//------------------------------//
// Chapter 34 
// Story: Spring Broke 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

Teatime was a ritual that summoned the fine spirit of calm. On the floor, a fat, lazy foal was a fuzzy, sleepy lump with her legs all askew while she slowly succumbed to the siren’s song of slumber. Hovering near the stove, a small, slight pegasus that was fresh out of the shower appeared pensive, her wings buzzing like some industrious, but inattentive bumblebee. She watched the teakettle, this pegasus, thus challenging the long-held notion that it would refuse to boil beneath these oppressive, overbearing conditions. An earth pony, a mare, sat upon the floor beside the sleepy foal, watching the battle between wakefulness and sleepiness with a distracted, subdued expression upon her wizened face. A second earth pony, a stallion, sat at the kitchen table, upon which he rested his forelegs and most of his bulk. His face was lined with worry, his beetled brows heavy, overwrought with concerned frustration. Though his expression resembled anger, this was misleading.

What should have been a joyful, celebratory time was now smothered in an atmosphere of pensive worry. The pegasus reached up and while her lower lip protruded in a distracted fashion, she began rubbing the back of her graceful neck. On the stove, the teakettle ticked and pinged, the metal growing warm, but it did not boil. A spirit of silence peered over each of their withers, it bore down upon them and gained potency with each passing second.

Bearing the weight of the earth pony, the kitchen table creaked, the wood protesting its burden, but there was no relief to be had. His lower lip quivered and his ribs expanded like bellows with each weighted breath he took. For a moment, it seemed as though he would say something—as if he dared to challenge the oppressive silence—but as his mouth moved his eyes closed and no words came forth.

Ears in a restive, relaxed position, the earth pony mare gave the foal a gentle nudge, poking at the irresistible, rounded, full pot belly on display. The tiny filly groaned, kicked her legs a bit in protest, and after giving up, she went limp again while the mare managed a half-smile. The pegasus hovering near the stove somehow did so with her head mere inches from the ceiling, but never once bumping her noggin.

Opening his eyes, the earth pony sitting at the table drew in a deep breath…





“This silence is driving me barmy. There are clearly things that need to be said, even if only for my own benefit. Not knowing is certainly maddening, but having no idea of what to do is worse by far. We need to talk about what happened.”

Wincing, Buttermilk shook her head. “In front of Moomy?”

Nervous, Copperquick licked his lips and appeared shaken. His head swiveled, looking in Butter Fudge’s general direction, and then back again at Buttermilk. A sigh escaped from him, his barrel rose and fell, and then, tilting his head back, he looked upwards at the ceiling. “Let’s just get this out of the way, shall we? I fear I must apologise for being coarse. Here we go.” Another sigh, this one held for several seconds before being dispatched like a hesitant messenger.

“It’s been a while for me. I’ve been focused on school for quite some time and so I had quite the build up. When the moment happened, I had quite a release, as I am positive you have guessed by now. As a result, your daughter’s womb was absolutely flooded. That’s right. Flooded. I was a firehose of liquid seed. I had to get a good grip on little Buttermilk so she wouldn’t go shooting off across the room like a cork.” Pausing for a moment, Copperquick listened to the faint sound of the washing machine.

“So now that we’ve got that out of the way, we need to discuss the consequences.”

Covering her mouth with her hoof, Butter Fudge began snickering. She fought to hold it back, coughed, snorted, pressed her hoof against her mouth, but it was to no avail; the chuckles could not be contained. Buttermilk suffered a peculiar shift in her colouration and the entirety of her body took on a rosy pink glow, as if she had been sunburned.

“In the event that Esmeralda might have a sibling on the way, I feel that the responsible thing to do would be to have some sort of plan.” While Butter Fudge battled with her need to snicker-wicker from behind her hoof, Copperquick turned to look at Buttermilk, who was now a rather pink pegasus. “Come what may, I’ll do the right thing. If number two is indeed, on the way, I’ll drop out of school and be a stay at home father. You have a lot more invested in your education than I do, and your career has already started.”

“Copper… no… you can’t—”

“I can always go back to school later.” His words were accompanied by an apologetic sagging of his ears and punctuated by a heavy sigh.

“Copper, I’m not so sure about that. That poses quite a number of problems. With one foal, it’s not so bad, but with two—”

“Are you… are you saying that I can’t? I don’t want to be confrontational right now, so I’m asking for clarity.”

Buttermilk’s eyes darted around behind her spectacles like a bird trapped in a cage. “I wasn’t trying to say that, not exactly—”

“Then what is being said, exactly?”

“You’ve cut me off three times now, Copper. How rude.” Wings buzzing, Buttermilk’s forelegs went akimbo with her fetlocks coming to rest upon her narrow hips. “Moomy, would you please stop laughing?”

“I can’t, Beezy, I can’t. I has this mental image in my head, so I does, and it’s left me fit to split.”

“I’m pretty sure that I can take care of two foals.” Copperquick’s jaw set tight and his chin jutted out in defiance. “While I lack certain bits of equipment, bottles exist. Somehow, even with the mistakes that I’ve made, I’ve managed with Esmeralda. Two couldn’t possibly be that hard.”

“A really disturbed part of me now wants to be pregnant just so you can eat those words, Copper. Just one has been exhausting. For both of us. We’ve barely managed.”

When Buttermilk was finished, Copperquick replied, “If I dropped out of school and was a full time father, it’d be easier. No homework, no classes, no nothing but being a father. I’m pretty sure I could do it.”

“There’s no house! We have no home!” Buttermilk’s sudden outburst caused Esmeralda to let out a startled snort, followed by a panicked poot. “We’re already hanging by a thread, Copper, and we’re committed to trying to change the system. We have obligations, you and I both. The only reason we have any kind of shelter at all is because of what we do!”

Butter Fudge stopped chortling just long enough to say, “Oi, Copper, you can come and stay with me. Beezy can fly home on the weekends until something can be sorted out.”

“Moomy, don’t make jokes. This is a serious matter.”

Unsure of what to say or how to respond, Copperquick now wore his best bewildered pony expression for all of the world to see. Butter Fudge was still having it out with her chuckles and wasn’t faring well, though she made an extraordinary effort. Buttermilk fumed; wearing an expression of supreme discomfort, she reached back and rubbed her tender backside.

“Moomy, this is serious. My career and livelihood is on the line. So is Copper’s.”

“Have a seat, Beezy,” Butter Fudge said, still snicker-wickering, which was in grave danger of transforming into giggle-snorts.

“I can’t,” was Buttermilk’s deadpan, leaden reply to her mother.

“This whole thing is ridiculous.” Try though she might, Butter Fudge could not bring herself under control. “It’s absurd is what it is. My daughter wants to be the career mare, Copper here wants to be a stay at home dad, you don’t have a home for Copper to be a stay at home dad, the world has turned topsy-turvy, and you aren’t married because it would cause problems for Copper, because he’s fighting to get the same rights as a mare. This whole thing is rich, I tell you—”

“Moomy, are you saying that Copper couldn’t be a stay at home father?”

“Beezy, just a second ago, you had your own doubts.”

Fuming, Buttermilk rubbed her backside even harder and brought her spare front hoof to bare. “I was being practical! You’re probably being mean or just plain rude, Moomy!”

“Well, you were right to be practical,” Butter Fudge said to her daughter, “he ain’t got the teats for it. Which is why I offered to let him stay here so the foals won’t get too messed up.”

“Excuse me?” Copperquick’s voice held a dangerous tremour to it and his left eyebrow jittered, jerking up and down in time with his twitching left ear.

“Oi, no offense, Copper—”

“But I am offended, nonetheless.”

“Look, Copper, your heart is in the right place, and you’re a good father, I’ll give you that. But it isn’t natural for stallions to be foal-rearers. Like I said, you ain’t got the teats for it. It’s biology, Copper. Oi, Midge had to look after Beezy a few times and it wore him down, so it did. He did his best, but he just wasn’t meant to do it. I love him for trying, though.”

“Moomy, your bigotry is showing.”

“Some call it bigotry, I call it horse sense. You can’t go against nature, Beezy.”

“Moomy!”

“Beezy, you can’t go around rearranging the natural order just because of some misplaced sense of enlightenment. It’s why the world is so messed up right now, Beezy. Everypony is running around trying to be what nature didn’t mean for them to be. Mares are mares, stallions are stallions, it takes a stallion and a mare to make a foal, and that’s the way of things. Everypony is rushing around trying to go against their own natures and the world is flooded with angst as a result. If we’d just go back to how things were, everypony would be a whole lot happier.”

Buttermilk ceased rubbing her backside and folded her forelegs over her barrel in a bold display of defiance. Copperquick, dumbfounded by it all, couldn’t even fathom a reply. Butter Fudge was now as serious as a stone and her eyes glittered with a keen wit, perhaps knowing that she held the advantage here. Ignored by all, Esmeralda let out a thunderous belch that made all three of the adults present almost jump right out of their skins.

“We’re so busy trying to prove that we can that we forget to ask if we should,” Butter Fudge said while glancing at Esmeralda. “Yeah, sure, we’ve come a long way. Two dads can raise a filly. But what does that filly learn about marehood from them? How can she possibly learn the practical concerns that a mare has in life? How can two stallions explain things about heats and the health concerns unique to mares? They can’t. They can’t. It’s neglect, Beezy. What’s your textbooks have to say about that? We should all have open minds, but we also have to be practical.”

Copperquick recovered himself enough to say something. “No offense meant, but I’m not so sure I’d want to stay here.”

“So your pride is more important than the needs of your foals?” Butter Fudge asked.

Just as he was about to make a bitter retort, Copperquick thought of what Sapphire Shores had said. The big, boisterous mare stood, in his memory, shaking her head at him, her wise, worldly eyes staring him down. He cast a glance at Buttermilk and saw that she was just too angry to say anything, as evidenced by her aggressive lip-chewing.

“There we go.” Butter Fudge’s words were stern, but held no anger, no hostility. “You just acted like a proper father right then and there. For a second, I thought you were about to have it out with me, and I was worried that you’d make that mistake. But you didn’t. You’re a good pony, Copper. No matter what you think of me right now, I mean that sincerely.”

Copperquick looked into Butter Fudge’s eyes and searched for words that just weren’t there.

“My door stays open, no matter what. See, that’s the right thing to do.” Reaching out, Butter Fudge stroked Esmeralda’s rounded pudge and the wise mare’s ears took on a more submissive posture.

Much to Copperquick’s shock and surprise, Buttermilk had this to say: “We appreciate your offer, Moomy. If it comes down to that, we’ll do what is necessary.” He studied her face while she spoke and he could tell that she was choking back her anger so that she could remain civil.

“Moomy, why?”

Ears perking, Butter Fudge studied her daughter. “Why would I do this?”

“Yes. I mean, we’re kind of fighting right now. You and I just can’t see eye to eye. Esmeralda isn’t even mine and as you said, Copper and I aren’t married. So why?”

“The otterdoers.”

“Say again, Moomy?”

Copperquick too, was puzzled.

“I refuse to fall prey to the otterdoers,” Butter Fudge said, her face solemn and stern. “Well, she otter be doing more for her family. Oh, she otter be doing the right thing. The otterdoers… the whispering, nattering gossipy masses… of which I am no doubt one. Look, I’ve made some mistakes and there are those who give me no end of grief. I won’t let this become fuel for the fire. I’m doing the right thing for my own sanity.”

Withers squaring, ears leveling out, splayed from her head, Buttermilk asked her mother a pointed, terrible question. “Am I one of those mistakes?”

Butter Fudge snorted, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Beezy…”

“Well, am I? Your daughter left to live in the big city and go to some big fancy university. She left behind her small town values and she got her brain scrambled with a bunch of gobbledygook from books, right? She’s turned into one of those weirdo leftists with those weird ideas that will tear down our once great society.”

“Ponies talk, Beezy.” Butter Fudge averted her gaze and stared down at the floor, which was in sore need of sweeping. “For whatever it’s worth, Beezy, I don’t think it’s a mistake. I used to, I’ll confess. I thought you’d come home in a year or so with a husband, but you left me disappointed and you were gone all these years. You came home with a degree and what one day might be a fine husband. There’s some things in this world that I don’t rightly get and maybe those things need fixing. Maybe you’ll be the one to do it. Over the past few days, I’ve reconsidered my position on a lot of things, and have even grudgingly admitted to myself that you’ve made some fine points. Which is all the more reason to let Copper stay here. You’ve got your work cut out for you, little Miss Oddbody.”

“When listened to in the right way, that might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Moomy.”

A rushing whoosh came from the kettle, which threatened to boil at any moment now that it wasn’t the center of attention. Buttermilk’s posture relaxed a little, and so did her mother’s. Copperquick, flummoxed, remained silent, not knowing what to say. It felt as though he was right back to where he started, fighting the silence.

At long last, the kettle began to whistle…