//------------------------------// // Understanding // Story: Off the Beaten Path // by PingSquirrel //------------------------------// //----------------------------- // Story: Off the Beaten Path // Chapter: Understanding // Author: PingSquirrel // Editor: Primary Feather //----------------------------- 12. For the first time since coming here, I slept well. And did I ever need it. Considering everything that’s happened since I arrived, it was a welcomed change of pace to sleep through the night and awake of my own accord. There wasn't a terrible head-ache to greet me in the morning, nor a pony around to throw baseless accusations at me before I was even able to stretch. The sun was back onto its normal schedule, and even my dreams were happily forgettable and didn’t leave me with a lingering sense of dread. All in all, it was a good night and a better morning. After I took a moment to enjoy the peaceful morning, I thought about the night before. As it turns out, I had something Lyra called a 'song number'. According to her, practically everypony goes through one or two of them a year. She was positively shocked to find out this was my first, and fumbled a bit on explaining them to me. As far as I could tell from what I was being told, they occurred when there is an emotionally charged event that causes a pony to break into song. Those nearby can be caught up in it as well, providing chorus, back up, or in this case, musicians. As she was explaining this to me, the shock mellowed into bemusement, and she comment on how ‘different’ it was that I was ignorant of them. I guess I should be worried more about it than I really am, but really, singing like a Disney character was the least of my concerns here. And, to be honest, the fact my voice held out so well was a new point of pride. Just a few days ago, I was tone dead (the step after ‘tone deaf’) and the only things I could do justice to were heavier metal songs sung in deep growls. Introducing a bunch of ponies to metal might have been an interesting experience if the song number had gone the way of Metallica or Battlecross. My iPod was still charged and ready to go. Maybe I’ll do the introduction later just to see the reactions. I chuckled as I pictured Lyra’s repulsed face when hearing Breaking You. Anyways, I couldn’t stay in my comfortable truck all day. Last night had taken a good run at my remaining bits, and I did arrange a job for myself when I was at the poker table. I had promised Bon-Bon a fan like the one I set up at Sugar Cube Corner and that, with the money for the yoke would set me up for a while if I was careful. The other thing I wanted to do was bury the hatchet between myself and the rest of Twilight's friends, if it was remotely possible. It was true that until the real victim of this whole thing awoke and forgave me, my first day here would haunt me, but it would help if I could apologize to her friends to come around. How hard could it be, really? I was not a bad guy after all. Of course, there was my identity crisis. Where could I even start on that? I couldn’t exactly walk into a hospital and say, “I was a human, but now am a pony and my mind is becoming more like a pony's. I don’t like it. Can you fix me?” I can see the padded room right now. Do crazy ponies around here get a straight jacket or do they get hobbled with a rope between the legs? Yeah, that is enough on that train of thought. I’d just have to hold onto myself until Twilight woke up and hope that she had a solution. I stretched and enjoyed the morning sun through the windows for a moment longer before the matters of the day made me get to my hooves. As my girl back home would say, “Time for boots and saddles”. I still remembered that. Who cares that didn’t really work here? The spirit of the phrase held true and it was a reassuring battle cry to take on the day. I climbed out of my truck to gather my tools up, and struck out to find Bon-Bon's kitchen with plans to hit the market at some point for a bite. It was surprising how little this varied from back home, where I’d often head to work with plans to find food somewhere along the day. It was another sign I was still me. As I set out I mused on the payment due to me for the return of the yoke. Maybe Applejack would show up at the end of the day, once I was back at the truck to receive it? I wouldn’t mind that at all, and the chance to talk freely with somepony about my situation. She didn’t know everything about it, but being able to talk to someone who had the gist of it would be nice. Before long, I arrived at Bon-Bon's and knocked on her door. “Just a minute,” came the call within. The confectioner was true to her word and opened the door for me, “Good morning, Scriber.” I gave a simple nod back. “Good morning.” She motioned me in so I entered, careful to keep the heavy tool bag from banging the doorframe. The place was chaotic. While there was no real storefront, boxes filled with sweet treats filled the front room, which must of been a den at some point before it was repurposed as a warehouse. Now, it had haphazardly stacked goods wherever they would fit. The kitchen had outgrown its original floorplan and devoured the neighbouring dining room and every flat surface in both was covered in bowls, ingredients and kitchen utensils. Nothing was actually dirty though, but saying the place was ‘cluttered’ would be generous. She looked at me as if she just insulted me with such a sight. “I cleaned up so you can work,” she quietly stated with her head down in shame. “Don't worry about it,” I replied as I surveyed things, “I’ve worked in worse.” That was true. There are stories I could tell on the subject. In comparison to some of the places I plied my trade, this was easy. “Earlier today?” she asked, still looking at the ground. I was already fishing out my tape measure from my bag. “Pardon?” “Well, you look like you haven't bathed in a while,” she went on to say and she was right. I hadn’t really been thinking about it either, but the lack of running water at the truck took away that option entirely. Perhaps it wasn’t shame that had her staring so fixedly at the floor, but embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. I don't exactly have a place in town, really so I don't have anywhere to shower off yet,” I quietly admitted, “Do you know a place where I can fix that later?” As I spoke, I played with my tape measure self-consciously. It still felt weird gripping things in my hooves. “Really? You don't have a place? I thought you had a shop or at least a hotel room or something like that.” “Not as such, no.” “Well, as soon as you're done here, you should head off to the town's spa. I am sure they will let you have a bath. No offence, but I think it might be a worth a few bits to you.” As she spoke, the blush that had been hovering on her cheeks became more pronounced. I added the item to the mental agenda that I had going and then smiled. “Good advice. I’ll do it as soon as I am done here. Sorry you had to let me know.” She accepted that, and showed me to the work to be done and once again, it was a simple task. The only thing that really concerned me was the materials that I would need to use. While it was true that the job was a small one, the supplies I had brought with me were quite limited and would only last for a couple more jobs, and only that long if I started getting very creative with what I used. It was just another thing to throw on the list of things to do. She went about her business the best she could with me claiming a large section of the kitchen. I hardly noticed her though. If there is one thing that could distract me, it was having a task at hoof to do, and today would not be any exception to that. Once immersed in the work, my worries melted away to be replaced by calculations and plans for the exhaust fan for the kitchen. Of course, I had to make a quick gallop back to the truck for the materials I’d need, but that never stopped the blissful diversion I had found. I was sure today was going to be a simple and quiet day for me. “Challenge accepted,” called the world, in defiance to my elated mood. The world laid in wait until I was precariously balanced on my back on top of the fridge with my back hooves holding up a pipe to the outside and I struggled to get the drill working with my front hooves and mouth to put its scheme into action. Bon-Bon returned from one of her many trips out that she had made that day. “Still working on it, Scriber?” she asked as she set down the groceries on a counter. I grunted affirmatively back. Stupid screw. Why won't you bite? She quickly sorted all of her ingredients into their places as she made more casual conversation. “I ran into somepony that apparently knows you while out. She is a bit of a strange mare.” That caught my ear, splitting my attentions between both my work and what was being said. I didn’t know many ponies. “Yeah. Punch Berry said saw you and your song number at The Glade last night,” Bon-Bon continued, “But, now she was going on about how you're not from anywhere around here at all and your name wasn’t really Scriber and crazy stuff like that. She's making it sound like you're some sort of alien!” She giggled at the very idea. My reaction was much less relaxed. In fact, it was pretty much the polar opposite of mild amusement. My careful attentions left the pipe entirely and snapped fully to the confectioner so I could ask for more detail. The pipe above me took that as its cue to run free and explore the world as it slipped from its perch to land with an echoing thump on my turned face and then bounce off to meet the floor. I should have written it off as a lost cause thanks to gravity at that point. Instead, I made a grab for it, only to be forcefully reminded that I was incapable of flight myself. I followed the pipe down its vertical trajectory to crash to the ground in a graceless heap. How had I ever beaten the pipe down? I mean, to have it land on me again just added insult to injury. The whole display only took a few seconds and left me winded and sore on the ground. “Oh Celestia! Are you alright?” I had no idea which one of the quadruplets hovering over me asked it. “Who wash shaying whath abouth me, ab where?” I groaned as my body simply disagreed with any effort on my part to get back on my hooves. Ow. Alright, moving was not an option. “Your nose is bleeding!” the images cried out. I dabbed my hoof on my nose and inspected the little red blotch it left on the hard edge. She was right. “So it is,” I replied, but it came out more like, “Sho ith ish”. Just deal with it. “Dib you shay 'Puncsh Berry' wash shaying thigs abouth me?” I tried again, only to have it fall on deaf ears. To be entirely fair, she might not have understood me as she had already rushed off to find something to staunch the blood. I was really more concerned about the whole prospect of being revealed than the nose drip or the bruise my flank now had. I pushed those aside and racked my brain for why that name was familiar. “I wouldn't worry too much about it,” Bon-Bon called from the room over, finally answering me, “Most ponies don't listen to that lush anyways. Just thought it was funny how crazy she sounded this time. And she's sober to boot.” “I thig I sthill wanth tho goh shee her. Um, I don'b like poniesh thalking about me behind my back.” Right. Berry was that mare in the neighbouring cell a couple of nights ago. I forgot entirely about her and it seems so had everypony else. Damnation. I was ready to get up when a rag was pushed to my nose, and I was pinned simply because it was so tender. “Ow!” “Oh relax, Scriber. I know how much rumours suck but you're not going anywhere until you stop bleeding,” she said, dismissing the urgency of the situation. “Besides, it's just funny, unlike the one about me and Lyra. No need to panic about a silly story like that one sticking.” She then paused and tilted her head. “Of course, it is weird that she's sober this time. Maybe all the drink is finally getting to her.” That was a small comfort to me, but I’d been directly told to keep a low profile by a goddess, and hearing that I blew it on day one simply by forgetting to mention one pony on a short list would not look good. “How 'bouth I go, geth cleaned up, go shee her, den come back here and finish up?” I suggested hopefully. I really wanted to avoid the ire of a deity. “You don't need my permission for that. She'll be at the Glade by now. Go and get done what you need to, but don't forget about here.” She really didn’t seem upset at all for the delay in the job. Back home, taking off on a half-finished job would be the source of all sorts of woes. True, they’d be lesser woes than the ones I could be subject to here, but a self-righteous consumer can be one of the more annoying things to duel with. It was nice to see that some ponies were more understanding. Eventually, when my body was ready to listen to input from my brain again, I pushed myself up to my hooves, stretched to get some of the cricks out of my back and surveyed the room quickly. I ended up picking one corner to shove the metal and tools to before I took off to hopefully catch the mare before things spiralled too close to complete disaster. I was in such a rush at that point, I nearly tripped over the trio of fillies rushing in. I think they yelled something like “Cutie Mark Candy Makers” or something like that. I simply ended up dancing around them and taking off towards the tavern at a brisk pace. Alright, I was full out running. Can you blame me for being in such a hurry? Stories of Greek mythology were floating around in my mind where humans were subject to terrible punishments just for comparing themselves to one of the petty pantheon. I didn’t want to think what would happen to someone that actually failed... Stop thinking about it. Nothing will happen because I will get this fixed and swept under the rug. I burst through the door to the Glade and scanned it quickly. It was still early in a tavern's day so finding Punch Berry was rather easy. She was just at the bar, with a long stemmed glass before her. “Are you alright, Scriber?” asked Merlot who was in the middle of making sure the tables were clean for later in the day. “You look like the day has not been kind to you.” “You're right, but I need to take care of something,” I deflected as I walked by the bartender and to his patron. I’d make it up to him later, but for now, I closed on the mare. “We really need to talk. In private, preferably.” I think at that point Merlot just let things go with a few assumptions on his part. A roughed up stallion who was in a hurry to talk to a mare that was drinking in the early afternoon. I bet there are all sorts of fun narratives that could be crafted with a set up like that. I was prepared to follow any one of a dozen scripts running through my head, depending on the mare’s reaction to my approach. I could yell, bluster, threaten, barter, reason or plead, depending on how she answered my request. I even had one part of my brain working on how I could convince her it was all a drunk conversation if it came to outright deception, but she derailed it all with a reaction I hadn’t anticipated. “Nopony believes me.” It was barely more than a whisper, and she turned her head up to look at me. She had all the signs of a mare that had been crying for a long while. Purple eyes rimmed with red, and a hitch in her breathing. With that one sorrowful look, I was disarmed. “That’s why you’re here, right?” “Well, yeah,” I returned, mentally scrapping all the plans at once. It was nice that it was that easy, but it didn’t feel right just turning and leaving either. She looked back to her glass. “I'm just the crazy lush that lives in the bar to them,” she droned before she turned to her wine for comfort. She gulped most of her glass down and then stared me in the eye. Her voice took on a nasal quality as she gave words to the non-existent masses “No need to worry about her! No need to care about what she says! She's just a rich mare that likes the booze! She can't be right! She just wants attention.” She trailed off again and Merlot walked back to his post behind the bar and topped off the glass. I didn't want this, but it seemed I was now knee deep in it without any exit strategy at all. I did look to Merlot rather critically and mouthed the word, “More?” with a questioning tilt to my head. The last thing she needed was another full glass. Even I could tell that much and the bartender should know better as well. “Miss Berry drinks here so I can keep an eye on her. We found her passed out in the snow, nearly chilled right through once after I cut her off,” he explained vocally and she winced in shame about it. “It's not perfect, but, this way, I can make sure she gets home safely.” If there was one thing that Merlot did for his clients, it was look out for their welfare. That much was becoming abundantly clear to me now and his reasoning made sense, but it was still a pretty sad situation for the two. And it was a drama that I really didn’t want any further involvement in. Even in a world of pastel ponies with saccharine names, problems like this could still exist, just like back home. I started to get up to leave then, with a quick tip of my hat to the two. Berry interrupted my exit. “Ker- Scriber,” she asked as she took a long, introspective look at the glass before her. “It was true, right? You wouldn't have come here if it wasn't. I just want to know I wasn't making it up. It gets hard to tell sometimes.” I should have backed out when I still could but the world-weary wistfulness of that question pinned me in place. I could lie to her and be done with her and her story entirely. I don't think even Twilight's friends knew my entire story yet. All they knew was that I wasn’t from this world, but not about me being an entirely different species. The list of ponies that knew the entire truth were myself, Officer Cuffs, Punch Berry and Princess Luna. The lie would set me free right there and the cost would land on the mare before me. “Did you hear the story she was telling, Merlot?” “Yes. It was rather far-fetched,” he replied in his calm sort of way. “I know, I know. I have to lay off. But, I was so sure of it,” she whimpered before she lifted the glass. I made my decision and put my hoof on the glass to push it back down to the bar. She really didn’t need more. “This cannot leave the room. At all. Ever,” I forced myself to whisper while I put an ever increasing emphasis on the words. There was not another pony around to hear this, so this seemed to be as good a time as any. “But, yeah. It's a true story.” Their eyes opened wide but I motioned with a hoof to my lips for them to be quiet so they wouldn’t ask questions. It was my mistake that let Punch Berry know in the first place and sending Merlot away for the admission would just leave him with suspicions. I had to let them both know. I was already feeling guilty enough for what happened to Twilight that I didn’t have to add Berry's plight to the list. Merlot was the first to recompose himself. “Really? All of it?” “If I got the same story second hoof as you got from Berry, then yes,” I confessed, “But don't mention it. Really. Princess Luna said I should keep it to myself. I guess I messed up on that.” Berry's surprise morphed directly into relief and she laughed loudly. “I'm not crazy!” Both Merlot and I shushed her quickly and she blushed. “Sorry! Just that, I don't know, I really thought I was losing it. I'll do my best to keep it to myself, but it is just such a relief!” “There is just one thing that Scriber needs from you, I think,” Merlot said as he leaned across the bar, “And it is something I have asked of you too, but now you really must do it.” Her joy turned fearful at that point. “You don't mean...” She trailed off as she stared back at the bartender. “You need to quit drinking. You have a hard enough time keeping secrets without the wine,” he went onto say. I couldn’t help but feel like I was just being used as a tool in this dialogue by Merlot to reach an end he long since wanted to, but ultimately, it would be to my benefit too so I let him continue. “He is putting a lot of faith in both of us, and I am not going to let you disappoint him.” “B-but you could slip up too!” she protested quickly for an ineffective counter-point to him. I interjected this time. “I think he is pretty good at keeping secrets if ponies confide in him all the time.” He just nodded sagely at that. Her gaze moved between us and her glass several times. I think she was doing the math of what was truly at stake here for her in her head, and finally, she nodded. “I'll try. I mean, really try this time.” Merlot practically leaped over the bar to hug her at that point. “Oh thank you! We'll do all we can to help!” he declared with no end of alleviation in his voice or manner. He practically danced with the mare on his back hooves. That looked weird and awkward. When considering how bad this could of went for me, being conscripted into helping another pony was nothing, so I added my voice. “Yeah. If you ever need to talk or go somewhere, my truck is just outside of town on the east side. There is a little road that way. Then you'll see a smaller path off of that. It should be at the end of it.” Merlot's victory dance was over pretty quickly and he let her face me. “T-thanks! I will really try. And I am sorry for blabbing in the first place. I just thought they would listen to me.” To be honest, if nopony else believed here, there was no need to be angry about anything. All is well, that ends well. “It is alright. Just, keep it to yourself for now, and maybe later, I might even take some questions on the whole thing when I am sure nopony is going to walk in on us. But, right now, I got to get back to work. No rest for the wicked, you know.” Merlot perked an ear at the turn of phrase. “Heh. You really aren't from around here,” he confirmed and all I could do is rear back and give him a shrug in return. “Not even close. But, I'm counting on you two,” I said as I backed to the door then left to start my way back towards Bon-Bon's. I really hoped those two were trustworthy.