//------------------------------// // Lyra // Story: A Day in Our Life // by _Undefined_ //------------------------------// It’s morning. There’s light in the bedroom, so it must be morning. Slowly, my body processes this information, and instead of my eyelids involuntarily closing, now they’re involuntarily staying open, leaving me staring at the ceiling. The first thing I do once I realize I’m awake is let my head flop down to the left. There’s Bon Bon, my beautiful wife, beautiful even with the curls of her mane mussed up from sleeping. She’s lying on her side of the bed, watching me. As soon as she sees I’m awake enough, she leans up on her foreleg, kisses me on my cheek, and gets out of bed. I hear her walk down the stairs and start to make breakfast while my body takes its time waking up the rest of the way. That’s how it is almost every morning I’m not on tour. Unless she has some really big, pressing candy order to make (only two or three days out of the year), she’s right there by my side when I wake up, waiting to say good morning to me with a kiss. I love her so much. I lie motionless in the bed while my brain half-processes the sounds coming from downstairs. After a while, I hear her voice call out, “Breakfast time!” That’s my cue to finally get out of bed and head downstairs to start the day. I really do feel bad that Bon Bon is the one to always make breakfast. But past experience has proven that I’m not able to make anything more complicated than oatmeal. I tried to take a cooking class once – even though all of the students were there voluntarily, I was the first pony in the history of the class to flunk out. But Bon Bon accepts that as one of my limitations and doesn’t mind that she does all of the cooking. It’s just one of the many reasons that I’m so grateful to have her in my life. I reach the kitchen to find her standing next to the table. The first thing I do is step over to her side, nuzzle her, and return that good-morning kiss on her cheek. Then we sit down to eat – this morning, it’s scrambled eggs and hash browns. After breakfast, I rinse off the dishes and leave them in the sink for tonight. While I’m doing that, Bon Bon jumps into her shower. Once she’s done, I head upstairs to my bathroom for a shower. We may share everything in our life, but it’s still smart to have separate bathrooms. By the time I’m done, Bon Bon has pulled out the trays of caramel chips that she had to let set in the icebox overnight and poured them into two large canisters. I levitate those canisters into my saddlebags and the two of us head off to Sugarcube Corner for the delivery. It’s already a beautiful day in Ponyville, made even more perfect because my favorite pony is by my side. Sugarcube Corner isn’t too far away, and when we get there, Mrs. Cake is tending the counter. After she serves the teen in front of us, she greets us with a friendly hello and eagerly takes the caramel chips. When she says that they look great, Bon Bon gives me too much credit in helping her get them the right shape. I’m just happy that she finds ways I can be a part of her special talent. Now the teen that had been standing in front of us thinks I’m a major contributor to the candy-making process. Really, I didn’t do that much. But before I can speak, Bon Bon tells him, “She isn’t just my wife. She’s my partner in everything.” That wonderful mare. I have to give her a kiss on the cheek, and I have to do it right now. She immediately blushes. I knew she would. Public displays of affection have always made her a little uncomfortable. But she’s so cute when she’s embarrassed. I can’t resist. We leave after Mrs. Cake places another order that she’ll need in a couple of days. Before we go back home, we have to stop in the marketplace so Bon Bon can pick up some peanut butter–filled pretzels. We take time to say hello to some of our friends that we see out shopping and selling, and then it’s back home so she can get started on her work for today. She has two orders she needs to do. Cranky Doodle Donkey asked her for chocolate-covered peanut butter pretzels, so that’s why she had to get those. But what’s really exciting is that today is the day she finishes making a hundred boxes of dark chocolate blackberry cremes for a special order all the way from Manehattan. It’s the first time she’s gotten an order from so far away. We know that this is probably just a special occurrence – the only reason it worked out is because somepony will already be in Ponyville tomorrow to pick them up, so there won’t be a huge shipping charge. But still, it makes me happy to see that Bon Bon’s hard work is going to be appreciated in the big city. She deserves it. As she starts melting the dark chocolate, I make a dumb half-joke/half-suggestion for a new candy idea. It wouldn’t be good, and of course she already knows why – she’s the expert, after all – but she’s still patient with me. Like I said, I appreciate how she finds ways that I can be part of her special talent, because I’m really not that good at it. Meanwhile, I have to get ready to go to school. Specifically, the School of Friendship: Twilight Sparkle asked me to be one of the guest musicians for a lecture she’ll be giving about harmony. So I head upstairs, check my lyre, make a tiny adjustment to one of the strings, and I’m ready to leave. But not before I get my good-bye kiss from Bon Bon. I get there early and meet my bandmate Half Step, who just moved to Ponyville a few months ago. Twilight’s busy tending to other royal duties, so the two of us chat in the reception area until eventually, we head outside to meet Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch (Vinyl’s brought a relatively small rig, but it’s still too large to be toting all over the school). I introduce Half – this is the first time he’s met the others. About fifteen minutes before the lecture, Twilight meets us to go over our role. While we were chatting outside, Octavia and Vinyl had expressed their concerns about what we were supposed to be doing, especially because in electronic music, the traditional rules of harmony don’t apply. Sure enough, when Twilight starts to talk about how she’ll first ask each of us to play a note in a dissonant chord, Octavia has to explain to her that dissonance isn’t technically the opposite of harmony. Meanwhile, I’m amused by Half’s stunned face as he watches Octavia, unprompted, give Twilight a brief lecture of her own. It isn’t long before we come to the decision that to demonstrate a lack of harmony, we’ll all just play different pieces at different tempos on top of one another. And to demonstrate harmony, we’ll all improvise something that sounds harmonious. Twilight, a little embarrassed that she apparently didn’t do enough music research, asks if we can start that part in the key of G major. I think she wanted to prove that she researched something. In order to accommodate all of the students, Twilight gives the lecture twice, with the hall packed to capacity both times. Her speech is about harmony in the friendship sense, so she isn’t really fazed by the new plan we put into place. For the “in harmony” part of our performance, Vinyl – I mean DJ Pon-3; she’s onstage – sticks to providing the bass while the rest of us easily fall into a groove. And the metaphors in Twilight’s speech hold up, including the part where she explains that we can respect and embrace each others’ differences, such as when a lyrist and a concertinist play together or when a cellist and a DJ play together. After the lectures, Twilight gives each of us a few bits and a voucher for lunch in the school’s dining hall, along with her apologies that she couldn’t pay us more. Twilight’s a friend, so I don’t mind doing this for her, although as Half points out during lunch, how do you say no to a princess? Besides, we’ve all performed for less in the past. Lunch is fun. For school food, it’s actually really good. Plus, it gives me a chance to catch up with Octavia and Vinyl – it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to talk. We take our time in the dining hall, but eventually, everypony has to leave. We all go our separate ways, which means I have to walk home alone. Along the way, I see a toy store’s window display – it has big plush teddy bears positioned on a shelf above smaller pony-shaped dolls. Instinctively, I turn to point out how that kind of thing would accidentally terrify young foals. But then I realize that Bon Bon is back at home right now. I hate walking alone. She would have had an interesting response, especially now that enough time has passed that she can joke about it. Walking a little bit faster now, I finally get back to our house. Through the door, past the boxes stacked in the living room, and directly into the kitchen, where Bon Bon has turned around so I can greet her with a hug and another kiss. Even though it’s only been a few hours, I’m so happy to see her again. She’s said that there’d never be a reason for us to get a dog – she gets the same enthusiasm from me every time we’ve been apart. I can’t say that she’s wrong. We tell each other how our days have gone, although I wind up doing most of the talking since she’s spent her day in the kitchen. As we talk, she moves on to making the chocolate for the peanut butter pretzels. She then says that earlier this afternoon, she tried creating something new. It’s in the icebox right now, setting, but she won’t tell me what it is. Once we’ve run out of things to say, I grab some paper and ink, sit down in the living room, and noodle around on my lyre, seeing if I can draw inspiration from the impromptu music we played during Twilight’s lecture. I come up with a couple of jumping-off points, but nothing is really jelling today. No big deal. I get up and wander into the kitchen to see how Bon Bon is doing. She’s setting the last of the pretzels out on a tray, and I’m content to just sit and watch her in her element. As I do, I can’t help but think about how perfect she is. I know how much she enjoys making Ponyville happy with her candy, and she deserves every ounce of joy she gets. When we first started living together, she was the one bringing in most of the money while I was still trying to find a way to make a career out of my music. But she always believed in me and trusted that I’d be able to find my path. All while preparing all of our meals – even to this day. And she’s never once complained. She is an absolute dream wife. It’s clear that she was going to make some mare ridiculously happy to be hers – I am so lucky she chose me. She notices me staring at her. So she starts walking back and forth across the kitchen, doing an exaggerated hip sway. I can’t help but laugh. Every time she lets her guard down like that, she gets even more attractive. Soon, she’s done, and she needs a break. So she grabs the newspaper, I grab a magazine, and we sit down on the loveseat and take some time to just relax. Even though we’re doing our own thing, we’re still doing it together. Eventually, Cranky stops by to pick up the pretzels. Then it’s time for us to leave so we can get to this week’s self-defense lesson. This was my idea. Bulwark started up a class to teach Ponyville residents not only how to defend themselves from muggers and criminals in Equestria’s bigger cities, but also how to assess the threat level of a monster or evil creature attack and what steps to take to stay safe based on that threat. I freely admit that I had a selfish reason for wanting us to take the class: Simply put, I don’t want to lose Bon Bon. I know she’s fought monsters in the past, but I don’t want her doing that anymore. I want to make sure she’s safe so we’ll always be together. These first weeks of the class are focused on threats from ponies, so we’ve been spending a lot of time learning how to gain the upper hoof when we’re attacked from different angles. After Bulwark shows us what to do, everypony in the class pairs off to practice the movements on each other. It occurs to me that I haven’t noticed whether the other students break off into different pairs each week. (Bon Bon and I also try to practice the techniques at home, but every time we do, I can’t help myself. I’ll stand over her while she’s on her side, and she’s supposed to roll onto her back and bring her hind legs in to knock me off balance, but instead, one thing leads to another and soon, I’m practicing moves that I would only ever perform on Bon Bon.) Even though the class was my idea, she’s better at it than I am. I worry that if the time ever comes when I’m attacked, I’ll freeze up or do the wrong thing. This is the rare occasion when it’s bad to have somepony who you know will always look out for you. By the time class ends, we’re both worn out from all of the rolling and repositioning it takes to escape a choke hold. And Bon Bon doesn’t feel like cooking, so we head over to Hayburger for dinner. She confirms that I want the usual, then orders for both of us – a hayburger for her, a hayburger with cheese for me, a large bag of potato fries for us to share, and two carbonated apple juices. Just like always, after we get our order and sit down, she lets me have the pickles from her burger. While we eat, we talk about what we practiced in class. She comes up with the best comment when she says, “With my luck, somepony would see I’m being choked and they’d just run up and try to perform the Hirzaimlich on me.” As the meal is winding down, I see a couple of the remaining horseshoe-shaped fries lying on the tray. I’m struck by an idea. Using my magic, I pair off three sets of fries and rest them upright against each other on the tray, like croquet wickets. Then I tear off a little piece of the bag, crumple it into a tiny ball, and place it on one end of the tray. The empty bag goes at the other end. Using the straws from our drinks as the mallets, whoever gets the ball in the bag in the fewest shots is the winner. Even before we begin, we both know that Bon Bon is going to win this. From her years in the kitchen, she has a lot more practice using her mouth to make precise movements. I don’t care – I just like doing fun things with her. Still, I tease her by asking, “What do I get if I win?” After a moment, she says, “If you win, then you get to taste-test my new idea.” “And if I lose?” “Then you have to taste-test my new idea.” I love having a wife who makes me laugh. Sure enough, she wins. She claims the wickets as her prize, and once we finish our drinks, I clear the table. I’m eager to get home because I can’t wait to see what this new idea is. One of the perks of being married to a brilliant candy maker is that when she comes up with a new creation, you get to be the first one ever to try it. Right before the self-defense class, she took it out of the icebox so it would be room temperature when we got home, but she wouldn’t let me see what it is. When I sit down at the kitchen table, I finally get to look as she brings over one of her molds, which is holding what appear to be peanut butter candies. After she flips the mold over, she tells me that specifically, they’re peanut butter surrounding a strawberry jelly filling. That’s another one of the reasons I admire her. She took a concept, didn’t include anything extra or unnecessary, and turned it into a piece of candy that just plain makes sense. I tell her that it’s brilliant in its simplicity, and I mean it. I take a bite. Bon Bon and I love each other, and because we’re both creators, we have an agreement that when she makes a new candy or I write a new song, we want the other’s honest opinion – even if it isn’t 100% positive. I hate saying anything critical of her work, and she hates saying anything critical of mine. But I’d rather hear it from somepony whose opinions I value before I charge ahead with a potentially bad idea. She feels the same way. In this case, something is a little bit off. I love the concept, and it seems like it should work, but this particular version of the candy isn’t quite doing it for me. I feel less bad telling her this when I see that she’s thinking the same thing. Maybe it’s the filling – for this “prototype,” she just used regular strawberry jelly, and getting a big glob of that seems weird somehow. She floats the idea of using the kind of jelly you’d see in a jelly doughnut. When I wince a little at that, she knows she’s going in the wrong direction. Soon, she comes up with a couple of ideas that sound like they might be an improvement – she’ll make those tomorrow and we’ll compare them against the leftover first batch. Right now, though, we have to do the dishes. That’s the one and only downside to being married to a candy maker – there are always a lot of dishes to wash. Well, there’s also the fact that she’s super aware of how much junk food we eat in a day, but since that’s making me more healthy than I’d be if I was still a bachelorette, I guess that isn’t a negative. But washing the dishes is a negative. It’s a chore that we both hate, but at least we’re side by side while we clean them, suffering through it together. The monotony puts me in a silly mood, so I use Bon Bon as an obstacle course while I put the frying pan away. Most ponies would get annoyed if I did something like that, but she’s always willing to play along. After the dishes, it’s time to get ready for bed. It’s been a long day, and tonight, we’re just going to go straight to sleep. I don’t mind – first of all, I’m pretty sure that we still make love more often than most married couples do. Second of all, the sex isn’t what’s most important – it’s the reconfirmation that we will always be there for each other. And there’s nothing in my life that I’m more sure of than that. We climb into bed, lean toward each other, and share a good-night kiss. A long good-night kiss, and I savor every moment of it. Just before I turn out the lantern, I say “I love you.” When she says “I love you” back, the way she’s looking at me… I can only hope that it’s the same way I’m looking at her. The lantern goes out, and I lie down on my back and hold out my left foreleg so she can place her right on it. So ends another day. A day that was just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And pretty much every day I’ve had since I met the beautiful mare lying next to me. Some ponies might describe today as an average, ordinary day. But with Bon Bon by my side, there are no average days – only great ones. We fall asleep. Together.