Johns

by Cackling Moron


We stand up, late at night

We started later.

By the time I wandered back to Twilight’s she’d gathered and set up all the bits she apparently needed. And apparently she needed bits at all, which was news to me. To say that she was exhibiting enthusiasm about the time we had ahead of us would be underselling it. Lovely girl, Twilight.

So, after a natter and a quick bite to eat - God I love this pace of life - we got down to business. The business of words.

I was unsure that you could actually, physically teach someone to read a whole language in one evening, but the structure of what Twilight had put together plainly disagreed. It seemed to suggest that by this point I should already be bounds ahead - leaps ahead!

I was neither.

The Spot book seemed to be about my limit, by all accounts. 

Ah, not strictly true I suppose. We had at least managed to move on from that one, up an age bracket or two and away from the adventures of dogs, but this was where I could feel myself starting to scrape the ceiling. And oh my did it feel bad! All I needed was a nice cone hat and a stool in the corner, fuck me.

It’s a book for kids! Slightly bigger kids, but still! Come on man!

But no, no, nothing. Like trying to push a tuna sandwich through a brick wall. Just not going in, nothing going through and the harder you try the bigger the mess you make.

I had to put the book down.

“Can we take a break? Just a minute,” I asked, rubbing my face.

Twilight - who’d been half doing something else while half keeping an eye on my progress - was pulled into completely keeping an eye on me by this, coming on over.

“Sure! How are you getting - oh, uh, still on this one?”

Oof. She tried not to sound mildly disappointed but I have a keen sense for that sort of thing, could smell it a mile off, could see it before it even happened.

“I’m probably not much good for this, Twilight. I’m kind of an idiot in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh no, that got her scowling.

Don’t say that. You’re not. You’re just starting, that’s all. No-one is good at the start.”

“Some people are,” I said, side-stepping how I was technically restarting, really, and shouldn’t have been at the start anyway. Lazy me!

And I think I was starting to push my luck here as she gave me quite the sharp look. Oops. I’m sorry! I can’t help it! It’s a reflex!

Never miss a chance to shit on yourself. It’s like never pass up food because you never know when you’ll get to eat next - never don’t do yourself down! Otherwise people might leave thinking you have a good opinion of your capabilities, and that’d be awful.

Still, Twilight ploughed on, ever-patient with me:

“Exceptions exist, but they’re not what you should use to measure your own success. If you do, everything will always seem like it’s not good enough and you’ll find it harder to even try. And it’s always worth trying! Just have to do the best you can, push a little harder every time and allow yourself to feel proud of your success.”

Had to grin at that. How could you not? Such a little ray of bloody sunshine, her. Lovely girl. Reached over and gave her hair a ruffle, much to her surprise and her blushing consternation.

“Check out the wisdom on Twilight! That’s me told!” I said.

She meant well, lovely girl. And she had a point, too! 

For everyone else, mind, not for me. I was an idiot. Exception that proved the rule. Black swan and all that.

“You’re just too harsh on yourself…” She mumbled, still just a touch luminescent. Oh these ponies! Forever going red! Well, Twilight at least. Perhaps she was unusually susceptible for some mysterious reason.

“It’s a habit. Still. Maybe some of it has sunk in? Uh, let’s see…”

I pulled the book in and also some parchment - parchment! Such novelty - and started jotting. Twilight watched, bemused and baffled.

“Um,” she said.

“I am,” I said, concentrating unnecessarily hard (you ever written with a quill? Why was it even a quill? I was fairly sure they had pens. I hadn’t imagined seeing them, had I?). “Copying out that sentence there from the book over here on this sheet, in English. To demonstrate the, uh, growth of my understanding. Or something.”

That sounded convincing, right?

I wasn’t, clearly. I was setting up for a joke. But she didn’t have to know that yet. Instead, her interest piqued, she watched me patiently until I’d finished and sat back.

“There you go,” I said, gesturing to my still-fresh scrawl. She peered at it.

“So that’s this, but in English?” Twilight asked, pointing to the book and to the sheet in order and looking surprisingly thrilled. Knowing what I’d actually done I couldn’t help but feel a little bad. But only a little.

“More or less,” I said.

“So what’s this word?” She asked, pointing to a particular word. I looked at the particular word.

“Bum. As in posterior,” I said, thinking it best to be clear on this.

Whatever glee and excitement had filled Twilight’s face promptly vanished, replaced with stony disapproval. It might have had something to do with the fact that ‘bum’ (as in posterior) had not appeared anywhere in the chosen sentence. Maybe.

Who’s to say?

“John,” she said, putting so much weight into the word you could have used it to keep a pile of important documents from blowing away in a stiff breeze. I did my best not to grin at the look on her face.

“What? I couldn’t think of a direct translation.”

I might have imagined it but I’m pretty sure she was trying not to smile. I hope so, at least. Certainly, I did see her look at the word again - probably committing it to memory! It was important, after all.

“Do you miss it?” She asked, out of nowhere and after a few seconds. I blinked, this swerve leaving me twisting in the wind, so to speak.

“Home?” I asked, for clarification, on the off-chance she meant something else. Like being locked in a tower. Urgh. If she meant that I did not miss that. Gave the table a little tap, too. She nodded though, which meant that she was asking about home.

Figured.

Heavy question. Well, for most people, probably. For me not so much. Answer is a pretty abrupt ‘No, not really’. I’m sorry, man, it’s just the way it is. Put up those cosmic scales, pile what you got here on one side, what you left behind on the other, which way does it hilt?

Fuck, thing falls over, probably.

I do hate this question though. Everyone keeps kind of tip-toeing around - or hoof-toeing around it? No, that doesn’t work - and everytime they bring it up I just...

...deflate…

There’s only so much I can say! Or think!

This place is great! I got it all! We been over this, yeah? Pick an aspect or angle of my life and I can show you how, here in horse-land, it is objectively improved over what I had before. Free from want, worry, smothered in affection whichever way I turn, drowning in friends and nice people, every day worth waking up to see.

Ye Gods!

Back home? Hmm.

Mean, who wouldn’t miss working for Southern Rail? And going home alone? Losing track of which day it is because each one is so bloody similar to every other one they start to blur together? Enjoying your birthday sat on your sofa on your Todd and genuinely for a good five minutes actually forgetting how old you are until you look to check? Isn’t that the dream?

Hah. Ha. Haaaa…

So no! No contest! No fucking contest! No I don’t miss it!

I understand the place I left! I get it now, now I got all me faculties returned to me. I understand it! But I don’t fucking miss it! Jesus, the more I think about it the less I miss it! My life couldn’t have gone in a better direction! Luckiest man a-fucking-live!

Should probably look like you’re giving Twilight’s question some thought, though.

“Hmm,” I said, looking like I was thinking about it. “No.”

From the look on her face I could kind of tell she hadn’t been expecting that answer.

“Oh. Um, okay,” she said. A pause, but the pregnant kind so I could tell she was gearing up for the next bit: “Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“You, Twilight, can always ask me anything. And just because I didn’t leave anything behind worth missing, really. This place is tops, beats home hands-down, no question.”

“Don’t you miss your friends?” She asked. Makes sense she would. Probably contractually obliged to. I had an answer ready, too:

“To miss one’s friends one must first have friends.”

Why did I put it like that? What a mouthful.

“You don’t have friends back home?” Twilight asked, evidently completely taken aback.

“Nope.”

“None?”

“Nope.”

Stopping talking to people will do that. And being personally objectionable. Combine those and, well, yeah. What could stand against it? It’s a winning combination.

Twilight was clearly set to probe further, more tentatively, this round of questioning evidently not going how she’d pictured it in her head. Which did lead me to wonder how it had meant to go in her head. Which lead further into me wondering just what the inside of her head looked like in general.

But now I was getting distracted, and Twilight continued:

“Oh, uh, family?” She asked.

Urgh…I should have issued a fucking press release at this rate. I’m going to have to through this with everyone...

“Dad’s a nice guy but he lives the other side of the planet. We’re related, we get along fine. That’s about the breadth of our relationship,” I said.

“Mom?” Twilight asked, voice carrying the merest glimmer of hope for maybe a positive answer. Sorry to disappoint, love.

“Mum hasn’t done much in a good few years now. Very quiet. Mostly just lies around all the time,” I said. 

Twilight wasn’t sure how to take this, and played it safe.

“...I...see?”

“She’s dead, Twilight. That’s a joke,” I said.

I’m allowed to make those sorts of jokes.

“Oh,” she said, and then it sunk in. “Oh! Oh John I’m sorry!”

People always said this or something like this. I got what they meant and, really, what else can you say? They’re not allowed to make the jokes, hah.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Years ago. Don’t even worry about it.” 

“...sib...lings…?” She asked, wincing, knowing what answer was coming.

She was clutching at straws at this point and she clearly knew it.

“Nope, sorry, just me. Point I’m trying to make Twilight is that I don’t have anything to miss, it’s fine. Apart from nearly dying on arrival - and, really, worse things could have happened to me - this whole thing is likely the best way things could have gone for me. Certainly better than I could have done myself! And I’m going to make a go of it, I am.”

“Oh. Okay,” Twilight said in the way someone who has no idea what they’re meant to say says. Poor girl. I mean, I know she kind of brought this on herself but how was she to know?

Best wrap this up and keep things moving.

“My life back home wasn’t bad, I mean. I wasn’t good either, really. It wasn’t anything. It just was, and even only barely. Living definition of background noise, that was me. Just chugging along, keeping going. Would I trade back? Fuck no. Jesus Christ, no. Shit me, no. They’d have to drag me kicking and screaming.”

Mean, shit man, how many people out there with shittier lives than you and you were the one to luck out? Get this? You. You! What did you do, eh? What a cunt.

Still though, take that, fuckers! John wins again! Didn’t even have to do shit!

Twilight was looking at me with low-key alarm. I blinked.

“Sorry. Think I got a little, ah, blue there. Just seem to be going through this conversation with people in turn and every time I do I get a little more, ah, heated. Guess I’m dwelling on it. Point is - and this is important point is I like it here. Got everything going for me,” I said, and at this point I started counting off on my hand, thumb first, obviously. “Got the love of a good horse-woman, that’s one, that’s a big one. Got friends and well-wishers up the wazoo, that’s two. Got you specifically, Twilight. That’s a whole one on it’s own because you’re so great, so that’s three. And then it just keeps going. Weather’s good. I’m taller than everyone. I don’t have to read about someone taking their dog for a walk and finding a corpse in the bushes. Uh, I make these weird little stuffed toy things and kids dig them and their cute ickle faces just light up. I’m - I’m - fuck, I’ve lost count.”

“...corpse?” Twilight asked, eyes wide.

Out of all I’d just said why did she have to latch onto that bit?

“Whoops. Heh, slip of the tongue. You know, I’m all over the place today I really am. Sorry Twilight, I’m lowering the mood. And you put all this effort in! Urgh. Let’s get cracking again. We can at least get through another two stages on this plan of yours,” I said, briskly rubbing my hands and dragging over everything that looked the least-bit useful.

This did seem to distract Twilight from asking more questions about dead bodies, so success.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to,” she said. I waved her off and flipped through to try and find again where I’d got up to, having stupidly closed the book at some point. It didn’t take long. It was, after all, a book for children.

“Nah, come on, you put real effort into this, Twilight, like I said. Least I can do is try some effort on my part. And much as I am loathe to admit it you have a point - I’m not a complete idiot. I’m sure I can, ah, do okay.”

If I tried really hard.

“That’s…! That’s sort of the spirit, heh,” Twilight said, managing a weak smile despite my unending, relentless self-deprecation. Seriously, this was a particularly bad day for it, but failing to read a book will do that, I find.

Hell, failing anything really. Takes steel in the spine to push through failure and you can’t reach success without doing that! Or so I’m told. And my spine is made of balsa wood.

“Step in the right direction?” I suggested, waggling my eyebrows at her. That did get a giggle.

I live for those.

“Something like that. You do know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to worry about it and you don’t have to do the, well, uh…” she said, tailing off, plainly having difficulty defining what it was I supposedly did.

I wasn’t sure what she was implying.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” I said.

“Nevermind. Just, you know, anytime you want to talk - really talk, I mean - I’ll always be there. Okay?”

I winked and gave her some of my best finger-guns.

“Okay,” I said.

The finger-guns had perhaps over-egged the pudding. Conversation faltered awkwardly. Twilight cleared her throat.

“Um, so where were you up to again?”

So that got rolling. I listened to what she said and did what she suggested I do and actually concentrated. It was good to concentrate. For one it meant that her efforts (lovely girl, Twilight) weren’t being wasted, for another it meant I could ignore the swathe of what we’d just talked about.

Which was ideal.

Fuck home, man. Remember when I’d been scared of getting those memories back? Perhaps afraid of finding out I’d left behind all this stuff I’d want to get back to? Now I got it back and it’s all stuff I’m more than glad to leave behind? You lucky cunt, like I said. Couldn’t have had a cleaner break if you’d cheated. Fucking flawless!

Except for dad, obviously. But we’re getting to that. And no-one has to know about that yet. They’d just worry more! Look at Twilight already! She was already worrying! Asking questions! Caring! 

Play it cool, son, just play it cool. For some reason. It makes perfect sense now and I’m sure one day we can all look back on this and laugh. Once everything has somehow worked out and it’s the future and it isn’t a problem anymore.

Oh God, now you’re thinking about the future. Stop!

Yes, Celestia’s going to outlive you! You’ll get to enjoy that when it happens! We knew that already! What’s wrong with you! Stop thinking about that! Reading! Think about the reading!

Hey, wait a second. Twilight’s an Alicorn too, ain’t she? She’s going to outlive me, too!

Fuck!

Ah whatever. What can I do about it? Least I’ll have consistent company.

Let’s just read this children’s book. You can do that. I know that even you can do that. Children’s book today, tomorrow, advanced magical theory or whatever. Mastery of transdimensional portals and travel. Then a letter to dad telling him you’re alive, then everything’ll be sorted and you can have a nap. Right? Right.

Yeah. That sounds plausible to me.