replied with a simple “No, not today thanks,” (something along those lines, anyway), or merely took his paper without question and chucked it in the trash later.
From what I knew of Bonbon by now, I could tell she wasn’t a heavyweight troll by any means. Sure, she has her attitude moments just like the rest of us, but that wasn’t what I had just witnessed.
Still thoroughly confused, I shook my head and trotted off. I needed wrapping paper, and (for once) I knew exactly where to look.
The outside of the Carousel Boutique always intrigued me. The inside just plain scared me.
I take that back. Only when there are scissors flying around at dangerous speeds at the command of a fashion-obsessed unicorn.
“Uh, Rarity?” I said, wiping my hooves on the mat in the entryway, as any good guest–or anypony that knows Rarity for that matter–would do.
There was a cry of alarm from the next room, followed by flashes of magic which I could see through the doorway. “Just a second! I’m coming! No need to move anywhere!”
That did loads to dampen my curiosity. I trotted stealthily up to the frame and peeked in, but at that moment Rarity had just finished hiding whatever it was she was doing, poised innocently in the middle of the all-too-clean room with a smile pasted on her face.
“Hello, Doctor.”
“Hello...” I drew it out, making no attempt to hide my suspicion. “So what have you been up to?” I consider that a perfectly natural, valid, and convenient conversation topic.
“Oh nothing much, really.”
“I thought you’d be a better liar, Rarity.”
“I’m not sure if I should take that as a complement to my character, or an insult to yours.”
“Whatever gets you your beauty sleep, darling.”
We stared each other down for about ten seconds, before I decided it wasn’t worth it to try to crack her.
“Fine, keep your precious secrets. They don’t concern me.” I hope. “I just came here to see if I could obtain paper.”
“Paper?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, paper. But something more like wrapping paper; surely you have something around here for delivering dresses?”
“Oh! Yes, of course. I’ll just be a second.”
She went and disappeared into a walk-in storage closet, and returned momentarily with a roll of shiny green paper with silver swirls on it. Generic, but better than the leftover holiday-themed stuff I had. Using her magic, she casually rolled out a meter or two for me and sliced it with a pair of scissors.
“So,” she said, trying to sound informal. “What’s it for? Just out of curiosity.”
“Not a chance, mare.”
“Aww,” she pouted. “Please? Pleasepleaseplease?”
Don’t look at the face. Don’t look at the face. I looked at her face.
“Ugh, fine. But it’s nothing scandalous like your thinking.” If she only knew how much I was lying...
“You’re lying, aren’t you.”
I snapped up the paper and ran for the door. She let me go, manic laughter fading as I distanced the fashion designer’s home.
Doesn’t take a good liar to tell a bad one, I thought, thinking back to the project I wasn’t supposed to know about. Ah, well, it’s probably some trashy secret-ish gossip I don’t want to know about anyway.
I looked around to see where my hooves had taken me.
Colgate’s apartment complex. I do believe I’m worried about her.
Well, I was there. Might as well call. I skirted around an exiting gray stallion as I trotted up the steps to the buzzer box, where I tapped Colgate’s. Just as the day before, there was no reply. I was about to depress it again, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Starting back in surprise, I turned to find myself looking at the same gray stallion that had just passed me.
He looked strikingly similar to me, actually. While having the same mane and tail cut, his colors (or actually, lack thereof) were different; light and dark cool grays, as opposed to my tans and browns. A lighter shade of blue made up his irises, and three four-leaf clovers for a cutie mark.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re ringing Colgate’s apartment.”
“Yes...?”
“Are you her friend?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Ah...” he said, glancing to each side and lowering his tone. “Look, I know you probably mean well, but if you care about her, she’ll heal faster if you just leave her alone.”
“What the hay are you-”
“Trust me, I’ve seen her break up with quite a few over the time she’s been my neighbor here-”
“I’m not that kind of friend. Just a friend.”
“Oh... so sorry. How do you know her?”
I looked back at my cutie mark. “Long story. Suffice to say we have a strange relationship.” Where are my manners? Living in Ponyville is going to turn me into a redneck. “My name is Whooves. Doctor Whooves.”
“Name’s Lucky. I live across the hall.”
“So... now what?”
“Well, if you’re not her latest dump, then I don’t know. Usually she gets over breakups pretty quickly... certainly has the practice. Goes out and hits the cider with Berry Punch.”
I pretended to know who that was. “So, you’re saying there wasn’t anybody that you know of?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Same.”
“I... suppose it’s possible there was someone neither of us knew about.”
I paused. “Is it weird that we’re talking about this and we don’t know each other?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “But the more I find out, the more I’m thinking about somepony else.”
“I couldn’t get an answer yesterday, either.”
“From what I’ve seen and heard, she hasn’t left.”
“Hmm... she seemed in-touch with reality last time I saw her.”
“Huh.”
“Two more days?”
“Two more days.”
I turned to leave.
“Hey, uh...”
“Oh, right.” I produced my address for him, which he took with a nod.
“See you later then?”
“Probably.”
Back at my apartment, I busied myself wrapping the gifts right away, trying not to think too much about Colgate. With the lifestyle she lives, it’s probably normal.
With the gift wrapping done all too quickly, I decided it was high time to locate some mid-day sustenance.
It’s strange that Ponyville has so many little shops and cafes. It’s lucky for me, since my Canterlot tastes still tell me most of them are unworthy, but still something worth a moment’s consideration nonetheless.
As I contemplated this, walking down the street between the aforementioned food-providers, a familiar voice interrupted and caused me to look around for the source.
“Over here.”
Lyra was sitting in her unnatural pose in a chair at a raised round table. It took me a second to locate her because the entire thing was on a wooden deck, with a rail around the edge and potted plants on each post.
I trotted around to the stairs and crossed the restaurant's deck to Lyra’s particular table, which was against the side of the building and enjoyed the shade of an awning attached to said building.
“Have you eaten?” she asked as I took a chair opposite her.
I shook my head.
“Good. I think we might have some stuff to talk about.”
I made no objection. It’s not often somepony tells me something without me having to drag it out of them.
“Shoot.”
“I suppose you’re wondering about Bonbon...” She looked at me for affirmation. “...unless you already have some theories.”
“I do, but facts are always preferable to hypotheses. Please, continue.”
“Okay... where to start?”
“At the beginning, obviously.”
Lyra shot me a look, before continuing. “After Bonbon and I had been going for a while, we hit a little snag...”
“Parents?”
Lyra nodded. “I decided it would be easiest just to not tell mine. I had already been away for a few years by then, and I didn’t get back that way to see them much. So I just never mentioned her in my letters. And that’s about how it’s going now.
I sipped my iced tea, conveniently provided by a discrete waitress.
“Bonbon though... she’s not as carefree as I am. She wanted to tell them, so we did. Together.” She scratched her head behind an ear. “Telling them was easy. Bonbon did most of the talking, obviously. When she finished, there was silence for a bit. Definitely one of the more awkward experiences of my life. Even more so than the first time Bonbon and I had se-”
I nearly spat my straw across the deck.
“Oh, sorry. I was getting a little off topic there I guess.” She blushed. “Anyway, her dad just got up and walked out. Her mom shook her head and mumbled something about a ‘corruptive influence’ and that it wasn’t welcome in their house.
“Bonbon got up and put her hoof on her mom’s shoulder, as she too was walking away. ‘Mom...’
“Her mom paused. ‘You’re not the mare we raised,’ she said, in one of those sad yet condescending voices.”
Lyra took a breath, looking down at her own beverage. “She cried for two days and nights, and wouldn’t eat for another three after that.
“Up to then, her parents had been... well, ideal. She was her daddy’s little filly; she shares her talent with her mom. To have that life... and then get thrown out on the doormat with a ‘come back when you’ve ditched the love of your life’ basically.”
The unicorn mare shook her head. “Fortunately, we were far enough along that it didn’t even occur to her to leave. Still...”
The waitress hoofed us two menus in passing.
“...nopony should have to go through something like that. And nopony can without coming through with some damage.”
Browsing the sandwich section, I replied, “How much pressure does it take for her to react differently?”
“It’s not so much quantity of pressure as it is the specific traits of the trigger, at least from what I’ve determined...”
The waitress appeared, apologetic look on her face for interrupting. She took our orders hurriedly and left as quickly as she had appeared.
“What was it this morning?”
“I’m not actually entirely sure this time. Might have been something to do with the Hedgemaze Center; I think I remember hearing that name come up a long time ago, before we told her parents.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the assertiveness thing?”
“She’s never seemed to have a problem making her opinion known before. I just don’t see how that subject would relate.”
“Well, I guess that lead is better than nothing.”
“Lead...?”
“You... I... Aren’t we going to fix this?”
“Doc... a complete severing of biological relationships isn’t something you can fix... with your specialty, even you must know that these things are very deeply ingrained.”
“Of course, but pretending they don’t exist is hardly the right option.”
“Believe me when I say, her reaction today was relatively minor compared to some of the ones in the past. I’ve been nailing down these specific stimuli for... uh, I mean, about four or five years now. With each one I can get out in the open, the farther and farther between episodes. It’d been almost a year before this morning.”
I thought about that for a moment. It was actually a pretty good course of action, for not having any education on the issue.
“She’s lucky to have you, you know.”
“Me? No... I mean, you’d have been handling it better for sure. Hay, you’re qualified.”
“Naw, ‘cause I would have tried to buck some sense into her parents. Don’t give me their address.”
Lyra chuckled. “It’s been half a decade. Celestia knows what could have happened to Celestia knows who.”
A pause developed, which was conveniently timed with the arrival of our food.
After a period of chewing, I asked, “So, do you need to spend tonight alone with her...?”
“What? No! It’ll be good to get her around ponies. Don’t want her to brood about it, y’know.”
I took a finishing bite of my House Salad. “Well, if there’s anything I can help with, you know where I live. Thanks for the... insight.”
“Thanks for listening.”
I nodded, chucked some bits on the table and trotted off the deck.
Lyra’s talk had stretched lunch a bit longer than I expected; with nothing else specific to do, I turned to head towards home. Not ten steps along, yet again a familiar voice caught my attention. It was a very serious case of deja vu.
I looked around, but to no avail. There was nopony I knew in sight, besides Lyra, and the voice definitely wasn’t hers.
“Up here.”
Looking up, I saw Ditzy descending in a rough spiral and landing abruptly next to me, allowing a few steps to absorb some of the impact.
“Ditzy,” I acknowledged.
“Whooves.” She shuffled a hoof, and then looked up at me looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “Hug?”
“I, uh... here?” I replied, looking from side to side.
She held the eyes.
“Aw, ponyfeathers. Get over here you silly filly.”
She fluttered into my waiting forelegs, an embrace which we held for a few seconds.
“I missed you already,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” I replied quietly. Hmm... An idea began forming in my head.
“Can you get away later?”
Looking up at me, curoius, she asked, “Like for dinner?”
“Um, actually I have plans for dinner; it would have to be a bit after that. If that’s okay.”
“Oh, of course. Um, sometime around...?”
“Seven?” Did I really just finish her sentence? I hope we’re not turning into one of those cloud-nine couples.
“Okay!” she returned cheerfully. “I guess I should go now...”
“See you tonight.”
She smiled and lumbered off through the air, dodging a shop’s sign and swerving out of sight around a rooftop.
Now I just wanted to get home without seeing somepony I knew. Or worse, somepony that knew me.
Fortunately, my trip home was unhindered.
In the shade of my apartment, I sagged against the door. I do believe the weather is warming up. I should really check out the AC unit on this place.
But that would have to wait. I trotted over to the icebox and retrieved a Sarsaparilla, twisting the top off the glass bottle with my teeth (darned unicorns...) and plopped down in a seat. A swig sent relaxing coolness down my throat...
...FFFFFZZT! A flash of bright light appeared and winked out as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a scroll that dropped to the floor. My second special delivery.
After I had finished coughing the soft drink out of my windpipe, I cautiously examined the scroll. It had the royal seal on it, and seemed to be made like all the others I had received. So why send this one specially?
Shrugging it off, I popped the seal and got my answer.
Because it is the end of the week and we-, I am bored.
That is why I sent this to you via my own teleport. The post doesn’t run on ‘weekends’ apparently.
Concerning thy- your obviously very relevant question, it works about the same, actually. Among the higher classes and more prestigious, at any rate. Much more pomp and circumstance. If you meant royal marriage, then... well, the last one was our parents. But that is not a story told lightly.
I’m more interested in talking about you. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what goes on in Ponyville (to some extent). How does modern dating work? How long does it last? Does it interfere with what you want to do? It sounds so much faster and more exciting.
Luna
I set it down. Celestia help us if Luna manages to communicate with Twilight.
There are some things that shouldn’t be dwelt on, especially when mares like Twilight (and apparently, by the tone of her writing, Luna too) are involved. I know both can pull their weight, and relative to some others I know, would be considered rock-solid.
Unfortunately, Twilight has a history of obsessive study habits. I need to play my cards right come my interview–give enough to satisfy, but not a word more.
I was really starting to dread that interview.
Looking at the clock, I filed Luna’s letter; after all, while she can send me as many magic-impregnated scrolls as she wants, I have to wait till Monday, like everypony else. Not that I was complaining. I needed to write Princess Celestia a status update come next week too... that was going to be fun to write. Talk about trotting in the tulips.
But I don’t need to think about that yet.
After cleaning up, I went and examined my wardrobe, but berated myself quickly. No, as far as they know, I know nothing. Just do what you would normally do. I paused, almost expecting myself to reply. What would that be?
I looked at the clock. Show up early and help with dinner, of course.
I retrieved the gift-wrapped item, popping it on my back, and trotted over to Bonbon and Lyra’s.
Lyra answered. “Hey Whooves! You’re earl- um... what is that?”
With a shock, I realized I had completely overlooked the fact that I had trotted up to the front door with a present that didn’t have an explanation balanced on my back. “Uh... just a little something to cheer up Bonbon. Don’t say anything, okay? Please?” Hey, that was actually pretty good.
“Oh, I see. That’s really nice, Whooves.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She laughed a little, taking my comment as sarcasm. “So, Bonbon’s in the kitchen...”
I nodded, depositing the gift on the entryway floor and followed her.
Upon reaching the kitchen, Bonbon looked up from her work. “Who was at the... oh, hi Whooves. Come on in!”
She seemed in good enough spirits.
“Since you’re here, would you mind starting the steamed carrots?”
Conversation buzzed while we worked on the noticeably more extravagant meal. Lyra was in a good mood; I was in a good mood, and as for Bonbon, she seemed to be doing just fine, as long as we kept her engaged. She drifted into a daydream once, while stirring a pot, but other than that, nothing noticeable to an outsider surfaced.
During the meal, I specifically avoided talking about the goats and Iron Will’s spam mail. Letting Lyra do more of the talking and encouraging Bonbon when she did, I eventually slipped into a observational silence. Quite a few new stories came up as time ticked on.
And speaking of, I looked to the wall and found 6:46 PM displayed on their timepiece. Lyra caught me looking and asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yes! It’s perfect.” I got up and left the table, returning with the shiny green article.
“Happy fifth,” I said, winking at Lyra, and walked out. Gotta love dramatic entrances and exits. I really didn’t need to be there anymore; after all, they would be busy experimenting with their new device soon enough.
Dusk was settling as I emerged into the open air, pausing for a breath in the small distance between the houses. I looked to the black horizon, cast in shadow by the fire-orange skyline. Black rooftops and trees, and the sound of pegasus wings...
“Hey, Ditzy.”
“Hi,” she said, dropping to the ground. “So... what are we doing tonight?”
“Well, for one thing, I sorted my records... heh.”
She threw her head back and laughed. Most would call that overdoing it, but I wasn’t going to complain.
Her laugh faded, the silence stretched, and the sun sank. She shivered.
“Look at us, standing out here in the dark like a bunch of owls. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
She followed me in.
I stopped a few paces in, feeling around in the dark for the light switch. Not having been here for even two weeks yet didn’t help me in my search as I stumbled around. Ditzy, not aware that I had stopped, bumped into me–which consequently caused me smack into a bookcase, sending a shower of unidentified flying objects to the floor.
“Oh! Sorry.”
“‘S’okay. Feel around for a light switch. Rectangular plastic- Oh! Found it!”
I flipped it on, setting the glass bulb glowing and shining a yellow light on the interior of my house.
“Um, Whooves? What’s this?”
“What’s-” I began as I turned around. “Oh, that.” Well, no time like the present. “That’s yours.”
The package had fallen off its (admittedly lame) hiding place on top of the bookshelf when I was forced into it.
“Are you sure? I don’t remember seeing it before.”
“Heh... no. It’s for you. A gift. From me, to you.”
“Oh...” She looked from it to me. “...was I not supposed to find it?”
“Ditzy...” I pushed it toward her. “Open it.” I turned and started to trot to the next room.
“Where are you going?” she asked, still seemingly worried she had done something wrong.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”
I slipped through the doorway, whereupon I located my record changer. Double checking each, I slid a stack of records on and set the needle. I trotted back into the other room, where I found Ditzy had removed the paper and was opening the box.
She blinked and refocused her wide eyes, pupils dilating slightly. She looked at me, and then back in the box.
This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. “Is... everything okay?”
“I... um... didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”
“Well, knowing you, I figure you’ll use it quite a bit.
Her wings lifted from her back, as she turned away, hiding a cautiously slight smile behind a lifted hoof. Is she blushing?
“Whooves, I... I don’t know what to think... and I’m not really sure what you want me to do either.”
Now I was confused. “You can... think whatever you want. As for what to do, well... I hope you use it. Wasn’t made to be put on the shelf and looked at.”
Her wings were now fully extended. At the time, this seemed slightly strange, but I easily overlooked it in favor of the conversation at hand.
“If you feel that way... I’m okay with that. And I wouldn’t do it with anypony else.”
“‘With’? What are you-”
My mouth stopped as she lifted it out of the box. I think my brain stopped too.
Ditzy was looking at me, earnestly yet innocently, with a riding crop in her mouth.
My first thought was, Holybucking Celestia. My second, How could I be such an idiot? Using the same paper for both? And thirdly, Somewhere, right now, there’s two mares trying to figure out why I gave them bubble bath.
After that, I started subconsciously going over the conversation again, with a bit more of the picture this time.
Ditzy apparently saw me freeze as my own mental activity took priority. “I’m sorry. I’m doing something wrong.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just trying to process–for the first time–that I accidentally asked my marefriend to... do something... with me... and also the fact that she seems to have said yes.”
Ditzy put the riding crop down. “I’m confused.”
“Me too.”
After another moment of thinking, I said, “Look, if that trips your trigger,” I looked at her fanned out wings. That makes more sense now. “Then I’m... not opposed. But this wasn’t really my idea. I know it’s not much to go on, but it’s a really long and complicated story otherwise.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
And silence ensued. This one definitely counted as awkward.
I sat down opposite her. “Now what?” After what had just been said, I wasn’t going to pretend things were going to go as they would have otherwise gone this evening.
“Well... if that isn’t your thing, what is?”
I wasn’t expecting that. “I... don’t have any special fetishes.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.”
“What?”
“I can think of one.”
“Uh... and that is?”
“You have a thing for blonde wingbone-ing pegasi,” she giggled.
It was my turn to blush. “T-that’s not t-true!” I stuttered.
She took a step closer.
“Maybe just this one in particular,” I admitted. I mirrored her movement.
Crossed eyes half lidded, she leaned forward to close the last remaining inches between our muzzles.
And at the last second, I locked. Muscles tensed; spine stiffened.
Ditzy noticed, drawing back and focusing on me. “Whooves? Are you sure you want to do this?”
Internally, I forced down the resistance... an irrationality that up until that moment I had thought had been subdued completely. No. This isn’t going to get messed up just because of some not-phobia. Still, my mind fought. This was more than a hug.
“Just do it before my heart listens to my brain.”
Her soft lips gently, testingly touched mine. My eyes opened, which till then I had been cringed shut, I realized.
Ditzy.
My Ditzy.
Walls of mental opposition fell away like reeds in front of stampede. With them went the awkward feelings, the worries, and all passage of time.
I pushed back.
Ditzy’s eyes snicked open at the change, meeting mine. Those big, round, amber eyes.
We sat, still locked in the kiss, and closed our eyes again. There was no need to break it; neither of us had anything to say.
It’s occurred to me since, that if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a touch is worth a thousand pictures.
The night wore on. At the stroke of two, I woke and found myself curled up on the couch, Ditzy sleeping soundly between my hooves. She stirred slightly, giving one of my forehooves a light squeeze with her own.
I smiled and kissed her on the brow.
As I drifted back into my pleasant dreams, a single thought stuck in my head: I’m a whole lot better off when my brain listens to my heart.
A record of events of Sunday, my fourteenth day in Ponyville, as recorded on the fifteenth.
I woke with Ditzy on top of me, my head resting on the arm of the couch. She had her forelegs wrapped around me in a tight hug. She’s fond of those.
Not having set my timer, the sun’s warming rays on my face were what had roused me. I wondered after the time, but the clock wasn’t visible from my position. It’s not important, I decided. There’s nothing else I need or want to be doing right now.
I watched her breathing for some minutes. It was so steady, so reliable, so comfy. It had almost lulled me back to sleep, before she stretched, the sun having warmed her back. She blinked, freezing momentarily upon finding herself wrapped around another pony in a strange environment. Then she looked up at my face, relaxing again as a recollection of the night before registered.
“Morning, my little mare.”
She nuzzled my chest. “...g’morning...”
Any day that begins like this has to be a good day. “Anything on the agenda for today?”
A thought seemed to come to her. “I should get back to Dinky...” She sat back on her haunches. “...after breakfast?”
I struggled to sit up as I extricated myself from under her. “Um, yeah! Sure. I’ll just get things started in the kitchen.”
I got up and started trotting that way, Ditzy getting up to follow me. Entering the room, I continued over to the fridge, but frowned when I saw its surface void of paper. I frowned.
“Hey Ditzy? I think I left the recipe on my writing desk. Could you get that? I don’t trust my amazing intellect yet.”
She nodded, giggling at my all-too-obvious sarcasm, and exited the room.
I set about busying myself by collecting ingredients (the ones I could remember anyway), pulling out pots and pans, and generally making a mess of the place. After a few minutes, something tugged at the back of my brain. More time passed, and the tug finally materialized. “What’s-”
Oh. Duh.
“Ditzy? Are you finding it okay?”
I stepped towards the doorway, “Ditzy?” An uncharacteristic draft blew in.
Turning the corner, I found my front door open, the door banging slightly against the doorstop in rhythm with the mild breeze it let through.
Peeking into the office, I found it empty. This is getting just a little too w-
Something touched my foot. I stepped back, revealing an upside-down note I had stepped on that had been lying on the floor. I nudged it over with my hoof. It was an unfinished and discarded letter that I recalled writing about a week ago... I had long since forgotten about it till now. I’ll repeat it here in case the recordings for my seventh day in Ponyville are unavailiable.
To Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, Kind and Benevolent Ruler of Equestria, From Doctor Whooves,
I regret to inform you that, do to unforeseen circumstances which caused excessive, unsustainable emotional stress, I am resigning my position in Ponyville. I have been restrained up to now, but my actions are getting too close for comfort anymore.
Apologies that this could not be a face to face conversation, but by the time it arrives I will have left; I haven’t told but one about my-
Recognising it, a question popped into my head.
Oh, this unfinished letter. But how did it get here...?
I froze in dread as I realized the implications. If she thought what I think she thought... Nonono!
I dashed to the door, looking out to both sides, and up for good measure. There was no sign of the pegasus mare. “Ponyfeathers!”
For a split second, my mind raged in internal debate. On one hoof, instinct told me to gallop after her. My strictly realistic side, however, knew that trying to explain something like this usually comes out sounding like an excuse. As frustrating as it is, it’s the truth.
But at the time, I was about as willing to listen to that as I was to a Windigo; that is to say, not at all. I tore out of the door, heading for the Doo home. Cobblestones clicked under hooves as I rushed past other ponies, earning me trailing stares. I managed to clear the gate, suddenly bracing my legs, gravel building up in small piles under my hooves as I came to an abrupt stop centimeters away from the door.
*Thump thump thump-thump-thump*
Calm, even hoofsteps reached my ears as a pony approached from the other side of the door. This seemed slightly out of place, but at the moment I was still panting like Winona after a roundup.
The door opened.
“Ditzy! I... wait. Who are you?”
The orange-maned, yellow-coated mare glared at me with green daggers for eyes, blocking the doorway. “Carrot Top. You must be Whooves then?”
I nodded.
“Don’t let the gate hit you on the way out.” She tried closing the door, but I wedged my hoof in before she could get it all the way shut. She growled at me.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, or why you’re here,” I said, “but unless I’m mistaken, Ditzy is here, correct?”
“She is,” she glowered.
“It just so happens that she’s my marefriend, and we need to talk.”
“Sorry, Sunday is jerk-free day. Go stick your head in a pickle jar.”
“What is your problem, mare?”
“Whatever you did hurt Ditzy. I’ve known her as long as she’s been in Ponyville, and that just ain’t gonna fly. And you’re definitely not getting the chance to do it again.”
The door slammed.
I blinked for a moment, trying to compute Carrot Top’s character into the equation. I glanced to the side, spotting a garden with a lot of what I guessed was carrots (I’m not particularly well versed on that area) in the yard of the house next door.
“Carrot Top?”
There was no reply, but I knew she was still behind the door by the lack of receding hoofsteps.
“Give Ditzy a hug for me.”
I waited a few seconds for a reply (which I was denied), before turning and starting the walk back to my home. Slowly.
I think the ‘∆ relationship: time’ ratio just got its largest divergence ever.
I continued to my home, where I entered through the still-open door. Walking down the hall, I passed a familiar gray stallion in one of the doorways to another room.
“Uh, Whooves?”
I stopped, thought for a moment, and backed up.
“Remember me? Lucky? Colgate’s neighbor?”
“Yes,” I said, rolling the word over slowly. Right then, I felt like if I did everything slowly, then I could keep out the change. Change is good sometimes too, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Yes, I remember you. What I’d really like to know is ‘what are you doing in my house?’”
“Well... the door was open...”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Anyway... I came by ‘cause of this.” He produced a sealed envelop.
“And this is...?”
“Oh! Um... this morning, I was on my way out, and I thought I’d call on Colgate. See if she was ready to talk yet or somthin’. I went to knock on her door, but... I found it unlatched. She wasn’t there, but this was on the table.”
“What does it say?”
“I didn’t read it! It has your name on it.”
“Oh.” I flipped it over. After retrieving my letter opener (oh, who am I kidding. I use a kitchen knife like everybody else), I sliced the top and unfolded the paper within.
Whooves,
If this letter actually makes it to you,
Thanks. You were right, I had myself in a loop. That wasn’t what I wanted. Not really.
I’m not going to do that anymore... but I don’t want to be alone again. Not that I had anypony that cared before, I just realize now that I was solo the whole time.
Somepony should tell Berry Punch to stop waiting for me on Friday nights at the Cider House.
And don’t beat yourself up, Whooves, or try to find me. To paraphrase, ‘This is my choice to make.’
-Colgate
I dropped the neatly caligrified letter that only a unicorn could write.
“Screw that!” I yelled at the note, then ran out the door. Behind me, Lucky stared after me before rushing to pick up the note and read if for himself.
I ran blindly through the streets of Ponyville, yelling between breaths. “Everypony... we need... everypony... must organize...”
It was pointless. I got a more than a few looks, and a couple questions asking if I was okay, but there was no action.
“There’s a mare missing! We need to organize a ponyhunt! I need some volunteers... for, um...” I looked around, realizing I actually had an audience. “Thunderlane, take half a dozen pegasi and do a sweep along the border of the Everfree. The ponies here will split up into groups, and we’ll chop up the town into four quadrants... make sure to tell everypony you meet along the way. The rest of the pegasi not on the Everfree border I want over fields; you can cover more ground in less time that way. Alright! Any questions?”
A hoof went up.
“Yes? What is it?” I snapped impatiently.
“What are we looking for?”
I’m such an idiot.
“Uh, a mare. Blue coat, navy blue and silver mane and tail, hourglass cutie mark-”
“Colgate?” asked another pony in the crowd. “Is this Colgate you’re talking about?”
“Uh, yes?”
There was some murmuring among the crowd. The first pony spoke up again. “Come back when you’ve checked all the bars and saltlicks in town, and don’t see her in any of them for three days.”
There were a few chuckles as the ponies dispersed. “No, wait! You don’t understand. I have a note...”
I was suddenly alone in my endeavor, as ponies went back to their previous activities. Lucky trotted up next to me, note in hoof.
“D-does this mean what I think it means?” he asked, shakily.
“Yes,” I said grimly. “But it doesn’t matter now. Nopony gives a buck.”
“You’re giving up?”
“No... but it’s not like just the two of us stand a chance at find-” A pink and yellow blur in the background caught my attention. “HEY! Fluttershy!”
The pegasus yelped at the sound of somepony yelling her name, disappearing from the stand she was at to hide in a bush. I grabbed a bit of pink tail with my teeth and drug her out.
“Futrshi!”
“W-whooves?”
I spat out her tail. “No time for questions! I need you to organize a group of pegasi–or anypony that will listen to you, actually–and start combing the area!”
“M-me do w-what? Oh, I don’t think I could. I’m not a good flier, and I don’t know that many ponies. And, um... if you don’t mind my asking, what are we looking for anyway?”
“A pony named Colgate.” Why did Fluttershy have to be weak and helpless now? It’s like I have my own personal raincloud following me. I stopped for a moment and re-thought that last part. Of course! The weather team!
“Fluttershy! Do you know where Rainbow Dash is?”
“Um... napping on a cloud, last I saw. Why?
“Go get her. Quickly. Meet us at the library!”
With that, I galloped away, leaving her in a bit of a shock–and with Lucky trying to keep up behind me.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a few stops to make.”
First up: Rarity’s Boutique. I practically knocked the hinged off the door when arrived, jumping in and waiting for the inevitable...
“Welcome to the Carous-”
“Save it, Rarity. We’ve got a life-or-death problem here. I need you at the library ASAP. Understood?”
“I-”
“See you there.” I turned and galloped out.
Rarity looked expectantly at the out-of-breath Lucky. “Uh... it’s true?” he offered, before following me.
Even my adrenaline was failing as I crashed through a the door belonging to an apparently gigantic gingerbread house. If there’s one pony that can call Ponyville together...
“Pinkie P- mmphf!”
A pink hoof clapped over my muzzle. “Sssh!”
I removed the offending appendage from my face, continuing in a more hushed conversational style. “Pinkie... why are you wearing a dia- y’know what? Nevermind. There’s been a crisis, and I need you to come with us to the library.”
“Okie dokie lokie! Oh...”
“What?”
“I’m kinda babysitting for the Cakes right now... I can’t just leave.”
“Oh. Um...” I looked around. “Lucky?”
“...huh? What?” replied the gray stallion, who had just caught up.
“You’re good with foals, right?”
“Wait, what?!”
“Come on, Pinkie!”
We made record time getting to the oversized treehouse. Twilight was waiting at the open door, keeping an eye out for us.
“Pinkie? Whooves? What’s-”
“Is Rarity here yet?” I interrupted.
“Well yes, but-”
“Stop talking. Inside. Now.”
“Oh! Oh! Is it like a secret? Is it? Huh huh huh?”
I didn’t bother telling the bubbly pink earth pony to desist; it wouldn’t work anyway.
Questions began bombarding me from the various ponies gathered there. I brushed past them, marching my way to the table which I brushed clean with a sweep of my foreleg, earning an irritated exclamation from Spike. I lept onto the surface.
“Mares, we have a situ-”
I was interrupted as the door slammed open. Lot of doors getting abused today.
Rainbow Dash fluttered in, with Fluttershy following timidly on hoof. “Ah-HAH! I knew you were involved in this, Rarity.”
Okay, now I’m confused. A look from Rarity assured me I wasn’t the only one.
“Um, Dash, I don’t think-” Fluttershy started.
Rainbow Dash pointed an accusing hoof at the near-white unicorn. “Well, you’re not getting a comb anywhere near my mane!”
Twilight looked from one of us to the next. “Uh...”
Even Pinkie had stopped talking.
“Rainbow Dash! Chill! Nopony is going to try to take your daredevil license!” I stomped in frustration. “Now could you all kindly shut up about your insignificant little daily quirks and listen for one second to something important that just might mean something?”
Well, I commanded their attention. Now all I had to do was was convinced them I hadn’t gone ‘round the bend again. I brought my voice down a bit.
“Dash, can you call in the weather team for a favor?”
“Well, yeah, but w-”
“This morning a unicorn mare went missing. It is imperative that she be found right away. Time is of the essence. I need you to get the team and any other pegasus you can to help you co- er, search the area from the air. I need you, Pinkie Pie, to see what you can do about getting the grounded ponies to help.” If she can make a town break out in spontaneous song, then maybe she can call them to action.
I turned to the two unicorns in the room. “Rarity, you have some kind of gemstone-tracking spell, right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “How did you-”
“Could you use it to track ponies?”
“Well... perhaps with a little modification...”
“See what you can do, Twilight. After that, the search parties could probably use some help with organization. I believe you have some skill in that area, yes?”
“How-”
I kicked the door open with a rear hoof. “Now, please.”
My subconscious pony knew I wasn’t going to get out of explaining this. You just blew your mission, Whooves.
I gritted my teeth as I galloped on my way, only vaguely aware of the others setting out on their parts of the plan. That doesn’t mean horseapples, I told myself. Celestia can send me to the moon if she wants, but I’m not letting this go down without a fight.
My inner doubts compromised sufficiently, I took new stock of my surroundings.
Ponyville was exploding with action. Fleets of pegasi arced over the sky, crushing any clouds in their path. Earth ponies and unicorn alike gathered around Pinkie, who was poised precariously on a flagpole with a megaphone. Ponies in the crowd below her looked at each other and talked in small groups.
Pinkie caught sight of me and gave a worried shrug. This was too close.
“Everypony!” I jumped up on a haybale. “Look. Most of you probably know me by reputation. I’ve only been in Ponyville for two weeks today; I don’t expect you to trust me.
“What I am asking is that you drop what you’re doing right now to help a pony who’s been with you a good bit longer. I haven’t had that long to get to know Colgate...”
A few eyes rolled in my audience.
“...but I ask that you help give me that time. Yeah, maybe Colgate’s not one of Ponyville’s elite. Maybe she’s not perfect. Maybe she’s not keeping up the facade like the rest of you. But she’ll put her back under the boulder to help if need be.”
I hopped down and trotted over to a magnenta pony, whose identity I had guessed by then. “Berry Punch. Who makes sure you get home on Friday nights?” Or Saturday mornings, as the case may be.
Berry Punch looked down. “Colgate...”
Pinkie leapt down from her lofty seat, landing firmly in front of an old gray pony with a bowtie. “Mr. Waddle! Who helped you with your sleep in... inse... insi...”
“Insomnia?” I suggested. She nodded.
The old stallion sighed. “Miss Colgate...”
I trotted up a ramped board to the top of an apple cart. “For Celestia’s sake, this is the pony that spent the night stalling her landlord so ponies could enjoy a party in the square! I know at least half of you were there.”
I stared them down, one at a time. None would hold my gaze. “And you wouldn’t help this unicorn mare in a time where a life is on the line, not just getting home after a party, or catching a good night’s sleep?”
Nopony was looking at me.
“Who’s with me?”
Slowly, a blue hoof and a pink hoof went up in the back. “We iz here, sir.”
Another hoof went up. And another. And another. In moments I was in a sea of raised hooves. Somewhere in the midst of the group, a burly voice bellowed out, “YEEAAH!!!”
I looked over my shoulder to see Twilight staring at Pinkie and myself, slightly slack-jawed. I stepped down, passing her. “You’re up.”
“Okay, everypony. I’ve divided Ponyville and the surrounding area into...”
Her voice faded as I got further away. I found a sturdy tree and thumped my head against it repeatedly, battling with my emotions.
“Well, this can’t be a good sign. You know things are bad when the psychologist takes it out on a tree.”
I looked up at Lyra, sniffling and wiping my muzzle with the back of my hoof.
“Oh... wow... I’m so sorry...”
“What’s going on? added Bonbon.
“Short version? I lost my marefriend and I just managed to convince Ponyville to help look for my other friend’s corpse, via blowing my mission here.”
Lyra blinked once, before pulling me into a hug. Bonbon added herself in too.
“I-it could be w-worse,” I mumbled, but I think my tears betrayed how I actually felt.
“Whooves...”
Lyra squeezed me, almost motherly, as I cried into her shoulder.
“We’re here, Whooves.”
After a long minute, I internally berated myself and dissolved the hug. “Thanks...”
“So... somepony was killed?” asked Bonbon cautiously.
“Suicide.”
The mares both gasped. “I... didn’t know that kind of thing actually happened,” commented the unicorn.
“When?” furthered Bonbon.
“Well... Lucky found her note this morning.”
“Wait,” Lyra thought out loud. “So, she could still be alright?”
“Well...”
“Don’t give up, Whooves. What can we do?”
“Um... Twilight’s organizing the search over there,” I replied, waving a hoof in the indicated direction.
“Okay. If you need anything, come find us.”
“Yeah, don’t dwell on anything,” added Lyra as they made their way toward one of the search parties.
I certainly didn’t dwell on anything. Quite the opposite; my mind wandered. Seemingly random memories–though with a noticeably darker theme–replayed themselves. My hooves took care of themselves. Over cobblestones, dirt paths, roots, mossy logs...
...wait.
I found myself a good ways down the path to the lake–the lake that Ditzy had taken me to. Deciding there wasn’t any point in doing anything else at this point, I continued towards the narrow beach, leaving the search parties behind.
The wind coming off the lake was cold.
That day with Ditzy... it had just rained, and yet it was so much warmer. It felt like that anyway. I sat and closed my eyes.
The peaceful lull of the wind in the trees, the repetitive lapping of the waves against the shore, the distinct splash of something falling into the water...
My eyes opened on instinct, as I wondered what had caused the intrusion on the cycle. There was nothing in the water that I could see, however, there did seem to be an odd lump in the middle of the lake where there should be water...
I shaded my eyes with a hoof. Oh, of course. I forgot about that flat rock out there.
Something made me re-process that. How could a flat rock be a lump? I stood up to keep the sun’s reflection out of my eyes. Are those... saddlebags?
Oh No.
I threw myself into the lake, spray from my hooves blinding me until I was deep enough that I had to swim.
I never had the chance to do much swimming in Canterlot, but that hardly mattered now. I shoved every ounce of willpower I had into each hoof, pumping like there was a pack of timberwolves behind me.
“Colgate!” I managed to sputter between the waves that battered my face.
My front hooves touched rock, and with a powerful kick from my rear legs, I shoved myself onto its surface.
Sure enough, they were her saddlebags. I trotted to the edge that the gear was sitting on, and dove in.
Looking through the water was like trying to look through a green curtain. The only sense of direction I had was through the temperature; it got noticeably cooler by the meter. Suddenly, in the haze ahead of me, I spotted a streak of a lighter color–the silvery streak of Colgate’s mane!
With the necessity for me to keep my mouth closed underwater (and hence any chance of hauling her out by her tail terminated), I had to come close enough to wrap my forelegs around her torso, leaving me with only their rear counterparts to act as lift.
And Colgate wasn’t helping any. She was as limp as a ragdoll.
For what felt like minutes (but I was told later that it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds), I strained in an effort to make headway, but to no avail.
I could feel the oxygen depleting from my lungs by the second. My kicks became less frequent, less powerful.
Not. Giving. Up.
But as much as determination may help, it doesn’t alter physics. I am happy to report, however, that a change in physics will change determination.
A pair of gray hooves wrapped around me. Spurred on by the salvation, my hooves found the energy to kick again.
The three of us rose, gaining more speed as we approached the surface, until we broke free in a shower of silver droplets. I caught the edge of the rock with one hoof, taking a moment just to bring my breathing back to a stable level. Looking over, my eyes fell upon Lucky, who wordlessly nodded greeting.
With a grunt, we hauled the unconscious unicorn and ourselves onto the hard surface. Lucky lay panting, while I tried to reconcile a series of coughs that had taken me. I poked Colgate tentatively with a hoof.
“Colgate?”
“Is she gonna be okay?”
I moved my hoof up under her chin, and waited for a moment.
“There’s still a pulse... but a weak one. We need-” Another coughing fit overtook me.
“...help,” finished Lucky, pointing to the air.
I looked dizzily up from the splatter of blood I had just produced, to see pegasi descending down toward us.
Right about then was a convenient time to pass out, so I did.
Later, I woke with a very bright light in my face. One of the top ten worst things to wake up to.
The light suddenly clicked off, revealing the white face and pink mane of a nurse.
“Doctor Whooves? Nod if you can hear me, Whooves.”
I managed a weak nod. The nurse turned to somepony outside my field of vision. “He’ll be okay. Let him get rest, maybe get some soup, and don’t let him overexert himself again.”
I braced my forehooves against the padded surface I was on, giving a push to sit up.
“Easy there,” said a masculine voice, which I recognized as belonging to Lucky. I blinked, trying to clear the afterimage on my retina left from the nurse’s penlight. I found myself in a sparkling clean examination room with tile floors and walls, with a reflective metal waistcoat around the edge. I shielded my eyes from the bright (but empty) lightbox used for x-ray viewing.
“Colgate?” I asked, discovering my throat was raspy.
“Doctor Flat Line is with the unicorn right now,” she replied.
I looked from Lucky to the nurse, the only other pony in the room. “And that would make you...?”
“Nurse Redheart.”
“Pleasure. I’m Whooves. Doctor Whooves.”
“‘Doctor...?”
“Shrink.”
“Ah... well, I guess we have you to thank that the unicorn made it this far.”
I chuckled weakly. “I was just weighing him down, actually,” I answered, gesturing toward Lucky.
“Never woulda found her without you.”
I shrugged it off, before trying to slide off the examination table. Both of the room’s occupants jumped to each side to steady me.
“Guys, I’m okay. Seriously, you act like I’m an old mare with a pulled tendon.”
They both slowly retreated, still at the ready should I prove unstable. I shook my head (which turned out to be a mistake; I discovered that I had something of a migraine) and walked to the door, pushing it open with a hoof. “Satisfied?”
They followed me down the hallway, stepping past the intermittent potted plants, down to the waiting room. I smiled when I saw Lyra and Bonbon among the various ponies there, both of whom stood upon seeing me enter.
Redheart looked at the clock on the wall. “Well, I have to get back to my rounds. If you start coughing up blood again, get back here immediately.”
Lyra and Bonbon watched her leave with wide eyes.
“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.”
“The hay it’s not! What happened out there?” demanded Lyra.
“I just... I’m not used to that much physical-” Lucky held up a hoof, cutting me off. “He almost drowned.”
“Wha- well that was a foalish thing to do!”
I grinned sheepishly. “What, no hug?”
“After being an idiot like that? I should think not!”
“Oh, don’t listen to her. She always gets like that when she’s worried,” assured Bonbon, stepping forward and wrapping her forehooves around my neck.
Lucky embraced me from the other side, followed by a still-griping Lyra, till we had a small huddle. We stayed like that for a few seconds, till I felt a hoof on my back. Turning my head, I found Pinkie joining in too, adding a second layer. One by one, the other ponies standing around awkwardly trying to ignore the hug broke down and joined it. In three minutes time, everypony had added up, a total reaching well over fifteen ponies in all.
The sound of the rubber flaps on the door leading to the ER section caused everypony’s head to turn towards said doorway. The unicorn doctor with his stethoscope cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Miss Colgate is still unconscious at the moment. She won’t be able to see visitors for a while, so if everypony here concerned for her could come back tomorrow or the next day, it would be very much appreciated. Thank you for your patience.”
Ponies began dispersing. I kept my eye on the doctor, noticing him turn to a somewhat portly but kind-faced earth pony nurse, talking in low tones. I looked to my side and saw Lucky also staring intently at them.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Lucky looked at me, blinked, and grabbing a hoof, started dragging me toward them. “Ow, hey!”
“Hey, Doc,” Lucky called out on our approach.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, actually I think you can.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, it would be a good start if you’d tell us what’s actually going on,” Lucky stated, matter-of-factly.
“I just told everyone, she’s-”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Doesn’t take a mind reader to notice you didn’t go to mentioning why, though.” Lucky looked at the pink-coated nurse. “Come on, he deserves it. This is the pony that saved her life!”
Flat Line looked me up and down, as though he didn’t believe my verbally blunt companion. “And what about you?”
“I... saved his life. Kinda at the same time. Anyway, that’s not important. But we need to know what’s going on if there’s something you’re not telling us.”
The coat-wearing doctor hesitated for a second, before sighing. “Very well. But it would probably be best if this was kept to ponies we can trust not to panic or worry themselves. You understand, don’t you Whooves?”
I nodded. “We’re not going to tell anypony that can’t handle it, right Lucky?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Would you spit it out already?”
Glancing around, Flat Line lowered his voice. “Colgate appears to have used a knock-out spell on herself–one I actually keep around in case of an emergency, for anesthesia. We’re still not sure how she got her hooves on it. Anyway, she used a bit more energy than is recommended... probably didn’t care much, seeing as how she was using it effectively dr-”
“Cut to the chase, doc,” interrupted the impatient Lucky.
The medical doctor closed his eyes. “Colgate is in a coma.”
I sat down. “Be straight with me, as a doctor to doctor. What’s it look like right now?”
“Honestly, I’d tell you if I knew. As it is, I can only see the effects the spell had on her. Without more information, I won’t know if she bypassed the safeguard or not, or exactly how much energy she used.”
There goes tonight’s sleep.
“Okay. Thanks anyway, doc.”
Most of the ponies had left by then. Among the remaining were Lyra and Bonbon, waiting for us.
“Hey, what’s up?” Lyra asked.
“I’m... going to be staying overnight.”
Even Lucky looked at me. “You sure, bro? Want me to bring back my sleeping bag or something?”
I shook my head. “Naw, I don’t think I’ll be doing much of that.”
We shared hugs again, before Lyra and Bonbon headed back to their home, and Lucky back to his apartment. The last one out, Lyra stopped at the door.
“Oh, and Whooves?”
I looked up.
“Thanks for the bubble bath.” She winked.
That of all things drew a chuckle out of me. “Don’t mention it.”
“Take care.”
I watched them disappear into the night through the windows. I continued staring at a streetlight outside, until the squeak of a wheel distracted me. I turned to see an oatmeal-colored mare drearily pushing a cart with emptied food trays stacked on it.
My stomach gave my brain an angry kick. “Excuse me, miss? You wouldn’t happen to have any leftovers would you?”
Twenty minutes later, I pushed a scraped clean platter of my own away. Yup, still tastes like rotten compost no matter how hungry you are.
I looked around, searching for something to occupy my overactive mind. I sorted through a stack of magazines, but didn’t find anything even close to journal level. One of the slippery covered monthly issues slid off the stack I had taken to alphabetizing. Ah shoot...
I reached for the magazine I had unwittingly dropped into an unobtrusive basket, pausing when I felt something a bit more substantial in the basket. I pulled out a hardcover copy of the first in the Daring Do series. Fiction eh? I guess it’s not that far off from the rest those magazines, and much more enjoyable besides.
I kicked up my hooves on a coffee table and settled in for a long night.
A single hair was telekinetically yanked out of my coat, causing me to yelp and start upright. “Hey...”
I blinked like an owl, taking in my surroundings. “How did I...” It came back. “Aw buck!”
I didn’t just say that in front of... “Uh, hehe, sorry Miss Sparkle.”
The Bearer of the Element of Magic looked at me, unimpressed. She levitated a plain box onto the coffee table. “I brought you some breakfast.”
I peeked out the windows. The sun had only just started edging over the horizon.
“Bit early for a bookworm, isn’t it?”
“Yes, well, I have some questions that I needed answered.”
The sound of the door into the waiting room closing caused both Twilight and myself to look over to see Rarity entering. “What a coincidence. Me too.”
I dropped my head. “Ugh, fine. But first...” My hoof went up pointedly. “Coffee. Or some semblance thereof.”
Rarity furrowed her brow. “Well, I suppose I could run back to-”
She was cut off as Twilight groaned in exasperation. Her horn glowed for an instant, summoning a steaming-hot coffee-filled styrofoam cup into existence with a white flash.
“...how convenient,” I mused.
“Is it fitting for his majesty?” she asked, sarcastically.
“Oh yes, it’s quite good.”
“Are you comfortable? Would you like a cushion?”
I set the beverage down. “Okay, shoot. What’s got your mane in a knot?”
“Yesterday... at the library?”
“Yes, I remember.” Here it comes...
“How did you know about my talent in organization?”
Oh. That’s it? I can still talk my way out of this clean! “Winter wrap-up. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, and? How did you know about it?”
“Well I ought to. I was here for it.”
“Oooh,” she said rather ungracefully, staring into the distance.
“Did you have any questions that were actually worth waking me up at this hour for?” I was really surprised–thankful, but surprised–that I had actually managed to fall asleep.
“How about explaining how you know about my gem-spell? I don’t recall you being around to help with that.”
“Uh... why, don’t you remember? You told me about it.”
Rarity cocked an eyebrow.
“In that conversation we had?” I tried to wink without it being blatantly obvious to Twilight. She’s just an egghead though, right?
“Oh... yes,” she resigned, giving me a ‘this isn’t over’ look.
“So, we all good?”
“I... guess. I feel kind of stupid for making this up to be such a big deal,” replied Twilight, apologetically.
“Y’know, if you wanted to make it up to me, you could always...”
“Yes?”
“...never do it again.”
Twilight’s ears went flat against her skull. “Oh very funny.”
“I thought so.”
Rarity continued to scrutinize me as I sipped my coffee in silence.
“So, any word from Doctor Flat Line?” inquired Twilight after a moment.
“That’s a negative.” I kicked my rear hooves up. “Look, Miss Sparkle-”
“Why are you calling me that today? You know you can call me ‘Twilight’ like everypony else, right?”
“Well... I guess yesterday I didn’t have time for the formalities. Anyway, I was saying; don’t feel like you have to hang around. I know you didn’t know Colgate particularly well, so-”
“Whooves, a pony almost died! You almost died.”
I was really getting tired of being interrupted by that time. She did have a good point, though. I don’t even know if there is a documented case of death in Ponyville by anything other than ‘natural causes.’
“Fine. Your choice. Just sayin’.”
At that moment, the rubber-flapped doors swung open, revealing a bedraggled Redheart. Yowzer, she probably slept less than I did, I thought, standing.
“Oh, hello,” she said, obviously not expecting anyone in the waiting room at that hour.
“What’s going on?” the three of us chorused.
“I’m actually heading home from the night shift to catch some shut eye–it was a long night. Right now, her vitals are stable at least–looks like she’ll avoid a long coma. Still no sign of exactly when she’ll regain consciousness though.”
“I see.” I sank back down. I wasn’t sure what else I was expecting, but now there was just more waiting.
“We’ve moved her to a regular room... you could hang out in there if you’d rather. The chairs there are more comfortable I think.”
“What room?”
“213.”
I bolted for the stairwell. “Sleep well! Luna bless!” I yelled over my shoulder.
There’s only two floors in the hospital, so it was impossible to not be able to find the room, and hardly enough to cause labored respiration.
213 was a corner room, making it one of the few single-bed ones. All the curtains were closed, making the windows only identifiable by the glowing outlines they cast. Colgate herself was on her side, covered with blankets and hooked up to several monitoring devices that beeped annoyingly frequently. If not for her pale appearance, she might have been sleeping.
You stupid mare... you may be an idiot, but we still want you. I sat down with a thump by the side of the bed.
Come back...
“Ah! You’re here. How convenient.”
I whirled around, looking for the source of the untimely interruption. The unfortunate recipient of my glare was none other than Flat Line.
“Can I help you, Flat?”
“Call me Line. Doctor Line.”
I spaced out for a moment. Ouch, that’s so... me.
“...but as a matter of fact, your qualifications could help me out a bit here. Just your signature here,” he said, extending a clipboard. “Paperwork. You know how it is.”
I snagged the clipboard from him, flipping back a few pages. Yes, there’s a lot of paperwork and signatures mixed in with the medical community, but if there’s one thing I know from my limited contact with it, it’s that those actually mean things, even when there’s so many of them.
My bad mood from being interrupted only swelled as I flicked through page after page. “Is this... a certificate for the involuntary restraint of Colgate?” My teeth were almost grinding on each other.
“Yes... but I need a psychologist’s signature on the last page and,” he paused, reaching over to flick a few pages, “here on the third line.”
“Can I see the equipment? You know it takes special steps to restrict unicorns, right?”
“Of course,” he sniffed. “Everything’s by the book here.”
I felt another painfully familiar sensation wash over me. We would’ve gotten along perfectly a month ago, I realized.
By then, Flat Line had gotten the restraints from one of the staff and was lifting them out of their sealed medical package. A series of thick, bleach-white nylon straps floated out, followed by a ring made of some kind of engraved, yellow-toned metal, large enough around to fit a unicorn’s horn and maybe twice as tall as it was wide.
“This is it?” I asked, indicating toward the aforementioned ring.
“Yes... treated with a spell to inhibit any magic coming off the horn it comes in contact with. Why? I thought you’d be familiar with these.”
“Oh, I am. Just wanted to be sure.” I reached out with my hoof and flicked the ring out of Flat Line’s levitation cloud and onto his horn. He gasped for a moment, pupils shrinking to the size of a piece of eight, before his magic aurora flickered like a radio’s tune with bad reception, dissipating completely in an instant or two. The straps came tumbling to the floor.
Flat Line was visibly sweating, legs starting to loose their stability. With a firm hoof on his chest, I backed the helpless doctor into the hall.
“It’s ponies like you-” and me “- that cause this stuff to happen. Here’s a lesson from the future you: take a friend over a rulebook, every time.” I looked over to see the same freckled pink nurse from the night before, staring in shock at me and Flat Line, whom I had managed to push against the opposite wall.
“Miss, could you do me a favor and get a EMI-096 Patient Transfer Form? That is, unless Flat here has any objections.” Dumbfounded, the mare looked to Flat Line, who eagerly nodded. “No, seriously, Flat Line,” I said, taking my hoof off his chest. “Your approval would make this a lot easier. And by approval, I mean voluntary approval.”
Flat Line looked at me like I was crazy. I don’t blame him, honestly, but it’s still not the best kind of looks to be getting.
“Colgate’s out of danger from the effects of the spell now, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have moved her here. So now she’s my specialty. Think about what’s best for the patient.
Flat Line blinked. “You just restricted me involuntarily and shoved me into a wall, and now you expect me to give you-”
“Yes. Yes I do. And you’re going to too, because you don’t have a single legit reason, by your books, not to transfer custody to a more qualified individual.”
I hated to play off the cold, by-the-book logic side of him, but I knew it would have worked on me.
He stared at me for a bit, but gave in after a few seconds. “Okay, fine. But if you screw anything up, the EMI will be hearing about it! This is still my hospital.”
And for those of you not familiar with medical terms, EMI stands for Equestrian Medical Institute.
The nurse scurried off down the hall after the requested form. I reached up and removed the magic-inhibiting ring from Flat Line’s horn. He looked at me in surprise.
“This might be a foreign concept to you, but seeing as how we’re going to be in each other’s proximity for a while, we might as well start on the whole trust thing now.”
I could see the gears in his mind trying to fit my behavior into his existing schemas.
“Trust... riiight.”
At that moment, the door from the stairwell burst open, a brown stallion with a cropped, light-colored mane busting in. By his uniform and belt, I guessed he was some kind of security.
“Freeze!”
Wow, I’m good.
“It’s alright. Nopony’s a threat here,” said Flat Line, slowing the guard’s advance. “And you can come out from the stairwell now, miss.”
The nurse’s pink head slowly extended out.
“Did you get the form?”
“You still want to give him custody?”
“Of course. It would be impolite to not return some of his trust,” he said, disdain dripping off the words like condensation from a bottle of sarsaparilla. He pushed his spectacles farther up on his snout. “Besides, after we sign the crazy fillyfooler off, she’s his problem.”
Ah, the truth. So bittersweet.
The nurse produced the requested sheet, keeping a wary eye on me. Flat Line looked it over briefly before deftly filling it out. That completed, he hoofed it to me. “I know you’re going to read it anyway, so I won’t bothering pointing out where to sign.”
He pushed me the form, which I looked over, beginning to fill out my section. It took a bit longer, what with not having magic at my convenience. I signed the last line with a flourish, right as a strange sound...
...Oh! Been a while since I heard a doorbell...
No, that doesn’t make sense either. The sound of elevator doors sliding open finally put the pieces together. I looked back at the two unicorn Bearers, who were exiting the elevator.
“Wow, Whooves, you can really move when...” Twilight trailed off upon seeing the strange scene that had unfolded in the hallway; Flat Line, covered in tangled straps, a confused security guard, the terrified look on the nurse’s face, and myself... well, in context of everypony else, acting normal was weird I suppose.
“Um... am I missing something?”
Rarity’s expression bore the same sentiment.
“Nope!” I replied cheerfully, lifting my hoof from the paper, letting it snap back to its natural scroll form. I tossed it to the nurse.
“I guess I’m done here,” commented Flat Line. He walked into the waiting elevator, the other employees of the hospital following him in. “Good day, doctor.”
The door slid shut.
“Should I be concerned about any of that?” asked Twilight, not convinced.
“Yes,” added Rarity. “Specifically the reasons behind the presence of the security and the indent in the wall?”
“Yeah, well, just for future reference, never try to make friends with somepony that’s too much like you. It’s really annoying, trust me.” Past or present.
“Okaaay...” wondered Twilight out loud, not sure what to make of my seemingly random comment.
Rarity peeked into Colgate’s room. “Gosh, she’s so pale...”
“Flat Line seems to think she’s past danger of slipping back. It’s just a matter of when she wakes up now... and her mental state when she does.”
“Well, that’s good news at least,” interjected Twilight.
“Whooves,” wondered Rarity, “you don’t think she’d... try it again, do you?”
“...I hope not.” Internally, I knew the real answer to that question probably was going to have a lot to do with what I said when she did come to.
“What now?”
“Well, I intend on being here when she wakes up. So I guess you know where to find me till that happens.”
“But it could still be hours yet! Days even!” protested Rarity.
“It’ll be what it will be. I appreciate the support, but I don’t need any pity. It’s my responsibility, both as a psychologist, and as the cause... partially, leastways.”
“Care to expound on that last part?” injected Twilight, adopting a more serious tone I haven’t heard her use as often, except in the more serious circumstances.
“Sorry, but no. It’s something she should have the decision to spread around if she wants, not me.”
Twilight and Rarity looked at each other.
“Whooves, we know we’re not going to talk you out of this...” started the white mare.
“...but you really need to get a grasp on things. Go home, take a shower...” continued her friend. I wondered if the last part was said for any particular reason.
“...get some supplies, anything you might need for the next few days, then come back. Don’t worry, we’ll be here the whole time.”
I turned it over in my mind. They were right, of course. I didn’t have so much as a blanket. “You’ll come get me if she wakes up?”
Twilight nodded. “Of course.”
“...okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I trotted toward the stairwell, slowing after entering to catch a tail of their conversation.
“...have you noticed he seems prone to obsessive tendencies?”
“Yes, from the moment I met him. Of course, it can prove helpful in certain situations.”
“For his own benefit, I hope he falls asleep in the shower.”
I moved on. Didn’t want to have that nagging feeling of guilt for eavesdropping on my conscience. Besides, it’s probably better that I don’t know what they think of me.
Outside, the sun hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn’t expected it to be that high already. My hooves pounded faster as I picked up the pace.
Turning the corner of my street, I trotted up to my door, fumbling for a second with the keys.
“W-whooves!”
I was tackled from behind with enough force to send both me and my attacker through the door, landing yet another dent in my drywall on the inside. Coughing, I waved the dust out of the air as I emerged from the pile of debris.
A sudden yank on my tail pulled me the rest of the way out. I regained my standing, turning to discover the identity of my attacker and/or rescuer.
“Ditzy?” I didn’t really know what emotion I was supposed to be feeling at the moment. I needn’t have worried, however. Ditzy had enough for the both of us.
“Whooves!” She hugged me tightly, but released as quickly as she had initiated it. “I... I’m s-sorry! I found the n-note, and I left... I’m so sorry... y-you didn’t want to be with me, and w-were going to l-leave. They said...” She sniffed for the eighth time. Her voice was cracked, and her eyes red from what must have been hours of crying. “...s-said...”
I pulled her into a hug, resting her head on my shoulder. She broke, unrestricted sobs wracking her body, causing it to shudder spasmodically.
“T-they... they said somepony had c-committed sui- suicide... said y-you had drowned! ...that you w-were dead...”
I stroked her mane. “Ssh...”
Tears soaked my coat.
“...a-and I knew it was bec-” She nearly choked on her emotions. “...because of me!”
Her body shook in my embrace as a new onslaught of grief overtook her.
“Now listen, you stop this nons-” I started, but was cut off.
“W-whoofs...” her voice was distorted through my coat, besides the fact that she was biting her lip. “...I’m n-never leaving. Never a-again. I’m here, for... for you, f-forever. Can y-you... forgive... me?”
A drop of red joined the clear.
With my hooves on her shoulders, I gently pushed her out of the hug, giving me room to look into her eyes. Those big, crossed, watery, amber eyes.
“No, Ditzy. No I can’t.”
A breath involuntarily escaped her. Her eyes closed.
“How could I, when you haven’t wronged me? Ditzy, look at me.”
She did.
“There’s nothing for me to forgive.” With that, I wrapped my forelegs around her, bringing her in for an enveloping kiss... encompassing, but not forced.
I could feel her hyperventilating chest against mine begin to slow with the passage of time. She needily returned the hug-like gesture, pulling her tighter into the intimate muzzle contact.
After several moments we mutually broke it, instead tilting our heads down, brows touching.
“Thank you...” she murmured.
“Ssh...”
“Sorry I...” she pulled back. “...got you all wet.” She sniffed, wiping her muzzle.
“You okay?” I asked, noticing the red bead coming from her lower lip.
“I am now... now that you’re here.” She managed a weak smile.
I put a foreleg around her. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”
A few minutes later, I was drying myself off with a towel... or rather, re-drying. Ditzy started to apologize again for shaking herself–a method which I had just learned was somewhat common among pegasi.
“Hush now, love,” I admonished.
She followed me into the kitchen, where I quickly began collecting quick, convenient foodstuffs into a basket.
“Um... what are you doing?” asked Ditzy from the doorway.
“The unfortunate truth is that somepony did attempt to end their own life yesterday. She’s recovering, but I need to be there when she wakes up... which might be a while.
“That’s horrible... why would anypony try that?”
I looked at her.
“Oh... did she love somepony?”
“That’s the problem. She’s laid many, but loved few, if any.” I moved to the next room, grabbing some covers and a favorite pillow. “And I’m responsible for making her see that.”
“Can you help her?”
“I don’t know.”
I paused in front of my phonograph. It’s heavy, but it sure would be nice... I added it to my paraphernalia.
“I... I’ll stay with you too.”
Shoulda seen that coming. “How’s Dinky doing?”
A pang of guilt tripped across her face. “Oh, yeah.”
I had my gear packed up into my saddlebags, waiting by the door.
“When will I see you again?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find you. Besides, we have the rest of our lives.”
“...it won’t be enough.”
I smiled encouragingly, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Just remember not to think too much.”
Turning, I galloped towards Ponyville’s hospital. I knew the route pretty well by now, making good time into the building and up to room 213.
As I trotted down the hall, a raised voiced surprised me, my ears pricking up. Suddenly, as I approached the room, Lucky burst out into the hall, hooves scraping desperately to get a grip. Seeing me, he jumped to put me between himself and the door.
“Doc! Help me! She’s crazy! And she just won’t shut up!”
“Colgate’s awake?” I asked, startled.
“No, not her. The other unicorn! The purple one!”
“Wait, are you talking about-”
Twilight jumped out of the room, clipboard and a plethora of scrolls and quills floating around her in her halo of magic. “Wait, Lucky, I still have 312 pages of... uh, hi there, Whooves.”
She adopted a grin, that–for lack of a proper descriptive term–resembled the look a Cheshire cat has when it’s hiding something.
“-Twilight?”
“I was just asking a few... um... questions...” She looked at the ceiling, down the hall, at the carpet... at anything except me. “Rarity had to leave, had a... thing, at the... place. Y’know how it is... fashion calls.”
I raised an eyebrow at the lavender mare and her lists. “I understand. In fact, now that Lucky’s here, we can keep an eye on Colgate. I’m sure you have things to take care of back at the library.”
“Oh... okay, sure.”
I watched her telekinetically carry her belongings into the elevator. I smiled and waved. “Thanks again, Twilight.”
The doors slid closed with a ding. I turned into the room, Lucky following on my tail.
“Aren’t you even worried? Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes to both of those. But I’m not going to try to fix her on the basis of a conversation that occurred between you and her, specifically one that I didn’t hear.” I bent down next to Colgate, looking for signs of change. “That would have been one I would have definitely liked to listen in on, though.”
“No, trust me, you wouldn’t have. She asked a billion questions... and all about-”
“Romance. Or dating and related areas, anyway.”
Lucky nodded slowly. “How’d...?”
“Before all of... this,” I said, gesturing widely to the whole Colgate situation, “We had an interview scheduled on the subject for today. It’s her latest study subject.”
“Yeah... she’s still deciding if it’s a subordinate of friendship or a parallel priority. Whatever that means.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll nail her down eventually.”
“You’re going to what?”
“It means... ugh, nevermind.”
Silence dominated for a few seconds as I sat down, still looking at Colgate. I felt over-protective. Looking to the side, I saw Lucky watching her as well.
“Hey,” I started. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“No, thank you for saving hers.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” I said, tapping my chin thoughtfully, “weren’t you supposed to be at Sugarcube Corner?”
“What? Not that I knew of.”
“What do you mean? I told you when we were right there!”
“...all I recall was you saying something completely random... something about me being good with foals.”
I smacked my face with my hoof. “You were supposed to stay and watch the Cakes’ foals! Although, looking back, I can see how that might not be the message that got conveyed.”
“Ya think?”
I leaned back in my chair, only to receive a sharp complaint from my stomach. Darn it, I always forget about food under such circumstances. “Hey, want some granola bars?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
I tossed him one. He took a bite before spewing it across the room as the clock struck on the hour. Looking down at my own bar, I thought, I didn’t think they were that past date.
“Sorry, I’m gonna have to get a rain check,” he said, standing. “Gonna be late for work.”
“Oh, of course. Out of curiousity, what do you do?”
“I, uh...” He thought for a moment. “Gotta run!”
He disappeared out the door. Strange...
I looked up to see what hour the clock had struck. Seven o’clock. No wonder, then. Hay, it’s almost-
Hooves approaching the door, followed by a white head and pink mane signaled the arrival of Redheart.
-time for the night shift.
“Doctor Whooves.”
“Nurse Redheart.”
“So... I heard there was a bit of a showdown with Flat Line?”
“Not so much... I just managed to get him to sign over custody.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I heard somepony got ringed.”
“‘Ringed’?”
“Y’know... magically inhibited.”
“Oh, yes. There was that.”
“All turned out for the better?”
“So far.”
Redheart went over to one of the machines, switching out an IV. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. He’s needed something like that for a while. I just... never could give it to him. Guess I never had enough ‘devil-may-care’ in me for it.”
I had never really thought of myself that way. In fact, I always considered myself somewhat conservative in that respect. “Well, actually, as a nurse, it would be kind of stupid to do that. Unless you’re looking for a different area of work...”
She half chuckled. “Not so much that, but... well, there’s a reason I volunteered for the night shift.” She closed a panel on the machine, work apparently finished.
“Well then, thanks for giving it to him. Watch your back.”
“You too.”
She left.
And here I was, in a dark room with nothing but a granola bar, an array of make-shift bedding, and my phonograph.
Time to make use of that thing... I hope I brought enough disks to cover these last few days.
...Which, obviously I did.
That should cover it for the last couple of days. I shan’t bother to actually count.
And now I need to catch some serious sleep. If ‘serious’ is a healthy kind.
Today began early. At the hoof of a unicorn. I’m not liking this trend.
The sun wasn’t up yet when I heard it first. It was so quiet, I had trouble placing it right away. I sat up, squinting in the darkness, listening intently.
There it was. A whimper.
I made my way hurriedly to the hospital bed, feeling my way as best I could; with only the light from the screens of the various technological devices around, I managed to trip myself up a half dozen times.
I crawled gently onto the side of the bed, placing a hoof lightly on Colgate, who had escalated to a steady sobbing.
“Colgate...”
There was a rapid shuffling of bedsheets as she struggled to sit up in the dark. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
“It’s okay, Colgate. It’s me, Whooves.”
There was silence for a few seconds, before she answered. “I... I don’t understand. Why would you be dead too?”
“Uh... I’m not. You’re not either, if that’s what you were thinking.”
There was more frantic shuffling, and the sound of something falling and shattering. Suddenly a bright (or seemingly so, at the time) light came on, causing me to hold up my hoof to shield my eyes temporarily till my eyes adjusted. I blinked for good measure, finally able to look up again.
Colgate was poised over the edge of the bed, having felt over the surface of the bedstand and turned on the lamp. She remained frozen, staring at me.
Not sure what else to say, I coughed awkwardly and asked, “Feeling alright? Nauseous? Dizzy?”
Her head snapped from position to position as she looked around the room, taking in where she was.
I watched her closely.
Unexpectedly, she suddenly launched herself at me, cords and monitors popping free as she wrapped her forelegs around my waist.
“I take it back! P-please don’t go anywhere! I’m-”
I returned the hug, massaging her back. “Relax. We have all night, or what’s left of it. Actually, scratch that. We have as long as you need.”
She released me. “Thanks, I... I, uh... um...” She scratched the back of her head. “Awkward... sorry. I know you’re with Der- eh, Ditzy, and I should’ve known better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a hug. Friends hug all the time.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. I guess I kinda assumed you knew that... you’ve had a lot of friends, right?”
“Sorta... but I ended up dating most of them.” She sank back into the bed covers.
“Oh.”
Colgate stared at a stray fraying thread on a sheet.
“Whooves?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t want to do it. When it came down to it, I really didn’t want to.”
“So why did you?”
She sighed. “I couldn’t come up with a reason not to.”
“...and now?”
“Remember a little word you said a second ago? Six letters, started with an ‘F’?”
“Friend?”
“Yeah, that. Sitting here, in the dark and in what I thought was total, eternal solitude, I realized life isn’t just about having... fun. Friends are worth working for. Worth living for.”
“So... friends?”
“Yeah... I’d like that. Maybe you can stop by and visit if you’re ever in the city.”
“Wait, what?” The thought and words formed in my mind and mouth simultaneously.
Colgate looked markedly away. “After pulling a stunt like I did, do you really expect Ponyville to take me back just like that? Sure, they’d let me stay... but come on, I’m not just going to be able to go back to everyday life without... the stares.”
I bit my lip, realizing she was right. “Don’t worry about that right now. It’ll work itself out. Life is funny that way.”
Hoofsteps in the hall approached rapidly. An out-of-breath Redheart thundered in. She looked first at Colgate, then down at a dangling monitor cord, wiping her brow in relief.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Um, no. Probably not.” She held up the disconnected sensor. “See, this one sends vitals information to the hub, so we know if one of our patients is in trouble, even if we aren’t in the room.”
“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” apologized Colgate.
“It’s alright... I’m just glad to see you conscious. Although, if you don’t mind, I’d like to run a few things just to be safe.”
“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”
Redheart nodded and wrapped a velcro strap around one of the unicorn’s forelegs.
“Hey! It’s shrinking!”
“Yes. It needs to contract to get an accurate reading.”
“Oh.”
In a few minutes, the nurse had completed a few basic tests and headed out of the room. “I can’t give you a clean bill of medical health until Flat Line signs it, but I think you’re just fine.”
“Sign what?” asked the brown maned unicorn stallion, stepping into the room. He trotted over to the east-side window, pulling up the blinds to reveal the newly emerged sun.
“Oh! Good morning, doctor! I just gave this patient an examination. She appears to be healthy.
“Excellent!” He picked up the papers Redheart had presented. “However, I can’t approve this yet.”
All eyes in the room went to him. “Why not?”
“There’s still that issue of security! For all we know we could be letting a potential thief walk out the door.”
“My patient. My responsibility. Get out.” I interjected. This was about the worst possible thing he could be saying right now.
Colgate chuckled, much to my surprise. But I was too busy glaring at Flat Line to take notice. “Doc?”
“Yes?” replied both of the said professions in the room at the same time. We returned to glaring at each other.
“Do you really think it was that hard to come up with a spell for knocking myself out, my line of work and everything considered?”
Flat Line blinked a few times. “Uhh... I, uh...”
I hoofed him a pen. Grumbling, he scribbled his signature quickly across it with a flourish of magic. “Get her out of my hospital.”
The unicorn doctor stalked out of the room.
“I’m so sorry... he has a tendency towards being brash. I apologize for his behavior.”
Colgate stepped tentatively out of bed. Satisfied, she began picking up some of my belongings, testing her magic. I leaned over towards Redheart.
“Why do you stay here? Why put up with that?”
She looked back at the door. “It’s my place in life to heal ponies. This is where I should be.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A little over a year now.”
“Anypony ever tell you you don’t stick with things?”
A confused look crossed her face. “Um... no, not really.”
“Good, because they’d be liars if they did.”
“Thanks, Whooves,” she replied, making her exit out the door.
“And Redheart?”
She stopped and looked back.
“If anything like... um...” I looked over my shoulder at Colgate, who was trying to get a stray piece of tape out of her coat. “Anything like this ever happens again, don’t be afraid to get me. I’d rather not have Flat Line dealing with it.”
She nodded and left. Trotting back to the remaining mare in the room, I asked, “Feeling alright?”
She nodded. “So am I free to leave?”
“Um, yeah. Clinically speaking, that is...” I stumbled over the words, trying to come up with a light way to bring up. “But, uh... if you wouldn’t mind-”
“Maybe you’d like to walk me home?”
I smiled gratefully, grabbing my saddlebags and adding the phonograph to them. Colgate led the way, only to yelp and jerk back suddenly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I stepped on the bucking glass,” she whimpered, holding the offending hoof off the floor.
“I’ll get Redheart.”
“No, it’s not so bad. Besides, I wouldn’t want to have to check in again. I have bandages at home too, y’know.”
“...if you’re sure,” I replied hesitantly.
She was adamant and practically dragged me to the door and out into the morning air. Ponies were already moving about, back to their daily routines. Colgate closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before beginning to trot energetically.
“You really can’t sit still, can you?” I chuckled.
“Welllll... there’s a difference between being able to and wanting to. It’d be safe to throw me into the first category.”
“Understatement of the year.”
“Hey! I do mellow out. Usually when I’m thinking more than normal.”
“How... interesting.”
“...which is why it’s a good that I remembered this!”
“Remembered what?”
“To ask you how you found me?”
“Well, after Lucky brought your note...”
“Wait, you saw my note?”
“Yes. Lucky found it and brought it right away.”
“Oh.” She slowed for a moment, putting a hoof to her chin. “I really wasn’t expecting anypony to find that for days or weeks.”
“Lucky you have concerned neighbors. No pun intended.”
We walked in silence for a while.
“You’re an idiot, you know.”
“Beg pardon?”
“For trying to come find me.”
“You’re a bigger idiot if you thought that anything you could put on there would stop me.”
“Well... true. But I was supposed to be dead already.”
She looked over at me. “And for the record, I’m glad I’m not.”
I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t going to risk being wrong.
By then, we had reached her apartment building. Colgate trotted up to the door, stopping suddenly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Consarn it!” She stomped in annoyance. “I don’t have my key.”
“Hmm...” I mused, studying the buzzer box. “Aha!”
I reached up to Lucky’s button with my hoof and held it down for a second or two.
“He’s probably home sleeping... his shift started relatively late last night,” I explained.
We waited several moments before a disheveled Lucky descended to open the door. He had barely gotten it open, still rubbing his eyes when he caught sight of Colgate.
“C-colgate?” He looked blankly at me, and then back at her. She looked at the floor. “Uh, welcome back.”
We followed her up to the hall, where her and Lucky’s rooms were located. “Hey, Lucky, can I use the key I gave you? I don’t have mine on me.” She grinned sheepishly.
“Oh, sure. I’ll be right back.” He slipped into his room, keeping the door mostly shut. He returned shortly with Colgate’s key, closing the door behind him.
“Hey Lucky,” I said, as something occurred to me. “Didn’t you say you found her door ajar?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So why’s it closed?”
“I wasn’t going to just leave it open for just anypony to walk into. So I locked it up with that key Colgate gave me.”
I looked at the unicorn mare, who was fiddling with key, trying to get it to fit. “Y’know, in case I ever lost mine or something while I was out. Or, this,” she elaborated. It clicked in the lock.
I took the gray stallion to the side as she entered. “Hey, could you do me a favor?”
“Maybe. What do you need?”
“What are you doing today?”
He shrugged. “Nothing planned. Why?”
“Think you could hang out with Colgate today?”
“Uh, sure. But are you sure I’m the best pony for that? I don’t have the foggiest as to what to do if she... y’know...”
“Don’t worry. She won’t. She just needs something to keep her busy. You can do that, right?”
“Well yeah... but what if-”
“Relax. You’ll be great. And if you need me, I’ll probably make it back around to my house sometime.”
“Ooookay...”
“I’m going to go get something to eat. Remember to keep an eye on her.” I stuck my head into her apartment, where she could be heard within. “I’m taking off! Lucky’s going to keep you company, so have fun and be careful!” I yelled into the other room. Turning, I gave Lucky a pat on the back as I trotted out.
Aaah... there’s nothing like a blueberry crumpet to go with a cup of earl gray and a brisk morning, I thought as I settled in at a cafe with said items. What can I say; I like coffee shops for meals. Don’t judge me.
“...so, um... she’s going to be okay?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the quiet yellow pegasus behind me. “Fluttershy! You startled me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry-”
“No, no need to apologize. And yes, I’m quite hopeful.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes...”
I idly tapped my hooves together. Fluttershy still puzzled me. I was almost starting to doubt whether that... incident... ever really happened.
“Do you know her?” I asked, eager to cut the silence.
“Oh, not personally. But she seemed like a really nice pony.”
“Um... yes. She is, if you get deep enough.”
I turned my attention back to my pastry.
“Whooves?” she asked, taking the chair across delicately.
“Yes?”
“I... I have to tell you, I didn’t think much about you or your ideas at first. I didn’t think we needed anypony to help us with our behavior.”
She batted her dangling mane. “But I’ve seen you do some powerful things since you came here. Perhaps not all as I would have done myself, but you really seem to help a lot of ponies too.”
I sighed. “It’s a cyclic system, actually. Psychologists are taught to think objectively, and the strange part is that they think they actually do. And in our line of work... well, think of it like this. If you’re the only one that can see the ‘truth’ without bias, and you have the skills to ‘fix’’ everypony... it becomes uncomfortably close to playing god. In fact, an irritatingly large number of them back in Canterlot developed god complexes because of it.”
I took a breath. “Er, that’s my guess anyway.”
“Oh... um, yes,” she replied simply.
“Well don’t just take my word for it,” I said. “I thought I was the only shrink in town, and I just got here too.”
“Yes, well... I’m not really sure how to say this...”
Oh, yeah. That should have been obvious. “S’okay. You don’t have to.”
Fluttershy squeaked, dropping her ears. “...sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’d rather know the truth rather than have the masses feed the system.”
Fluttershy perked up a bit. “Really?”
“Of course. I may not be the element of honesty perhaps, but I know enough to realize the truth is usually the safer option, even if it hurts sometimes.”
“I... I don’t think you would have said that two weeks ago, doctor.”
I laughed. “Oh, yes I would have. I just looked at it a little differently. Practiced it a little differently too.”
“Oh... yes, I suppose that’s true.”
I finished up the last of my pseudo-breakfast (although, compared to my recent schedule, it was relatively substantial), looking around as the place began to fill up. “What brings you in town today?” I asked. It was something usually asked at the beginning of a conversation, but Fluttershy doesn’t seem like the type that goes and hangs out at coffee shops.
“Me? I was just... um, swapping out some books at the library.”
Hmm... didn’t take her for a bookworm. “Oh, of course.”
I regrettably tipped my emptied cup upside down, failing to produce any liquid. “Well, I’m gonna hit the road. Take care.”
“Thank you... I will. You too!”
I nodded, trotting out into the street, dodging ponies as I tried to orient myself and decide on a course of action. Eventually, I found a bench and sat, rubbing my temples with my hooves. The last... how many days? Two? Three? They’d been nerve and emotionally wracking, not to mention exhausting. It’d been so fast... I hadn’t had time to rationalize anything like I did habitually. And look what happened.
No, I argued, fighting my own initial reaction. Look what happened. You made a big step with your marefriend. You saved somepony’s life... and found another friend because of it.
Suddenly, my sleep deprived condition seemed worth it. A rude thump on the head interrupted my thought train.
“Ow...” I picked up two bagged newspapers that had made the assault.
“Your Equestria Daily’s have been piling up. Did you know?”
I reached up, grabbing the gray mailmare and pulling her out of the sky into a squeeze. She dropped the package she was currently holding in her forelegs, wrapping them around me instead. “I’ll take it...” she murmured into my mane.
I stopped, picking up the brown paper parcel. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you drop it.”
“Uh, Whooves... are you okay? You seem... huggierer. Huggy. Um... hug needing?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I just realized that my background–and most of Canterlot’s mental consultants–are about as righteous as this newspaper is printed in color, that’s all.”
For those of you who don’t have subscriptions, it’s not.
Ditzy blinked. Then she donned a large, toothy smile. I lifted an eyebrow. “What? What’s good about that?”
“For one thing, you’re saying it. For two things, you’re saying it like you’re not one of them.”
“Well, that’s because I’m... not...”
I looked down. “Thanks, Ditzy. Sometimes I forget that my title is just that–a title.”
Ditzy gave a light flap of her wings, lifting her off the ground for a second or two. “Exactly! I like muffins.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, I like muffins, but my cutie mark is bubbles, and yet I’m a mailmare.”
“...meaning?”
“Not your job, not your name... not even your cutie mark are who you are.”
“Then what is?”
Ditzy shrugged. “I don’t know. Does one of your fancy textbooks have a definition?”
I thought for a second. “No... no, not really.” The revelation disturbed me. The closest thing I had seen was something along the lines of ‘An aggregate of the past collected actions and experiences of the individual.’
“Ditzy, what if... what if ponies aren’t so much as what they’ve achieved, so much as what they are to others?”
Ditzy tilted her head, waiting for more.
“This close call with Colgate... it made me wonder. When we’re dead-” Ditzy’s hoof wrapped around mine. “-all that’s left–that matters–is the times we shared with others.” It felt cliche, but near-death experiences give new perspectives I guess.
I looked down at the paper. “‘Cherry Stocks Down 0.2%.’ And this, ‘Fashion star Fleur de Lis: Sensual or Static?’”
Dropping it in disgust, I continued. “In two centuries, nopony is gonna give half a horseapple.”
I sighed. “What are we going to leave behind?”
For a moment, Ditzy regarded me with wide eyes. Leaning in, she kissed me on the cheek, grabbing my attention.
“A story.”
I nodded slowly. “Can I see you tonight?”
“You don’t have to ask, silly.” She snapped up her package, taking flight again. Waving after her, my insides twirled in a balance of euphoria, excitement, and serenity.
Ah... at last, I have life’s problems answered, I joked to myself. Now to live it.
Well, after I return my bags and phonograph back at the house. That stuff was too heavy and bulky to haul around everywhere.
Back at my place, I dumped the load unceremoniously in a pile on the floor. I grunted, not entirely satisfied, but willing to accept the graceless heap as necessary in favor of more pressing conditions.
Speaking of... I turned and proceeded back to the front door, significantly more spring in my step, courtesy of not carrying a phonograph.
“There you are!”
Darn it, can’t I make it three steps without getting stopped?
The street was empty, with the sole exception of a flustered yellow and orange mare.
“Ah, Carrot Top. Here for business or pleasure?” I knew it was a bad time to joke, but she doesn’t exactly put me in a good mood.
“I... I don’t even know where to start with you! First, you go and-”
“Let me stop you right there. The first pony you should be talking to is Ditzy... and actually listen to her for a change.”
She gasped, about ready to launch another tirade, but I cut her off. “Secondly, what in Equestria have you been telling her?! That I was dead? That I was the one committing suicide?”
“For all I knew and heard, it was the truth!” she spat defensively. “Besides, I thought it would clear her head.”
“Yeah, ‘cause when we think our soul mate just ended their own life, our thinking improves drastically,” I said sarcastically.
“Heh. Soul mate, eh? Sorry, I didn’t quite pick that up from the way she comes back crying one time and happy as chocolate in a chip the next. I can tell you’re a real solid foundation in this relationship.”
A third voice penetrated the conversation. A conversation which was rapidly approaching yelling-match levels.
“And you’d know a solid relationship when you saw one, Carrot Top?” asked Lyra, who must have emerged from the house sometime during our exchange. She took up a position near me.
“This coming from Ponyville’s resident fillyfooler-” began Carrot Top.
“-who just celebrated her fifth happy anniversary, despite fighting open disapproval from most of ponykind, including choosing love over family approval in the process,” finished the harpist. “Yes, coming from that fillyfooler.”
The earth pony mare ground her teeth. “I’m doing my best to protect that poor mare. Why can’t you see that?”
“The feeling is mutual,” I replied, Lyra having restoring my cool somewhat.
Carrot Top merely looked at me over her snout, before turning and trotting away. When she was out of sight, I lowered my head. “I should be better at this. I’m a psychologist for Celestia’s sake.”
“Yeah, well, I was always of the opinion that shrinks don’t do anything real, just blur the picture; keep the peace with compromises.”
“I’m just glad somepony was here to keep me from blowing my top. I haven’t felt like that in a while.”
“Whooves, I’m not that pony. Shouldn’t have to be. Full time, anyway.”
“Huh?”
“A certain gray pegasus comes to mind...”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“What was that all about anyway? What happened after we left?”
“Kind of a long story. And I gotta grab some lunch.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in.”
With no better offers, I followed Lyra back into the house she shared with her mate. Tantalizing aromas wafted in from the kitchen, alerting Lyra and myself as to Bonbon’s location. She met us in the kitchen with a smile and her signature delectable edibles.
Her smile caught slightly when she saw me. “We heard... is she...?”
“She’s doing fine.”
Bonbon smiled, with a hint of relief. But that wasn’t about to be enough to suffice for retelling it. Over the course of the (more than adequate) meal, I retold the chronological series of events that transpired after our separation during the frenzied search.
That took up most, and a bit more than, the meal time.
“...so, now she’s...?” inquired Bonbon, as I came to an end of my narration.
“I left her with Lucky.”
“This is the same Lucky that left the Cakes’ foals?”
“Uh... yeah...” My brow furrowed. “Thanks for lunch!”
The trip back to the apartment complex was a short one. Umm... I hesitated for a moment, on the doorstep of the building. Unsure whether to buzz Lucky or Colgate, I quickly gave up and triggered both.
No response. What the...? I started sweating as my mind began frantically processing possible explanations. I began to circle the building for the fire escape.
The metal skeleton of a staircase was mounted on the port side of the multi-story place. It certainly wasn’t in the best of conditions, flaking paint and rust streaking down the sides, but seemed structurally sound for all that.
For me, a mere earth pony, it’s most noticeable feature was the fact that it didn’t touch the ground.
I looked up. It passed by Colgate’s window. I could get a clear view through–and if necessary, force open–the window.
“Aha!” I exclaimed, as I caught sight of the the lowest rung of scaffold. I bent low, readying my legs, and lastly springing with all the force my hindquarters could muster. Favorable providence landed me the jarring cold metal between my teeth as my reward.
Well, almost success.
I couldn’t possibly pull myself up; my forelegs couldn’t reach the bar, even if they would bend at that angle. I was suspended halfway between heaven and earth. I hung for second. “hgh.”
“Um, Whooves?”
“Lckuh?” I managed, recognising the gray stallion’s voice. While trying to say his name, my teeth lost their grip, dropping me back to the hard-packed earth below with an unsympathetic thud. “Ow...”
“Wow, dude, you okay?” he asked, picking up the pace to reach me. He proffered his hoof, which I accepted.
“What were you doing?” asked a different voice. One I was happy to here, though. I staggered up to see Colgate standing behind Lucky, eating her way through a caramel apple.
Celestia darned paranoia. “Wha- Where did you two run off to?”
“Well... lunch, among other stuff. You?”
“Umm...” I shrugged. “‘Bout the same, I guess.”
Silence reigned for a good four seconds. I coughed.
Colgate’s eyes suddenly snapped open as she remembered something. She jabbed Lucky in the ribs, earning an annoyed look from him. She jerked her head towards me, till he got the message. “Oh, right.”
He scratched the back of his head. “So... what are you doing tonight? I mean, with...” He inclined his head towards the mare, who rolled her eyes.
A pang of guilt washed over me as I realized I should have foreseen this before committing to the night with Ditzy. It was short lived, however.
“...’cause I have a late shift anyway... I could just take her with me to work. Wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Oh. Great!” I paused. “Where did you say you worked again?”
He blinked. “Um... entertainment. Yeah.”
“Cool. That oughta be fun!” I smiled at Colgate. “If that’s okay with you...”
Colgate readily gave her consent. “See ya tomorrow?”
“Sure. Yeah.”
I trotted away with as much dignity as I could. I’m going home and taking a shower.
And I did just that.
I think I also fell asleep, or passed out. Not sure exactly which one. I just remember waking up with a towel, leaning against the wall.
I shook my mane into place, hoping the motion would clear my head. I was still a bit fuzzy, but I managed to collect myself.
“Okay... what fire do I need to extinguish next?” For the past few days that’s all I felt like I had been doing, going from one to the next, like a firepony. I was almost surprised when I could find nothing that needed my immediate attention.
The clock startled me out of my internal self-diagnostic. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Okay, I had one thing on my plate for tonight. This was a fire I was going to keep close to for warmth, though.
There was one thing I needed take care of first. Returning to the living room, I dug through the disorder that had accumulated there till I found the object of interest. I trotted to the door, holding it in my mouth as I peaked out into the road, looking each way. The coast clear, I tip-hoofed quickly to Lyra and Bonbon’s house, where I pounded nervously on the door.
“Coming, coming...” replied Bonbon in a rather sing-song voice, before she reached the door and opened it.
“Whooves! What can I...” She trailed off as she caught sight of the riding crop I was holding in my muzzle. Her eyebrows shot up, one slowly sinking as she scrutinized it further. “Uh... is that a...”
“As I’m sure you figured out, the bubble bath was meant for someone else, and this was meant for you.”
“Bubble bath? What are you talking about?” she asked, gaze and attention still locked on the crop.
“Wha... but I- How...”
They had obviously opened the present, Lyra’s comment the one night as proof, and yet Bonbon seemed to have no idea. She wouldn’t have let Lyra open it alone or not show its contents...
“But, you opened the present, right?”
“Yes,” she replied, sparing me a glance. “Although Lyra wanted to wait till the next day for some reason.”
“So... it was unopened all night?”
“Yes.”
Unopened my flank. I couldn’t help but wonder what Lyra had exchanged it with.
Wait, if... then... My eyes widened as I realized how this looked from Bonbon’s point of view. I dropped the switch.
“Uh, yeah, well... I just came by to drop this off. And borrow some bubble bath.”
The cream-coated mare blinked a few times. “O-o-okay. I’ll go see what we have then. Come inside.”
She left me in the entryway while she went to the bathroom to retrieve my request. I tried to ignore the instrument on the floor and not let my mind wander. Fortunately, Bonbon returned quickly with just the bottle I expected.
“Alright then. Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah... thanks.” replied Bonbon, poking her new possession tentatively. “I’m sure Lyra will love it.”
Something crossed her face. “Ohh.... I’m sure Lyra will love it!” She picked it up firmly this time.
“On the receiving end usually, eh?”
“Whooves!”
“Sorry! ‘Kay, leaving now.”
I did. The trip to Ditzy’s was boring and uneventful, so I won’t go into detail there. Suffice to say I arrived quickly enough.
“Knock knock,” I said, announcing myself as I entered through the unlatched door. A purple unicorn filly bounced her way out of the kitchen.
“Whooves! Whooves! Hi Whooves!” Dinky bounded straight towards me, forcing me to catch her mid-bounce in an impromptu hug.
“Hey, kiddo.” I gave her a soft noogie before letting her go on the carpet. I followed as she returned to the kitchen in much the same manner she had exited.
“Mom! Mom! Whooves is here!”
Ditzy looked up from a cookbook, blinking her eyes into focus as she did so. With a soft flap of her wings, she floated over to me, landing without a sound mere inches from my muzzle. I could feel her breath.
I gave a quick jerk of my eyes, indicating the presence of our singular audience (who was watching with big eyes and a smile to match).
Quick as a hummingbird, Ditzy snuck in a kiss on my cheek, immediately turning back to her steaming pot on the stovetop.
“Aww, but Mooom...” whined Dinky, disappointed.
Ditzy giggled slightly. “Finish your homework, dear. Dinner will be soon.”
“Okay, okay...” The purple filly climbed into her chair, opening a book on top of an already chaotic compilation of papers. I took the seat next to her, my gaze happening on her homework as she scribbled out the work with a muzzle-held pencil.
Dinky stopped on one problem, flipping the pencil and erasing her answer. She started again, but didn’t get far before she repeated the process.
“Trouble?”
Dinky looked up. “Um, kinda. I know what I need to do, but I don’t know how.”
“Let’s have a look then,” I said, shifting the book between us. “Which problem?”
“Five.”
Oh, fractions. Been a while. Everything’s digital and decimals now. Dinky’s specific case was addition of fractions.
“Okay. What part don’t you know?”
“Well, when Cheerilee worked it out on the board, it made sense and everything. The top numbers added and the bottom ones stayed the same. But these have different numbers on the bottom.”
“Well, it’s not so much that the denominators can’t-”
“The what now?”
“The denominators. Those are the numbers on the bottom. As opposed to numerators.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, it’s not that denominators can’t change, it’s that you can’t add the fractions till they’re the same. Then you do what the teacher showed.”
“Oh, okay. But how do you get them the same?”
“First, you find the least common mu- er, the number they both fit into easiest. Like for two and three, it’s six. Then you change them to fit those numbers, but also doing what you did to them to the numerators... I mean, the top numbers.” I picked up a pencil and did an example. “See?”
Her eyes lit up in understanding as I worked through the problem. I think I use too many big words, I realized.
I watched Dinky apply the method to her problems, cutting them down like a caretaker mows down weeds.
A warm kind of weight placed itself on my shoulder. I looked at Ditzy, who turned her own gaze from her daughter to me. She lifted her head off my shoulder, staring back for a moment before pressing forward. We kept it somewhat short, for reasons I hope I don’t need to explain.
“Eww. I thought that was going to be all romantic ‘n’ stuff, but it was actually kind of gross.”
“It’s about the emotional touch, not just the physical one,” I returned.
“Oh. I’ll take your word for it then.”
“Okay, okay. Dinner’s ready,” intervened Ditzy, placing the iron vessel on the table with some well-worn hotpads.
“It looks delicious!”
“And smells amazing!”
Ditzy blushed. “Well, Celestia willing, it’ll taste something along those lines.”
It did.
The meal over, Dinky finished up her homework quickly while Ditzy and I did the dishes. As I slid the last ceramic plate onto its stack, I heard Dinky shut her books.
“All d- do... awn.” A yawn interrupted her proclamation. I shared a knowing glance with Ditzy.
“Somepony getting a little tired?”
“No!”
“Of course not. How about some Daring Do then?”
“But, isn’t that hard for you, Mom?”
“It’s on me tonight,” I volunteered. “So... do you have a favorite?”
We reconvened in the little unicorn’s room shortly afterward. She had insisted on bringing the whole series up to the room, in case I finished one and wanted to keep going. I looked for help from Ditzy, who just shook her head with a smile on her face.
As it turned out, she fell asleep before the end of the first chapter. The two of us adults slipped into the hall, killing the light as we left and creeping out quietly, shutting the door behind us.
“She’s read them all before. They’ve become a comfort thing,” explained Ditzy as we moved further down the hall and out of earshot.
“I think I can relate. I’ve got a few records I used to use to go to sleep.”
“Used to?”
“I haven’t really listened to them since I got here.”
We stopped, the sudden realization that we were in front of Ditzy’s room washing over me.
“Had other things on your mind?”
I wasn’t sure exactly how to take that comment. “Um, yeah.”
She extended a wing over me. It was unexpected, but a good touch nonetheless. By mutual unspoken agreement, we proceeded into the dark room, where she, knowing the place by memory, left off to do a mini-cannonball into bed.
“Uh, Ditzy...?” I started, tentatively feeling my way around with an outstretched hoof. Quite suddenly, a pair of hooves grabbed my probing foreleg and hauled me onto the blanketed mattress.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, reorienting myself with the headboard and sliding under the sheets.
She giggled, wrapping her forelegs and wings around me. Returning the gesture (minus the wings), I added a nuzzle for good measure.
We tied the competition by sharing a kiss. A long, peaceful, serene contact that offered a glimpse at the effect she always has on me. Utter, complete, tranquility.
I never really noticed when it stopped, but eventually we found ourselves touching brows. An imperceptible beam of moonlight snuck past the closed curtains, giving me enough of a reflection to see in her eyes.
A hoof jabbed me in the stomach, shocking me into the world of the living.
“W-what the...” I wheezed, doubled over in the bed. Vaguely, I was aware of a flurry of activity around me.
I struggled to sit up, blinking in the light. “Ditzy?”
“Oh, great! You’re up!” She flew across the room again, grabbing her mail satchel and stuffing it full of letters. “I’m kinda late so see that Dinky gets to school and I love you-”
“Did something kick me?” I interrupted.
She stopped momentarily, looking at me. “I’m so sorry! I guess I kind of panicked when I saw the clock... and I really am late!” She spoke in long, unbroken breaths. With a quick peck on the cheek, she dashed out of the room, trailing letters in her airborne wake.
Hey, a hoof from a marefriend is better than an alarm clock any day.
I got to my hooves and loped out into the kitchen, where Dinky was rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning.”
“Hi Whooves!” She blinked. “Wait, you stayed over?”
“Uh... yeah.” I tried to sound informal. She might as well know.
“Oh. Cool.”
I love this filly.
“So what do you usually eat for breakfast?”
“Um, oatmeal mostly.”
Oatmeal. Surely I can handle oatmeal.
A minute later, I found myself juggling two pots, three measuring cups, and a plethora of ingredients besides. I staggered to keep my balance, grunting at the effort. “In oatmeal? Seriously?”
“Hey, I’m just reading the recipe.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A spice jar filled with cinnamon slipped, falling directly into the bubbling potion. “Oh bu-”
I cleared my throat. “Buckets.”
Depositing the rest of the cooking paraphernalia, I fished the jar out with a ladle and scooped up two bowls, depositing them on the table.
“Don’t feel like you have to eat this... stuff. But it’s the best I can do.”
Dinky experimentally licked the end of her spoonful, before engulfing the better half of the spoon and pulling it back out again slowly, spotless.
“Wow, that really has a pop to it I never noticed before.”
Note to self: pick up some more cinnamon for Ditzy.
As I started on mine, the purple filly cleaned her entire bowl in a stunningly large lick, proceeding to her room. She emerged shortly after, dragging her heavy pack after her.
“Here, let me-”
“I got it.”
“Okay... guess I’ll see you later sometime then.”
“Okie dokie!” she said, hugging my leg quickly before setting off out the door to school.
“Bye Dinky!”
“Bye Daddy!”
I froze in the doorway, watching the young unicorn bounce out of sight, oblivious to her slip. As she crested the hill, I sank to my haunches.
In the kitchen, the oatmeal cooled.
It wasn’t so much the fact that she said it that shocked me. Rather, the idea of hearing it directed at me period had given me a stiff jolt of just what exactly I was getting into. I’m not just making a commitment to Ditzy. I’m making one to her family.
A smile tugged at my face. Not ‘getting into.’ Just ‘getting.’
“Ditzy, Dinky...” From a reclusive place in my mind, something added, ...Sparkler.
I had to admit, I was curious about her. I didn’t really know why, either. I haven’t met her, and I don’t have any relation to her. I pushed the matter out of my mind, still not sure why it appeared.
Alas, the day was wearing on. I cleaned up the dishes (an extremely exciting activity that I’m sure you want to hear all about) and locked up. Before returning my saddlebags to their place, I made sure to remove the bubble bath, retrieved from Bonbon’s, stashing it under the bathroom sink. Confident it would be found eventually, I nodded and turned to leave.
I got exactly three steps before a gratingly familiar voice attacked my ear’s inner workings.
Deja Vu.
“Is this going to become a regular thing?” I asked, not paying much attention to what she had been launching into previously.
“As long as you’re toying with Ditzy, yes,” she snapped in reply.
I grunted, resuming my trek. “Good to know.”
Carrot Top took a place next to me, berating me as we went along. Eventually, the ear unfortunate enough to be on her side began to twitch in annoyance at the nonstop volume abuse.
We arrived at my door, and as far as my ears were concerned, she hadn’t stopped for a breath the entire time. “Have a nice day,” I said, courteously, before slamming the door in her face.
Sheesh. I bet she can give a good speech though.
“She’s quite long-winded, isn’t she?” A familiar voice belonging to a certain unicorn. I started back, tripping over a pair of galoshes.
“R-rarity? What are you... I mean, I suppose you’re here for another session?”
She reclined in her own bright crimson couch. “Did you really think you were getting out of it that easily? Please. I sit in a shop and sew most of the day. I wasn’t going to forget, darling.”
“Yeah, well, it was worth a shot.” I sat down. “So what’s eating you?”
“You’ve been getting information. And not just on Twilight. Somehow, I’m not sure at the moment, but you are getting personal information.”
“The nature of my mission has granted me access to some areas not available to the everyday pony.”
“Of course... but what kind of coalition would even collect that information?”
“It’s more like... an individual. And please don’t ask anything more, because I can’t tell you.”
Rarity stuck out her lower lip, but didn’t press the issue. “Fine. But why would you need information about me when your target is Twilight?”
I coughed and looked at the ceiling.
She huffed. “It’s a clear invasion of privacy.” I got an overly detailed view of the bottom of her nose as she looked down it.
I wanted to say that for someone so interested in other ponys’ affairs, she was awfully concerned about her own being protected. I’d learned to keep my mouth shut by now, however. Carrot Top just put me in a bad mood.
“I don’t expect you to trust me, but I can assure you that the source knows what they’re doing, and they don’t take it lightly.”
“They shared it with you, didn’t they?”
I blinked.
“Oh...” She put her hoof up to her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was completely uncalled for.”
“No, you’re right. The only thing protecting it, as far as you know, is doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“It was still unsuitable for civilized conversation.”
“Sometimes I think the equestria would be better off if everybody just said what was on their minds. Assuming cultural preconceptions about being polite were also dropped, of course.”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
“Yeah. It would be a bloodbath.”
An irregular silence penetrated the room, giving Rarity a chance she had apparently been waiting for to change the topic.
“Um, Doctor Whooves?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember our little incident at the spa?”
“Um... yes...” I was worried that I should be worried.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“You just did, but go ahead and ask another.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aloe and Lotus need to get out.”
“Uh, Rarity, I really don’t think dating is-”
“Not a date, you presumptuous-” She cut herself off, composing her complexion again before restarting. “Not a date, Doctor. In fact, rather the opposite. Since you’re dating Ditzy, I can assume you’re safe. Do you know any other stallions that would be able to comprehend what I’m trying to prove here, and could go along with it?”
“So, let me get this straight,” I started, looking at Rarity. “You want to set up a ‘not-date’ date to prove that not all stallions want to date but you have to find suitable applicants that actually live up to this?”
“Yes, something like that.”
I facehooved. “Wouldn’t it be easier to go have a girls’ night out or something?”
“You’re missing the point, darling. We need to exaggerate normalcy so that the average comes out accurate.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t think you really-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make all the arrangements. All you have to do is find somepony who fits the bill to go with you!”
“Uh, Rarity...?”
The door clicked shut.
Look at the good side, I told myself. Rarity’s not interfering with Lotus and Aloe’s perceptions anymore. Of course, now you’re... no. Go find Rarity, tell her you can’t be volunteered for this kind of stuff.
“Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” I said. Later.
But right about then, I had a different mare which needed addressed. I adjusted my saddlebags and headed out towards Colgate and Lucky’s apartments.
To my surprise, Lucky was up and waiting at the entrance, prancing in place like a nervous school filly.
“Hey, Lucky. What drug you out of bed before noon?”
“Doc! Well, it’s... Colgate. She’s fine... but she’s got me worried anyway.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Why can’t the world just stay safe for a few minutes?
“Well, last night I noticed she had some bandages around her hooves. She said it was an accident, but... I don’t know. I made sure she was asleep before I left her last night.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the cuts,” I said, relieved it wasn’t something more serious.
Lucky stared, jaw slightly slack.
“I mean, I was there when it happened,” I clarified, rolling my eyes. “She stepped on some glass at the hospital.”
“Oh...” He nodded slightly. “That makes much more sense.”
“So, what did you have worked out for today?”
“Uh... I guess we’ll talk about it when she comes out.”
“Huh?”
“She told me through the door she wanted to talk you first. She wouldn’t say much after that.”
I forced my way past the other stallion. “Why didn’t you say so?!”
Dashing up the stairs quickly, I put my ear against Colgate’s door. Lucky stood behind me, maintaining a strict silence.
I knocked softly. “Colgate?”
There was a short pause. “Whooves? That you?”
“Yeah. You want to talk?”
A few hoofsteps could be heard through the door, followed by a sliding latch. The door opened enough for me to slip inside. Just before it closed, I looked back to see Lucky looking partly sorry and partly irritated at being left out.
Once I was fully inside, Colgate kicked the door shut again with a rear hoof, trotting back towards her bed. Not much else looked like it had been disturbed. The unicorn mare curled up on top, tail between her legs and back to me.
I was about to say something, but she beat me to it.
“I can’t spend today with Lucky.”
“Ooookay. Does this have something to do with last night? ‘Cause I thought you were enjoying yourselves when I left.”
“Yeah... last night... last night was fun.”
“I’m sorry... I’m confused.”
“Don’t you get it?” she said, flipping onto her other side to look at me. “It’s happening again.”
Keenly aware of the knife edge I was walking on, I remained silent, hoping she would continue.
She pulled a pillow over her head. The next words came muffled. “I think I like him.”
“Colgate...” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe I didn’t make this clear. There’s nothing wrong with liking a pony, and it’s a good idea to get to know somepony when you think you might. You just needed to... give them more time. Love someone before you love someone, if you know what I mean.”
“...it’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t break an existing friendship because of a possibility that you don’t know even exists yet. Trust me, if Lucky is anything at all like me, he has no idea what you’re thinking right now.”
She laughed a little, half-heartedly, but came out from under her fluffy refuge. “Of course. He’s a stallion. Stallions have thick skulls.”
“They’re convenient when they cause our mares to whack ‘em.”
“Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not hitting nobody that doesn’t deserve it.”
“That’s a double negative.”
She reached out and gave me a mock smack on the forehead. She let a small smile out, before turning serious again. “If I get attached to somepony, though, it’ll be worse when it falls apart.”
“First off, that should be an ‘if,’ not a ‘when.’ Secondly...” I got off the bed to meet level with her eyes. “The heart is a muscle too. It needs exercise, but if you stress it, you’ll sprain it.”
“Who said that?”
“Uh... me.”
She blinked. “Oh. I mean, it’s not that great.”
“Look. Lucky can be trusted... considering he has no idea about your interests. That means all you have to take care of is yourself. Can I trust you to do that?”
Colgate nodded slowly and slightly.
“Well okay then.” I offered her a hoof, which she accepted and used to pull herself out of the bed. She hurriedly put her mane into place.
“And hey,” I started, stopping her before the door. “If you’re ever feelin’ low again, you come to me. As long as I’m around, somepony still cares about you.”
She hesitated at her reply. Eventually she nodded, stuttering, “C-can I hug you? I mean, I understand if you’re not comfortable with that...”
Without reluctance, I trotted up to her and wrapped my forelegs around her. I felt a shiver of relief.
“You’ve grown...”
“I think I just realized how bucked up life is, that’s all,” she replied.
“Same thing, sometimes.”
Lucky’s concerned voice broke into the room through the door. “Hey, is anypony in there? Y’all still alive? Hello?”
I opened the door. “Your timing is terrible.”
“It is, isn’t it?” added Colgate, following me out.
I rubbed my hoof back and forth on the floor. “So, uh...”
“I’ll take her for the day.”
I looked at Lucky. “Are you sure, mate? I don’t want to interfere with-”
“Naw, don’t worry about it. Like I’ve said, my shift is a night one, so it works out well.”
I nodded. “I’ll be on my way, then.”
I left the apartments behind, curving toward a nearby restaurant to retrieve some lunch, which my stomach was reminding me was overdue. I trotted between umbrella-covered tables, all of which seemed to be full at the time. Spotting a table with only one pony at it, head buried deep in a menu, I trotted up.
“Excuse me, would you mind so much if I shared your table, seeing as how the rest are fully occupied right now?”
The mare dropped the menu flat on the table, my jaw following closely after.
“Not at all,” replied Carrot Top with a sinister grin to match her tone. I sighed, but took the seat anyway. When I didn’t respond immediately, the orange-maned mare pushed. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
I wanted to say, Nope, the cat’s napping now after such an extensive session of grooming your mane with its claws this morning, but wasn’t going to fall to the bait that easily.
“Good day,” I said, opting for a classy alternative. I picked up a menu, pretending to peruse despite already knowing what I wanted. She frowned and picked hers back up as well.
“I’ll give you one thing, bucko. You’re sure persistent.”
“Why thank you.”
“That’s a bad thing right now.”
“‘Persistent’ is a neutral term, and changes favor based on context. And perspective.”
“Sorry. Right now, it’s a bad thing. Period.”
I folded my menu. “Okay, sure. Consider this then: it takes a good deal of persistence to keep harping on me.”
Carrot Top’s mouth opened and closed like a loose hinge. “...that’s just muddling the issue.”
“I like to think of it as being thorough and holistic.”
For once, she didn’t reply. I let the silence continue, as I didn’t have too many experiences of that when she was around.
“Question for a question,” she started suddenly.
“Uh... okay.” It wasn’t really stated as a question anyway.
“Well, I guess you’ve proven you’re willing to stick around. But I’m still not buying it, cause high-society Canterlot types like you just don’t go for hometown mares like Ditzy. So... why are you?”
I picked at a developing splinter on the table. “There’s been more literature on that subject than any other, and yet I’d say it’s still the least understood phenomenon out there.” Cliche, but honestly I couldn’t come up with any other reasons on the spot.
Carrot Top wasn’t buying it either, judging by the raised eyebrow.
“Look, I moved here from Canterlot, I bumped into her, and we’re dating now. End of story.”
“You didn’t leave last night.”
“Yeah, okay, happily dating. So?”
“So she has a foal and a heart of glass. If you break it, I’ll turn you into colored rain.”
“But you’re not a pegasus,” I started, but shut my mouth again as quickly I had opened it.
Carrot Top looked unimpressed. Gee, this feels like a conversation I should be having as a teen with a filly’s parents on a first date.
“Okay, okay. So you’ve known her a while and want to keep her protected. Ever consider maybe getting to know suitors would be a better option than scaring them all off?
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“That depends. I’m still here.”
“Yeah, well...”
“And where exactly did Dinky come from, hmm?”
The mare got to her hooves, leaning forward till she was in my face. “Don’t ever mention him again. Clear?”
“...as a smoke filled chimney.”
Her left eye twitched.
“I’m not getting serious without knowing what happened. And I’ll be asking her, not a secondhoof witness.”
Her face remained static.
“Don’t worry. I’ll still be there, no matter what happened.” I stood as well, turning to leave. “I suppose I’ll see you later.”
Dang, now I don’t have any lunch, I thought as I trotted out into the street. Maybe I’ll just pop by the market and pick up something to make myself.
I trotted between the stalls, trying to decide between celery stalks or just skipping it altogether. I looked up at a price board, nearly tripping over a short figure in the process.
“I’m terribly sor- Spike?”
The scaly fellow stood up and dusted off himself and his bag. “Watch where you’re going, mister!”
“Of course! Apologies...” I helped him up. Mumbling under his breath, he began refilling the bag. I couldn’t help but notice daisies, lettuce, and bread, among other things. Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a daisy sandwich- wait. Oh yes, this’ll work.
“Say, I guess you’re headed back to the library with that load, eh?”
“Uh, yes. Why?”
“I do believe Twilight had some business she wanted to talk to be about... do you mind if I accompany you?”
“Sure. Just watch the claws this time.”
I walked behind him, keeping a close eye on the edible goods. Hey, is it my fault if I can’t bake? Well, maybe just a little.
“Twi, I’m back. And this guy here said you wanted to see him,” announced Spike as we entered the unconventional (and highly flammable, I might add) library.
“I don’t rememb-” started the Bearer of Magic, coming down the stairs. She stopped when she saw me. “Oh. Oh!” A brilliant smile sprang onto her face. “Let me go get my checklist!”
She sped back up the stairs, giggling.
“Am I supposed to get any of this?” asked Spike.
“I don’t, and it’s my job to.”
“Oh.” Spike took the grocery bag into the kitchen. “Uh, you’re going to be around for a bit I suppose?”
“If her lists are anything like her love of books...”
Spike blinked.
“That’d be a yes. A most definite yes.”
“Right. I’ll make another sandwich then.”
At that moment, Twilight came bounding down the steps, three at a time, with a large scroll–the same one she had had back at the hospital–following after her in a haze of magic. Seeing it up close, I noticed the fine print. Hmm... this could take a while, even if we don’t finish it. I opted for a comfortable cushion near a window, where I could feel a nice spring breeze.
Twilight, having acquired a notebook, quill, and a pair of reading glasses in her violet aurora, settled down opposite me. “Okay. First, the disclaimer.”
“Disclaimer? Is this new?”
“Oh, yes. It... wasn’t my idea. Anyway...” She cleared her throat. “Participants–that’s you, Doctor–are free to abstain from answering any question that they wish or would have legal ramifications. Additionally, they may leave the study entirely whenever they wish. Participants must volunteer their informed consent.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“Oh good,” sighed the bookworm, wiping some sweat from her brow in relief. “I was afraid that that official-sounding stuff would scare ponies off.”
“It won’t, not for anypony that actually understands it, leastways.”
Twilight nodded. “Let’s get the small stuff out of the way then. Date... duh, today. Type... earth pony. Name... Whooves... er, what’s your first name?”
I waved a hoof. “Pass.”
“Gosh, Whooves, if you can’t handle this... I mean, we haven’t even made it to the ideologically sensitive stuff yet. Are you sure-”
“Just move on to the next question, please.”
“I think I’ll just skip ahead to the real part.” She rolled out a few feet. “Tumdeedumdum... Aha! here we are. What’s your current relationship status, and are you satisfied if you do have one?”
In case that wasn’t enough to start a show, the questions developed on each other, getting deeper and more involved with each progressive one.
The plus side was that the ‘essay’ questions she’d take down for me, giving my mouth stamina for the rest of the day to come.
Spike came in at some point with two sandwiches, but Twilight’s went untouched. I ate mine in small increments, wanting to make it last (not only as a brake from nonstop answering, but also because they were actually very good. I daresay Spike can cook worth his weight).
After the better part of an hour of this, she finally let the questions drop temporarily. “That’s section one. All about the relationship. Second section is... is on... uh...”
She blushed slightly. “...on physical aspects.” She hastily added, “If you’re uncomfortable talking about this, we don’t have to. Really, it’s okay.”
“Oh I’m comfortable enough with it, but be honest with yourself. It sounds to me like you’re the one uncomfortable with it.”
“Uh... but... but I’m the researcher! I can’t be the one to pull out! That’s not how it’s done! It’s never done!”
“If it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell anypony.”
Twilight’s mouth hung for a second, before she refocused and flipped ahead, turning redder as she caught a few random questions. Eventually, she did find some questions pertaining more to her interests, and we dove into them for another hour or two, until my legs began to cramp. My interrogator got the hint when I began pacing, deciding to conclude her analysis for the time being.
I wanted a shower.
The dusty trot home didn’t help to alleviate that, either. Ignoring the rubble in the entryway for now, I skipped into the bathroom and cranked on the cold water. It cooled my overheating brain.
The Faithful Student never stayed on a campus like mine, apparently.
I made mental note to talk to Rarity about what she kept around the shop. Oh! talk to Rarity! Well... I suppose that’ll wait till tomorrow.
Refreshed and comfortable again, I slipped out of the shower. In my inbox, I found Ditzy had dropped off some journals and a postcard from my brother. It was a vague one, with just a picture of a sunset and no writing on the back. I shrugged and flicked it aside.
There wasn’t much in the journals either, but they kept me busy for half hour or so, when I happened to look up at the clock. My stomach rumbled; while daisy sandwiches are excellent, they are rather light. Picking my way through the plaster, I trotted out my door and directly over to my friendly neighborhood fillyfoolers. Lyra let me in and turned back to the kitchen, where Bonbon was hard at work with a rolling pin, leaning over the counter in an unconscious attempt to use her body weight to her advantage.
“What in Equestria are you making?” The dough-ish material was too thin to be any kind of bread.
“Whooves! Perfect timing. See if you can’t get these properly flat,” she returned, hoofing me the marble pin and wiping her brow.
As I followed orders, I continued, “What is this? It seems off color and wetter than most dough I’ve seen you make.”
She laughed. “It’s not a baked confection. They’re noodles.”
Even Lyra looked up from her magazine at this.
“Noodles. We’re making noodles.”
“Well don’t worry; I’ll put them in some other dish before we eat them of course!”
“Huh.” I looked down at the sheet. “I thought these were made in the Far East, along with the flying rugs and bamboo.”
“What? No. They’re mostly eggs and flour really.”
I slid the now-flat sheet back to the earth pony mare, who began slicing it.
“So why are we spending half an hour making these when you can buy them in bulk for the price of potting soil?” asked Lyra.
“Yeah. I was wondering that too.”
Bonbon sighed. “I’ll never teach you two what an art cooking can be, will I?”
I nodded. I know a lost cause when I see one.
“Hey,” said Lyra, feigning insult at Bonbon’s remark. She poked her in the ribs playfully. “Just because you have talent doesn’t mean you get to brag about it.”
“Talent is learned, deary.”
“So being able to learn is learned?”
Bonbon nodded. “You don’t think the Apple family has related cutie marks just because they’re blood relatives, do you?”
“Chicken or the egg,” I interrupted. “Did you get your cutie mark because you were naturally good at baking sweets, (and hence practiced), or did you get good because you practiced (and hence got your cutie mark)?”
“The possibilities...” wondered Lyra, staring off into space. “I could have had a cutie mark in-”
Bonbon had pounced on Lyra, shoving her hoof up the unicorn’s mouth. “Don’t you dare say that out loud.”
“Well, I think I’ll go set the table.” I excused myself.
The table was excruciatingly perfectly set. I took special care with the napkins especially. When the couple returned, Bonbon came with a steaming pot (presumably having absorbed the noodles), with Lyra following behind, wincingly holding her horn.
“She knows her pressure points,” hissed Lyra, slipping into her chair. Bonbon pretended not to hear.
For the next ten minutes, slurping of soup was the only sound to be heard. The two mares would occasionally steal glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.
Bonbon cleared her throat. “So, how’s Colgate doing?”
“She’s... sorting things out. She’ll be okay; she’s got a lot of new stuff to deal with though.”
“...like?” prompted Lyra.
“Like figuring out the difference between lust and love. And knowing what to do with each.”
They shared their first look at the table thus far. It was short, but enough for me to see their worry.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I amended. “There’s nothing wrong with the physical side of a relationship, as long as the emotional side is there too. However, having only the former can be... unhealthy.”
Bonbon set her spoon down with unusual slowness. “Whooves.” She hesitated. “In your honest professional opinion, are Lyra and I-”
“Woah, girl. Slow down. You two have been together for, what, five years now?”
Lyra nodded.
“Not to mention parent troubles, among other pressures. Back in Canterlot, I saw dozens of couples married five times as long as what you have been, and yet aren’t even close to what you have. You have each other to rely on, and that’s more than most can say.”
Bonbon looked down at her mostly empty bowl. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
Lyra leaned over, wrapping a hoof around her marefriend’s.
Nopony said anything. After a few moments of that, I pushed my empty bowl forward. “Thank you, for the fine cuisine. I should probably be going now...”
Lyra got up and followed me to the door. Safely out of earshot of the kitchen, I turned to the mint-green mare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... back there with Bonbon... to...”
“...make her cry?”
“Wha- She was crying? I... I mean...”
“Relax, Doc. It was a good kind. She doesn’t get much positive feedback outside of me. I don’t think I’ve seen her get emotional like that about something since.... well, in a while.”
“O-okay.” I still don’t get mares, but I’ll take what I can get. “Take care.”
“You too.”
Back at my house, I opened the west-side window, resting my head on the sill. I watched as Celestia set her sun, setting the horizon on fire and turning the sky immediately above it green.
It takes dedication, I thought, to do that every day. Yet, to her, I’m sure it’s easy. Thoughtless. Relaxing even.
True relationships are the same way. For those ponies you are close to, you don’t need to tip-hoof on ice. They’ll listen to what you have to say and thank you for it if it’s good, or forgive you if it’s bad. That’s the difference between a friend and an acquaintance.
I sighed, retreating back to my phonograph as the sun winked out, the moon emerging in the east. I set a fresh record spinning.
And that’s one more to add to the records. That should cover it for tonight.
Shovels are hard to use. It’s one thing when pegasi use them to help snow slide off the roof, but it’s another when an armchair-career earth pony tries to shovel rubble with it.
While I still didn’t have the plaster to fix the several holes that had accumulated by the entrance, the surrounding debris was simply becoming a pain to step around. I stopped shovelling for a second to catch my breath and rest my jaw, glad I had chosen to do it in the morning before the temperature rose.
A light flutter of wings announced the arrival of the morning’s mail. I cringed, waiting for the mailmare to hit the gutter, but smiled again when only the slightest of feathers caught the edge, landing her safely on my doorstep.
“Hey you.”
“Goff nornin-” she started, before dropping my Equestria Daily and restarting. “Good morning!”
She bent and peered at my torso. “It didn’t bruise, did it?”
“Um, yeah. Just a little.”
“Oops. I-I-I...”
“Naw, don’t worry about it. When you’ve got a hide as tough and tan as mine...” I tried to flex one of my forelegs, but it fell through wholesale. Ditzy couldn’t entirely suppress her giggle. “Rats.”
Ditzy pawed the ground. “So... I have my rounds to make...”
“What about later? Can you come over this afternoon?”
Her eyes crossed as she put a hoof to her chin. “Um... actually, Dinky and the kids were going to have a picnic...” A spark of thought brightened up her mood. “...but you could come with us of course! Please?”
“Brilliant! What should I pick up to bring?”
“Pick up?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to subjugate anypony to my cooking.”
“Dinky liked your oatmeal.”
“That was an accident. See? Fate can cook better than me.”
Ditzy struck a pose usually reserved by university professors when they answer a question they consider beneath them. She lifted a hoof pointedly and proclaimed, “There are no accidents!”
She dropped back to all fours. “I don’t know who said that.”
“Well, obviously you did, just now.”
“But, originally.”
“Collectively, everypony has already thought of everything at some point in time. I’d say context is more important now.”
“You’re so... philos... si... sa...”
“Philosophical?”
“Yes. You’re so philosophical sometimes.”
“I’m also a pessimist usually. Those two don’t make a very uplifting combo.”
“Aww, no. You’re just a sweetie, cutsie-wootsie-”
“Okay! Enough, I’ll try to make something. Where is this shindig happening?”
“The park, at four.” She leaned in for a quick kiss before lifting off, mail satchel swinging around her neck.
I tossed the broom and dustpan aside, making my way through to the kitchen. I peered into my utterly understocked icebox. Celery will have to do this morning, I thought, grabbing what I had and crunching down on a stalk. I hate those stringy fibers that get stuck between my teeth.
Attaching my saddlebags as usual, I headed out. First things first. Find some magic fix-all for oatmeal.
At the market, I found the spices sellers, but was told that cinnamon was used in baking sweets, and consequently that I should go check with the nearby pastry stands.
They told me that cinnamon was a spice.
“Hi Whooves! Whatcha doin’?” There wasn’t any mistaking that voice.
“Good morning, Miss Pie.”
The pink earth pony snorted before breaking into fits of laughter. “That is so weird! Really everypony just calls me ‘Pinkie.’ And sometimes ‘Pie.’ Well, not ‘Pie’ by itself, but with ‘Pinkie’ in front of it too, so it makes ‘Pinkie Pie.’”
“Well okay then, Pinkie.”
“See? It’s sooo much easier.”
“Uh-huh. Say, you wouldn’t happen to sell cinnamon at Sugarcube Corner, would you?”
“Nopie dopie! But I can show you where we get it,” she said, prancing in place.
“That works.”
I followed the bouncing mare as she traversed the marketplace, ending at an out-of-the-way vendor. There were jars and jars of the same, homogeneous powder.
“All you sell is cinnamon?”
“Yep,” the mare behind the counter replied. “Honestly, most of my business goes wholesale to Sweet Apple Acres. How much can I do ya for?”
“One spice-jar’s worth ought to be enough.”
As the mare began filling a bag out of a larger container, I couldn’t help but notice that Pinkie was being unusually quiet.
“Twitcha-twitch!” she yelled, dropping flat to the floor.
“What?” I started, turning my head to see what she was doing. “What was ahAH!”
My mane brushed against the large container as I turned, sending it to the floor, where my hooves were hit, breaking its fall.
“What the hay was that?” I asked.
“My Pinkie sense!” It can predict the future! Like when my tail gets twitchy-
“-yeah, yeah. It means something’s going to fall. It still wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t predicted it,” I pointed out. I returned the unharmed container to the surface of the counter.
With the threat of falling objects gone, she sprang back up. “How’d you know that?” she asked innocently.
“Uh, call it my Whooves sense, if you will.” My ‘Whooves sense’ consists of a file with Pinkie’s name on it in some locked filing cabinet in Canterlot.
“Cool!” she replied, bouncing in circles now. “Earth pony magic, huh?”
“Something like that. What are you doing here though?”
“Well duh! Shopping, same as you, silly.”
“Oh. Of course.” For Sugarcube Corner, presumably. I stashed my purchase in my saddlebags and began walking through the marketplace again, perusing for anything that would give me ideas for something to make. Beside me, Pinkie kept up, going on in greater detail about what she was doing there. My mind automatically tuned her out when she began getting too detailed and off topic.
“Hey Pinkie?”
“-so then I measured it, and it turned out to be closer to a basketball than a grapef- huh? What?”
“What goes well at picnics?”
“Oh! Well, there’s cupcakes...
“Icing recipes hate me.”
“...little watchya call em hors d’oeuvres thingies...”
“And try to get them all the same?”
“...pies are amazing for dessert...”
“Most everything I try to bake ends up burnt.”
Pinkie dropped her usual cheery demeanor for a moment in favor of a sarcastic deadpan expression. “I guess that leaves you with carrot sticks.”
“Yeah, Carrot sure has a stick up her...” I trailed off upon noticing Pinkie’s confused expression. “Oh. The veggies. Right.”
“Why do you have so much trouble with baking anyway?”
“It’s just not my thing, that’s all. Wasn’t born with it.”
The pink mare laughed. “Silly pony, just because it’s not a favorite hobby doesn’t mean you can’t be good at it!”
“Beg pardon?”
Pinkie stopped in front of me and lifted her rear, showing off her flank. “Do these look like cakes?”
I was thoroughly confused.
“Of course not! They’re balloons!” Oh, she’s talking about her cutie mark. She turned to face me. “I only started doing that regularly when I got a place with the Cakes. It just grew on me.”
I thought back to the conversation at Lyra and Bonbon’s the day before. Do ponies obtain skill because they practice, or do they practice because that’s where their skill lies?
“Well, be that as it may, I’m not going anywhere fast. Not fast enough to be a chef by this afternoon, anyway.”
“I know! You could come by Sugarcube Corner and we’ll whip something up together-”
“Thanks for the offer, but really don’t actually learn much when others are doing the actions.” ...with Miss Hyper, leastways.
“Oh. How ‘bout a recipe then?”
Come to think of it, all I have is one for muffins right now. I nodded. “Okay, sure. What do you have in the area of pies? Those are fairly classic for picnics, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Apple, cherry, razzleberry, peach, pecan, blueberry, kumquat... but if you pick cherry, you should totally make chimicherrychangas instead!”
“Who-carries-what now?”
“It’s like cherry pie filling wrapped in a tortilla and deep-fried. And I put sugar on mine.”
“That... actually sounds good.”
“Really? You’d eat it?”
“Seein’ as how I’m gonna make it, I’d say that’s a definite possibility.” I produced a pocket-sized notebook. “Alright, shoot.”
As it turns out, Pinkie doesn’t actually have recipies in terms of amounts. They’re all relative; the filling was listed as ‘a lot,’ the tortilla as ‘some,’ and the sugar on top as ‘a bit.’ It was a slight bit better than nothing, however, so I wrote it down anyway.
After retrieving what I needed from the various other markets, I bade farewell to Ponyville’s premier party pony and trotted lightly back home.
That’s something for the profile, I thought. Dropping what you’re doing to help a pony that (relatively) you don’t know. That seems to indicate...
...huh. Charity? Spontaneity? Just plain being nice? But those aren’t mental conditions, part of my mind argued. I shut down that department of the brain for now.
Instead, I deposited my groceries in the cupboards (excluding the items requiring cooler conditions, which I left in the icebox). Chimicherrychangas would wait though. Rarity needed a bit of firm talking-to right then, concerning what she had managed to volunteer me for. Not anticipating the need for saddlebags, I slid them off and rolled my shoulders.
I trotted to Rarity’s without trouble, making my way up the walk and rapping on the door. The response took longer than I expected, my ears snapping up when a voice very different from the white unicorn’s usual sing-song tone answered.
“Coming,” it grunted, before the door opened. I looked side to side and lastly down, finding familiar orange and purple pegasus.
“Whooves?”
“Scootaloo?”
“Hey guys, it’s Doc Whooves!” she yelled over her shoulder.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where Rarity is, would you?”
“She and Fluttershy are off on their spa session,” answered Sweetie Belle, who had emerged with Applebloom.
“Ah. When do you think they’ll....” ...hold on. I’m thinking about this all wrong. This is perfect!.
“I see. Thanks girls.” Thanking them again, I headed out for Ponyville’s singular spa.
Aloe wasn’t around when I entered (presumably tending to Rarity and Fluttershy), but Lotus showed up quickly. She stopped when she recognized me, but snapped out of it a moment later.
“Are yea here for ze spa services?”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to the two Bearers in there... but I completely understand if I can’t just jump in part-way.”
“No, tis just fine. Tis the massages going on right now.”
She led me through one of the doors, where Aloe and light-coated stallion were working magic with their hooves. Rarity peeked out lazily from under an eyelid.
“Ah, Whooves! Perfect timing!” She signaled for the stallion to stop, after which he trotted swiftly out.
Fluttershy also sat up, Aloe retreating next to her sister. “We shall ready ze baths then?”
“Oh course, darlings. That would be simply heavenly,” replied Rarity, sending the spa sisters off on their mission.
I coughed. “I didn’t mean to intrude...”
“Nonsense! Anyhow, what can we do for you? Did you find anypony that would work for our little project?”
I looked at Fluttershy, who smiled meekly but remained silent.
“Actually, that’s kind of what I’m here to talk about.”
“Yes? And?”
“I don’t think this is the best way to go about things.”
Rarity scrutinized me closely, her face screwing up in a complex look of concentration. “...and you don’t want to do it anyway.”
“Yeah. Okay, and that.”
Fluttershy finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”
“I was planning a little... outing for Aloe and Lotus...”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“...but the Whooves seems to think it’s a bad idea.”
“Settting up a not-date really can’t be the best way to expose them to society as a whole,” I confirmed.
“Oh,” the yellow pegasus squeaked.
“But Doctor,” Rarity continued, “even if you could come up with a newer scheme, it’s too late. What’s done is done.”
I stiffened slightly. “Meaning?”
“I... I told them already.”
“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy quietly interjected.
Well, I guess that makes this conversation a bit shorter. I facehooved. “Bloody brilliant. Fine. I’ll see whom I can scrounge up.”
Rarity tapped her hooves together, a smile returning to her face. Fluttershy looked from me to her, and back again.
“...but you owe me.”
The near-white unicorn reigned herself in, nodding. I turned and headed for the door.
“Aren’t you going to stay for the mud baths?”
“I’ll take a raincheck.”
On my way out, I passed by the blue-coated earth pony, who gave a sidelong glance after me.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”
“Looking forward to it very much, sir.”
It was rapidly approaching time for lunch, and I still had my rounds to make. Perfect... I’m sure Lucky could use the company.
I followed an elderly pony with a large bow tie in, avoiding the annoying buzzer altogether. Eventually I got to Lucky and Colgate’s hall, the old stallion having found his room on the first floor. I wrapped on the desaturated stallion’s door and waited.
The wait was worth mentioning because, quite frankly, I had to.
The door creaked open, Lucky rubbing his eyes under a...
“Is that some kind of sun shade?” I asked.
Lucky’s drooping eyelids snapped open as he realize he was still wearing the green visor. He cursed, swiping it off along with a rumpled tuxedo, complete with a small little black bow tie.
“Sorry about that... heh.” He grinned sheepishly.
“Yeaaah... anyway, did you want to get some lunch... or in your case, breakfast?”
“Sure, sure. Give me a second.”
When he rejoined and Colgate came along, we headed out. Colgate seemed in good spirits, if a little tired as well.
“Hey Col, I know that Lucky’s shift is late, but why are you tired too? You do realize that you can go home... I’m not going to pretend that we’re keeping you on a watch.”
The unicorn stifled a yawn. “I know. I stayed because I wanted to.”
Lucky continued trotting ahead, oblivious to our conversation. “You had fun?”
“Yeah, we had fun. Like separately had fun. I mean, we were together of course, but not together. Like-”
“Okay, I get it. But what’s he do that’s so intriguing anyway?” The closest thing I could piece together in my head was a late-night comedy act.
“He’s a... wait. You don’t know?”
“He was somewhat vague on his descriptions, come to think of it.” I glared suspiciously at the gray flank ahead of me.
Colgate smirked. “I think it’d be best if you asked him yourself.”
I huffed, picking up my pace to catch the said stallion. “Hey, what were you doing last night?” I wasn’t beating around any bushes here.
“Work, like usual.”
“I had assumed that. What do you actually do?”
He looked at me quickly, stepping up his own pace. “It’s just a... thing... I, um... run games. Yeah. Games.”
I increased my stride too. “Not to judge off of appearances, but since when does a four leaf clover have anything to do with a child’s plaything, and moreover, why would that require you to stay up late?”
“It’s complicated,” he replied, obviously hoping that would be the final word. He upped his speed again.
I attempted to match it. “Then please, by all means, explain it to me!”
By then, both of us were nearly galloping and yelling. “Why do you need to know?”
“Because I won’t risk Colgate’s health and heart to some jack-wang of a stallion who’d abuse himself or others for yellow metal!”
Lucky slowed to a stop, the dust cloud we had formed catching up to us. Far behind us, Colgate was still trotting at a more reasonable pace.
“Did you just say... ‘heart?’”
Ponyfeathers. “Um, yeah. But you’re not really supposed to know that. And don’t even think about using that knowledge to your advantage.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m sure!”
“No, I meant... did your psychic training tell you that, or did she?”
“It’s called observation, wise guy. And yes, she told me.” I looked over my shoulder at the approaching mare. “Listen, I really can’t tell you more, and you should pretend you never heard this, got it?”
Lucky was also looking at Colgate as she approached. I wasn’t entirely sure he comprehended what I was saying, a slight twitch in the ear nearest to me the only sign he even heard it.
“You two get everything sorted, then?” she asked, waving away some dust with a foreleg.
“Well,” I started, “Lucky was just about to tell me wha-”
Lucky interrupted my narration abruptly. “You really like me?”
I facehooved. Colgate blinked, before sliding her gaze onto me and muttering under her breath, “Nice going, Doc.”
Lucky didn’t seem to hear, gaze still locked on the mare in front of us.
“Look, Lucky, I’ve had a rather gruesome hist-”
“Please, don’t try to explain it. It’s a very simple question.”
“...yes. But please, don’t change anything. I want this to move at your rate, not mine. I don’t want this to change anything. You’ve known me as a neighbor for a long while... you’ve seen the stallions–and mares–I’ve brought home, so I don’t blame you if you don’t take this seriously...” She trailed off, looking at the ground.
Whatever you do, Lucky, let her down easy when you do.
“So... can I buy you lunch?”
Or, you could just do that.
“Are... are you serious?” asked Colgate, hesitating to believe what she heard.
“Honestly, I was going to do that anyway. But yeah, sure. As neighbors, we never really got to know each other that well, but in the last few days we’ve spent quite a bit of time together and... you’re not who I thought you were. I’m not sure if something changed, or if you’ve always had this and I just never got close enough to see it, but either way, I want to keep seeing you. I’m willing to give this thing a shot if you are.”
“T-thank you.”
I lifted a hoof, pointing. “Hey, look. This place will work.”
As we entered the cafe, I prodded Lucky to get his attention. “Where’d somepony that talks like you learn lines like that?”
“The mare on the floor below me is some kind of actor. Doesn’t have much of a volume control on the voicebox either, if you know what I mean.”
Seated around the table with orders submitted, I turned back to Lucky again. “Y’know, I never did hear what you do for a living.”
After the last little conversation, this subject seemed hardly meaningful.
“Oh, I’m a dealer.”
“Dealer of what?” I suddenly found myself questioning whether the leaf on his flank was a clover.
Colgate rolled her eyes. “A card dealer, genius.”
Okay, that made sense. But... “I didn’t know there was any of those places in Ponyville.”
“There’s not... officially. Boats and such get the hide taxed off their back. So some friends get together and eventually... well, you just have to know where to look.”
“Ah.”
“You should stop by sometime.”
After a bit, our orders came. Lucky and Colgate talked some, but mostly about trivial things. Satisfied things weren’t spiraling toward disaster, I took my leave after my course.
“Where you headed?”
“I’ve got chimicherrychangas to make, mate! And... Colgate?”
She stood and walked with me to the exit. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry that I... I really didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t worry about it, Doc. Besides, isn’t this so much easier?”
“Yes. A lot of ponies wouldn’t like it though.”
“Mmm...”
“Well, I should go. Have fun, just not too much.”
I winked, causing her to roll her eyes before trotting back to the table.
Time to get to work.
Fact: if you can’t make a real recipe work, an ill-defined and untested one won’t go any better. At the rate I was going, I probably would have been better off to just leave off the tortilla and fry a can of cherries straight.
After a particularly bad failure, I was forced to open the window to release a growing cloud of smoke out of the kitchen. Across the way, Lyra stared at me through the glass as I waved out the pollution with a blanket.
“You sure look like you could some help there.”
I coughed. “What gave me away?”
Later, the house cleared of smoke, Lyra stood reading Pinkie’s non-recipe. “This is what she gave you?”
I nodded.
“This... this isn’t a recipe! I don’t even have the slightest as to what course this meal is supposed to belong in! Tortillas... and cherry pie filling? What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Pinkie called it a ‘chimicherrychanga,’ whatever that might be.”
“Oh...” Lyra tapped her chin. “Like a chimichanga with cherries. Neato.”
“Are you trying to tell me that a chimichanga is a real food?”
“Yeah. We used to eat spinach stuffed ones at... Bonbon’s parents’ house, back before we told them about us two being us two.”
Now having a clearer understanding of what to make, Lyra began folding the flour wrappings in patterns I attempted to imitate.
“Y’know...” I started after a minute had passed, “if they ever come up, please know I’m here to help-”
“Thanks for the offer, but I really hope that kind of confrontation doesn’t come up soon.” She continued forming uniformly tight and sealed chimicherrychangas while she talked. “Not while Bons can’t handle it.”
“Sure, of course.”
We finished frying the goods and rolling them in sugar, both of which went off without a hitch, thanks to Lyra’s knowledge.
“I thought Bonbon was the baker,” I said, as she tweaked the temperature.
“It might not be my thing, but a side effect of living with her for five years is picking up some of her knowledge, whether I want to or not. Works vise-versa too, I suppose.”
Lyra levitated a pair of tongs, rotating the chimicherrychangas so they wouldn’t cook on just one side.
“Um, Lyra? I understand if you don’t want to answer this, but...” I ground my hoof into the floor as Lyra turned and looked at me. “What did you... what did you swap out for the bubblebath?”
Lyra’s face flushed, giving her an overall complexion of complementary christmas colors. “How... how did you know?”
I almost started to tell her, but stopped when I remembered Bonbon’s reaction to the crop. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. Tonight is Thursday night after all. “Just... an educated guess.”
Lyra gave me a strange look, but didn’t question it. “It was a little specialty thing I ordered from the Carousel Boutique...”
My mind flashed back to the day I went and retrieved the wrapping paper for the presents from Rarity. No wonder she didn’t want me to know.
“One of those black little synthetic leather outfits. Has a collar and a strap and the whole bit-”
“I think I get the picture,” I said, cutting her off.
“You asked...” She shrugged off her blush as best she could and checked the chimicherrychangas again.
I’m getting tired of saying that word. It’s so long. Let’s try CCC instead.
Lyra gave a yelp of surprise as she snatched the CCCs out of the oil with magically levitated tongs. “Whew, that was close. I don’t think they’re burned though.”
“That’s why I always keep a unicorn around. Do you have any idea how long that would have taken with hooves?”
She giggled slightly. “Yeah, some. When I was at the height of my ‘human’ phase, I tried going a week without magic. I never realized how hard some stuff is. Even little stuff, like reaching a cup that’s across the table.”
I chuckled. “Sounds enlightening. Maybe that would be something to put on the list ‘101 things every unicorn should do before they die.’”
Lyra jumped as the clock struck three. “Karaoke candlesticks! Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to go pick up Bonbon. See you later!”
I nodded. “Thanks! I should probably get going too...”
I put my fresh CCCs in a basket and headed out after the mint-colored musician. Of course, I overestimated the travel time to the park and gave myself a good margin for interruptions too, which arrived me there early. Pipsqueak was the only one there so far, playing some kind of spinning game by himself under a linden tree he had picked out.
“Mister Whooves! You’re early.”
“Look who’s talking,” I replied, setting down the CCCs and leaning back against the tree in the shade.
“What do you want to do?”
I’d forgotten what it was like to think like that. ‘Waiting’ is a concept foals just don’t get.
“I haven’t the slightest.”
“Oh! I know! Can you whistle?”
“Um... I haven’t tried in a while, but I suppose. Why?”
“Could you teach me?”
“Uh...” How do you teach that? “It’s rather hard to explain... I just picked it up as I got older. Try making an ‘o’ sound with your mouth and blowing.”
The little colt did so, but no sound was made except for the rush of spit-laden air.
“I think you have to do something with your tongue too...”
He huffed and puffed, making various faces and sticking his tongue out at random angles. A couple of new sounds I hadn’t heard before emerged, but no whistle.
“That was... a good first try. Really, I think my first attempt was much worse.”
Although out of breath, Pipsqueak jumped up and down in front of me. “Now you do it!”
“Er... I might be a bit rusty...” Nevertheless, I puckered up and let off a few lines of Dixie. Just like riding a bike.
Pipsqueak’s eyes grew large, before he began huffing and puffing again, jumping in circles around me till his face was red.
A new voice interrupted behind me. “Uh, Pip? What are you doing?”
Pipsqueak stopped in mid-air, head turning to the side. “Sparkler!” he shouted, changing course to intercept the pink unicorn. She welcomed him as he wrapped himself around one leg, using the other foreleg to squeeze him back.
She was young–old enough to have a fully mature mare’s body, but only just. She still carried that ‘big sister’ atmosphere, a slight bit different from the ‘motherly’ one most older mares have. Analyzing her further, I noticed her various shades of purple in her mane, her tri-diamond cutie mark (brilliant cuts, if I had to guess), and her eyes, which sported a darker variety of her mane’s hue.
Right about then, she caught me looking at her. “Who’s your friend, Pip?”
“Whooves, Doct-” I cut myself off. “Whooves,” I restated.
“Uh huh.” She looked me up and down, a glint of suspicion still in her eye. “How do you know Pip and the Doos?”
At that moment, Ditzy came in for a landing, Dinky peeking out of the otherwise empty mail satchel. Dodging a tree branch, the pegasus impacted and continued trotting another couple meters to stay the momentum, ending her touchdown muzzle-to-muzzle with me. She gave a proud, small little smile before encompassing me in a lip-lock for two or three second.
“Oh... that’s how...” Sparkler averted her wide eyes, looking down at Dinky who had jumped out of the satchel and bounced over. As I helped Ditzy remove her food-laden saddlebags, I caught bits of their conversation.
“I thought you said your dad was in town!” hissed Sparkler.
“He is! He lives in Ponyville too, right next to Lyra. Don’t you know Lyra?”
“Yeah, from Canterlot...” The purple-maned mare looked at me. I smiled.
“So... what did you manage?” Ditzy’s voice brought me back to the mare in front of me.
“One of Pinkie’s specials... I had a little help in making them; I hope that was okay. I really didn’t want you to have to eat tar with flakes of chimney ash in it.”
Ditzy laughed. “When the thought is there, you get credit for trying.”
“Yeah, well, the plus side is these we can actually eat.”
Ditzy grabbed the corner of a checkered blanket and spread it with a toss of her head. In her saddlebags, I found some type of potato-based casserole, beans (done up French style with roasted almonds, not snapped), bread and butter, and fresh strawberries. All very simple, but quite complementary.
After a while, we fell to talking as we ate. Something still bugged me in the back of my head.
“Um, Sparkler? Did you say you were in Canterlot?”
“For a while, I was.”
“I thought you lived with your mom.”
“My mail still goes there, but that’s about it. Also, that’s mainly because I don’t stay in one place long enough to bother.”
She popped a strawberry in her mouth. “What about you... Whooves, right? Dinky said you live here in Ponyville.”
“Yes. I moved here a few weeks ago on business.”
She looked from me to Ditzy, and back again. “Business... what exactly do you do, Mr. Whooves?”
“I’m a...” Why do I feel hesitant to say this? “...a psychologist.”
Her right eyebrow rose. “And you two are...?”
“Uh...” I stuttered, before Ditzy took over with a cheerful nod. I glanced down at the two younger foals, both of whom were too busy making napkin origami to bother with what the three of us were saying.
“Well then... congratulations, I guess...” Sparkler looked rather shocked and unsure of how even she herself felt about it. “So... uh, when’s the big day?”
Ditzy’s eyes snapped into focus, and, for my part, I could feel an involuntary heat rising to my face.
“We’re... actually... still dating...”
Sparkler immediately clamped both her front hooves over her muzzle, a muffled “...I’m so sorry...” squeaking out from underneath.
“It’s a perfectly reasonable misunderstanding...” If that’s true, what does it actually mean?
I looked over at Ditzy, whose eyes were screwed shut, facial expression hidden behind an upraised hoof. She began trembling, holding back a reaction, a single tear developing on the outer edge of her eye.
“Ditzy...” I reached out, touching her on the shoulder.
She collapsed in laughter, wiping tears from her eyes as she writhed in hysteria. Sparkler and I looked at each other. Pipsqueak and Dinky stared, not sure what to make of her antics.
“...that was probably the most clueless thing I’ve said in a year,” said Sparkler, a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.
“Pff, please. That wouldn’t even top today for me.” We both joined the mailmare on the floor, laughing our lungs out. The foals, ever mindful of their role models, jumped in too.
It took a good three or four minutes for the giggles to die down to a reasonable level. I ended up on the bottom, with the two mares on top of me, and the two foals on top of them. It was like we’d been put into a giant beaker full of liquid and shaken, sinking according to our individual weights.
“That was a good one, Spark...” said Ditzy, still catching her breath. “How many times have you pulled that one?”
It was Ditzy’s turn to watch us bust our guts again.
Later, everybody had regained a decent level of composure as we tried to figure out the best way to eat CCCs.
I was watching Dinky try to squeeze the filling out of one end into her mouth, when a conversation between Ditzy and Sparkler caught my attention.
“How long are you going to be in town, Spark?”
“I dunno, really. Depends on what kind of work comes up.”
“You’re welcome to stay with Dinky and me if you need a place.”
“Well... if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding, I’d love too!”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but guess I had thought that a line of work in the gemstone industry would be more stable. If that is indeed what you do.”
“I’m more of a gem broker right now. Someday I’ll work with cutting them, but I need to get into a school first to do that.”
“Ah.”
After supper, Pipsqueak and Dinky played five rounds of tag (which is very exhausting with only two players), a few games of jacks, and they both spent a good five minutes trying to learn how to whistle before they finally dropped sometime around dusk. Sparkler chuckled.
“Ran themselves into the dirt, as it were. Speaking of which, I probably should go hit the hay too; I’ve got a deal set up for tomorrow. Want me to take Dinky back with me?
“Sure.” Ditzy nodded.
Sparkler wrapped a foreleg around Dinky, but found that Pipsqueak seemed to be attached by a grip of iron from an unfinished tag-back. “Uh...”
Ditzy smiled. “Take him too. He sleeps over often anyway. I’ll be along in a bit.”
Sparkler turned towards Ditzy’s home, guiding the bleary-eyed foals and disappearing into the dusk soon enough. By then, the park was empty, the sole exception being the fireflies, Ditzy, and me.
“It is getting late, isn’t it?” I noted, looking up at the Luna’s rising moon as it bathed the landscape in sharp contrasts with its white light.
“I did bring something else,” Ditzy said, suddenly. “But, it can wait of course, if you need to get back home,” she added, with notably less urgency.
I sat my rear haunches down on the blanket. “I’ve no place to be.”
Ditzy drew a long-necked glass bottle out of her saddlebags. In the near-darkness it appeared black, only the occasional red refraction of moonlight giving it away.
“It’s not a very good wine... and I forgot the glasses...” she said, a little disappointed in herself if her tone was anything to judge by.
I twisted the cork out with the corkscrew she produced, extracting the cork off the tool afterwards and holding it up, as though examining it. “No, this is the type of wine such that you put the bottle and cork of it on your mantle.”
She looked down at the bottle, then back at me, eyes all awhirl.
“Wines earn a reputation from where they were grown, when they were grown, and who grew them...” I explained. “Bottles and corks earn a reputation from where the wine was drunk, when it was drunk...” I reclined onto my back on the blanket, looking up at the brilliant stars. “...and whom one gets to drink it with.”
Ditzy blinked in understanding, looking down at the grape-based product between her hooves. “So, do you just want to...? I’m not sick, at least as far as I know.”
I took generous sip and passed it back. “Even if you were, I don’t think it would stop me.”
In the pale light, her blush lit up like a splash of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Whooves... I...”
I offered her the wine, which she accepted. After taking a light drink, she analyzed it for a moment before responding and hoofing it back. “It’s... a little bit on the dry side...”
In truth, it was probably a bit sweet, even for a Merlot. I took another swallow. As strange as it may seem, I think taking draughts from the bottle under the stars beats crystal glasses and cloth napkins for me.
Ditzy curled up next to me, and we finished the bottle together, watching fireflies, shooting stars, and the occasional bat or owl.
When it was gone, Ditzy stood with a little flap of her wings. “I’d best be getting back, or else Sparkler will start spreading rumors about us eloping.”
We shared in a bout of fresh mirth before packing up and picking our way back to her house.
“You know you don’t have to walk me back if you don’t want to. Your house is the other direction.”
“Don’t be silly.” I shifted into one of my higher voices. “♫ I would walk five hundred miles ♫”
Ditzy laughed and joined in. “♫ And I would walk five hundred more-”
She tripped on a stray root, causing her to skip a step and a line, leaning on me for support.
“♫ Just to be the colt who walked a thousand miles ♫” I sang, solo. Feeling the distinct texture of the doormat under my hooves, I helped Ditzy regain her own support while finishing, “♫ To fall down at your door ♫”
“Thank you,” she said simply, looking at me with those crossed honey-colored eyes. We shared a hug and a kiss, before bidding each other goodnight.
The walk back was short, or felt short leastways. It wasn’t until I made it nearly to my door that I took notice of my surroundings; in this case, a particular mare with a carrot-colored mane and a serious look attracted my attention.
“Did you ask her about him yet?”
“No.”
“...be careful with her. Please.” She turned and disappeared into the shadows.
I think I was right about her. She cares, she’s just... not good with change. That... or there was a bad experience. Anyway, now, with a little wine and a lot of special moments, I think it’s about time I punch out for the day.
It was raining. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised; it was spring after all, and it’d been awhile since the last storm. Even being somewhat of a pain, they are necessary for the crops.
Of course, it wouldn’t hurt for them to put out a forecast for us grounded folks. One they’d actually follow.
There was probably a reason it was on a Friday. Probably because the weekends had to be clear, and they procrastinated the rest of the week. Just a guess.
Right now, the weather had more important implications for me. Mainly, that the muffins that I had just put in were now not going to be eaten by their intended pony this morning. I should make it a habit of looking out the window before making any decisions that could be affected by the atmospheric conditions.
It was just as well, I suppose. I kinda burnt them. Again.
While I was chewing on my failure, literally, I sat down in front of the window. Across the way, Lyra waved from behind her own window. As I clicked the window open, the sound of the rain splattering on the hard surfaces and gurgling in the gutter increased. Lyra mirrored my actions.
She said something, but I couldn’t make it out. “What?”
She shouted over the environmental noise. “Some rain we’re having, huh?”
This isn’t ideal. I closed the window, heading to the door. I probably had an umbrella somewhere, but as long as it would take me to dig it out, I’d rather just get wet. Then what’s the point of having all that junk? I filed that away, as overhauling my physical burdens sounded like a rainy day project. Heh.
I dashed out the door, barely taking the time to close it behind me, crossing the short distance between our houses in a matter of seconds and crashing through the door, which (very luckily) was already unlocked. I shook myself dry, remembering what Ditzy had taught me about shaking my rump too, to get the tail dry. Lyra appeared shortly from the other room.
“I didn’t mean for you to... oh! And there certainly wasn’t any rush! You could’ve snagged a slicker or something.”
“Na, don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal really, just a bit of water. Anyway, what are you up to?”
“Oh, I was just... eating... breakfast...” Her eyes drifted toward the squeezed, soaked, half-soot I was still holding. “Is that...?”
“Um, yeah. It’s really not all bad... when it’s not soaked.”
“Perhaps you’d like to sample mine...” She started towards the kitchen. I really wasn’t that hungry, but I’d be polite... and I was sure it would be good like always.
I looked around as we entered. “Hey, where’s Bonbon?”
“Still sleeping. She always sleeps like a log after a few drinks.”
“Speaking of... I trust your fun went well last night?”
Lyra rolled a grape between her hooves. “We, um, actually... went out last night.”
“Out... as in, on the town?”
“Out for dinner.”
“Ah... a nice change of pace.”
“Yeah... after what you said about physical relationships and her reaction, I decided a little reminder was due. So I did the whole candlelit dinner and champagne thing. She really knows more about that stuff than I do; I just hope I got everything right.”
“I’m sure it was splendid; I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“And what about you? Any excitement with Ditzy recently?
“Well, actually it sounds like my last night went about the same as yours. Except a good deal less formal.”
“Well, love was in the air, apparently. Carrot?”
I passed. “And... I did make it clear I wasn’t talking about you girls when I said the stuff I did, right?”
Lyra nodded. “Yeah, but... it couldn’t hurt. Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong.”
I looked up, something catching my attention as it moved past the window. Lyra followed my gaze, both of us moving closer to see what it was.
“Is that...?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “That’s Rarity. I guess I’d better go take care of this.”
“Sure. Talk to you later, then,” Lyra replied, putting some water on to boil.
“Tell the sleepyhead I said hi,” I said, stepping back out into the rain.
Trotting over, I found Rarity knocking on my door. Despite the glum weather, she had managed to dress for that too, complete with a saddle-supported umbrella, coat, hat, and hoofwear. I would call it rain gear, but it was just not quite the same. Too much style to be a raincoat.
She knocked again. “Whooves, darling, hurry up! It is raining out here!”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that out for myself.”
The fashionista jumped at hearing me behind her, causing her umbrella to wobble. “Oh! There you are! Why, what in Equestria are you doing out in the rain?”
I coughed conspicuously.
“Oh!” She moved out of the way, allowing me to open the door. We both entered quickly, Rarity bringing the door shut with her telekinesis behind her. I shook again, spraying water across the entryway. It was fortunate that Rarity hadn’t removed her own rain gear yet.
When she was sure I was done, she did step out of it and follow me into the next room. “What can I do for you? Only something urgent would drag you out on a day like this.”
“Well, since you ask, yes. There has been a most regrettable development in the spa social stigma saga.”
“Mmhmm...” Of course there has. I finished up my breakfast with another muffin, holding out the half-empty tin to Rarity. “Muffin?”
“No, thanks,” she replied with a sheepish smile and a worried look at the confections. “As I was about to say, the reservations I had set up for tonight-”
“Sorry to interrupt, but did you say tonight?”
“Uh, yes. Anyway, the reservations were canceled–something about a premium member needing it for an important gemstone trade-off–and now I have to find something before tonight!”
“I really don’t see what the big deal is. So what, we don’t do it tonight. It’ll wait, right? I haven’t actually picked out anypony yet anyway...”
Rarity blinked, but said nothing.
“...you told Aloe and Lotus it was tonight already, didn’t you?”
She nodded. I facehooved. “I hope you’ve learned something by now.”
“I was... ambitious.”
“Yeah, yeah. And now I’ve got to figure out how to take care of this.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”
Rarity looked at me skeptically.
“I’m good for it! Don’t worry. When do I pick them up?”
“Seven.”
“But... that’s like after supper.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought you said you lived in Canterlot.”
“The only thing bigger than that city are its lies. In any case, I guess that means less waiting around time after the meal, right?”
“...that kind of defeats the point. In any case, best of luck.”
...Luck.
Rarity looked up from pulling on her galoshes, magically setting the umbrella-saddle on her back. “And don’t... uh... forget...” She shook her head and started fresh. “Whooves, why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”
“Don’t you worry about tonight. I’ve got this covered.”
“Oh... I see. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your planning... whatever evil plot it is you are setting up.”
I watched Rarity head back to her Boutique in the rain. Well, that takes care of tonight. The rest of the day might be shaping up to be pretty boring, though. A flash of lightning laced the clouds for a moment.
…nope, never a dull moment.
The particular frequency and pitch of Rainbow Dash’s voice hit me, increasing as the doppler effect made clear that she was approaching fast, and yelling like the devil was behind her.
“Somebody get me a lightning ro-” Her frantic message was lost as she clipped the gutter, sending her into a tumbling spin. A moment later, a floating ball of light, strings of electricity arcing to nearby objects, sped around the corner in hot pursuit. From her upside-down, mud-covered position, she never had the chance to dodge.
“Aw shoot.” The orb struck, sending Rainbow into the side of Lyra and Bonbon’s house with a zap and a sharp yelp from the recipient. I cautiously tip-hooved over to the pegasus, keenly aware of the smell of ozone and burnt fur.
“Uh, Miss Dash? Are you okay?”
With a dull pop, she dislodged herself from the siding. “...I swear it’s like that stuff hates me,” she said, dusting herself off.
“Yeah, speaking of which, what exactly was that?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
Lyra interrupted, having just stuck her head out the door. “Hello, can I... oh!” She looked from the smashed wall, to Rainbow Dash, and back again. “Perhaps you’d like to come in out of the rain? What happened?”
Rainbow Dash, still feeling unsteady, lurched into the house, strictly refusing any help from both Lyra and me. “I was getting to that. Twilight calls it ball lightning; likes to follow power lines, railroad tracks...”
“...gutters...” I added.
“...stuff like that. Nasty little buggers. Comes from trying to use Everfree clouds to supplement our Cloudsdale allotment.”
Rainbow Dash annoyedly yanked her tail out of Lyra’s grip and waiting brush. “Your tail really got singed in the blast,” explained Lyra.
“Don’t bother. It’s always blackened for a while after it gets shocked.”
“You’ve had this happen before?” I asked.
“There were more than a few close calls with your marefriend, actually.”
“But... Ditzy’s not on the weather team!”
“Not anymore.”
“Oh...”
“Thanks for the help,” she said, standing. “But I should go keep an eye on these unruly clouds.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Lyra held the door open, Rainbow Dash shooting out and up into the stratus layer, leaving as quickly as she came.
I looked at Lyra, who just blinked. “She doesn’t stop, does she?”
Lyra snapped back into reality mode. “What do you mean? She takes naps and stuff all the time.”
“But, doesn’t she have a weather team to take help take care of the clouds too?”
Lyra nodded, seeing my point. “Despite being a bit of a procrastinator, she’s got one of the best work ethics in Ponyville.”
“Excepting Applejack, maybe.”
“I’ve heard good things about Sweet Apple Acres, yes,” hummed the unicorn.
We sat in a thoughtful silence, as the rain splattered against the ground outside the door.
“Ugh, I need a cup of coffee,” started Bonbon, causing her significant other and me to turn. She had apparently just emerged from the bedroom, still holding her head with a hoof. “I mean, I appreciated it very much, but I’m not used to eating that much in one sitting.”
“Aw, hon, did you get stomach ache?”
“No, I just need to wake up ‘tis all.”
“Come on,” I interjected, awkwardly hoisting one of their umbrellas. Maybe I should think about putting mine by the door too. “Let’s go have something on me.”
My usual standby for coffee was a tad bit exposed, considering the conditions. Instead, we opted for the first decently roofed place we found. The tender was surprised to see us–his business was very slow today. Looking around, I only spotted one other customer... a familiar blue-toned mare.
“Colgate?”
She looked up from her Double-Mocha Caramel-Latte. “Hey!”
“Where’s Lucky?”
“Sleeping. Had work last night, and another big pot coming tonight.” She smirked. “I hope it’s okay for me to wander on my own?”
“Yes! Of course!”
Colgate laughed. “What brings you out in this?”
“Just waking up Bonbon over here. And partially out of boredom.”
“Friends of yours?”
“Neighbors, yeah. Sorry, Colgate, this is Lyra and Bonbon. Lyra and Bons, Colgate.”
Colgate took a sip and nodded. “And you two are...?”
Bonbon was too involved in her newly acquired cup of tea to respond, but Lyra blushed and nodded in reply.
“Cool.” The unicorn went back to her beverage.
Bonbon set her cup down with a decisive clink. “Goodness, Lyra. Still blushing after all these years? I thought that was my job.”
This, of course, just caused Lyra to blush harder. Colgate’s ears pricked up.
“Years? Plural?”
“Um, yeah.”
Colgate put her head in her hooves, leaning on the table. “What’s it like?”
I sat back with my Double-Caramel Mocha-Latte and watched Colgate closely.
“What’s what like?” returned Bonbon, slightly confused. I knew what Colgate was talking about, of course, and it was good to see her so enthusiastic.
“Y’know... being an item for that long. Don’t you get irritated with each other, or just plain... bored?”
Lyra chuckled, a rather sharp contrast from her previous attitude when the subject was brought up. While Colgate was mostly a stranger to her, it seemed she trusted my trust.
“Oh, we’ve had our share of rough patches, but we always make up and out afterwards, which keeps things lively.”
Colgate coughed into her cup, biting down on the straw to keep from laughing. Bonbon turned slowly from her tea and gave the mint-green unicorn an overly-mortified expression.
“You did not just say that in public.”
“I for one will always have a new concept attached to ‘up and out,’” I said. Colgate tried unsuccessfully to hide her mirth by burying her muzzle in her cup.
The earth pony mare stood up. “Come along, Lyra. I think it’s high time I show you a little something Whooves gave me a while back.”
Lyra looked at me, hoping for an explanation, before her suspiciously calm marefriend drug her out of the coffee shop.
“Aw, they’re so cute together!” said Colgate as she watched them disappear in the limited visibility of the weather.
“Mhmm. Still on cloud nine too, apparently.” I held up their umbrella, which had been left behind.
“Umm... should we take it back to their house?” she asked. It was the obvious thing to do. Under most circumstances.
“Maybe later.”
The tip of her hoof traced the rim of her cup as she hummed contentedly.
“You seem in a good mood.”
“Huh? No more than usual. I mean, it is nice to see couples like that. Still happy, still working, still active...”
“You like it, don’t you?”
“I... I...” She hung her head. “Yeah, okay, I’m a little jealous.”
“Hey, why the long face?” I thumped her heartily on the back. “I’d say it’s healthy to want a enduring relationship like that.”
“I... guess...”
“Trust me. Stayin’ put relationship-wise is always going to have less heartbreak than being a gypsy.”
“I know, I know.” She tried to sink into her cup, but was disappointed when she found it empty. The rain’s monotone continued outside.
“Hey, Col?” I asked, after a few minutes. She looked up, listening. “You said Lucky was working tonight?”
She nodded her affirmation.
“Think he’d mind if I brought two friends and came along tonight?”
“Of course not. You really think you’d go for his business?”
“No... it’s more of a situational convenience actually.”
“Whatever that means...” She rolled her eyes.
“This might seem like a bit of an obvious question to you, but... where does this happen?”
“Oh, it’s a really easy route. Y’know our apartment building?”
“Yes...”
“Cool then. Just head to the basement instead.”
I facehooved. “I was expecting something a little more dark and mysterious.”
“Save your comments till after you’ve seen it.”
“Mmm... I should be getting back.”
Colgate looked out the window, double checking to make sure it was still raining. “And do what?”
I shrugged, causing her to raise an eyebrow. “Can you play cards?”
“I think I played ‘go fish’ once.”
“Well, unless you plan on standing around all night, I think I’d better get a deck of cards.”
“To tell the truth, I actually don’t gamble-”
“Shut up and deal,” she interrupted, retrieving a deck from the owner, who was more than happy to oblige at the chance of having ponies stick around and possibly buy drinks.
“What the...?” I fumbled with the stack, trying to shuffle. Needless to say, it didn’t work. “You’re the unicorn; why don’t you do it?”
“Lucky’s an earth pony too,” Colgate commented, gathering the cards into a nice straight stack with her magic. She smirked as I drew a blank.
“Huh.”
After shuffling (which took more concentration than she liked to admit), she dealt and started explaining various games. We started with simple five-card poker, moving on to Texas Hold ‘Em and covering Blackjack and Hearts later. It was well past mid-day when she finally let up, cracking her neck.
“You’ve really been spending a lot of time with Lucky, obviously,” I noted, setting down my Chamomile (I thought it best to switch from my usual after the third cup).
“I’ve played some of this before I met him–or you, for that matter. But yes, he knows a ton more than anypony in... well, than anypony in Ponyville probably.” She yawned.
“Maybe you should follow Lucky’s example,” I said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been staying up as long as he does. You should consider getting some sack time.”
“Of all the ponies to lecture about slee-” She broke off in another yawn. “What I meant is, you don’t have to tell me. I was just thinking about it. Hence the yawn.”
“Hence the yawn,” I chortled in agreement. “See you tonight?”
“Yeah, see you there.”
“Want the umbrella? I’m sure Lyra and Bonbon won’t mind.”
“Na, you know them better, and live closer. Besides, you can’t do this!” With that, she levitated an unused garbage bag above her, forming a crude but effective poncho-umbrella cross. She winked, trotting off into the rain.
I paid the bored tender and awkwardly unfolded the umbrella with my hooves, making a beeline for my own residence. It wasn’t exactly a day conducive to exploring or talking to random ponies in the streets–the latter mostly because there were no ponies in the streets.
Back at my home, I took a few minutes to let my coat dry, while listening to some music. I also decided today was about the likeliest day I would get, where use of an umbrella was concerned. Consequently, I began raiding any of the boxes and wrapped packages that had been shoved on a shelf in the wake of my initial move here. My living room, bedroom, and part of the hall were a complete disaster before I found them.
I shuffled my hooves, experimentally flexing the newly uncovered rain-impeding device. My stomach growled, prompting me to look to the clock. Still an hour to seven.
A small basket of strawberries in my icebox disappeared mysteriously. The fact that I never went for Canterlot’s late meal schedule (at least, not realistically) is not related to the disappearance at all.
But the spa isn’t exactly close, and an hour is easy to burn. After discarding the first umbrella due to material deterioration, I started on my way to the spa with a second.
The blue and pink mares were waiting at the door, looking out worriedly at the unrelenting cloud canopy. I imagine their day was as slow as the coffee shop was. To my surprise, they had opted for raincoats in favor of umbrellas. As always, they matched.
“Doctor! We twas worried zat ‘is ‘orrid rain would interfere,” said Lotus through her accent.
“Don’t worry,” I replied, my cover propped in the crook of my foreleg. “Where we’re going, the weather doesn’t really matter much.”
“An’ where are we going?” asked Aloe as we started off, myself in the lead.
“I haven’t actually been there before... but I’ve got good friends there. Fair warning, though: it’s probably not what you were thinking.”
“Ah, sir, we do not know what to expect in ze least.”
“Well, that’s good. When the bar starts low, it’s easier to raise it, right?”
“Bar, sir? What bar?”
“Nevermind.”
“Are you sure zis is de right place?” Aloe asked as we approached the apartment building.
“Yeah,” I replied, inspecting the buzzer box, noticing a distinct lack of a basement button. “But I’m not sure exactly how to get to the lower level.”
“De basement? Why are ‘ou looking on zat, when it tis public?”
“What gives you that idea?”
She pointed to a descending stairway. “Oh, right.”
The darkness of the advancing evening, combine with the extra layer of light-filtering clouds, made the yellow streams coming from the four-panel window imbedded in the door seem all the brighter. The mares glanced nervously at each other as we trotted down below ground level, where I held the door from them. Nevertheless, despite the somewhat downtrodden entrance, the inside seemed inviting and homely. I even thought I heard a tune playing.
A sudden gust of wind shoved all three of us in, forcing the door inward till the spring caught it and whipped it shut again.
The tides of conversation–which admittedly had escaped my explicit notice at first–ceased.
“Ahehe... hello, everypony.”
One pair of the dozen or so eyes in the well-lit room blinked.
“Hey, Whooves! Colgate said you’d be here.”
At that, the rest of the ponies went back to their cards, chips, and pretzels. I hung up the dripping umbrella next to the spa sisters’ coats, which they had removed as well.
“Hey,” Lucky said, temporarily removing his visor as he trotted over.
“Hey.” I hoofbumped him, and turned to my charges. “Aloe and Lotus, this is Lucky. Lucky, dido.”
The mares dipped their heads almost in sync. “And... what tis zis place sir?” asked Lotus.
“Call me Lucky.” The gray stallion looked at me. “Are you saying this is their first time playing?”
I examined a knot in the floorboards. “Yeah... mine too...”
“Oh, huh...” He thought a moment, before placing his visor back on his head. “Then allow me to introduce you to the greatest leisure activity of all time, and for all types of pony! For this very pastime, nay, this very sport is a gentlecolt’s game enjoyed in the highest towers of Canterlot, and yet maintained by even the humblest of miners in Appleloosa! Here at-”
His well-prepared welcome speech was cut short as the door banged open. An intensly pink mare kicked the door shut behind her with a rear hoof, flicking a sopping wet jacket to the floor. “Cut the spittle, wise guy. Get to the tables, or I’ll tell that actor in the room over you’re stealing her lines.”
“Hitting the cider early, are we, Berry?” replied Lucky, less than enthusiastic about the interruption.
“I don’t hit it,” she said with a small hiccup. “That would make it spill, dingy.”
“Just find your way to your seat, if you can.” He turned to me, before continuing. “Sorry ‘bout that. Anyway, just seat yourselves. I’ll be over after I finish this round.”
We found our way to one of the many deserted tables about the place. The sisters took their chairs, unsure of exactly what they were supposed to be doing, not unlike myself. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
...well duh, Rarity’s whole plan in the first place was a bad idea.
A thump hard enough to shake the table pulled me out of my thoughts. Colgate was staring at me with a grin wide enough to break her face.
“Look who decided to show their faces,” she said, enthusiastically pounding the table again. “And brought the spa twins to boot!”
Both of the aforementioned mares sat stiffly with their backs straight, watching Colgate.
“You two just don’t seem like the type, that’s all. No offence.”
“What about you? Where’ve you been?” I asked. It was only fair to return the question, after all.
“Keeping the landlord busy, as usual. Kinda my unofficial job now. But enough of that! I expect you’ll be wanting something to eat, and more importantly, something to drink!”
The three of us first-timers nodded. More for the food on my part, but it didn’t sound like she was giving us much of a choice anyway. I smiled at Lotus, who tried to manage a sheepish one back. I could tell her confidence in the situation was waning.
“Alrighty! Chips, salsa, and- HEY! Who left Ozzy in the jukebox? Sheesh.” Colgate set down the tray and four mugs of frothy cider, before excusing herself to go kick the jukebox. Aloe caught a bit of the liquid up on her hoof, unsure what exactly it was.
“Um... Whooves? What exactly is zis?”
I nearly choked on my own cider, clearing my airway before replying. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve lived in Ponyville all this time, and never once tried cider?”
“Yes, zat would be correct.”
“Drink up. I understand this place is a little outside your comfort zone–hay, it’s a bit outside mine–but cider is a first time addiction. For anypony.”
In the meantime, Colgate had kicked on some reggae and meandered back to our table. She and I clinked our mugs.
“Cheers, mates,” said the unicorn, holding her cup out toward the spa sisters. They politely tapped theirs against hers, albeit with much less force. They looked at each other, and lifted the cider to their lips.
This is either going to make things a lot better, or a lot worse. I waited to see their expression, but was forced to wait longer than I expected to.
When the nearly empty mugs came back to the table, Aloe and Lotus both had half-lidded eyes and their tongues hanging out.
Colgate nudged me in the side. “Reminds me of my first taste. ‘Course I was a good bit younger than them... I’ll get another barrel.”
The spa sisters found themselves much more at ease. They tried salsa (also new to them), listened to new genres of music, and by the third mug down nearly an hour later, Colgate deemed them ready to venture into the world of cards. I leaned back in my chair, putting my rear hooves up on the table as our unicorn dealer explained the rules of five-card to the sisters. At the other table, I glimpsed Lucky busily multitasking, still caught in the group of washed up stallions (and one pink mare). He gave me a shrug and went back to work.
Aha! This is where all the stallions are hiding.
“Hey! Equestia to Whooves. You in?” asked Colgate, bringing me back to the table I was at.
“What? Uh, no, just deal me out.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Little mister righteous.” She leaned forward. “...or maybe you just can’t play.”
“I don’t have a problem with cards, or gambling for that matter,” I clarified. “Just accept that the money spent on it should be counted as spent on entertainment.”
“Hmm...” Colgate contemplated me with a squinty eye, before flicking a tortilla chip to the center of the table. “Ante up!”
Two hours later, Aloe and Lotus were both out, migrating toward the jukebox with a pile of bits and cider on tap, cycling through the songs. Colgate and I were down to a hooffull of chips each, and the pot was over half a bag.
Colgate peeked at her cards once more. “How many?”
“Hold on,” I replied, grabbing a napkin and scribbling down some numbers.
“What are you doing?”
“Chill...” I did some final subtraction on my calculations.
“Are you seriously trying to calculate your chances? I’m telling ya, it’s all about gut instinct.”
“We’ll see. Two please.”
She dealt them, and three for herself. “Dealer takes three... all in.”
I matched her move. She grinned wickedly and laid out her cards, one at a time. Mi Amore Cadenza... Luna... and Celestia. Three of a kind. “I’d rain on your parade if I could, but the weather team has been doing that all day anyway.”
Too bad for her, I had a flush. “I’d attribute this outcome to your gut instinct being sick... judging by the look on your face.”
“Screw your math.” She stole a chip and ate it. “Pass the salsa.”
Over at the other table, the other crowd was beginning to devolve. Stallions donned their rain gear, pulling on ponchos and coats before trudging out into the rain. Finally, only Berry Punch was left, cheating herself at a game of solitaire. Lucky tossed his visor on the table as he sat down.
“...and that’s the game. How was yours?”
Colgate groaned and levitated the deck of cards up, sending them into the air in a shower. Lucky just chuckled.
“How was Berry doing?” asked Colgate.
“Inebriated, as always.”
“Still hate my guts?”
“Near as I can tell.”
I looked over at the aforementioned mare, who was still absorbed in her own little game. “Was there a falling out? I thought you two used to hang out.”
“Yeah...” Colgate rubbed the back of her neck. “She got a bit irked after the... incident. We were kinda... unofficial friends with benefits before...”
Colgate reached a hoof out to Lucky, who got up suddenly. “Lucky...”
“Shh...” His nimble hooves touched down on her back, moving in small circles. She sighed and planted her face on the table. He pushed harder, giving her back a fair bit of tension release.
“Anyway, after our little talk, and more recently with Lucky here, she’s been a bit more depressed and intoxicated than usual. Feels like I dumped her or something.”
I tried to ignore her slight moans as Lucky moved down her back. “Studies show that physical involvement is almost always accompanied by some level of emotional involvement as well, whether intentional or not.”
“Hey, maybe you should give her the talk you gave me? She’s in a similar rut.”
“I suppose I could... but I don’t think I’m in a position to make it do any good right now.”
“Meaning?”
“You had nobody at all. Period.”
“And?”
“And she has–or had–you.”
“You know I can’t talk emotionally and stuff.”
“Course you can. You’re a mare. I’m just a stallion with a thick skull, remember?”
Lucky looked at me oddly.
Colgate groaned, starting to get up. “Ugh, fine. You win. I’ll try.”
“Hold your horses, Nelly,” I interrupted, spying Berry snoring over her cards, gracelessly drooling. The spa sisters were leaning on each other against the jukebox, sleepily bobbing their head to a beat. “Maybe it’s about time everypony here hit the sack.”
“At last, something I’m good at,” replied Colgate. With Lucky’s help, she got the place’s last guest to her feet and on her way out the door. I gathered Aloe and Lotus, distributing their raincoats. They reluctantly let the cider mugs go and zipped up.
“Hey, Doc.”
I stopped and looked back at Colgate who was heading back up the stairs with Lucky, each to their apartment.
“Good game. And goodnight.”
“Sleep well.”
Outside, the rain was cold. It was pitch black, the only exception the flickering light provided by the occasional streetlight. By the time I’d reached the spa, the wind and water against my face were enough to wake me up a bit.
At the door, Lotus spoke up. “Why don’t ‘ou come in...?”
“No, I really should be getting home. Gimme a raincheck.”
“Danke, Doctor. Tonight was not what I was expecting... but twas good,” responded Aloe over the drizzle.
“Ze cider...” added in the blue mare.
“Ze music...” continued her sister.
I rolled my eyes. “Not to mention the games.”
“Ze what? Oh, of course.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Goodnight...”
During the trot home, I nearly became lost in the darkness, but managed to get back in a reasonable amount of time with only a few detours. I left the soaked umbrella by the door, grabbed a towel and a cup of tea, and....
…well, here I am now. Up way later than I should be.
As recorded on my twenty-first day here in Ponyville.
Celestia’s sun was coming up. I was awake to enjoy it, for once. On a Saturday. How strange.
I knew, despite the mail having been delayed the day previous, that it would have to be held till Monday.
...not that I particularly care about the mail itself.
“Hey.”
The unexpected voice beside me startled me, nearly causing me to upset the folding chair I had set up near my door.
“Carrot Top. What are you doing stalking me so early in the morning?”
“Oh hush. Maybe I want to talk.”
“No ‘maybe’ about it. You could talk the wings off a manticore if you were so inclined.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You do that.”
An irked frown passed across her face, before she remembered why she was at my house, whatever reason that was. “You didn’t see Ditzy yesterday.”
“You really are stalking me, aren’t you?”
“I’m her neighbor. It doesn’t take a great deal of observance to notice that you didn’t show up, and she didn’t leave. But that’s not the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“If you are determined to ask her about you-know-who, then you should do it sooner rather than later.”
“Any specific reason?”
She sighed. “If what you do find out makes you back out... I want to be able to pick up the pieces.”
“Nopony is going to be picking up any pieces,” I nearly growled. “But... I think you’re right. We’re far enough along now... it ought to be brought up.”
“Well, whatever your reasons, thanks.” She looked around, and then up. “Better start thinking about how to ask.”
“What do you mean? There’s no mail this morning.”
She merely grinned and trotted off. “Exactly.”
Well that was incredibly helpful, I thought to myself sarcastically. While I didn’t give any credit to her reasons, at least we agreed on something– a something that was going to have to happen. I got off my chair, turning to go back into the house. Might as well get myself some-
Thud. The unmistakable sound of air being forced down by feathered wings.
Thwack. The distinct ring of a wingtip grazing the gutter.
Thump. The impact of a pegasus on the ground next to me.
“Ditzy? Are you okay? What are you doing here?”
“Yes I am!” She popped back up on four hooves, nuzzling my neck. “And I came because I missed you, of course!”
“Y’know it was one day, right?”
“...yes.”
“Well I don’t know about you, but it felt like a lot longer than that to me.”
Ditzy gave a grateful lick and hugged me. “Did you eat yet?”
“No. You?”
“No. Want to share a blueberry?”
“How do you sha-” Realization on how something as small as a blueberry is shared dawned on me. “You naughty mare you. Sure, let’s see what I have in the icebox.”
Ditzy tried and failed to smother her own giggle with an upraised hoof, before trotting inside.
“Actually, Ditzy, there’s something we need to talk about, before we go any farther...”
She stopped and looked at me with relatively focused eyes.
“...I probably should have brought it up sooner, but I didn’t want to put you through it.”
“Through what? What are you talking about?”
“I...” This is going to sting a bit, I realized. But it’s better to get it out in the open. “I’d like to know what happened before. Before me. Before Dinky.”
Her eyes drifted as the smile fell from her face.
“I know this probably is difficult to talk ab-”
“No, you’re right,” she interrupted. “You need to know. But not here. Not now... can you come over tonight?”
“Of course.” Even if I had had something on my schedule, it wouldn’t have mattered. This was not my highest priority; it was my only priority. I watched her trot away, wings drooping. Ah, Whooves. Who’d have thought the day when friends come before work would ever come. A grimmer part of me added, Or that you’d ever make those friends period.
To be honest, I wasn’t completely sure why she wanted to talk about it later, and at her house. It was a good thing, to some degree certainly; after all, it was in her comfort zone. Anything that would make it an easier revelation.
I decided I should go ahead and acquire some muffins as well. In the meantime, my poor timing choice in bringing up the issue meant that I didn’t have any breakfast. I was pretty sure even my celery was gone by now.
My cunning and evil mind was not about to settle for the bare minimum when it could help it, however. I mentally flipped through my resources, but came up short. The best I could come up with was Sugarcube corner, which I really didn’t have the mental stamina for at the time.
Oh well, I thought, starting off at a brisk trot to no place in particular. I wonder where Rarity would be at this hour. I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to hear what happened.
I suddenly found myself wondering what she eats for breakfast. With a sharp curve, I altered course to the Carousel Boutique.
I rapped on the door. From inside, there was a muffled statement, quickly overridden by what was clearly Rainbow Dash’s voice... a slightly irritated Rainbow Dash if I were to guess.
“Hay no. If you leave me stuck here like a pin-up while you answer the door, I am so gone!”
The door opened, revealing an exasperated Rarity wearing her fashionable red sewing glasses, measuring tape around her neck, and a few strands of ribbon floating around her. She spat out some clothespins she had been holding in her mouth.
“Oh dry up, Rainbow Dash!” She turned to me. “Sorry about that. Ignore her. Would you like to come in?”
I followed her in, shutting the door behind me and wiping my hooves. We proceeded into her work room, where the most notable facet was the prismatic-maned pegasus up on the platform in a frilly work-in-progress dress. But, despite the garment, her mane was unkempt and she seemed a bit tired (no doubt lending to her mood).
“This is unbelievable.”
“Relax darling. Whooves isn’t going to spread your secret.”
“My secret? You’re the one that guilted me into this!”
“Oh please. You know full well that I only inconvenience you because you have a somewhat rare build, for Ponyville that is. Now shush so Whooves can tell us his story!” She looked over her glasses. “You do have news for me, yes?”
“Why can’t Fluttershy do it? She’s the sewing expert, right?” interrupted Rainbow.
“We had a bad experience. Now shut up and let Whooves talk.”
“Why? What does he–er, you–have to s-” She yelped as one of the pins Rarity was manipulating pricked her. “Hey! You did that on purpose!”
“And suppose I did?”
“Do it again and I’ll bleed all over your new dress,” replied the pegasus haughtily.
Rarity’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but she didn’t succumb to Rainbow’s threats. “Continue, Whooves.”
“Okaaay,” I said hesitantly, eyeing Rainbow Dash warily. She was ignoring the other ponies in the room. “So, remember Colgate, the mare at the hospital?”
“The suic- um, troubled unicorn? Yes.”
“Yeah well, she’s got a neighbor who runs a card joint-”
Rainbow Dash yelped as a pin stuck her again, presumably accidental this time.
“Whooves!” exclaimed Rarity. “Are you telling me that you took Aloe and Lotus to that decrepit old basement?”
Rainbow stopped sucking her injured hoof long enough to comment. “Oakback Slack’s? I’ve been there once. ‘Course that was back when Slack still owned it.”
Rarity shot an annoyed glance at Rainbow. “I suppose what’s done is done. Did it at least not go horribly wrong?”
“Rarity, my fine mare, have you no faith? Sure, they were a little apprehensive at first, but they were thoroughly enjoying themselves by the end... a little cider, a little music...”
“And... they enjoyed it?” Rarity asked, mouth agape.
Rainbow Dash stepped down from the platform. “Not everypony can be as classy as you, Rare. If that were the case, nopony would be one of us normal ponies to take care of real stuff.”
“I resent that, Rainbow Dash,” replied Rarity, stiffly. “You know very well that I can get my hooves dirty when need be.”
“Yeah, but like, not as well as it could be done.”
“And they say I’m the perfectionist...”
“At least I worry about the stuff that matters.”
I decided it was time to intervene. “Not to interrupt, but is this... normal?”
They didn’t even hear me.
“Don’t worry! They do this almost every week. It’s like their special day when they can yell and get out everything they’ve been holding in all week.”
I jumped at Pinkie Pie’s voice next to me. The front door was ajar, indicating she’d just come walking in. Pinkie looked from the arguing mares to me. “I just let it out all the time!”
I started to point out that that didn’t make sense; after all, if she was letting it out all the time then she’d be yelling angrily at ponies all the time. Instead, I just kept my mouth shut. It was Pinkie. Nopony will ever know how she works. Maybe she doesn’t get those feelings on a regular basis.
“So what are you doing out on this beeeautiful day?” asked Pinkie Pie as we walked–or bounced–away. I decided Rarity had the bare necessities of the information she needed for now.
“You’re not out looking for specialties in the spices again, are you?” prompted Pinkie.
“Uh, no. But I am looking for some muffins for tonight, if Sugarcube Corner would happen to have any in stock.”
“Oh sure! Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. These wouldn’t happen to be for a certain special somepony, would they?” she asked, a too-enthusiastic grin growing on her face.
“Yeah... I’m going over there tonight...”
“Yes? And...?”
“Well, see, I have this question I want to ask her and-”
“OMIGOSH! By Luna’s twinkling tiara I knew it!”
“No, Pinkie, it’s not like-”
“Why didn’t you tell me? This is going to be so much fun!” She froze suddenly, amidst her borderline physics-breaking antics. “I have sooo much planning to do!”
“Planning? For what?” The second I asked, I knew the answer and was sorry I asked.
“Well duh! For the...”
I covered my ears.
“...PAR-TY!”
I groaned. “Do you ever listen?”
“Not when I’m talking! What would be the point of that? I already know what I’m going to say.”
“Then listen now, ‘cause I’m talking. I like your parties, but I don’t want one for this.”
“Of course you do! You just don’t know it yet.”
“...it’s hopeless.”
“Naw, don’t say that... Wait, what is?”
“Pinkie I’m... I’m not marrying her.”
“What? You’re not? But... but...”
“I mean, that’s not what I am going to ask,” I quickly clarified. “Not that that’s out of the picture, but no that’s not what I meant... I mean, like, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Is it wrong that I’m even thinking about this? I... uh...”
Pinkie was grinning ear-to-ear, carefully balanced on the tips of her hooves.
“...what?”
“Aww, that’s so cute!” she said, bouncing now. “You love her!”
“I... I-”
I suddenly found a pink hoof shoved up my mouth. “No! Don’t say it. She should be the first pony to hear it... it’s so much more romantic that way!”
“Anyway... are we clear about the party tomorrow?”
“Sure! I’ll start getting the stuff ready.”
“But I thought-”
“Nono, don’t worry. I’ll come up with some other reason... everypony will just attribute it to me being me. Whatever that means.”
“Um, okay...”
“But remember, ya got to tell her!”
“Tell her that-”
“Yes!”
Pinkie trotted away, humming. I was pretty sure I knew what had transpired, but...
Well, there’ll be an invitation thingie I suppose.
I turned to go to Lucky’s (or Colgate’s, or Oakback Slack’s if you will), passing by the Boutique on the way. There wasn’t any yelling anymore. Pinkie was either right or very wrong.
“Hey!” The aforementioned mare took me by surprise with her sudden return. “This way to the muffins, genius!”
We wound our way to Sugarcube Corner, Pinkie waving greetings to passers-by. Mr. and Mrs. Cake seemed in good health, business running as usual. Ahead of me, Pinkie jumped up onto the counter, much to the interest (surprise just isn’t the right word for anypony who’s been around her for any length of time) of the Cakes and nearby customers.
“Everypony! I’m holding a party tomorrow to celebrate my new muffin recipe! You’re all invited!”
There was a moment of almost eerie silence before the ponies around began stealing glances at one another, one and then another hoof stomping on the floor. They all knew she threw the best parties, even if they didn’t always quite understand why she threw them when she did.
As she climbed down, I asked her quietly, “What new recipe?”
“The one I’m about to go come up with. Come back this afternoon to pick them up!”
“See you soon... I guess...”
I retreated from the inviting, oversized gingerbread house. A couple blocks later, my stomach rumbled, reminding me why I had been out in the first place. Not that I expected anything to go as expected since I moved to Ponyville–the place seemed to be a glaring beacon to all kinds of unfortunate occurrences. My stomach, however, was not pacified by this explanation.
I decided I would catch something at one of the stands; by this time, they were rather close. An apple, perhaps, I thought, catching sight of a certain blond-maned mare.
“Howdy-do, Whooves. What can Ah get for you?”
“Um... Macintosh will do.”
“He’s busy.”
“The apple.”
“O’ course he’s an Apple!”
I thumped my head on the counter. “Fine, a Red Delicious then.”
She retrieved the appropriate fruit, exchanging it for the required bits. “What seems to be going on?”
“Uh...” I looked back towards Pinkie’s residence. “You’ll probably be receiving an invitation sometime today.”
“Let me guess, a party?”
“What else?”
Applejack nodded and went on the next pony in line. Chewing contently, I wandered past town square when the wind shifted. My ear twitched involuntarily, picking up distinctive twangs of a stringed instrument. I trotted in that direction, curiously looking over the heads of the three or four ponies.
Lyra? Playing on the weekend?
The mint green unicorn was indeed cradling her namesake, eyes closed, plucking the golden strings in sequence. As she came to the cadence of the song, the few ponies around quickly dispersed, only one filly stomping her hooves before her mother hurried her along. Lyra opened her eyes, but everypony was now moving along on their business.
“Hi there, Whooves.”
“You work on weekends?”
“Oh, this? This isn’t work. I’m just relaxing. Bonbon is out today, so...”
“I guess I never really asked,” I said, thinking back, “but, what exactly do you do for work then?”
“It’s sort of on and off, more off lately.” She set her lyre down. “I teach musical theory, when it’s in the school’s budget. It’s not ideal, but my specific instrument isn’t in big demand for any ensembles, especially here in Ponyville.”
I sat next to her. Mid-day life in the center of the village went on.
“Apple?”
“...sure.”
She magically clove the fruit, taking a slice. The action struck a thought up in my head.
“I’m sure you get this often, but why do you play with your hooves?”
Lyra laughed. “I picked it up when I did my magic-free phase. Ponies thought it was cool... it’s not everyday you see a unicorn playing earth-pony style. I guess you could say it was for the publicity, although that seems to have worn off. A bit of habit now.”
“You were a real college hippie, weren’t you?”
“Just a little bit.”
“Bonbon went for it though, apparently.”
“What? I mean, yeah maybe,” she replied, pretending to be embarrassed. “She’s mellowed me out some, though.”
“Well, don’t get too mellow. You want to keep things exciting, right?”
Lyra blushed for real, looking quickly each way. She put her hoof on my chest and gave a little shove. “Hush, you! Go talk dirty to your own marefriend.”
“I will if you will,” I returned, starting to walk away. “Of course, the way I understand it, that might have consequences for you.”
Lyra gaped. “I thought she was joking when she said it was from you... are you serious?”
“Of course. And don’t act so shocked. You know you enjoy it.”
“S-shut up,” she stammered, before burying her face in her hooves. “Just leave. Please. Now.”
Despite her words, I could tell there was a smile wanting to break out under the facade. I left off though, merely smiling smugly and taking my time walking away.
Finding my way to Lucky’s and Colgate’s building at last, I buzzed their rooms. After a few minutes without a response, it became apparent they weren’t in. As I puzzled, an elderly stallion emerged, still yawning and stretching. That’s what it looked like anyway; it’s possible he just looks that way all the time.
“Excuse me good sir, but would you happen to know the whereabouts of Mr. Lucky and Miss Colgate?”
“Eh? What’s that now, sonny?”
I was tempted to grind my teeth at the last word, but repeated the question anyway.
“Oy, them two lovebirds were up bright ‘n’ early, headed off to the park I reckon, if my sea bearings still are straight on their axes.” He tried to lift a foreleg to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked up at it, his joint squeaking from the motion. I grunted my thanks and moved on.
‘Bright ‘n’ early,’ meaning eleven to noon.
Hunting through Ponyville’s (rather large, even by Canterlot standards) park, I crossed paths with the three little Crusaders. Fortunately, they seemed occupied with getting boomerang cutie marks today, content to merely wave upon catching sight of me.
I did eventually found one of my targets. Lucky was lounging on a bench, foreleg draped over the side and head nodding to an invisible beat. Upon my sitting down next to him, the gray stallion paused and removed his headset, previously hidden by his mane.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
A bird chirped somewhere.
“Where’s Colgate?”
“I think she took your advice. Went to find Berry Punch.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I got up and walked away, Lucky returning to his tune. That is how conversations are supposed to go. An exchange of information–a feature typically only found in stallion-stallion conversations.
It shouldn’t surprise anypony, then, that most of my clients back in Canterlot were mares.
I kicked myself mentally, spotting a not-so-subtle couple rubbing noses in a different corner of the park. Whether you like it or not Whooves, I internally lectured myself, even stallions have emotions too. Not that they’re bad... they’re just not in the same dimension as the rest of all audible thoughts. In short, they are just plain bulky to express verbally.
All this thought about communication of emotions reminded me I had a date–or, at least a place to be. Ditzy and I hadn’t set a time, but I had gotten the gist of ‘after supper’ from what was said. That left still half an afternoon to burn, which seemed like no time at all and yet still too long all at once. I’m not going to try and describe it any further than that ‘cause you won’t know unless you’ve felt it, and if you’ve felt it then you already know.
My long and somewhat boring (even to me) self-dialog was interrupted by a faint boom and corresponding shudder in the ground. Everypony around stopped too, looking around in all directions. It happened again.
With a few seconds delay from each shot, the sky exploded with fireworks. Not really fireworks mind you, but they were propelled by a rocket, followed by a mild pop upon reaching a certain height. Eventually one exploded over the park, everypony turning their gaze upward to the heavens. The sky was graced with little pink cards, reigning down as the wind would have them. Lucky trotted up, with one in his hoof, curious if I knew what they were.
“Looks like an invitation to me.”
Pinkie Pie was literally assaulting Ponyville with artillery, except that the shells were leaflet bombs.
I suppose she couldn’t just use a megaphone or mail them... novelty is rather high on her priorities, seemingly.
“‘You (as in YOU, the one reading this, and everypony around you too) are invited to a really big party tomorrow, starting sunrise to sunset or until you collapse from exhaustion, whichever comes first. P.S. Oh yeah, the reason I’m doing this is ‘cause I have this cool new recipe to try if you bring something to eat. Don’t worry, I’m baking them myself so far which means they’ll actually be good baked goods,’” read Lucky aloud.
“Well, it’s definitely Pinkie.”
“I don’t even know her, and I know that.”
“Pinkie knows everypony in Ponyville.”
Lucky rolled his eyes. “Just because she has a freaky memory doesn’t mean she’s close enough to be what I’d call a friend. Acquaintance, maybe.”
“Fair enough.” I stowed an invitation and trotted back to my house, still getting reactionary flinches from the occasional mid-air detonations that continued over various parts of the village for the next ten minutes. Looking up, I found with relief that the sky had already been mostly cleared, indicating that there were no pegasi in flight at the moment. That could have been problematic.
Finding my way into my house, I soon realized that having boxes haphazardly piled in the halls and in the majority of the rooms is highly inconvenient, in that it restricts mobility overmuch. I had quite forgotten about the collateral mess, result from my escapade to retrieve my umbrella the previous day.
I huffed and began closing boxes and returning them to their original places. I knew I should be giving the items within permanent homes, but it was taking long enough as it was. In fact, by the time I finished, the day was progressing well into the afternoon–and high time I pick up my parcel for the evening.
At Sugarcube Corner, business seemed to be running as usual, despite Pinkie’s earlier announcement. Ponies seemed to realize that the first (well, not quite. I was getting the true first–granted smaller–batch, after all) tasting would be tomorrow at the town-wide fiesta.
“Is Miss P- ...er, Pinkie around?” I asked Mrs Cake. She nodded, indicating the direction of the kitchen with her hoof.
The kitchen was covered in cupcakes. Most had no icing, but they were still undeniably cupcakes. “Uh... Pinks?”
“Hi there, Whooves!” she replied enthusiastically, popping up from behind a counter. She was a shade or two lighter than usual, a consequence no doubt of the flour that still lingered in the air.
“Not to be too obvious here, but there are cupcakes everywhere.”
“Yeah, I know! All of my attempts at new muffins drifted that way. Well, most. I think I got these right!”
As it turned out, she did have one pan of muffins, which she placed on my back, forcing me to try to balance it.
“Do you mean to say that each of these is an attempt at a new muffin recipe?”
“Yep.”
“As in, each one is different?”
“Each batch, yes. By the way, what am I going to do with all of them?”
I grinned. “Mix them up.”
“What?”
“Mix them up, and frost them, all the same.”
“Hehe... that’s a good one, but why?”
“Don’t you see? You’ve already got more than enough for tomorrow. I don’t think anypony’s going to give too much notice to whether they’re cupcakes or muffins. To be honest, I think the majority of ponies prefer them, except maybe for breakfast.”
Pinkie tapped her chin in thought, once, twice, th- no, just twice. “Cool! But do I need to shoot off new invitations?”
“Pinkie, it’s not that big of a deal. Everypony comes because they like your parties, not just to gorge themselves. They shouldn’t, anyway.”
“Aww thanks Doc,” she replied, giving me a hug out of the blue. “What about your marefriend?”
“This more than covers us,” I said, sweeping the one tray of muffins into a sack. “And thanks for this. You didn’t have to.”
“Well duh! It was my idea after all.”
“Do you need help? With the icing, that is.”
“Naw, it’ll be a blast.” She giggled. “Speaking of which, you might want to leave or put these safety glasses on.”
I was out the door quickly and on my way home with the bag. Nearly back to my house, I passed Lyra and Bonbon’s house, the former of which popped open a window.
“Lasagna’s in the oven. You’re grilling the asparagus.”
“Sure thing. Let me grab something first.”
I darted into my house, depositing the muffins and retrieving the poor umbrella that had been deserted at the coffee shop. I would have given it to Lyra before in the park, but I didn’t have it with me then.
“Ah, so that’s where that went,” remarked the unicorn as I slipped it back on its peg by their door.
I didn’t burn the asparagus on the charcoal grill. Not more than you’re supposed to, leastways. The window was open in the kitchen, where I set the platter with the vegetables down. A slight breeze came through, clearing some of the heat that had built up during the height of the day.
“If you don’t mind my saying so... you look a bit distracted, Whooves,” Bonbon ventured, cutting out a slice of her lasagna.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I don’t mean to be.”
Bonbon sent a quick smirk towards Lyra. “Perhaps... perhaps you’re going to be talking to your marefriend about something? Something... more serious than usual?”
“Yeah...” I said, poking at my meal. I was a little too out of it to realize where she was going with it.
“You know, believe it or not, it was Lyra who proposed...”
I nearly gagged on a noodle, and not because of the food.
“Lyra looked at me skeptically. “Really Whooves, I would think even you could see I play that role in this relationship.”
I waved her off, croaking “continue” weakly before reaching for my glass of water.
Bonbon picked up her story again. “...of course, I saw it coming from a mile away-”
“Hey! That’s a bunch of horseapples.”
“Why, it wasn’t anything you could help, dear. In fact, it was almost cute, you were so nervous...”
“Oh come on!”
“You brought your lyre with us, the sun was setting, the lake shore reflecting the orange light from the dying rays...”
“I broke a string, that’s all I remember. And wasn’t it raining?”
“And you asked if I could think of anypony I wanted to spend the rest of my life with...”
“...and you started listing celebrities...”
“And we kissed as the sun went down, our wet manes twining together...”
“...then it got cold...”
“So we trotted happily back to the hotel.”
“Where we had s-”
“Lyra! Have you no restraint?”
“There were plenty of restraints last night, as I recall. Besides, we’re all grown-ups here.”
Bonbon dropped her fork. “I was trying to tell a romantic story, relevant to Whooves here.”
“And I was telling the real one.”
“Girls, girls. You’re both pretty,” I intervened. “But, actually, I should probably get going. I do have to go meet my mare, after all.”
Bonbon nodded enthusiastically and followed me to the door.
“Just have fun,” she whispered, winking as I exited. A few steps later, safely in my own house, I sank against the wall. I was suddenly really, really missing Ditzy right then. It was the mention of the lake... it had to have been.
I found it in myself to laugh. Lyra and Bonbon had to be one of the most interesting couples I’d ever met. Their personalities don’t exactly match, but aren’t polar opposites either. Neither is famous or sapping off the other. A true give and take. Roads of life crossed and they came together.
...not unlike somepony you know very, very well.
I told myself to shut up and retrieved the bag of muffins. There was only one cure for my condition right now, and I was more than happy to indulge in it. Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Supper was over, some ponies travelling back to their homes if they hadn’t eaten there.
The lights were on in Ditzy’s house when I trotted up, although I could detect no movement or noise coming from within. I entered, taking a moment to knock on the door as I passed through.
“Ditzy?”
She poked her head in from the living room. “Hello, Whooves.”
“Where’s Dinky?”
“Sparkler picked her up after her meeting. They’ll be out till morning.”
Her voice didn’t have its usual bubbly enthusiasm it almost always had, even on the dreariest of days. She knew what was coming, and wasn’t looking forward to it. I followed her wordlessly into the living room, taking note of her fuzzy pink socks that she had donned. The room itself was, as always, informal. It was lived in, unlike most living rooms. She flitted lightly over to the loveseat, folding her legs under her as she sat. I took the old armchair.
“Don’t say anything,” she said, taking the head of the conversation. “And don’t... don’t hug or touch me till you’re sure. Hear it all first.”
I could tell she was having trouble articulating, words cracking. She didn’t want to say what she said, I realized. Nevertheless, I complied, leaning back and waiting for her to continue.
“Dinky’s unicorn gene didn’t come directly from her father. He was an earth pony, like you.” Her crossed eyes seemed to be contemplating the stack of random books on the coffee table. “But unlike you, he wasn’t much of an intellectual. He wasn’t in contact with some of the higher-up ponies in the big-time Canterlot places. He was down to earth, and it wasn’t too hard to see him going for a mare like me. Plus, I knew he was a safe option; Carrot Top had known him her whole life, and I had known her for the majority of mine.
“We got married. Kept everything short and sweet. Two years later, we had Ditzy. When we went to put down the parents on the birth certificate, however, the nurse said that someone had flagged his name in the legal system... waiting for him to pop up on the grid again.”
Ditzy sank into the cushions, retreating slightly. “That was when we found out about Sparkler. He didn’t know, so naturally I didn’t know either...” She shook her head. “Anyway, we had a long, hard talk about it when we got home. I wasn’t about to break up with him over it... he was as shaken up about it as I was, and the poor stallion didn’t even know.”
“But, he still had to go sort some legal things out with Sparkler’s mom. It was she who had set up the legal flag. So, he got on the first airship heading out... and that was the last time I ever saw him.” She flipped open one of the books on the table, revealing it to be a sort of scrapbook. A large, faded clipping was pasted inside, titled 73 Lost at Sea in the Airship Akron’s Crash.
“...they hit bad weather, and only three survived. They never found his body.”
...buck. Buck buck buck BUCK! I wanted to kick myself for bringing this up.
“Please don’t tell Sparks. She’d blame herself as the cause.”
I nodded.
“...anyway, after that, I moved here to Ponyville, next door to Carrot Top, and that’s where I’ve been since.”
We sat in silence as the sun set, giving the lamps in the room more dominance over the lighting. Eventually, I raised a tentative hoof, wondering if it was alright to speak again. She focused, on me, waiting for me to say what I would.
“You said he knew Carrot Top his whole life? How? Just lucky friends?”
“Um, no, actually. He was her brother.”
Well, that explains why she’s a bit sensitive on that topic.
Upon lack of an immediate reply, Ditzy tried to spell it out clearer. “Oakback Slack, my husband, was her brother.”
My mind reeled. “Did you say Oakback Slack?”
“...yes. Do you know of him?”
“Let me guess... he owned a little place in the basement of an apartment building?”
Ditzy cocked her head. “How did you know?”
“A friend owns it now.” I was still trying to string all these events and ponies together in my mind. Another silence filled the room. The pegasus across from me noiselessly closed the scrapbook and stared at the cushion below her.
“Now what?” she asked, without looking up. The uncertainty and worry was evident in her unsteady tone, even to a thick-skulled stallion like me.
Now is the time for action, not words.
I stole over to the loveseat, climbing onto the empty side behind her. My hoof slid around her torso, under her forelegs, enveloping her in a full-bodied hug. Her breath quickened, but she still wouldn’t look at me.
“You’re... not going to leave?”
As if the hug wasn’t enough of an answer... I kissed her cheek in the affirmative. “Heavens no. Why would you think that?”
She turned her head, staring back into my eyes, our faces inches apart. “Aren’t you worried?”
“About what?”
“That things might not... might not turn out the way you anticipate?”
“Life would be really, really boring if they did.” I gave her another reassuring squeeze. “In fact, I’m kinda counting on it.”
Ditzy twisted under me onto her back, head resting on the armrest. Blushing, she asked, “Whooves, can I kiss you?”
I kissed her.
And although the sun had set, we didn’t fall asleep for a while. When we finally did, it was in loving embrace, forelegs, manes and tails as much as part of one as of the other. For my part, I also had a clearer idea of what I was, what my priorities were, and what the future could be like than I’d ever had before.
The sun came up like any other day. But today was not going to end the same.
I came to the waking world with Ditzy’s mane splayed haphazardly over my muzzle. I inhaled her scent with each breath, stray hairs of her mane swaying to and from me in sync. For my part, I wasn’t on the loveseat anymore, having rolled off onto the floor sometime in the deeper part of the night. Ditzy was sprawled on the edge, a foreleg, wing, and lock of hair hanging over.
I smiled and playfully batted her mane out of my face. Her eyelids fluttered open, blinking once or twice before she mentally oriented herself. Catching sight of me below her, she smiled and deserted the loveseat entirely, landing on top of me.
“Good morning, my little stallion.”
“Good morning, Ditzy.”
After a moment of resting her head on my chest, she said, “I suppose we should get up.”
“You’re on top; I guess that’s up to you.”
“Mmm... ‘k, getting up now...” However, she made no move in that direction, instead wrapping her forelegs around me.
“Mhm...”
“Yeah.” With the help of a few flaps, she finally extracted herself off of me. I also got to my hooves, peeking out between the blinds. Celestia’s sun had detached itself from the horizon, ponies beginning to stir, and some of the more avid party goers already scurrying towards the center of town.
“Now what?” she asked, hopeful. It was the complete opposite of last night’s phrase, despite having the same grammatical makeup.
“Well, I’m not making you breakfast,” I chuckled, getting to my hooves. “What kind of thanks would that be? I did bring some, though.”
She followed me into the kitchen, where I retrieved the sack from yesterday and emptied it of its contents.
“Muffins!”
“Only the best.”
“Aww, thanks.” She hugged me again, before we sat down to eat. Our solitude didn’t last long, though. The door burst open, a bouncy unicorn filly rocketing in.
“Good morning, Mom! Hi Whooves! We were sleeping over at Carrot Top’s, and now today there’s this huge party!”
Sparkler leaned against the doorframe, smiling at her half-sister. “Come on, Dinky. You hardly slept at all last night, you were so excited.”
“I’m not tired!” protested Dinky. “Let’s go!”
Her mother and sister convinced her she needed to eat breakfast first. Caving, she scarfed down a muffin and continued to bounce, determined not to be quelled. Eventually, we headed out, joining the majority of the ponies as they migrated towards town hall. I stopped a few meters out the door, the other three mares passing me.
“You coming, Whooves?” Sparkler asked when she noticed I wasn’t following.
“Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged and rejoined the group. I turned, trotting back past the house to the one next door. Passing a white picket fence, I moved by a garden with a notably high carrot concentration. My hoof banged on the door. It swung inward, revealing Carrot Top’s stoic face on the other side.
“Whooves.”
“Carrot Top.”
She blinked. “Did you...?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother.”
“It was a long time ago...” She twisted a hoof into the carpet. “And I’m sorry I treated you like a bloated parasprite. You didn’t know.”
I extended a hoof. “Friends?”
“Dang, kid, that ain’t how we do it down here in Ponyville.” She pulled me into a quite unexpected hug, before releasing me suddenly and shoving me out the door. “Now go along and get her, punk.”
I complied, trying to figure out the other possible connotations of ‘punk’ outside the ones it came with in Canterlot (they weren’t positive) as I walked. I found my way with my ears; there was some vaguely peppy music playing, perhaps ragtime, that served as a guide better than any map.
Good grief. It’s the middle of the morning and they’re already dancing. Yes, that’s right. It wasn’t one I recognized though... looked like perhaps a variety of a swing or a mild west dance. Working my way through the chaotic twirling couples, I saw the musicians plucking away on the stage, behind which the DJ was setting up her equipment, mane complementing the curly pink one bobbing beside it.
I looked around, but didn’t have a chance of spotting my group in the frenzied mass of ponies. Shrugging, I walked over to Pinkie to see if she had any plans for the day, or if it was off the wall. The latter was my guess.
“Pinkie,” I announced, dipping my head. “Ms. Scratch.”
The mare stopped what she was doing to look over her glasses at me. “Dude, that’s like... ancient.”
“Huh? What did I say?”
Vinyl shook her head, laughing it off and putting her head back down under the equipment she was working on.
Pinkie nudged me. “Don’t mind her. She’s always nervous before a show.”
There was a very painful-sounding thud as Vinyl tried to sit up. “That’s not–ow, my horn–not true!”
She stood and, with a large speaker in magical tow, drug it to its position on the stage, to the slight annoyance of the currently playing musicians.
“Is there any kind of plan in all this?” I asked, gesturing to the crowd and stage in general, where Vinyl was now pushing a subwoofer that emitted a high-pitched scraping sound every time she shoved it.
“Yep!”
“Oh really.”
“Uh huh. Games, dancing, cupcakes, and most importantly, fun!”
“I’d love to see Twilight’s version.”
She laughed. “You’d drown in ink and parchment! Anyway, you get along and have fun. And don’t forget!”
Forget what? “Wha-” Suddenly I remembered the little condition Pinkie had attached to the party yesterday. I hoped I wasn’t blushing. “Oh, that.”
Pinkie hopped away, her singing lost in the ongoings around us. “Whooves and Ditzy, sitting in a tree. B-U-C-”
“Curse your big mouth, Pinkie.”
Vinyl stepped over beside me, levitating a dozen record cases. “Now you know how I feel.”
I grunted and left the DJ to her work. The band had switched to a slower song, alternating between slow and fast tracks to let the dancers keep up with the pace. I spotted two familiar faces at one of the picnic tables that had been brought out for the occasion, and trotted towards them.
“Well hello, Whooves,” said Lyra, taking a draught from her smoothie.
Bonbon adopted a tone of a pony that has secrets to tell. “And how did it go last night?”
“Pretty well, all things considered. I think I lost her though.” I looked around in the crowd.
Bonbon gasped. “Oh no... and you consider that going well?”
“Wha...? No, not like that. I just can’t find her here.”
“Oh.” The earth pony seemed relieved, even if deprived of her drama.
A new song started, this one with a sections of horns that seemed to imply a lot of twirling. Bonbon thumped her hoof down on the table, much to the annoyance of Lyra who extracted her straw from the back of her throat.
“Hey, let’s dance hon.”
Lyra exaggeratedly looked around. “Where did that come from?”
“Oh come on, I know you know this one! I’ve heard you play it on your lyre.”
“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean I can dance.”
“Really, it’s not that hard. In fact, it’s a bit like... well, you know... in that you just need to get a good rhythm going... except maybe I should lead.”
“You two have fun. I’m going to go stick my head in a bucket of ice,” I commented as I stood and left.
I tip-hooved between twirling couples, agility tested as I dodged side to side. It was really quite colorful... but reminded me somewhat of a mechanical potato masher. I had just finished picking my way between the last of them to come out on the other side, face to face with Sparkler’s amethyst eyes.
“Probably would have gone with hide, rather than run if I were you.”
“What?”
“But it’s good you didn’t. Now go have fun!” With that, she shoved me back into the murderous mob, where I gracelessly smacked into Ditzy face-first.
“There you are! I was wondering where you had gone off to.”
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her out of the way, side-stepping an incoming couple.
“Okay, so you lead then? I don’t know anything about dancing.”
“Oh, bloody good,” I muttered. “Me neither.” Most of my knowledge was theoretical, leastways.
“Just let the music move you!” coached Sparkler from the sidelines.
“Oh it moves me, but it moves me ugly!” I returned, hurrying my marefriend along with the flow to avoid any collisions. It wasn’t exactly the way you were supposed to do it, but it was preventing disasters. Finally making it to the edge of the pack, Ditzy and I fell out of it, landing in a heap near the pink unicorn.
She tut-tutted. “I thought you’d know more of that, coming from Canterlot.”
“The reason they tend to avoid dancing at their parties is because they might break into a sweat,” I grunted, standing. “Besides, you’ve been there. Why don’t you show us how it’s done?”
“Okay, maybe I will.” She scanned the sidelines. “Hold on.”
Sparkler trotted over to a very bored young stallion, who was watching the ongoings with his head in his hooves. His blue eyes shot up when Sparkler approached, and though Ditzy and I were too far away to hear what was being said, his reaction was enough. He sat up, back arched, ears twitching alertly in a newfound subject of interest. A few lines were traded, before the mare nearly hauled him out of his chair and drug him out onto the designated dance floor.
I would have made a bet with anybody willing, but Ditzy was the only one close, and that wasn’t really her thing.
A few more words were exchanged, before Sparkler rolled her eyes and placed his foreleg on her hip.
Ditzy laughed quietly. “Isn’t that just like Caramel...”
I don’t know this Caramel, but I suppose he doesn’t seem like the socially outgoing type, considering he wasn’t already out there dancing. Sparkler started in on the beat, taking long and pointed strides, managing to do rotation in addition to the basic steps. The poor colt had little choice and wound up following more than leading.
The song began approaching its apex, tempo of the piece picking up. Beside me, Ditzy was stomping her hooves.
Her pounding hooves, the deep twang of the bass, the unified movement of the crowd, all in sync with the ever increasing rate of the song. Faster and faster it wound, like the suspense scene in a movie.
A giant shadow fell over the square.
The more attentive ponies slowly left off dancing, one by one pausing and looking up. The band continued to play, the fiddle having gained the primary spot by then, just seconds away from the end, and sawing away nonstop.
The silhouette of the larger-than-life pony sank to the earth gracefully, its wide wingspan keeping it from so much as having to pump once. With a delicate note, the shod hooves touched the surface of a picnic table. The song ended with a ba-dum tshhh, replaced with nothing but silence as the new arrival commanded complete attention. The sun no longer directly behind it, the figure became clear.
“Princess Celestia!” Even as the purple Bearer of Magic said it, hopping up to meet her mentor, other ponies sank in a bow. I also did so, trying to make myself less noticeable behind my marefriend.
“Please, me little ponies, do not let me interrupt the festivities! In fact, my sister and I may just join you.”
With the oddest appearance, lightning struck from clear sky, leaving an afterimage on my retina and an additional alicorn, this one dark, standing in our midst.
“...providing we are not intruding, of course,” added Luna.
Pinkie bounced above the heads of the other equines around her. “Don’t be silly! Come on, let’s have some more fun, princesses! Hey, why did the music stop?”
Vinyl glanced at the musicians on stage, who hadn’t seemed to come out of the shock of the sudden appearance of the princesses. Grinning, the unicorn lifted two records onto the turntable, flipped a few switches, and started working her magic. It didn’t even half-way resemble the previous tunes, but apparently there was a dance for it too.
My eyes shot back to Celestia, who conversed quickly and politely with Twilight Sparkle and a few of her nearby friends. Luna had taken to standing directly in front of a subwoofer, grinning whenever a new vibration set her shaking. Her sister had disentangled herself from her pupil for the moment, and was headed my way. My cover, Ditzy, moved to the side of me, assuming (not unreasonably) that she would have business to conduct with me, rather than her. My ears dropped flat as her Highness stepped directly in front of me.
“Whooves.”
This is it. “I know. I failed to send reports.” I’d been so wrapped up in my own dramas the last few days that it had completely slipped my mind. Let’s just say I would have prefered a card in the mail for a reminder. I didn’t even try to look anypony in the eyes.
“Yes, I noticed.”
There was a second of important, yet silent time.
“My job is done here, then, isn’t it?”
Celestia nodded.
“...not to interrupt,” interrupted Twilight, who seemed to have followed the alicorn, “but what mission would that be?”
Celestia’s and my eyes went wide, looking at each other, at Twilight, and back again.
The princess sighed. “Whooves was sent here as a precaution; he was to check up on your mental health.
“But I stopped sending them. I’m so-” I paused, struck in that moment with a rare instance in which realization and bravado occur simultaneously and give birth to verbal execution of the truth in our hearts and minds. Basically, another way to say I forgot who I was talking to for a second. “Y’know what? I’m not sorry. Everypony has their right to privacy, and just because the spotlight was turned on them for their virtues–virtues, mind you–doesn’t make them subject to popular opinion and criticism. They’re–or, you are,” I corrected, seeing Twilight and her friends gathered around and listening. “You are the Elements of Harmony, for Luna’s sake. They, of all ponies, would be the least likely to need help.”
Her name was oddly applicable in this context. “What did you think, that they would abuse that power? Suffer from the pressure?”
I shook my head, talking again more towards the Bearers. “You symbolize what we strive for, yet are imperfect and flawed like everypony else. Everypony.”
My breath was spent, and suddenly I realized what I’d been saying and whom I’d been saying it to. Everypony within sight stood stock still, eyes on me and the goddess of the sun. I noticed beads of sweat on my brow, partially from my rant, and partially in fear.
“A most interesting theory, Doctor. Still, it is unfortunate that you didn’t learn anything at all here. I suppose that means your place is back in Canterlot.”
“Um, actually,” I said, with a much more compliant tone, “that’s not quite true either.”
Celestia paused, hoof lifted, but waited for me to go on.
“I know I’ve only been here for three weeks, as of today. Maybe I don’t have an accurate account of my surroundings yet, but even so... I think I’ve learned more about ponies in these three weeks than I ever learned, or could learn, at the university. The thing they never teach you there, is that they’re not only logical, but also individual. Hay, we can’t even figure out anypony; how in Equestia are we going to figure everypony? If anything, that is crazy.”
The stern edge of Princess Celestia’s eyes and voice had lifted slightly. “And?”
No words came. My eyes darted to the crowd, picking out ponies I knew. Friends I know, I thought, catching sight of Lucky and Colgate, a hoof from each wrapped around the other’s as they watched the ongoings, wide-eyed. Lovers... Lyra and Bonbon, out on the stilled dance floor, Bonbon gawking after the nearby Princess Luna, her marefriend reaching over and shutting her mouth for her.
A breath of wind caught my mane, the movement in my shadow grabbing my notice.
And then there’s me. I looked down at my hoof. My boring brown hoof. Not colorful. Not cheery. Not willingly lending itself to any altruistic cause. I don’t belong here. Everypony else is a square, or a triangle, or an octagon; I’m the circle.
“...and... I’ll go pack my things.”
I could feel the eyes of the many ponies there on the back of my head as I walked away.
“Please Whooves... don’t go. You’re a good pony.”
“Oh, Pinkie,” I started, turning around momentarily. Unlike the rest of the Bearers, who wore looks more of confusion than of anything else, she looked a bit crestfallen and desaturated. “Good character and right actions are not the same. Even if you were right, everything I do makes things worse here.”
She blinked a few times, uncomprehending. I looked to other eyes, each sending a different message; Lucky, a grim but silent defiance; Colgate, nearing a desperate panic; Lyra, regrettably resolved; and Bonbon... well, she was still looking at Princess Luna.
And then there were those.
Amber, crossed, and wide enough to fill her face like a filly’s.
Utter, complete, disbelief. Shock. Even scared, they were.
I forced myself to turn away and keep walking. It wouldn’t do to hurt her more with drawn-out goodbyes and farewells. It was better if it was quick, clean, and fast, like an amputation.
Still, after all we’ve done together, trusted each other with...
Ah, well. You can’t just go tell a princess to screw themselves.
Can you?
A face-first meeting with my front door forcibly terminated any further thought on that rail. Rubbing my muzzle, I entered, looking about for the necessities. Take only what you need. I could catch the next train to Canterlot, get a hotel whilst I made arrangements to have my stuff moved and my old apartment vacated, and be back to my old life in a week’s time.
The suitcase had already acquired a choice tie, some edibles for the trip, and my hourglass when the door suffered a wood-splintering buck. The cracked wooden door was completely knocked off its lower hinge, swinging at an odd angle once or twice on the upper one before falling completely off, landing flat on the ground.
“What the hay...” I coughed, clearing the dust by waving my hoof.
“Are you a completely heartless? Or just plain dumb?”
“C-carrot Top?” I stuttered.
“Put that down,” she snapped, smacking the suitcase out of my hooves. “You ain’t going nowhere.”
I decided to refrain from pointing out the double negative.
“You’re going back there and holding your mare, and you’re never going to leave her side. Ever.” Her voice had morphed into a growling threat.
I sighed. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like better, but I can’t just walk in there and spit in the face of the Princess.”
Carrot Top began a nearly predator-like approach, driving me back against the wall. “I don’t care if she throws you in chains for the rest of your life. I don’t care if she feeds you to the timberwolves. Heck, I don’t care if she banishes you to the sun so you can burn for a century. I understand you want to be loyal, maybe. But your loyalty to Ditzy comes first.” She stomped her hoof. “In other words, get your flank out there or I will kick it!”
After a moment, I slowly put a hoof on her chest and pushed her away.
“Remind me to thank you one day... after you fix my door.”
She rolled her eyes, but followed me out through the empty frame.
“What, don’t trust me?” I inquired as she continued to follow me back towards the square.
“Oh I trust your intentions... let’s just say I don’t trust nothing to happen to you between here and there, even if it be nothing more than an errant thread of thought.”
“Fair enough.” I do have a tendency to overthink things.
We were nearly halfway back when I paused to listen, fancying I heard something.
“Move it, prisoner!” I glared at her. “Uh, I mean, ‘don’t you think we should keep moving?’”
“Ssh. Listen.”
It came again... the repeated tap of hooves on cobblestones. With everypony at the party, the streets were otherwise quiet.
“...Whooves?”
Carrot and I spun to see Ditzy picking up the pace towards us, lifting off at the last moment for a prolonged bound headed straight for me. “Whooves!”
My breath was forced out of my lungs as she collided with me in a head-on glomp. We slid to a tangled halt a few feet away. She was hyperventilating, making what she tried to say come in short spurts. “Why did you... what did I... I’ll come with, to Canterlot too...”
I lightly put a hoof on her lips, silencing her. Though her eyes remained wide, her breath began to stabilize.
“There’s no need for that. I’m not going anywhere.”
Another hoofstep sounded next to us. This one was very different. The kind that has a golden covering over it. “Oh, really?”
I stood, albeit on slightly shaking legs. Princess Celestia towered over me, eyebrow raised as she waited on my explanation. Shutting your eyes won’t help, I knew, but did anyway.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I’m afraid my mission here isn’t complete yet... it’s just not the one I was thinking of. I’m staying.” I peaked open my eyes, dreading the look I knew I’d find on Celestia’s face.
But contrary to my expectations, she was merely smiling, benevolent as always. “Very well then. Let the party continue!”
The crowd that had followed the figurehead cheered, turning and migrating back to the square. Ditzy stood up next to me, both of us somewhat stunned at what had just transpired. Carrot Top shoved me in the shoulder. “Nice going, wise guy. Let’s get you two back to the party.”
“Uh, yeah. Just a minute.” I trotted ahead, trying to catch up with Celestia’s long strides. “Princess?”
She turned her head, noticing me. “Yes?”
“This might sound a little weird, but... why are you okay with this? It sounded before like you wanted me to go back to Canterlot.”
“If you hadn’t learned anything about friendship by now, then yes, I would have. There was only one way that would show whether or not it was empty words or a real relationship, unfortunately. That’s why I stuck with it.”
I looked down. “I... I would have tried to go, if not for Carrot Top... and Ditzy.”
“Exactly. That makes them pretty good friends, does it not?”
“Yeah, yeah it does. Still, why does that have anything to do with my failure?”
“Come again?”
“No matter which way you cut it, I did fail to send those mental reports. Doesn’t that matter?”
For the first time, I witnessed a princess stammering for an answer. Celestia’s awkward silence was alleviated soon enough, from a thunderous voice behind me that startled me into jumping a few inches.
“Thou had this planned all along, no?” Luna’s language was even more dominating in person than it was on paper. She stepped out of the shadows, meeting her sister’s eyes. “It never was about those reports.”
Celestia laughed. Actually laughed. I didn’t know such a thing could happen.
“Ah, sister, you see through me so clearly. She’s right, Whooves. That was just an excuse to get you here.”
“Then... why was I sent here?”
“The hope was that you’d pick up the lessons of friendship through the trials that the fake mission would give you.”
“...and with what better peers than the Elements of Harmony themselves?” concluded Luna as her mind actively put the puzzle pieces together.
“That’s... oddly clever.”
“Yes, she likes to think so,” commented Luna. “Come, sister, shall we try and fail to fulfill your insatiable sweet tooth?”
“Pinkie!” proclaimed Celestia.
“Yep?”
“Bring out the cupcakes!”
This was instantly followed by a massive applause from the audience of ponies attending.
“Okie dokie lokie!”
Much to my surprise, my role as a bystander quickly changed as Pinkie grabbed me by the hoof and drug me behind the musicians stage. The only light came through the cloth constructions of the platform.
“What are you doing? Why am I coming along?” I asked, without really resisting.
“Look!”
I did, and found Pinkie’s infamous (at least, in Canterlot it is) party cannon, pointing straight up and apparently loaded. Pinkie casually took a seat on top of it while she showed me how to set it off. I had a little trouble paying attention, what with wondering just exactly what made her want to sit on top.
“...so then you hit it exactly seventeen seconds after I leave! It’s always more exciting when the streamers go up while everybody’s already here!”
“...yeah. Sure.”
“Wait!”
I froze. “What? What is it?”
“Twitch-a-twitch-twitch...”
We both looked up. Odd, nothing happened. I looked at Pinkie. “Are you s-”
“Wait for it...”
Since I couldn’t see anything, I listened. A second passed, then another. “I don’t think-”
My sceptical comment was cut off as the deafening boom of Scratch’s speakers suddenly shook the air and ground. Regaining my balance, I flicked the tip of my ear in hopes that it still worked.
“Oh, silly me. It was just Vinyl!”
“What? I don’t follow.”
“She dropped the bass, of course!”
Pinkie left, prompting me to begin my mental countdown. As I hit fifteen, I realized there was no obvious button on the surface to set it off. Well, she did say to hit it...
It roared, firing a speeding rocket of a plastic bottle into the air, spewing bubbles and bubble bath the whole time. Finally, spent of its momentum and contents, the empty container fell back to earth a few feet away. I could have sworn she said something about streamers. I picked up the bottle. It was familiar. How did this get here from under Ditzy’s sink?
A stifled giggle from behind a bush caught my attention, before a little unicorn filly hopped away back to the party’s mass. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Not a big problem. More of a Dinky problem.
I leaned against the side of a cloth-wrapped arch, watching the ponies crowd around Pinkie’s stand. Strings of lights kicked on, alerting me to the dimming sky. It’d been a longer day than it felt.
Something wet landed itself on my nose, causing me to pull my head back and try to look at it.
Bubbles. Bubbles were floating down now, numerous as snowflakes on a Hearth’s Warming snowfall. Catching the rays from the party lights, they shown their prismatic hues to the fullest. Ponies that felt them, like me, stopped to look up.
“It’s beautiful.” Ditzy had found my place, and planted herself at my side.
“Yeah...” I reached a hoof out, catching a group of six or seven large bubbles, having attached themselves to each other via surface tension. With a little boost, I sent them floating back off above the crowd. We continued to watch them drift down for minutes on end, sky darkening and joyous sounds of mirth and laughter finding their way over from the party. Vinyl Scratch had retired her heavier beats, playing slower and almost jazz-like records instead.
“...suppose we should go try Pinkie’s cupcakes?” she asked, without much conviction.
“Naw, she’s okay without us. I’m really more of a muffin pony at heart anyway, like you.”
“I’ve already got my muffin right here.”
“Ditzy... I’m probably about to say the stupidest thing I’m ever going to say...”
She looked at me, earnestly.
“And that’s a lot, coming from me. But I want you to know beforehoof, that the only reason it’s stupid is because it’s so glaringly obvious...”
The current instrumental track faded out, another sliding onto the tables.
“I love you.”
Without hesitation, we kissed, leaning passionately into each other. I could feel the heat radiated off her cheeks, her lips curving into a smile as tears of sheer happiness escaped the corners of her eyes.
Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. That’s what happens when you don’t use something for eight, nine, maybe ten months. Things got a little busy after that party, and a lot of stuff changed. I just didn’t get back around to recording again... and as life has it for me now, I don’t think I’ll need to.
I guess I’d better try to cover a little bit of what’s happened since then, before I sign off. Permanently.
Well, right after the celebration, Twilight and Luna went to the latter’s residence to study their common interest together. I don’t know how they found out about each other’s studies, but I suppose things could have ended worse than they did. Beyond that, I know little. After the royal visit, I have had little contact with the royal sisters or the Bearers, excepting the regular day-to-day contact any regular pony has. They each still have their little quirks, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
As for the ponies closer to my heart, a lot changed. Colgate and Lucky went to Los Pegasus, where Lucky can capitalize on his talents. Colgate has her share of work too, and they’re living together happily. Lucky sold Oakback Slack’s to Berry Punch, who is maintaining her rejuvenated relationship with Colgate through pen and ink.
Aloe and Lotus are still running the spa, of course. Rarity is still their most avid customer, but I think they’ve learned the difference between talk and action now, something most of us take for granted.
Lyra and Bonbon made contact and are rebuilding their relationship with Bonbon’s parents (I am proud to say that that was none of my doing). They also finally told Lyra’s parents, which is also going well so far as they’ve told me.
Carrot Top still lives next door to us, and makes a great house-sitter. She’s maintained her rationality and keeps us on the straight and narrow path, for which I am very thankful to call her my friend.
Sparkler, with some financial help, is now in school and well on her way to her degree.
Dinky got her cutie mark two days ago. Ditzy and I are so proud... a new feeling to me. One I think I can live with rather easily, though. She’s growing up so quickly...
As for me? Well, Ditzy and I moved along pretty fast after that last tie with Canterlot was cut. I moved in when we got married, and now we rent out the top of my old house and I use the bottom as an office for my counselling now. Not psychiatric so much anymore... I’ve found my gift is even more applicable in the emotional and relationship areas than it ever was in psychiatry.
Needless to say, Ditzy doesn’t work double shifts for the mail anymore; she needs her sleep, and gets it now. Except on Thursdays.
Neither of us gets much sleep on those nights.
Anyway, I think that’s all the recap I have time for. The aromas from Ditzy’s breakfast muffins are starting to waft through the floor, and it’s cold up here in the attic anyways, what with this snow we’re having. Time to get back to my family.
