As far as lightbulbs go, there has got to be a better way.
I get that not everypony has a magical solution. I get that lightbulbs are better than candles. I get it. I really do.
But the teeth-grating, spine-itching, neck-collapsing power of the sound they make when you unscrew them… I could just cringe into myself forever, turn into a little purple speck and melt into the ground.
Maybe I'm more sensitive to those sorts of things than most.
As I stood in the middle of Cheese Sandwich's cafe, the only thought in my mind was of squealing light bulbs. I held each one perfectly vertical, trying to put just the right amount of pressure on it so as to alleviate the metal-on-metal contact, draw it out slowly… slowly… carefully…
"Everything alright?" Cheese asked.
I made a sound of surprise and yanked the lightbulb out of its socket.
Cheese was not at all perturbed by my behavior, and only cocked his head slightly to one side. He offered no further comments.
"Uh… going great!" I added what was likely a very fake-looking grin for good measure.
Cheese nodded slowly and made no move to leave me alone, or offer additional tasks. He, instead, stared through me as if I were a ghost.
I tried really hard not to be bothered by that, but my eyes kept flicking over to Cheese, hoping he would snap out of it. Replacing bulbs was hard enough without his weird, distant gaze resting just beneath my eyes the whole time.
Was he writing poetry about my inability to do simple household tasks? Musing about the merits of poor, but free, labor versus most expensive, yet competent, labor? Just plain zoning out?
Whatever it was, it was freaking me the fuck out.
I cleared my throat once, lightly.
Cheese did not notice.
I tried again, this time much more pointed and violent.
Cheese seemed to snap back to reality, though only barely. His eyes were focused, now, but still had a sort of distance to them… if that makes any sense.
"Y'know, you seem really familiar. Have we met?" Cheese asked.
I tightened my lightbulb the last quarter-turn, and it flickered to life. "Um… not that I know of."
"Hm…" Cheese studied me again. "Where are you from?"
"Canterlot."
Cheese laughed a little. "Well, I've sure never been to Canterlot."
I smiled awkwardly at him. There was this strange, almost strangled cadence to his voice when he let himself speak with emotion. It was like hearing a smile, somehow.
"You never visited Manehattan before?" Cheese asked.
I looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to recall my past adventures to far-away cities. In reality, I had had none, so the recall was pretty easy. "Not that I know of."
"Huh. That's weird," Cheese commented, blissfully unaware of the irony. "I'm sorry, I must be thinking of somepony else."
I shrugged. "That's alright."
I stood still, holding the dead bulbs in my magic and looking at Cheese hopefully.
Cheese stared back at me. He seemed not to notice the dip in the conversation, and instead locked eyes with me and nodded slightly to a beat I couldn't hear, as if I were telling him a moderately-interesting story.
"Did you, uh…" I shuffled my hooves. "Did you have anything else you wanted me to take a look at?"
I had expected him to snap out of it or something, but Cheese just stared deeper into my face. That hostility from earlier was back with a vengeance, it seemed.
Cheese blinked. “Like what?” His eyes were narrowed, studying me closely and carefully.
I swallowed. The light bulbs were fixed, sure, but there was still no natural sunlight. There were still water stains on the ceiling. There was still a dirty countertop and a restaurant filled with unsteady chairs. But the way he stared at me… like he saw it, but thought he could convince me otherwise.
“Uh…” I looked back at Cheese. “W-well, like--”
“Like the chairs?” Cheese finished. His voice was sort of… flat and exhausted.
“Yes!” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, exactly. The chairs.”
Cheese shrugged. “Sure. What do you need to fix ‘em?”
I shrugged. “Just whatever you have lying around, I guess. Cork would be best.”
Cheese nodded and turned to leave. He disappeared into the kitchen silently.
I closed my eyes and scrunched up my face a bit. It was proving difficult to follow Cheese’s bizarre mood swings. While he never seemed outright hostile towards me, he certainly was… I dunno. Pre-hostile, I guess. Protective, maybe.
It made sense. In a big city like this, you had to protect what little hamlet you could carve out for yourself. Applejack behaved in much the same way, after all. Must be a city thing.
Then again, Applejack was nice to her staff, at least.
Cheese was just…
Wait.
I looked around the place with fresh eyes. Not only was this place dirty and falling apart, it was empty. And not customer-empty, either.
“I found some tennis balls, will these work?” Cheese was beside me again, holding up a package of three pristine tennis balls.
I really needed to work on my distractibility. It was getting far too easy for ponies to sneak up on me.
“Why do you have--” I clamped my mouth shut. Best not to question Cheese’s lack of cork, a common kitchen material, and apparent abundance of tennis balls. “Yeah. They’re great.”
He passed them over to me and I began shredding the packaging with my magic.
Cheese watched me quietly. I felt like a tiger at the zoo.
“So… how do you know Compass Rose?" I asked over the sound of squealing plastic.
Cheese squinted. "I don't know her all that well, actually. I guess she used to live here. She came here a few times."
"Just a few?" I asked. The plastic popped open and tore down the side, sending two tennis balls bouncing across the floor.
I dove after the first one with a sound that was probably overkill.
Cheese made no effort to grab the runaway sports equipment. "Yeah. But she knew it was just me in here. She was always a little hung up on it, I think. Probably thought I could use a little clientele boost," he said with a laugh.
I skidded across the floor after the last tennis ball, snatching it up with my magic. "I noticed that," I commented, as casually as possible. "How come you don't hire anypony else?"
Cheese made a non-committal sound. "I tried. I used to staff this place pretty well, but… I dunno. I never found a good fit, I guess."
"Oh."
Yikes.
I knew what that meant.
'Not a good fit' was retail code for 'I'm an unbearable pony to work with'.
I mean, I could see it, I guess. Cheese seemed like the sort of pony who tended to wallow in his problems, rather than trying to fix them. His clientele was bad because his restaurant was a dump. His restaurant was a dump because he had no employees who could fix it. He had no employees who could fix it because none of them were 'good fits'.
Round and round it went, never his fault, always something to complain about.
Maybe not complain, really. More like… blame. He wasn't thriving, and he needed a scapegoat for that.
That describes pretty much every pony at that stupid, blankflank-ridden shack they called a school. I was familiar with the signs of disaster.
I pierced one tennis ball on my horn in a swift motion.
"Uh… would you like a knife?" Cheese asked. "Or some scissors?"
"Nah," I said.
I trotted over to my chair from earlier and, with some resistance, managed to pop the tennis ball over the bottom of the shortest leg. When the chair fell back to the floor, its wobble was gone-- or, at the very least, significantly reduced.
I cast a glance back at Cheese, shaking the now-steady chair to demonstrate. "Ta-da!"
Cheese looked at me. Then he looked at the chair. Then he looked at the tennis ball.
For a long time.
"Cheese?"
"It's a little… bright, don't you think?" Cheese commented.
I blinked. "Well… yeah. It's a tennis ball. I can cut it down for you if you want."
Cheese made a little high-pitched moan, long and drawn-out, as he considered the color. I had the sinking feeling I was about to see some scapegoating in action.
"I dunno. The color is just so bright…" Cheese tapped his chin with his hoof. "I think I'd rather have the chairs rock than have the color."
I grimaced. "Really? I mean, I can just cut the furry stuff off. The rubber is grey."
Cheese looked inquisitively at me.
I yanked the tennis ball off the chair leg and held it up for him to examine. "See?"
Cheese heaved a sigh. "Yeah, but if you cut all the fur off then you'll see the ragged edge of the cut rubber."
I grit my teeth. "I can get you some cork, and come back to fix the chairs tomorrow."
"No, no," Cheese said, shaking his head. "I can't have you here two days in a row and not pay you, and I don't have the money for that, y'know?"
"You don't say…" I muttered under my breath.
"What's that?"
I sighed. "I think these chairs need fixing. They're uncomfortable like this, Cheese."
Cheese's expression flipped from awkward and embarrassed to defensive in a moment.
I said nothing, just stared at him as he stared at me.
"Let's leave it alone," he said, finally.
Whatever. I wasn't looking for a fight. "Alright."
"So, are you all done, then?" Cheese asked.
It was brighter in here with the new bulbs, but still not nearly bright enough. If Cheese had placed a menu in front of me at this moment, I would have had to find a strategic location in the establishment to read it, as if reading a newspaper by streetlight.
The windows were covered with those gigantic wooden shutters that look really fun to run your hooves all over, but literally always give you a splinter. If those were gone, then maybe…
"Did you pick those shutters?" I asked carefully.
Cheese looked at them thoughtfully. He squinted and cocked his head. "They were here when I got the place."
I chuckled. "So you're not attached to them?"
"I can't afford new ones, if that's what you're suggesting," Cheese said. "You have no idea how expensive that sort of thing is."
"No, no-- they're, uh…" I looked at them a little more closely. They were pretty beat-up, actually… with a few mysterious stains and chips. "They're f-fine. But it's super dark in here. Maybe we could take them down to let in some more light?"
Cheese put a hoof on his chin and gazed thoughtfully at the shutters. "I dunno… I kinda like it darker, especially in the summer."
I blinked. "There's dark, and there's dark," I said. "Besides, it doesn't really matter what you think. It matters what your customers think… right?"
Cheese gave me a funny look. "Well…" I could tell he was stalling, trying to come up with an excuse. "Sometimes, in retail, the customers don't really know what they want, y'know? This is in their best interest. Don't want it to get too bright in here, after all."
I sighed. "Listen, Cheese: coming from a customer, this place needs more light." Seeing that well of defensiveness bubbling up again, I chuckled a little. "I couldn't tell if you'd put cream in my coffee when you brought it to the table this morning."
Cheese thought that over for a moment, and a shadow of amusement passed over his face. Then something else… somewhere between confusion and happiness. Perhaps 'hope' was the right word. Or 'realizations.'
"Hey," Cheese commented softly. "That's pretty funny."
That straggled quality came back to his voice. Kind of like an over-the-top foal's entertainer or something, but barely there. Almost invisible.
I arched a brow at him. "It's not a joke, it's what happened."
"Still funny, though," Cheese insisted brightly.
I scoffed and hid a smirk. Cheese seemed happy with that responset, though in a way I couldn't quite pin down. "We'll have to work together to get the shutters down, okay? Will you help me?"
Cheese hesitated, then nodded.
We moved together to the front of the cafe. Cheese put his hooves on one end of the shutters, then suddenly drew them back and winced.
I cocked my head.
"Splinter," Cheese explained sheepishly.
I gave him a sympathetic look and hoisted the other end of the shutters with my magic. To my surprise, I met some sort of resistance.
"Oh," I murmured, shaking my end a bit. "I think it's locked in place. Hang on, lemme just…"
Cheese slowly released his side. I began to fiddle around with whatever latch system was in place on the shutters. Whatever it was, it was ironically too dark to see.
While I poked about the hidden mechanism, Cheese had nothing to do but stand and stare.
The feeling of being watched very quickly overwhelmed me. I was suddenly terrified that I would botch this very simple task just like I'd botched the toilet.
"Um… so how long have you had the cafe?" I asked.
Cheese blinked. "Oh. Um… a few years, I guess," he said. "I've lived here since I was just a foal, though."
I nodded slowly, but it made my magic even less reliable. "That's cool."
"It's something," Cheese said. He heaved a great sigh. "I thought I'd have my-- er, that I'd be doing better by now. Customer-wise."
"Hm."
"Yeah." Cheese looked down at the front of his sweater and brushed off some microscopic piece of lint, or perhaps a crumb. He opened his mouth, but very quickly closed it again.
Cheese was an interesting pony. Getting him to talk, it seemed, was much like getting these stupid shutters to unlatch. He had some invisible mechanism holding him together; asking exactly the right question could get him to crumble completely, and yet he remained stoic in the face of an obvious need to spill his guts to me.
I cleared my throat. "I, uh… I hope you don't mind me saying, but…"
Cheese looked at me expectantly.
"Well, I can't help but think things might be easier with employees," I blurted. "M-maybe you should give it another go?"
Cheese sighed wistfully. "It's just that I'm… well, I dunno." Cheese looked down at his hooves. "This cafe's all I have, and it's not much. I don't think other ponies get why I care about it. Or… maybe how much I care."
My chest made this weird hitch.
"I just don't want to mess anything up because-- well, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have this place," he said quickly. "I can be a little… overprotective, I guess."
Something in the shutter was really close to coming loose. I tried forcing the whole thing upwards as sharply as I could.
"That doesn't have to be a bad thinv," was all I could think to say.
Cheese shrugged.
I heard something click within the mechanism. I tried a new tactic of vibrating the whole thing backwards and forwards, feeling for a groove or a catch.
"I'm sure other ponies get that you care about it," I said. "They'd be crazy not to."
Cheese smiled a little.
There was another click from inside the shutter.
"Do you think maybe… other ponies want to make changes?" I suggested. "Like I did. Maybe they don't feel comfortable telling you what things should change. Y'know, because you're so… passionate. About this place."
"You think?" Cheese cocked his head to one side.
I looked over at him and shrugged. "It's possible. It's not like I met them or anything."
Cheese nodded slowly, his gaze drifting off to one side as he considered this thought.
As he did, I gave one last tug at the blinds. They snapped free (with minimal shattering), and I stumbled backwards in an effort to catch them. "Shit!"
Cheese made a sound of surprise and rushed forward to grab the other end.
In the hub-bub, I guess he forgot about his sweater.
The long, chunky, black affair hiked up as Cheese reached for the shutter, revealing what he had been trying so hard to hide: a blank flank, no cutie mark in sight. Suddenly, his behavior made a lot of sense.
After all, any blankflank with their own business would do anything to protect it. To have a little control. Or to just feel like they had a little control.
Just like Applejack.
And me.
"Whew!" Cheese exclaimed, lowering the blinds to the floor. "Thanks, Twilight. I never could have done that on my own."
I had no idea what to say. My words were caught in my throat, and none of them made a lick of sense, anyway. I wanted so badly to acknowledge it, to tell him it was okay, that I understood, that things would be better-- but, honestly, I was in no position for that sort of advice.
So I pretended I hadn't seen it. "Exactly. That's why you gotta find some good ponies to work this place with you!"
Cheese sighed. He looked around the place, which was now flooded with light.
"It is… brighter in here," he said. "I guess you're not looking for a job right now, are you?"
I made a sound between a laugh and a scoff. "Pft… what, me?" I shook my head. "Oh, you don't want me working here. I-I'm a pain. I puke a lot."
"Don't be silly," Cheese said. He smiled at me. "From what I've seen, you were born for customer service. Heck, I told myself I'd never let you back in here after that fiasco, and you changed my mind you've got some sort of… I dunno, interpersonal gift."
I raised my eyebrows. "Come again?"
"You're good with ponies. Really good," Cheese said.
"No, I meant--" I chuckled dryly. "Well, you've gotta be the only pony who's ever said that to me."
Cheese laughed lightly. "Seriously, Twilight. Will you work for me?"
I thought a moment. "I… can't," I said finally. "I'm not staying in town forever, so I'm trying to stick to odd jobs. Just until my band can find another place to play."
"It doesn't have to be forever!" Cheese begged. "As long as you want! You can leave when you're ready."
I sighed. "Yeah, but you deserve better than that. This place deserves better." I nudged Cheese with one elbow. "I'm sure, if you look around, you can find somepony who will care as much about this place as you do. Even if they disagree."
Cheese whistled. "Yeah, that'll take some getting used to."
I laughed.
"You sure we've never met?" Cheese asked. "I just feel like I know you somehow."
I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe we bumped into each other somewhere."
"Yeah. Maybe."
Cheese smiled to himself. He looked around the cafe, quietly admiring the dust motes floating in the shafts of sunlight.
"Y'know, I can't help you with the band stuff, exactly… " Cheese said. "But I do know somepony else who could use a helping hoof. How are you with a needle and thread?"