It's The End Of The World As We Know It

by Samey90


20. On the Seventh Day of Christmas, My True Love Sent Me Seven Awkward Family Gatherings

For Indigo and her friends, December started with even more tests and homework than before. Walking out of school after one of those days, Indigo was sure that if she put her head in the pile of snow on the pavement, it’d evaporate, creating a cloud of hissing steam around her.

However, as days went by, the teachers eased out on them, knowing well that Christmas was on the way and there was no way to get the students to focus, even in such a renowned academy as Crystal Prep. As Sugarcoat once stated, there was another reason for that – even Principal Cinch had to do some shopping.

“And what’d she buy?” Indigo asked as they walked down the street, staring at the display windows. “A ton of coal?”

“Something to keep her relatives warm,” Sour Sweet said. “Like a flamethrower.”

“Hey, look!” Lemon Zest exclaimed. “Candy canes!”

Sunny Flare raised her head. “Where?”

“Oh great,” Sugarcoat muttered. “Now they’re gonna sit here all day and I have to buy candles before my grandma arrives.”

“You mean that old lizard who kept cursing during your Batman day?” Indigo asked.

Sugarcoat groaned. “That was Bat Mitzvah, but other than that you’re right.”

“We can go and buy candles and then come back here,” Sour Sweet said. “I still have to buy something for all my siblings. A candle would be perfect for Sweeten Sour.”

“Why?” Sugarcoat asked.

“So she’d stick it somewhere and shut up,” Sour Sweet replied.

Lemon approached Sour and grabbed the corners of her mouth with her fingers, forcing a smile on her face. “Cheer up, Sour. It’s almost Christmas.”

“Would you kindly leave my face alone?” Sour Sweet freed herself from Lemon’s grasp. “To think about it, I don’t have a gift for you either… Assuming I get rid of my family quickly enough for us to meet…”

“I’ll be busy,” Lemon muttered, backing off.

Sour Sweet frowned. “Wh–”

Sunny stood between Lemon and Sour. “By ‘getting rid of your family’, do you mean something permanent?” Seeing the glare Sour kept giving Lemon, she gestured Sugarcoat towards herself.

Sugarcoat saw the cue coming. “Of course she meant it figuratively, silly,” she replied. “And we’d better get those candles.” She put her hand on Sour’s arm. “Come on, Sour. Indigo, will you stay here with Lemon? We’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Indigo nodded, watching as they hauled Sour Sweet off. Then she opened the door to the candy shop and walked inside with Lemon.

“So,” Indigo said when they were standing in front of the box filled with candy canes. “How’s with you and Sour?”

“She’s fine.” Lemon shrugged. “I mean… For Sour, that is. She takes her meds, she goes to a therapy… Well, she mostly sits in my flat as of late, hiding from her family.”

Indigo stopped staring at the liquorice candies in the jar in front of her. “Something’s wrong with them? I mean, I only know what Sour tells me about them, but I wouldn’t call her the most reliable source…”

Lemon shrugged. “Her sister is fine. I think Sour just thinks her parents prefer her other siblings over her.”

“Mhm.” Indigo nodded. “And surely she’s always calm and collected about that?”

“Well, she tries to.” Lemon replied. “She doesn’t beat me, though. I’d say she kinda got over the fact that we’re not together anymore.” She sighed. “Well, I hope so. I mean, it really wasn’t much to begin with, though she helped me a lot when…”

“Yeah.” Indigo looked at the jar of peppermint humbugs in front of her. “I guess I’ll take some of those.”

“And once we were sitting on my bed, no clothes at all, and–”

“Lemon, that’s a lot more than I ever wanted to know,” Indigo muttered, looking at a tall shelf, way out of her reach. “Now, can you help me with those?”


Sour Sweet felt fine. More or less. After she’d been dragged out by Sunny Flare and Sugarcoat, she somehow ended up with a dress. It wasn’t easy to find a dress for someone as tall and lanky as her, but Sunny didn’t even need her wrist devices to find a store where such dresses would be. In the same store, she bought a dress for Sweeten Sour – it wasn’t difficult, as she knew her sister’s measures quite well. After all, they shared a room for years.

Now, she only needed gifts for the rest of her siblings, but here Sunny had her covered too, helping her choose a game for Sour Patch. As for the twins, Sour ended up in a toy store with Sugarcoat.

“I’d better buy both of them the same things,” Sour Sweet said, rubbing her temples. All the noises, colours, and blinking lights in the store were causing her mind to go haywire. “Or else they’ll start to fight.”

“Oh, really?” Sugarcoat asked. “Well, how old are they, five? Best time to teach them that life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, unless you like the noise of fighting kids.” Sour’s hands trembled. “Those little, rabid–”

“Good thing I didn’t have to deal with that,” Sugarcoat said. “My parents looked at me, said, ‘well, we fucked up enough’ and here I am, the only child.”

Sour Sweet sighed. “Fuck it. I’ll buy whatever I can and let’s get out of here unless you want me to have a seizure.”

Sugarcoat smirked. “That’s the spirit…”

Spirit, my ass, Sour Sweet thought a few days later, when she sat at the table in her grandparents’ house, wearing her new dress. All around her there were her siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles, as well as her parents and grandparents.

She rubbed her temples and tried to focus on her food, but it was difficult with so many children around. It seemed like every adult woman in Sour Sweet’s family had at least three of them. Sour often wondered how her family members knew which child belonged to whom. Sometimes, she dreamed that during one of the gatherings in her early childhood, people she considered her parents accidentally took her home, swapping her for cousin Sour Wine. This made sense to her. Sour Wine was a walking perfection just like Sweeten Sour, her mother looked a bit similar to Sour Sweet, and her father, a now-retired lawyer, had a mental breakdown a few years back, spending a few hours threatening to jump out the window of the courtroom.

“Nah, there’s no way I’m the daughter of auntie Sweet Wine and uncle Shaggy Defense,” Sour Sweet muttered to herself. “Someone would notice. Sour Wine and I don’t look that similar.”

“What are you talking about?” asked no one else but Sour Wine. The cousins hated each other and that was probably why Sour Sweet’s grandma decided that they should sit next to each other.

“That, unlike you, my face doesn’t look like someone smacked me with a shovel when I was a kid,” Sour Sweet replied.

“Lovely.” Sour Wine muttered. “Do you practise those comebacks, or are you a natural jerkass?”

“Blow me,” Sour Sweet whispered.

“Ah, I see.” Sour Wine smirked and turned away from Sour Sweet, much to her relief. However, she still wasn’t able to enjoy her meal in silence, this time because of her mother and her aunt, who kept listing the feats of their respective offsprings.

“Sweeten Sour has straight A’s,” Sour Sweet’s mother said. “Sour Sweet has a B in physics and biology.”

“Yeah, because it’s easier to get an A in Canterlot High, you know,” Sour Sweet muttered.

Sour Sweet’s aunt nodded. “Sour Wine got engaged.”

Sour Sweet chuckled, looking at the ring on her cousin’s finger. “Seriously? Haven’t you heard that getting married before twenty-one is like–”

“I wonder when my daughter will give me grandkids.” Sour Sweet’s mother sighed. “How’s your boyfriend, Sour?”

Sour Sweet nearly choked on her food. “My boyfriend ran away last February when I tried to stab him,” she replied, grinning. “A while after that, I started to fuck our neighbour’s daughter, but she doesn’t want to see me anymore, so I doubt we’ll find a way to make a baby. And now excuse me, I have to take a shit.” She stood up and left the room greeted by absolute silence.


The wood in the fireplace burned brightly, filling the living room in Bulk’s house with orange light. The ice had been broken a while ago and now the discussion revolved around rather typical topics.

“I was at Super Bowl once,” Bulk’s father said. “Twenty years ago, I think.” He turned to Indigo’s father. “You played in that game, didn’t you?”

“Not much,” Indigo’s father replied. “Not to mention that we lost.”

“Yeah, but five years later you won.” Bulk’s father took a bite of his mince pie. “That was your best season, right?”

“You remember that better than I do.” Indigo’s father sighed.

Before Bulk’s father could reply, they heard a message beep.

“It’s mine,” Indigo muttered. She was half-asleep, sitting next to Bulk in her new, cyan-coloured sweater and staring into the fire while ignoring Featherweight who kept taking photos. “It’s from Sour Sweet. Hiding at the kiddie table. I think my grandma had a heart attack, lol. What did she do again?”

“Nothing wise, I guess…” Bulk smirked.

“So much for peaceful Christmas.” Indigo sighed. “I guess we’ll get drama updates at least till mid-January.” She turned to her mother and groaned. “Mom, could you stop telling everyone embarrassing stories from my childhood?”

“What’s embarrassing about salmonella?” Indigo’s mother asked. “Bulk had it too.”

“You usually delve into technical details and some people are eating here,” Indigo muttered, pointing at Featherweight, who’d just snatched another pie from the table.

“I don’t mind,” Featherweight replied. “We talk about worse things in the cafeteria. Like, do you know that love is like farts? If–”

“Ah, now I know why not even Sour Sweet or Ruby want you,” Indigo said. “If that’s your idea of being romantic…”

“Hey, give him a break,” Bulk muttered. “We probably talked about worse things.”

“But that was later,” Indigo said. “And I don’t really want to mention those, or else my mother will have enough embarrassing stories to tell about me until I turn forty…”

“Bad experiences?” Indigo’s mother asked. “Already? I mean, when I was your age, I already had some bad experiences, but once I met your father…” She sighed. “Too bad we later ended up with Lightning Dust.”

Indigo blushed. “That’s more than I wanted to know, mom. And I'd rather not talk about my experiences.”

“Well…” Bulk’s father smirked. “I still remember my father’s car–”

“Cars are the worst,” Indigo’s father said. “Though maybe I think so because I’m taller.”

“Yeah,” Bulk muttered.

Indigo shot him a glare. “I’m so jealous of Sugarcoat now…”

“Because of Sandalwood?” Bulk asked.

“Nah,” Indigo replied. “But at least Hanukkah is already over…”


Hanukkah was indeed already over, but while it lasted, Sugarcoat had to face quite a few challenges not even Crystal Prep could prepare her for. Currently, the challenges were three kids—a girl aged ten and two boys aged nine and eleven—who were sitting around the small table and staring at her patiently.

Sugarcoat gulped and looked at three dreidels lying in the middle of the table. One gimel and two nuns which didn’t really help her case – somehow both of the dreidels hidden under her shaker had landed on shin.

“Raise,” Sugarcoat muttered, throwing half of her remaining chocolate coins on the pile next to the community dreidels. “You’d better give up, kids. I played this game before you all were born.”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows and looked deeply into Sugarcoat’s eyes. “Check,” she said eventually.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sugary Treat…” Sugarcoat muttered.

“I know when you have a good hand, auntie Sugarcoat,” Sugary Treat replied. “This time it’s just refuge in chutzpah.”

“We’ll see…” Sugarcoat smirked. “How about you, Sugar Rush?”

Sugar Rush looked at Sugary Treat. “Fold.”

“Butter Cookie?”

“Fold,” the other boy replied.

“Okay.” Sugary Treat looked at Sugarcoat and raised her shaker, revealing her dreidels.

“Oy vey…” Sugarcoat blurted out, seeing gimel and he on her first cousin once removed’s tops. She sighed, revealing her own miserable hand. “How did you know I was bluffing?”

“You’re sweating,” Sugary Treat replied, grabbing the chocolate coins and putting them in front of herself. “Just like when grandma Zuckerlöffel told you that you should totally meet that young doctor…”

“That’s because grandma Zuckerlöffel can’t get the fact that I already have a boyfriend.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “And her ‘young doctor’ is in his thirties. For you he’s probably old enough to remember dinosaurs.”

“Do you remember dinosaurs?” Sugar Rush asked.

“I’m not that old either,” Sugarcoat muttered. “I remember when there were no smartphones, though.” She sighed. “Also, why am I always taking care of the kids?”

“Grandma Zuckerlöffel wants you to give her great-grandkids,” Sugary Treat replied, mimicking the official tone of the head of Sugarcoat’s family.

“Why?” Sugarcoat asked. “My cousin already did as you can attest. Also, why doesn’t she tell that to me herself?” She stood up. “Be right back. Don’t eat all my coins.”

She walked to the other room where the older members of her family were chatting. Apparently the meeting already went past the point of family stories and now it was time for the annual joke-telling competition held between Sugarcoat’s uncles.

“Very well,” uncle Technicolor Dreamcoat said. “Two days ago I sold a trumpet, yesterday a gun, and today a coffin!”

“This joke is older than me!” grandma Zuckerlöffel exclaimed. She noticed Sugarcoat standing by her armchair and smiled. “What’s going on, dearie?”

Sugarcoat took a deep breath. “Well, for starters, I don’t want you to keep trying to find me a boyfriend. I actually have a boyfriend, although he’s a meshugene goy. More meshugene than goy, I think…” She paused, thinking that some details of Sandalwood’s anatomy could easily tell that he was a gentile. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter as I rather like him and I’m not swapping him for any doctor anytime soon. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be a doctor myself. And I don’t give a damn about you rewriting your will so it doesn’t include me. I just believe in myself that much. Call that stupid, but that’s how it looks like.”

Everybody in the room went silent. Grandma Zuckerlöffel raised her eyebrows, the cup in her hand trembling. Sugarcoat backpedalled, wondering whether her grandma would suddenly produce a gun from her purse to shoot her. Then she started to wonder whether a seppuku would be a fine option.

“My girl,” grandma Zuckerlöffel eventually said.

“W-what?” Sugarcoat asked.

“For fifty years, I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me off, but no one ever dared to. You, girl, have more balls than my husbands and all my sons together.”

“Maybe,” Sugarcoat muttered. “Can I go and have a heart attack already?”

“Don’t think I’ll forget that, though,” grandma Zuckerlöffel said. “I’ll keep an eye on you, Sugarcoat. Very closely.”

“Of course, granny.” Sugarcoat turned back and quickly left the room.

Just like she thought, her cousins already managed to raid her stack of chocolate coins. Sugarcoat suspected Butter Cookie. Even though he was nine (or maybe because of that), he couldn’t be trusted at all.

“So, how was grandma Zuckerlöffel?” Sugary Treat asked.

“You can’t even imagine how fucked I am,” Sugarcoat replied.

“That’s a bad word,” Butter Cookie said.

“Yes, but I’m an adult. Also, it’s the most accurate word to describe the situation I’m in.” Sugarcoat sighed, grabbing her shaker. “Okay. I need to get my gelt back… Who wants to play with me before grandma Zuckerlöffel makes my life miserable?”

“Don’t worry,” Sugary Treat said. “She’ll die one day.”

Sugarcoat nearly dropped her dreidels. “Okay, you’re officially my favourite cousin.” She looked at Butter Cookie and Sugar Rush. “I like you guys too, so, please, don’t snitch on me, okay?”

“Sure…” Butter Cookie smirked.

Sugarcoat ignored him, spun her dreidels and looked at them. Shin and nun. “This is gonna be a wonderful year…” she muttered to herself.


“This is gonna be a wonderful year,” Sunny Flare muttered, stretching her hands on the couch in front of the fireplace. The Christmas dinner swiftly changed into the supper; an empty bottle of wine stood on the coffee table next to a another, half-full bottle and pair of wine glasses.

“Why do you think so?” Sunny’s mother asked. She was sitting on another couch, staring at the flames. “I mean, aside from that new TV show we’re making?”

“I’m so done with that hospice,” Sunny replied. “Also, I’m gonna go to the college now. Everything’s gonna change. No more screwing around. Now I’m gonna focus on what I really like.” She looked at the glass in front of her. “And it’s gonna be beautiful.”

“So, what do you choose, after all?” Sunny’s mother asked. “Designing clothes or programming?”

“I’m gonna need both.” Sunny reached for her glass and nearly fell off the couch while taking a sip. “The revolution won’t be civilised… But it’s gonna be fashionable.”

Sunny’s mother sighed. “You’ve had enough. Remember that I won’t be in the college to help you out.” She shrugged. “In fact, maybe you should get an appointment with Ms. Sweets before it gets out of control…”

“Please, she can’t even fix her own daughter.” Sunny rolled her eyes. “Also, should I tell her who gave me wine after they ran out of drinking buddies?”

“Touché,” Sunny’s mother replied. “But I didn’t really expect you to try to take over the world after a few drinks.”

“It’ll take years, though.” Sunny smirked. “And it’ll be so subtle no one will notice at first.” She looked at her wrist device and tapped the screen a few times. “I mean, people are already addicted to all that electronics… If there was one person behind it all and if it was me… Addictions are, like, so powerful.”

Sunny’s mother nodded and took a large sip of her wine. “Well, you probably know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm.” Sunny looked into her empty glass. “If one day everything was cut off…” She paused, hearing a doorbell. “Hmm, this can’t be Santa Claus. He’d use a chimney.”

Staggering slightly, Sunny stood up. “I’ll see who’s that. Maybe some lost Christmas visitor.”

“Or maybe your Japanese boyfriend decided to pay you a visit,” Sunny’s mother replied.

“He never leaves his room.” Sunny walked towards the door, tripping over carpets and shoes in the darkness. Muttering curses under her breath, she finally reached the door and opened it.

“Oh, shit,” she said.

“Indeed,” replied the man standing in front of her. His clothes were completely out of place in the snowy weather – he held his soaked coat in one hand, revealing a slim-fit t-shirt and a sweater fashionably wrapped around his neck. His tan and sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes—a telltale sign of jet lag—revealed that he was used to much warmer climate.

In other words, Winford Epsom-Derby III decided to come back home for Christmas. And his only child standing in front of him in an old tracksuit and uttering words of slurred apology definitely wasn’t a gift he had expected.

“What’s going on, Sunny?” The voice of Sunny’s mother echoed down the corridor as she joined her daughter. “Win? What are you doing here?”

“Lens.” Win furrowed his eyebrows and walked inside, handing Sunny his coat, umbrella, and a suitcase. “I’d like to ask you the same question.”

“Well, it’s my house, after all,” Lens Flare replied, tilting her head. “Sit down and relax. We have wine.”

“I didn’t ask you whose house is it.” Winford Epsom-Derby III let out a sigh, completely disregarding the fact that his progeny just collapsed under the weight of his suitcase. “But what are you doing here?! Because taking care of our daughter is definitely not what you were doing when I was gone!”

“Chill out, dad,” Sunny muttered, trying to get up.

“I had to come here all the way from Bahrain when you decided to try shoplifting!” Win exclaimed, turning to her.

Sunny raised her finger. “I wasn’t–”

“I thought that helping in the hospice would teach you something but it seems that you and your mother–”

Sunny stood up, looking in her father’s eyes. “Well, if you’re so concerned about me, then why are you never here!? If it weren’t for the photos on the internet, I wouldn’t even know how you look like!”

“Well, I’m surprised you can still recognise me with everything you two drink!” Win’s hands shook. “Even on Christmas you’re completely drunk!”

“Winford!” Sunny’s mother grabbed his arm. “Leave Sunny out of this.”

“Oh, why?” Sunny asked, losing balance again and resting herself against her mother. “It’s the most words he’d spoken to me since my twelfth birthday. Since then, he, like, travels around the world, working or pretending to work. Oh, and he once took me to Wales. Wales!” She rolled her eyes. “What are you running away from, dad?”

The only answer was the sound of the door closing as Winford Epsom-Derby III decided that it was enough of talking to his daughter for him and left the house, leaving his suitcase behind.

Sunny looked at the door, her mouth agape. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “What is wrong with him? Are you sure he’s my father?”

“Unfortunately,” Sunny’s mother replied. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll be back.”

“For the suitcase?” Sunny asked.

“Nah, for the house,” Sunny’s mother said. “It’s his, after all.”

“Just great…” Sunny muttered. “A divorce for Christmas, why not? At least I’m old enough to decide who I want to stay with.”

“Yeah…” Sunny’s mother hiccuped. “After Christmas I’m getting a lawyer. We’ll leave him with that suitcase only…”

“We?” Sunny shrugged. “Maybe. In fact, I’m closer to throwing up than thinking of it…”

Sunny’s mother yawned. “Same. In fact, I gotta crash. We’ll think it over tomorrow.”

She walked upstairs, leaving Sunny in the corridor. For a while, Sunny stood there, staring at the door. Then she sat on the floor, resting her back against the wall and hiding her face in her hands.

Sunny didn’t know how much time she spent on the floor, crying. Nevertheless, it was still dark when she heard knocking on the door. Slowly, she got back on her feet and turned on the light of her wrist device. She walked to the closet standing by the door and opened it, grabbing a shotgun from the upper shelf. It wasn’t loaded and she was pretty sure there were no shells for it anywhere at home, but it had been lying there for ages; or at least since her father put it there after someone tried to break into their house.

Sunny slid the forend of the shotgun back, mostly to get the point across with its distinctive sound. She was drunk and armed and whoever was knocking had to be crazy if they were still there.

She heard knocking again. With a sigh, Sunny opened the door and aimed the shotgun into the darkness.

“Did you come back for your suitcase or do you want to finally tell me what’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“What the fuck, Sunny?” The voice most definitely didn’t belong to Sunny’s father. “Put that down before you shoot yourself.”

Sunny lowered the shotgun and saw Sour Sweet standing on her porch in a thick coat, carrying a duffel bag with her. “What are you doing here?” Sunny asked.

“I may have come out in front of my whole family,” Sour Sweet replied. “They’d take it somehow, but then they had to rush granny to the hospital and they think it’s kinda my fault.” She sighed. “I’d rather not get on their nerves for the next few days.”

Sunny raised her eyebrows. “So you came to me?”

“Yes. You have a big house and your mom doesn’t give a fuck.”

“What?” Sunny facepalmed, wiping tears off her face.

“Just a few days,” Sour Sweet said. “Your mom won’t even notice. Your house is so big a serial killer could hide in here for weeks before they’d be discovered.”

“You’re not helping your case,” Sunny muttered.

Sour Sweet smiled awkwardly. “Please?”


Sunny Flare had several rooms around the house, each of them suited for her different needs. This particular one had a big bed, a mirror on the ceiling, and was quite far from her mother’s bedroom. Needless to say, Sunny didn’t use it much.

Sour Sweet lay on the bed, looking at her half-unpacked bag. She then turned to Sunny, who was watching something on her wrist devices. “You okay there?”

“What makes you think I'm not?” Sunny asked.

“Your make-up is all fucked-up,” Sour Sweet replied, grabbing Sunny’s shotgun and aiming it at the mirror on the ceiling.

“So?” Sunny shrugged. “I’m wearing a tracksuit and I need to wash my make-up off. I don’t look all nice all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s either no make-up or awesome make-up,” Sour Sweet replied. “If you died and a funeral home fucked up your make-up, you’d rise from the coffin just to correct it.”

Sunny sighed. “My parents want to divorce.”

“Like it changes much,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Like, I thought your father got Ebola. Haven’t seen the guy in ages.”

“He was here today,” Sunny replied. “Saw us drunk, got pissed, mom calls a lawyer. End of story.”

Sour Sweet looked at the screen of Sunny’s wrist device. “Is this why you’re watching a Chinese cartoon about, umm… schoolgirls riding tanks?”

“Shut up.” Sunny gave Sour Sweet a nasty glare.

“Meh, they’re not even using real ammo.” Sour Sweet chuckled. “That’d spice up the competition a bit. Imagine if we had that thing in our school. Kaboom, and all that’s left of Sugarcoat is her glasses and a trail of entrails and uniform bits. Kaboom again, and Indigo’s liver hits you in the–”

Sunny furrowed her eyebrows. “Would you pretty pretty please, with a cherry on top, shut the fuck up? Thank you.”

"Oh, come on,” Sour Sweet said. “Screw parents. They only fuck you up.” She looked into her bag. “Do you want my pills?”

“Yes, please,” Sunny replied.

Sour Sweet threw her the pills and aimed the shotgun at the wall, making shooting noises a few times.

“Leave that.” Sunny swallowed the pill. “I need to talk to Indigo about how she does that.”

“Does what?” Sour asked.

“You know, doesn’t drink,” Sunny replied. “I should totally stop drinking. Look what it did to my parents…” She looked at Sour Sweet, who put the barrel of the shotgun in her mouth and tried to reach the trigger. “Are you even listening to me?”

“That Combine guy could’ve reached the trigger after all,” Sour Sweet muttered. “So it’s not like his wife killed him.”

“Who?”

“You know, that dude who made music our parents liked before he got himself full of heroin and made a hole in his head,” Sour Sweet replied.

“I don’t think that was his name,” Sunny said. “Also, don’t aim it at your face. I’m not sure if it’s loaded.”

“Nah, it’s too light.” Sour Sweet raised the shotgun. At the same moment, the sound of explosion shook the walls of the room, a second before they were showered with shards of the mirror from the ceiling.

“Jesus fuck, I’m deaf!” Sour Sweet dropped the shotgun, covering her ears. “What the actual–”

“Leave Jesus out of this, it’s his birthday…” Sunny, her face pale, took the shotgun and pulled the forend, causing an empty shell to fall off, along with a large, half-fried spider. She slid it a few times, finding out that there was one more shell in the magazine.

“I can’t hear you…”

“Hope my mom didn’t hear,” Sunny muttered. “She’d think I did something dumb…”

“What part of ‘I can’t fucking hear anything’ you don’t understand?” Sour Sweet asked. “Also, I have a shard of glass in my leg…”

“What?” Sunny looked at Sour Sweet’s leg. She raised her eyebrows and suddenly fainted, dropping gently on the cushions behind her.

“Well, thank you very much!” Sour Sweet exclaimed, searching her luggage for bandages. “When will this whole Christmas end?”


Sugarcoat wasn’t a very festive person. She quite enjoyed the fact that all the family meetings were over and that her grandma finally left. Same with her cousins; she ended up winning some of her chocolate coins back and now she could enjoy them without fear of someone raiding her stash.

Still, Sugarcoat had to face one more challenge. Sandalwood, knowing well that she’d be free and that she was Ebenezer Scrooge incarnate, decided to invite her for a Christmas dinner. For some reason, his family’s Christmas dinner would take place on December 23rd, but Sugarcoat didn’t mind. The sooner it’d be over, the better.

Needless to say, Sugarcoat got fashionably late. When she finally arrived to Sandalwood’s house, she found him sitting at the table with his parents, Canter Zoom and Sahara Sunshine, as well as, much to Sugarcoat’s surprise, Flash and Muffins. She looked around, searching for the Christmas tree, but all she found was an aluminium pole standing in the middle of the room.

“Strange,” she said, looking at it. “I thought goyim were into nature.”

“Who needs nature when you have perfect strength-to-weight ratio,” Sandalwood said. “Sit down. I got you vegan meatloaf on a bed of lettuce.”

Sugarcoat raised her eyebrows. “It can’t be a meatloaf if it’s vegan. What have you been smoking?”

“That’s what I said.” Muffins smiled. “Minus the smoking part. Turns out, it’s made of seitan.”

“Satan?” Sugarcoat asked. “I already like this thing.”

“Truly a Festivus miracle,” Canter Zoom muttered.

“It’s ‘seitan’, not Satan,” Sahara Sunshine said. “Also known as wheat meat, but it’s basically pure gluten. Perfect for screwing with all those holier-than-thou gluten-free vegans.” She smirked. “They think that if it’s vegan it’s fine, then they get a surprise…”

“I like your way of thinking.” Sugarcoat sat at the table between Sandalwood and Flash, who looked like he was looking for an escape route.

“Oh, please, call me ‘mom’,” Sahara Sunshine said.

“I’d rather not,” Sugarcoat muttered. “I pissed off enough of my family members and I don’t need more of them.”

“It’d be a Festivus miracle if you didn’t.” Canter Zoom nodded. “I mean, with your rather direct approach–”

“Oh, please, dad…” Sugarcoat shook her head.

“You’re starting to get it.” Sandalwood smirked and hugged her.

“Not really,” Sugarcoat replied. “Is it how they celebrate Christmas on your home planet?”

“It’s called Festivus,” Sandalwoood replied. “And we were just about to start Airing of Grievances.”

“Can I start?” Muffins asked. “Because hey, last year most definitely wasn’t fine.”

“It wasn’t?” Sugarcoat asked, stabbing her meat-free meatloaf with a fork. “I thought you were pretty content with your life.”

“Well, I am,” Muffins replied. “It’s the people who are a bitch. I’m trying to be nice and what? This year I was a bait for rabid dogs, a demon almost threw me into another dimension, I got my bicycle stolen twice, got arrested for beating the crap out of a guy who stole my bicycle… And that’s just the first half of the year…”


Half of an hour later, Sugarcoat was almost done with her gluten-rich not-quite meatloaf. However, Muffins was still not quite done with her grievances, although at least she’d gotten to more recent months.

“I almost got arrested again, had to run away in a stolen car, everybody got pissed at me for ruining the school lab when I just wanted to make pancakes for them…” Muffins took a deep breath. “And worst of all, all boys think I’m stupid…” She sighed and looked down.

“Does anyone have anything to add?” Canter Zoom asked.

“Yes,” Sugarcoat replied. “Shame on you, Flash Sentry. Shame on you.”

“Why?” Flash asked. “I don’t think Muffins is stupid. She was there for me when–”

“– it turned out a horse princess from another dimension was in another castle,” Sandalwood muttered.

“Yeah.” Flash turned to Muffins. “Muffins… My year was pretty bad too…”

“I advise against using that as a pick-up line,” Sugarcoat said. “If only for the mental health of your grandkids when you tell them this story.”

“Shh,” Sandalwood muttered, looking at Flash and Muffins, who were about to hug. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Muffins wrapped her arms around Flash and suddenly threw him on the floor in a move that’d definitely give her an ippon had it been a judo match.

“I’m so done being subtle,” she said. “Flash Sentry, you’re immune to hints I’ve been giving you for the whole year, so for your information: I love you!” She looked around, blushing. “Also, I was told that Festivus ends in a wrestling match, so I wanted to start…”

Flash groaned and got up. “I love you too, I just...” he muttered.

“Is it because I’m not a horse?” Muffins asked.

“Hoo, boy…” Sahara Sunshine nodded, looking at Flash.

“I just didn’t know how to tell you,” Flash muttered. “I didn’t know that judo throws were a proper way to do that.” He turned to Sandalwood’s mother. “And for the record, I’m not into horses. Somehow all my girlfriends turn out to be them, that’s all.”

“Sounds like 1960s all over again,” Canter Zoom said. “As for the wrestling, it’s not exactly that way. Festivus can’t end, until the head of the household is pinned to the ground…” He backpedalled, seeing that Muffins fixed her eyes on him. “But of course, you can stay here a bit longer…”

“Do we wrestle you all at once or one-on-one?” Sugarcoat asked. “Not that I want to do that. Like, I know krav maga and without my glasses, I’m not sure who or what I’d hit…”

Sandalwood’s father looked at his wife. “Honey, don’t you think it’s time to pass the torch to our son? He’s probably better at wrestling.”

“With me?” Sugarcoat smirked. “No chance. I had to teach him for quite a while before he realised what he was doing wrong while pleasuring me...”

“Too much information,” Flash muttered when everybody stared at Sugarcoat in awkward silence.

“So, can we get back to wrestling?” Muffins asked.


The room they were in had a big bed and a lot of place on the floor. It also had a plasma TV on the wall. No wonder Sunny used it quite often, especially during sleepovers. This time, however, she was mostly lying on the bed half-asleep and staring at the ceiling as the combined effect of wine, stress, and exhaustion finally defeated her. Sour Sweet, her wound cleaned and neatly bandaged, sat next to her, watching her favourite Christmas movie.

“Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mister Cowboy?” the bad guy from the movie asked.

“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” Sour Sweet replied together with the TV. Knowing all the lines by heart was quite useful, given that she was half-deaf.

Sunny Flare opened one eye and looked around. “How come I already have a hangover?” she slurred.

“How would I know?” Sour Sweet shrugged. “I’ll sure have one tomorrow and I didn’t even drink.”

“Mhm.” Sunny paused to gather her thoughts. “So, you and Lemon are no longer a thing, right?”

Sour Sweet raised her eyebrows. “Tread carefully, or else I’m gonna punch you… No, we’re not a thing. Go to sleep and let me watch.”

“Why so?”

“I fucked up,” Sour Sweet replied. “Also, I guess the rumours were true. You are a lesbo.”

“I’m not,” Sunny muttered. “I have a boyfriend.”

“In Japan.” Sour Sweet smirked. “And you’re asking me if Lemon and I are a thing as if you wanted to nail me right here and put your fist–”

“I’m gonna fucking puke.” Sunny groaned, trying to get up and looking around. “Also, I’m totally straight. Like, I’m gonna show you a proof.” She tapped the screen of her wrist device and started to scroll through files. “Yeah, there it is!” She showed the screen to Sour Sweet.

Sour Sweet tilted her head and looked at Sunny unsurely. “It’s a naked chick.”

“Is it?” Sunny looked at the screen. “Shit, it’s one of those I stole. Now, where was it…”

“Who’s she?” Sour Sweet asked. “She looks familiar.”

“One girl from the hospice.” Sunny’s finger slipped off the screen of her wrist device. “She likes nature and poor children. You’d be her type.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” Sour Sweet muttered. “It’d be yet another fuck-up.” She turned to Sunny to see that she finally fell asleep. “Oh, come on…”


Lemon Zest sat on a bench in the back of the hall with her eyes closed, bobbing her head to a blues riff accompanying the Hammond organ solo. The sound made her forget about all the things that had happened this year; now there was just music and nothing else mattered.

Her sensitive ear fished out the sound of someone’s steps close to her. She opened her eyes to see a girl next to her, wearing a labcoat. Her green hair was slightly darker than Lemon’s, but equally long and unkempt, even though she apparently tried to tie them in the back.

“Hello,” she said, pointing at the band. “You’re this guy’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lemon replied. “I’m Lemon Zest.”

“Sweet Leaf,” the girl said. “It’s cool that your father decided to play for our patients.”

Lemon hissed at the first part of Sweet Leaf’s name, but after a while, she nodded. “He meant to do that for a while, yeah.”

Sweet Leaf sat next to Lemon and looked at the stage. “Well, I’ve heard he had a hard time this year, after–” She turned to Lemon. “Oh… I mean…”

Lemon froze. “It’s fine,” she muttered. “Like, I’m past the point when I spent most of the time hiding in my room, though still… I had quite a rough breakup recently too.”

“Oh.” Sweet Leaf nodded. “Well, he most certainly deserved it.”

“Well, I’m not sure if she did.” Lemon shrugged.

Sweet Leaf blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Oh…”

“Do you  say ‘oh’ often?” Lemon asked.

“Err… yeah, it kinda happens,” Sweet Leaf replied. “I mean, after a while here I can’t bring myself to much more than that.”

Lemon nodded, staring at the stage. Another song started, this time with a slow, acoustic guitar intro. “Well, about that… I’ve heard you need volunteers, right? To help the sick people and so on.”

“Yeah,” Sweet Leaf replied. “Come to the office after Christmas. You’ll have to fill in some forms, all that paperwork. It’s not that bad, you know. Most of the times, you just have to be there.” She sighed. “Though sometimes it’s the hardest…”

“Yeah, I know,” Lemon said. “My friend was here. Maybe you know her. Her name is Sunny Flare.”

“Oh.” Sweet Leaf rolled her eyes. “That one.”

“Yeah, that’d be her,” Lemon said. “She’s kinda… memorable.”

“A spoiled cunt from a private school, yeah,” Sweet Leaf muttered, covering her mouth. “I mean…”

“We’re classmates, remember.” Lemon smirked.

“Really?” Sweet Leaf raised her eyebrows. “You don’t look like one of them. For a moment I was thinking why I’ve never seen you in Canterlot High.” She blushed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen many guys who couldn’t stand being here, but she took the cake. Especially considering how she got here.”

“Mhm.” Lemon leaned closer to Sweet Leaf, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I kinda talked her into going to that store in the first place.”

“You did?” Sweet Leaf’s jaw dropped.

Lemon smiled. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to stay in the store after it closes.”

“Well, yeah.” Sweet Leaf chuckled. “In fact, if you ever try to do that again, count me in.”

“Better not,” Lemon replied. “It’s not as fun as it seems.”

“Yeah. Funny how it happens, sometimes…” Sweet Leaf sighed. “Like, before I ended up here…”

“You thought it’d be fun?” Lemon shuddered, looking at the patients watching the show. “Even now I’m trying not to think how many of them will be here next year….”

“No,” Sweet Leaf replied. “I thought many things were fun until I tried them. And after that, too. And then I thought that it was all–”

“So, a reformed party girl?” Lemon asked.

“Are you gonna say ‘oh, please’ and tell me how much I’m wasting my life here, like Sunny?” Sweet Leaf bit her lip, sighing.

“Nah,” Lemon replied. “Just… been there, too.”

“Do tell,” Sweet Leaf said. “I like such stories.”

Lemon smiled and turned her head towards the stage. “Maybe later. We’ll have a lot of time, I guess…”