//------------------------------// // Born in the Righter Generation // Story: The Little Curiosities // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// “Hey, come on, your Grampa Carrot’s just around the corner!” Pound Cake strings his daughter along hallways of the old family abode—now the home of only the aging Cake couple. Following behind is his sister Pumpkin Cake, affectionately called Auntie Pumpkie by the filly, and his wife, Coral Currents, whose ruffled mane looks like the beach and its waves. “I don’t know,” Pumpkin says. “You’ve been hyping up Dad like he’s the best thing since sliced bread.” “Guess that means he raised the both of ya’ right,” says Coral in a relaxed, surfer-dudette tone. She tears apart the bangs from her face. “I don’t wanna stop him from gushin’—he’s so excited about his father! ‘Sides, it’ll do Sea Salt Cream some good—isn’t that right, Creamie?” “So it’s true Carrot made cakes for all the presidents in the world, Da’?” Cream asks her father. Pumpkin glances at her brother’s cool-headed spouse who does not seem to care at all. “Exactly my point.” But she could not protest any longer as they enter the room. There on the rocking chair, in the bedroom for two, sits Carrot Cake reading a food magazine. Several aprons hang on the wall along with a few newspaper clippings featuring The Sweet Shoppe diner he and his wife have operated for decades now. Carrot Cake lowers down the magazine, revealing his gray-orange goatee and a dozen dimples blotching his glasses-wearing face. “My son!” Carrot yells, hoarse but still possessing that twangy old fifties accent. Pound flies into his embrace and they hug tight. The hug lasts for several more seconds before Pound lets go. “Sorry I wasn’t able to visit last week. The bakery up in Applewood is—“ “I see you’ve brought everyone else here too!” declares Carrot, receiving a happy hug and a heartfelt greeting from his daughter. With a mischievous smile and a wink, he asks, “Where’s my grandfoals, eh?” “Father, no!” Pumpkin pulls away from the hug. “Chip Mint and I just got engaged! Wasn’t it you who told us to not rush the important things in life?” Carrot leaves it at that with a chuckle of his own as he looks at the filly by Pound’s side. “Is that… that’s Cream, right?” “Sure is!” rings out Coral. “She’s joined the Cutie Mark Crusader branch over here. She’s already caused a thousand bits in property damage! Now isn’t that swell?” Pumpkin’s eyes twitch, but Carrot pays no mind. Instead, he grabs the little filly with his forehooves. “How are you, my little Cream?” he coos. The old stallion nuzzles the foal and holds her close before tickling her. Cute giggles gurgle from her mouth. Pound gives Pumpkin a smug glance. “See? She’s already warmed up to him. He’s gonna be the coolest grampa on the face of the Earth.” “Alongside the coolest uncle in the world,” Coral chimes in. “Seriously, she should try surfing with my brother after this. Sandbar would go wild seein’ her cutie mark in ridin’ the waves.” Held in Carrot’s grasp, Cream looks up at Grampa’s old, haggard, happy face. Out of the blue, she asks, “What was life like when you were not old?” Carrot smiles, the joy of storytelling to youngsters welling up in his heart. “Yes, uh... Pumpkin, could you lend me the scrapbook by the cabinet?” As he says it, Pumpkin turns on her horn and levitates the scrapbook—all preserved and free of dust—into her father’s grip. Yet, while she does so, there is a little wince on her face. Coral nudges her on the shoulder. “Honey Pumpkin, what’s wrong? You seem… out there.” Pumpkin shrugs. “It’s just the usual. You know how it is with our silly baby pictures in there.” “It’s a small price for showing her what Dad looked like!” Pound says over his back. “And he’ll show off how much cooler I am than you.” “Is that a threat?” Pumpkin growls in jest. But the sibling rivalry melts when Carrot opens the book and begins the tale. Everyone turns their attention to the Cake patriarch. “So, Cream, the story of your father began when I met Chiffon Swirl. I’m sure you know her as Gramma Cupcake.” Cream laughs in recognition. “Gramma Cuppie! Yeah, I know her!” And then, the filly looks at the romantic photos of the couple in the photo. She could recognize that those were smiles on the faces. She could see their blush, and even could recognize that the male was kissing the female lightly on the cheek. There is only one problem. “Grampa, what are those?” she asks as she points at the figures in the pictures. Carrot looks her way. “Ah, that’s a bow tie! I used to wear it a lot myself, and—“ “No, no. Dad told me what a bow tie is.” A frown falls over her face. “I don’t know... who’s wearing the bow tie.” Carrot looks confused; so too do the other guests in the room. However, Pumpkin and Pound quickly share knowing glances: the brother in fear, the sister in vengeful self-satisfaction. “Oh, that’s me and Chiffon! Your Dad’s parents, remember?” Cream stares intently at the weird figures in the book. Pound flattens his ears at the giggling. To drown out the world, Pound keeps his eyes and ears closed. Coral and Cream are inside with Carrot, the mother disciplining her about respect for elders while Carrot keeps saying that it’s okay, it’s okay—she’s a filly who doesn’t know better. “I guess it runs in the family, huh?” Pound breathes an exasperated sigh. “Oh, come on. Please don’t rub it in on something I said twenty years ago.” His sister breathes her own sigh. “At least Cream’s his grandfoal, so it isn’t that bad. Still though, at least you just said something crass when you were a foal“— “Thanks a lot.” —“while Cream just tore through the scrapbook and laughed at every human she saw.” The stallion throws his hooves up in the air. “Then I don’t know!” For a while, they just sit there outside in the hall. Pound sighs. “I guess, after Ma’ and Pa’s lectures about how we used to be human, seeing Cream just bawl like that is unnerving.” “She’s never been human to begin with. We’ve been humans for, what, a few weeks? Even though I don’t remember any of them at all….” “Yeah.” He lets out a little chuckle to break the tense silence. “I can’t believe it… I sound a lot like the ‘kids-these-days’ oldies. And I can’t believe it, but I think I’m fully on board with that.” “About how your children just won’t care that much about humanity at all? Tell that to Canterlot High’s history teacher. Sir Keep’s been doing a pretty good job having everyone love the human past.” “But it’s in the past.” He fiddles his forehooves about, nervous. “Keep’s gonna die eventually, we’re gonna die eventually, and then you’ll have no single former human left because everyone’s just gonna be a pony!“ “Don’t be so melodramatic, Pound. We have the principals—“ “They’re the exception. And it’s not like they’ll entertain each and every foal for history class. It’s just that….” Pound rubs his tired eyes. “I… I guess you were right. A lot more right than I first thought.” The unicorn recalls: the spat they’ve had that one night after their parents first showed them the scrapbook and what the world used to be like. “I… I don’t know, Pumpkie. I… certainly feel some human duty or dignity. Whatever it is—the something that makes us different from the Equestrians. I just… don’t want to see Creamie go like that and….” Pound is silent. Pumpkin gives him a gentle rub on the back. Then, they wait for the whole thing with Sea Salt Cream to blow over from outside.