//------------------------------// // Where oh Where Has Our Scootaloo Gone? // Story: Living in Equestria // by Blazewing //------------------------------// The next day, I decided to head out into Ponyville and see if anypony wanted help with anything, in the hopes of perhaps earning a few bits. Pinkie, unfortunately, couldn’t come with me. She had to help the Cakes fill a big order of cupcakes for a Colt Guide troop meeting, followed by the usual busy work day. As I was going out, however, she did warn me that a storm was scheduled for later that day. The Ponyville weather team, of which Rainbow Dash was their captain, had to arrange a doozy to make up for a scheduled storm they’d overlooked earlier that week. With that in mind, I set out into the streets of Ponyville to look for odd jobs. I hadn’t gone far when I heard someone groaning. Up ahead were three ponies whom I had seen in the marketplace, running flower carts, all gazing at something in the distance. One was pink with a curly green mane; another was also pink, but with a neatly-coiffed yellow mane decorated with a flower; and the last was cream-colored with a long, unkempt dark pink mane streaked with lighter pink. Pinkie had mentioned that their names were, respectively, Daisy, Lily, and Rose. I stepped up beside them and cleared my throat. “Excuse me, ladies.” The three looked up, surprised out of their observations. “Good morning, Mr. Dave!” said Rose, genially. “Is something the matter?” I asked. “Oh, it’s poor Berry again,” said Daisy, pointing forward with a jerk of her head. I followed their gaze and saw the source of the groaning. Berry Punch, the purple mare with grapes for a cutie mark (as well as a strawberry, which had missed my notice at first), was sitting outside a house, looking queasy, nursing her stomach with her hoof. “Is she drunk?” I asked, stupefied. I never imagined Equestrian ponies to be capable of alcoholism. Go figure. “Afraid so,” said Lily. “She’s a sweet girl, but a little too free with her own brews.” The other two flower mares nodded in agreement. “So, what’s her cutie mark-given talent?” I asked. “Juice and wine making,” said Daisy. “Guess that was a little obvious," I conceded. "I’m gonna go see if she needs help.” “Be careful,” warned Rose. “Like Lily said, she’s sweet and, well, mostly harmless, but she can also be a little unpredictable.” “I’ll bear that in mind.” I walked over to the slumped mare, who didn’t seem to have heard me coming. “Hey there,” I said, softly, kneeling down. She turned her head and looked at me blearily, before breaking into a big smile. “Heyyy! I know you!” she crowed, nudging me in the chest with her hoof, “You’re the human-man!” “Er, yes I am, I guess.” Then, out of nowhere, she began singing, in a tottery, tipsy way, swinging her hooves as if she were conducting. “Oh, who can take a sunrise Soak it in a stew Cover it with sugar lumps, a bale of hay or two The human-man Oh, the human-man can!” Then she broke into a bout of giddy giggles and hiccups. I looked back at the flower mares and shrugged helplessly, and all they could do was shrug in return, as if to say ‘this is typical’. I cleared my throat to get her attention. “I couldn’t help but notice that you're just sitting here. Are you locked out of your house or something?” “Yeah, don’t I just have the worst luck? Seems like every time I go out, that’s the time I forget my house key.” “You didn’t…sleep out here all night, did you?” I asked. “Nowhere else to go, human-man,” said Berry, honestly. Even in her dazed stupor, she must have recognized my stupefaction. “Ah, don’t sweat it. It’s not the first time it’s happened.” “How have you gotten back in those other times, then?” “Through the window. Swings inward.” She indicated one of the windows close by her door. It was circular, but rather small, making me highly doubt she would have been able to get inside through it, let alone any mare her size. “Do you want me to help you get back inside?” I offered. “Would you? Aww, that’d be swell! You’re a sweet guy, human-man!” She threw her forelegs rather roughly around my neck and hugged me, and even planted a kiss on my cheek. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, as she had rather strong post-wine breath. “Not a problem,” I gasped out, and she finally let go. “So, what do you want me to do?” “Think you could just give me a boost through the window? I’d do it myself, but my legs are all wobbly and jelly-like.” She paused, then giggled. “Hey. Think about it. What if my legs really were made of jelly? That’d be pretty funny, wouldn’t it?” “Er, yeah, hilarious…Well, let’s give this a try, I guess.” She lifted her forelegs up, with a silly grin, as if she were a toddler asking to be lifted up. I took hold of her as best I could and heaved her up off the ground. She wasn’t extremely heavy, but still an awkward load to carry. She put her head and forelegs through the window, and started climbing inside, while I stood by to support her. When she got to her belly, she came to a stop. I watched her push forward once or twice, which just made her stomach bunch up against the frame, just a little too big to go through. Inside, I heard a muffled hiccup and giggle. "I think I'm stuck," she said. "Yeah, I think so, too," I said. "Don't worry, Berry. I'll help you." Gently lifting her hind legs off the ground, I gave a firm push against them. Her belly slid through, but then her rump wedged itself in its place. This really made me wonder how she was able to get in previous times, unless she’d been putting on weight. It took no small amount of effort, and I wondered if Berry was even helping by pushing from her side, but eventually, I managed to help her squeeze through. There was a clattering and chinking, as of the sound of empty glass bottles being upset, as she fell inside. “You ok, Berry?” I asked, through the window. “Just peachy, human-man!” she responded, as cheerfully as if she’d just gotten out of bed. “Hang on, I’ll let ya in!” There was a fumbling of locks, and soon the door opened, allowing me entry. On the whole, it was actually neatly furnished and cozy in appearance. The only thing out of place was the pile of empty wine bottles cluttered together on the floor. I picked one up for a closer look, and saw that it was embellished with a special label: ‘Berry’s Brew’. “My own recipe!” she said, proudly. “‘A blast in every bottle’! Neat, huh?” “Very neat.” I regarded the bottle for a moment, then got an idea. “Say, Berry, can I take these off your hooves? You don’t really need them, do you?” “Me? Nah, I don’t. Take all you want. Cash ’em for a few bits. You earned it, getting me back in my own house.” Even in the midst of her tipsiness, she gave me a genuine smile. “Great! Thanks, Berry.” “No problemo, human-man. Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me, I’m gonna take a nap…” Without further ceremony, she flopped onto her couch and dropped into a heavy doze. The look on her face as she did so, considering how she was acting only moments ago, was downright peaceful. Rose was right: apart from her weird behavior while under the power of her own brew, she was rather harmless. She must have been downright pleasant when brought to her own senses. In any case, I gathered up all of the bottles my arms could manage, and then some, and lugged them out with me. Lily, Daisy, and Rose regarded me with amused surprise at seeing my load as I stepped out, and even giggled. “Say, ladies,” I asked, strained, “could one of you be so kind as to point out the recycling center?” *** I had entered the recycling center laden with bottles, and I exited with a pocket full of jingling bits. The proprietor seemed pretty thrilled as well, perhaps from having such a huge haul in one sitting. Now I could at least pay for a few things instead of relying on Pinkie to have to pay for me. With my first intention in mind, I made my way back into the town square, where the flower mares had set up shop. They looked up and smiled as I approached. “Hello again, ladies.” “Did everything turn out ok?” asked Daisy. “Yeah. She’s zonked out for a nap now, and I took care of her empty bottles for her.” “Well, I think that was very chivalrous of you,” said Rose. I could feel myself blushing at this comment, but I cleared my throat. “Do either of you provide home delivery services for your flowers?” “Sure! All three of us do,” said Lily. “And how much does it run to?” “For a dozen flowers delivered, that would be 5 bits,” said Rose. “Great! Now, do either of you know what Rarity’s favorite flower is?” “Ohhh!” said the three, looking at each other in a knowing, conspiring way that didn’t exactly sit well with me. “N-Now, don’t get the wrong idea,” I said, stumbling. “I like her and everything, but-” The flower mares burst into giggles. “We know,” said Daisy. “We’re just teasing you.” (I should hope so... “In all seriousness, though,” Daisy went on, “she loves daffodils.” “Then I’d like to have a dozen daffodils delivered to her, along with a card. She’s done so much for me in only a few days, and I want to be able to thank her however I can.” “Aww, that’s so sweet,” said Rose, with a gentle smile. “Well, it’s the best I could think of, anyway,” I said, modestly. They left the operation to Lily, whose specialty flowers included daffodils, and who handed me a blank card, on which I wrote: “Dear Rarity, I know you said you didn’t want to be paid back in money for designing me new clothes, but I had to thank you somehow. I hope these flowers will be a perfect reflection of my appreciation. Thank you, well and truly. Sincerely, Dave." With that done, I handed the card to Lily, and she assured me that the bouquet would be sent as soon as possible. I thanked the three floral mares and continued on my way, feeling very much gratified by what I’d just accomplished. As I said in the card, I knew Rarity would never accept a monetary present for something she considered a gift for a friend, but, thankfully, there were other ways of expressing gratitude for a gift straight from the manufacturer. *** I’d been walking about Ponyville for a little while, making idle chitchat with some of the ponies I passed by. One of them, the blue and white unicorn I’d seen before, I found out was named Minuette, and she was visiting from Canterlot. Despite her cutie mark being an hourglass, she was actually a dentist. I supposed the hourglass may have meant a tendency to keep on-time appointments with patients. I was worried it would be awkward talking to her, as I’d never been much of a fan of dentistry. I just didn’t like thinking about what one might say about my own teeth if they had the chance. I’d had to wear braces for several of my teenage years, and those hadn’t left a very good impression on me. Thankfully, she didn’t saddle me with too many questions, but she did ask, out of habit, whether I brushed regularly, which I did, thankfully, and she seemed satisfied. Otherwise, she was perfectly friendly and chipper. There was, however, one encounter that was even less pleasant. I once again ran into Golden Harvest, the curly-maned pony from the party. From what I heard, she was close friends with both Bon Bon and Lyra, but was also a carrot farmer (honestly, that should have been a given to me, considering her cutie mark). Unfortunately, it seemed she had a bit of a rivalry with the Apple family, who had a stall right next door to her at the marketplace. She acted rather coldly towards me, as she had apparently seen me acting friendly with Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom, and was inclined to believe I was placing favorites. Naturally, I tried to defend myself. “I don’t want to pick favorites, believe me,” I told her, “I wouldn’t want to make enemies of anybody, or anypony, for that matter.” Even as I said this, my thoughts dwelled back to that Ironmane unicorn who had treated me so coarsely yesterday. Golden Harvest, however, didn’t seem the least bit mollified by my statement. She must have thought I was just trying to be evasive. “Try to understand, Dave,” she said, “it’s nothing personal. I don’t like disliking anypony because of a personal injury. It’s all simply business. Can you tell me what the staple diet of an equine is?” Dreading what conclusions she would draw should I answer incorrectly, I listed off what came into my head. “Well, there’s hay, oats, carrots, apples-” Here she stopped me. “Exactly. Carrots and apples, both staples of an equine diet, yet I can’t help but think they favor the fruit of Little Miss Tree-Kicker’s labors more than mine.” Here, her eyes narrowed. “What do you favor more, Dave? Apples or carrots? What does a human lean toward the most?” I knew this question was coming. I could have seen it a mile away. Naturally, I was inclined to say that I liked both, but I half-expected that she would never accept such a wishy-washy answer like that, and would force me to rethink it. Thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of Bon Bon, who trotted up upon seeing Golden Harvest giving me the evil eye. “Harvest, are you tormenting poor Dave?” she asked, sharply. “For Celestia’s sake, there’s no need to make your little ‘Apples vs. Carrots’ spiel an all-out war!” “I wasn’t going to make it a war, Bon Bon,” said Golden Harvest, tersely, “it was just a simple question.” “That’s no excuse,” said Bon Bon, before turning to me. “I’m very sorry about this, Dave. Harvest means well. She just has a very strong sense of her own business.” “So I can see,” I said, looking at the carrot sales pony cautiously. “In all honesty, I like both just fine.” “Tch!” said Golden Harvest. “Typical.” Without another word, she walked off, nose in the air. “Harvest!” chided Bon Bon. She sighed in exasperation and trotted after her, calling out another apology to me as she did so. Very much unnerved at having been grilled like that, I continued on my own way. *** My wanderings had wiled away the hours, when I couldn’t find many ponies who also needed some help done. I’d returned to Sugarcube Corner for lunch with Pinkie, who was on break at the time, all the while listening to her chat about seeing So-and-so and planning a party for What’s-his-name. She had to get back to work after that, so I bid her adieu and returned to ‘the beat’, as it were, in the hopes of hunting down some more odd jobs. I hadn’t gone far, however, before I was tackled to the street with incredible force, knocked onto my back. Looking up, I beheld my assailant to be… “Derpy?!” “Hi, Dave!” she said. With her standing on top of my torso like this, it reminded me very much of the way Tigger would greet his friends in Winnie the Pooh. Come to think of it, Lyra had greeted me much the same way when we first met. Whatever was on Derpy’s mind, she was positively beaming. “Can I…help you with something?” I asked. “Help me? You did plenty of that yesterday, and I came by to thank you!” She sat back so I could get into a sitting position. “Er, really?” “My boss was amazed at how fast my mail was delivered, but he knew I couldn’t have done it myself. I told him it was Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash who helped me, but that you had asked them to.” “And what did he say?” “He just kinda smiled and said, ‘You’ve got friends in high places, Hooves’. Then he gave me a raise for a job well done!” “Really? Derpy, that’s great news-HURK!!” Derpy had grabbed me up in a bone-crushing hug. “You have no idea how grateful I am, Dave!” she said, sounding on the verge of tears. “After goofing up and letting ponies down so many times, finally some good luck shines down on old Derpy Hooves! You had Rarity sew up my bag, and you got the idea to have the mail delivered for me!” Technically, that had been Rainbow Dash’s idea. “If there’s anything I can ever do to repay you, just say the word and I’ll do it!” Despite the uncomfortable pressure from her hug, I couldn’t help but feel happy for her good fortune, and touched that she considered me the root of it. “It’s all right, Derpy,” I gasped out. “No thanks are necessary…though I wouldn’t mind if you loosened your grip a bit.” “Oh! Oopsie!” Thankfully, she let me go. “Sorry. But I mean it, Dave. I’ll never forget how you helped me out. Ever.” With a teary-eyed smile, she flapped her wings and took off once again. As I watched her go, I couldn’t help but think back to her frustration yesterday, the pang of remorse I’d felt that someone like her should have to suffer so much. My world could really learn a lot from these ponies… As I continued my wanderings, with the afternoon wearing on, I noticed three ponies running in my direction, but looking this way and that as they did so. Two I recognized as Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, but the third was a grown mare. She had a dark-pink coat, a fluffy pink mane striped with pinkish-white, and green eyes. As she turned to look down alleyways in their path or into store windows, I saw her cutie mark: three sunflowers with smiling faces. All three looked anxious, as if they were searching for something important. Sweetie Belle recognized me first, and called out to me. “Dave! You’ve gotta help us! It’s Scootaloo!” Feeling uneasy, I hurried over, wondering what on Earth could have happened to her. Apple Bloom and the mare saw me now too, with the former looking relieved to see me as well, while the latter had an expression of astonished interest on her face. “Oh, Dave! Thank goodness it’s you!” said Apple Bloom. “Hello, girls,” I said, before turning to the mare. “And you are, ma’am?” “Cheerilee,” said the mare. "Ponyville's resident school teacher." So, this was the Crusaders’ darling teacher. She certainly did have a motherly, tender-hearted look to her. “And you must be Dave, I presume?” she continued. “That’s right.” “I’m glad to finally meet you, after hearing what the girls have told me of you, though I wish our meeting wasn’t under such circumstances.” “What do you mean?” “Scootaloo has been missing since yesterday. She didn’t attend class, and no one had seen her. When she didn’t arrive today, we figured something was wrong, so we went to look for her.” “What about her parents?” I asked. "Wouldn't they know?" “That’s just it,” said Cheerilee. “We have no one to contact. No one even knows where Scootaloo lives.” “What?" I asked, perplexed. "Not even you, her teacher?” “Not even me.” “And you’ve never met anypony who would answer the description of being her parents or guardians?” “No one," said Cheerliee, and she sighed sadly. "It’s something I’d long suspected, but didn’t wish to think.” So, did that mean... Scootaloo was an orphan? That would have explained her evasive behavior. It must have been painful, as well as an embarrassment, when her closest friends both had families. But then, where had she been living all this time, if not even her best friends, or even her own teacher, knew where she stayed? My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rapidly-flapping wings and someone panting. We all looked up to see Fluttershy, very much out of breath, as if she had come from miles away. “It’s…it’s dreadful!” she gasped out. “Scootaloo…She’s…oh, I still can’t believe it…” She looked as if what she was trying to say was physically paining her. “Go ahead, Fluttershy,” I encouraged, gently. “What about Scootaloo?” “Her scooter…I saw it, when I was out walking…it’s parked at the edge of…of the Everfree Forest!”