//------------------------------// // XVII: Smokes on the Water // Story: ...And It's Freaking Cold Up Here // by TailsIsNotAlone //------------------------------// Never let it be said that I don't enjoy a good party. Dancing isn't really my thing, but I can drink with the best of them, and back on Earth I was always looking for an excuse to celebrate. It made my life less tedious, especially after the divorce. My friends and fellow coaches would be amazed to see me sitting alone in a corner, staring into space like I am now with a piece of triple-decker mascarpone cake and a cup of perfectly non-alcoholic punch in front of me. I think my new friends here are surprised, too. When Pinkie Pie suggested a No More Yucky Winter Party - no, wait, a Snowdrop Memorial Party - no, wait, a Goodbye Jay Party (there were several working titles and she never settled on an official one), I went right along with it. It was a chance to say a proper goodbye to the ponies. While she planned the shindig, the other ponies used the time to clear all that snow out of the roads, Snowdrop's spirit rested to recover her energy before trying to send me home, and I went back to the castle with Luna to make a lot (and I mean A LOT) more snowflakes. By the time that was over, I was really looking forward to visiting Sugarcube Corner and tasting Pinkie's baking for the first time. She should have called it a Sit On Your Ass and Try Not to Cry Party, because that's all I'm doing right now. I shouldn't be this bummed about leaving. Putting aside my obvious handicaps, I've run into a few dozen things and fallen on just as many hard surfaces. I've been attacked with magic, had my dreams invaded, nearly drowned and fallen to my death, you name it...but it still won't be easy to put Equestria behind me. More than that, I'm scared that Snowdrop won't be able to send me back to my world. Imagine going to a grocery store you've never visited before, finding a nondescript bottle of ketchup in an abandoned shopping cart, and trying to put it back where it belongs. That's more or less what Snowdrop will be trying to do with my soul. It's not impossible, but it's not easy or convenient and there's plenty of room for error. With all that on my mind, I'm just not in a partying mood right now. "Hey," a boyish voice says over the music. It takes me a second, but I recognize it as Spike's. "Twilight let you out of your cage, huh?" "Gees, what's your problem?" he retorts. "Oh, I get it. You're trying to get me mad so I'll leave you alone." I shrug, still not looking at him. "Well, it's not gonna work." I hear a chair skritching on the floor as he sits down across from me. "I was afraid of that," I mutter. "How you been?" "Cold, but good. Thanks for fixing winter and everything. Snowdrop will probably be back soon, so I just wanna say it's been nice knowing you. And go easy on those 'medicine sticks', okay? I mean, dragons breathe smoke all the time, but I don't think other animals are so good at that." I nod vaguely. "Yeah...I guess that's true. Well, take it easy. Don't work too hard." "Tell that to Twilight," he chuckles. "Speaking of Twilight," I tell him as he gets up to leave. "Tell her I said thanks for everything. Take care of her, okay?" "No sweat. I'm her number one assistant, remember? I'm always on the job." He scampers off and I sit in silence once again, nursing my punch. Naturally, since this place is jammed with ponies and I'm one of the things they're celebrating, I am not left in peace for long. This is why I never gunned for Art's job as head coach. I don't like all the attention. "Excuse me, Mr. Jay?" a rich, warm female voice says. It sounds kind of familiar. "I am Silver Platter, Silver Spoon's mother. We met briefly when you visited her for a study session." I suppress a shudder at the memory of that night. "Yeah, it was...interesting." "She seems quite interested in you, too. I haven't heard her talk about another pony so much since Diamond Tiara," Silver Platter continues, either forgetting or just disregarding that I'm not a real pony. "It's a shame that you have to leave us, and I want to thank you for keeping an eye on her. When we found out she wasn't at Diamond's and had joined your expedition uninvited, Shoe Polish and I were beside ourselves with worry." "No problem. Princess Luna and Twilight Sparkle watched over her the whole time." Actually it took us at least a day to find out she was hiding in the applecart...and between saving my life, slaying an eldritch abomination, and putting a king-hell beating on some changelings, I think she can pretty damn well take care of herself. But I'm not about to spill all of that to her mother. "By the way, she said she was the 27th pony named Spoon in her family. Who are the others?" I'm not interested; I just want to get her talking so I can safely zone out. "Oh! Well, obviously it's a very long list. My husband would know more about his side of the family, but her great-great-great-great-great grandfather Golden Spoon was the first, and her youngest relative with the name is her uncle Ivory Spoon; he's a well-known museum curator in Canterlot. She's also descended from the Silvers on my side. I come from a long line of philanthropists, and Shoe Polish comes from a long line of antiquarians, so it's no surprise that she has such a passion for history and preserving valuable things. Most of us do, really, except for the odd black sheep here and there. Don't get me started on Silver Shill--" "Mom!" Silver Spoon whines, approaching from a short distance away. "What are you doing?! I told you not to talk to the zombie. He's weird!" "Silver!" Platter sounds outraged. "Mr. Jay, I do apologize for my daughter's rudeness. She apparently needs a few extra lessons in social etiquette. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for them, considering she's grounded for the next three weeks." "Three weeks?!" Spoonbutt squeaks in protest as I try to hide a wicked smile. "That's right, and if you'd like it to be longer, just keep arguing with me. Now come along, young filly." "Mooooom! That's like, so not fair!" Their voices recede as they go off somewhere else. Finally, another few seconds of quiet. I close my eyes and, although I'm not really hungry, I feel around the table for my fork and take a bite of the cake. It tastes amazing. Don't you dare start crying. You're 37, goddamn it. I get up and walk down the back hallway towards the bathroom, feeling my way along the wall. Maybe if I splash some cold water on my face I'll snap out of it. One thing I learned from Snowdrop's thoughts was that she got really good at identifying familiar ponies by scent. Silver Spoon's is the only one I've learned to recognize, because what other pony smells like expensive soap over coffee grounds and sealing wax? "What is it, Silver?" I say impatiently. "Whoa! Like, how did you know it was me?" she says, approaching from a few yards behind me. "Never mind. There's something I totally need to ask you before Mom notices I'm gone." "Make it quick." "What's the hu-mane world like, anyway?" I shrug. "It's full of antiques and obnoxious, entitled young people who drink too much caffeine. You'd fit right in." "Cool!" she chirps. "By the way, you didn't tell my mother about the dark magic book, did you?" "No, and let us never speak of that night again." "Or my death metal collection?" "No." "Or the coffee?" "Silver, will you get the hell out of here?" I snap, hoping she doesn't notice the hitch in my voice. "Like, excuse me! And Snowdrop said I was rude. Look, this could totally be the last time we ever talk to each other." "What's the bad news?" I turn away from her. I'm not going to miss this kid. I'm not. She sounds only mildly offended. "This is no way for two special ponies to say goodbye. You're not even looking at me." "That's because I'm blind, you jackass." She's hugging me before I can stop her. Her glasses poke into my ear. I don't complain. I lean into her, hiding my face in her coat so she won't see me cry. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I don't think Luna is cut out for mass dream-walking. Trolling one or two ponies at a time is no big deal for her, but pulling nearly a dozen of them into the same dream so everypony can see my human form - and I can see them - must be a ball-buster. Her face is strained and kind of squinty, and when she looks at us she opens only one eye at a time. She won't be able to keep this up for more than a few minutes, but if Snowdrop's plan works, that's all we're going to need. It's pretty amazing that I'm seeing some of these ponies with working eyes for the first (and last) time. The hardest part is connecting those familiar voices with the images they belong to; it seems surreal and overwhelming. I almost want to go back into the dark, where everything made sense. We say our goodbyes without unnecessary delay. Most of them blur together, but Applejack says something that sticks. “I'll tell ya one thing, sugar. Nothing aggravates me more than when folks go on and on about the joys of being young, 'cause that's just not honest. Anypony with sense knows that growing up is tough and sometimes downright painful. I don’t know much about hue-mans, but I think it must be just the same for them. And bein’ a foal all over again, under the circumstances? I think you’ve done real fine, and I’m mighty proud of you.” Snowdrop is focusing and gathering whatever energy her spirit has left. It won't be long now, which is good, because I'm not one for speeches. At least I'm all cried out now. "I'm not really sure what to say. I spent most of my time here with no clue what was going on, and I think you could use a better weather management plan. Everything about Equestria is weird to me, but...I guess I seem pretty weird to you guys too. You were all really helpful and it was good to know you, even if it wasn't for long. Rainbow...we don't need the mushy stuff, do we? Thanks for saving my life and everything else. Take care of yourself." "You too, kid," she salutes me with a hoof and both wings. "Try not to fall off any more clouds." "Shy and Rarity, thanks for watching out for me. A.J., we need more ponies like you around. Keep working, because I will too. Pinkie, thanks for the party, even though I didn't celebrate much. Twi, thanks for letting me crash at your place. You're smart as hell, just take better care of yourself. You don't have to do it all. And if someone's expecting more than you're ready to give 'em, I hope you'll be able to say 'no'." Twilight smiles politely and tilts her head, like she doesn't quite understand. Luna and Snowdrop exchange a brief but serious glance. "Luna, thanks for the dreams and the good talks. No thanks for the practical jokes. Stay crazy," Luna pouts; Snowdrop grins. "Snow, thanks for hanging on to my soul. Just send me back in one piece and we'll call it square." "Understood, Jay. I will do my best. And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for helping me to keep Equestria safe." Snowdrop holds up my mostly-empty carton of cigarettes. I still don't quite understand, but apparently the soul is easier to handle if you bind it to a physical object the person had some attachment to. Basically, the cigs are to me what the urn is to Snow, and that's why they appeared in Equestria with me. When the time came, she reached out for a wandering soul that could easily be connected with an object, and I was the lucky guy. I guess in some ways, I was lucky to experience this. For a bunch of crazy four-legged hippies, these ponies weren't too bad. I take the carton in my hands. The edges of my vision begin to fade, and when I look down at my dream-body it wavers like a reflection in a pool. Below me, dozens of flowers - snowdrops- are blooming so brightly it almost hurts to look at them. These again. Beth, I think to myself. You again. If you're there, bring me back. I'm ready. The last thing I see is a bunch of colorful pony shapes waving goodbye. Then the light gets so bright I can't see anymore. A voice I can't identify shouts "no, WAIT!" Then my hearing fades out and it doesn't matter. Maybe somepony wasn't ready to see me go. Part of me wants to stay too, but now that the whole thing is out of my hands I feel kind of relieved. I'll miss them all, but it's time to go back and find out what's left of the Corvette. The light grows and grows until I can't see anything anymore. It seems brightest of all directly above me. I wait. And wait. And wait some more. Nothing happens. I never thought hopping dimensions would be so boring. Or am I dead after all? Damn, I want a smoke. It's not just a habit, it's a routine. It's something to do. If you're antsy, have a smoke. If you've just argued with your wife, have a smoke. If you're done with a good meal and want to put off doing the dishes, have a smoke. If you're bored, have a smoke. It's my solution. It's not something I recommend, but it's always worked for me. "Hey," I complain in a rough, gravelly voice that sounds like it hasn't been used much recently. "Where the hell am I and where are my cigs?" For a moment there's nothing. Then I hear a rustling, a quiet exclamation of "holy shit," and something appears in the light. Something short, dark, and muscular with buzzed black hair and the funniest-looking ears I've ever seen, wearing an old Brett Favre jersey. Whoa. That's not God. That's... "Jarvez?" I groan. "The hell are you doing here? Did they get you too?" Feelings begin to come back to me. I have a body again. My limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each, but they're here. My stomach feels empty as a football and my head isn't clear. "Coach, you're awake!" Jarv smiles so wide his face nearly splits in half. "Holy shit! Coach Art! Come quick!" I wince at the loudness of his voice. That's my quarterback, all right. You could hear the kid calling signals from the next county. "Mr. Jarvez, may I remind you yet again that you are in a hospital?" Something tall, pale, and crabby walks up next to him and peers down at me. "Good morning, Mr. Bratzke. Although it is currently six o'clock in the evening, I believe that is the appropriate thing to say." "Hospital?" A few fragments of memory are coming back to me. The drunk driver. The crash. Lots of sirens. Going under for emergency surgery. "Yes. Aside from a brief return to consciousness yesterday morning, you have been in a coma for approximately four days," the nurse is matter-of-fact and impersonal. "That was quite a blow to the head you took. Your left arm is broken, and we had to remove several fragments of glass and plastic from your face and chest. All in all you were quite a project and we still have to run some tests, but now that you're up, I'd say you're going to be all right." So much for the 'Vette. Urgent hoofsteps - I mean, footsteps - pound their way into the room. A roly-poly man with thinning red hair and a Douglass High jacket appears over my bed, then a tall bald man with a beard almost as thick as mine and a solidly built woman with the best fashion sense in the hospital. It's Coach Art, my father, and my sister, looking as happy and relieved as I've ever seen them. Now it begins to sink in. I'm here. I'm myself again. They're all talking to me and it's kind of a blur, but finally I get a question in. "Beth," I mutter. "Is she here?" Art and Dad make some room around the bed, and there she is. She looks as beautiful as the day I married her: deep gray eyes, long brown hair falling down her back, a flannel shirt and jeans. She probably would have worn overalls to the wedding if they didn't stop her - and I hardly would have noticed. I thought I had the perfect future ahead of me. But my dreams of a football career never became reality, and it changed me. It changed how I treated her. Before long we were leading separate lives, more like roommates than spouses near the end. But seeing her again, I feel some of that closeness we once had, the feeling that I could tell her anything. And I have a lot to say now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It took a few days, but I was finally released from the hospital. I've got several scars and a bad arm that will need to be in a sling for a while, but I'll be back to work soon. Today I'm taking time for something I never bothered with before: gardening, in the little house where we used to live together. Beth is alone there now. I have to admit it's a lot cleaner, and the garden looks great. "This is the best time of year to replant them," Beth kneels in the soil near the edge, in the shade of the giant maple tree. "When the summer flowers are fading, but the leaves are still green." I lower myself carefully to my knees. This would look pretty silly to anyone who was watching: a big, bearlike man trying to plant these tiny flowers. But I don't really care. This is something I have to do. "Where are the new bulbs?" I ask, looking around the garden. All I see is some compost and a bag of fertilizer nearby. "Right here. They multiply and grow their own, see?" Beth delicately scoops away handfuls of soil to reveal a clump of little green bulbs. "If you catch them at the right time, you can just take the new ones off and replant them. That's one thing I love about snowdrops: they never really die." I smile. That sounds like another Snowdrop I know. "Jay," she touches my good shoulder cautiously, like she's afraid I might break. In all the time I knew her she almost never cried, but she looks close to it now. "I'm really glad you're back." "Aw, we all need a good car wreck once in a while," I shrug. "Keeps a man focused." She smiles and shakes her head. In the old days she would have said "same old Jay." But I'm not quite the same old Jay, and we both know it. I haven't told her or anyone else about Equestria, not yet. Who would believe it? Some days I wake up and I don't quite believe it myself, but then...well, never mind that now. "Seriously, though, it's good to be back," I say. "I know it doesn't make up for the past. But I'm glad I could do this with you." I was never much of a husband to her, and I've had a lot of time alone to realize it. What we had is gone, and I'm not asking to get it back. But Beth will always be a part of me, and I'm grateful for the chance to show her that. About an hour later, the flowers are safely planted and I'm driving home in the old blue Buick I'm borrowing from my dad. It's no vintage Corvette, but it'll have to do. My mind drifts to the cigarette pack in my pocket all the way home. The funny thing is, I haven't had one since I was in Equestria. Have I felt the urge? Oh, hell yes. Something like that doesn't just go away. But I haven't given in. In fact, I've just reached a decision. I cross a small bridge over a creek and stop the car next to it. I take the pack out of my pocket, tip it over, and shake out the six remaining cigarettes into the water. I watch them float away, out of sight forever. I have new responsibilities these days, you might say, and I have to be around to take care of them. I pull into the parking lot and grab the old pillowcase from the passenger's seat next to me, getting out of the car slowly so I don't aggravate the arm. I jog up the fire stairs of my apartment building, let myself into my room and shut the door quickly behind me. There's nothing in here that anybody else needs to see. The lamp in the cluttered living room is still on, and there's a sudden rustling sound on the ancient vinyl couch. A steaming mug of coffee sits on the end table next to it. "It's just me," I announce gruffly. She slowly peeks over the back of the couch at me. "Okay," she sounds relieved. "Did you get them?" "I got them." I hold up the pillowcase, full of spare bulbs from Beth's garden. "Like, it's totally about time! I was getting hungry." My guest scrambles off the couch, dropping an American history book on the arm. Her eyes are violet; she gets that from her dad. Her hair is silver, or maybe gray; let's just call it silver-gray. She's wears blue designer glasses and an antique pearl necklace. And...what else can I tell you about her? Oh, yeah. She's a bratty, spoiled, know-it-all cartoon freaking pony. "Mmm!" she exclaims as she samples one of the plants. "Very good. The presentation leaves much to be desired, but the flavor is worthy of a Spoon. And a Silver, for that matter." "Oh, yeah! Your family. As in your mother and your father, who are going to KILL me as soon as Luna figures out what went wrong with Starswirl's spell and how to get you back to Equestria." "Yeah...that's them," she laughs nervously. "Oh, well. They're, like, talking to us in our dreams. So at least they know we're okay. And until then, there's so much I can learn about human history! And human treasures. And human money. And human music. Oh, and human coffee!!" She grabs the mug and takes another huge gulp. "Mmmmm! Nectar of the goddesses..." I sigh and heave myself onto the couch. "Oh, Celestia, why me?" "Hey, don't hog the sofa! I have to watch 'Antiques Roadshow'." "Then I guess you'll just have to share it, Spoonbutt." She hesitates, sighs, then jumps onto the couch and snuggles up behind my knees. "Well, I guess it's all right, since we're both special ponies and everything. And special ponies have to stick together. I mean, can you imagine what it's like to be - pffft - not special? I don't even want to, like, think about it." Someday, I'll find out just what the holy hell is going on here and how to fix everything. Until then, I have an extremely annoying but true friend by my side. And when this winter comes along, the cold won't seem so bad.