//------------------------------// // Misery Loves Ice Cream // Story: The Salt Grotto // by Fuzzy Necromancer //------------------------------// Sweetcream Scoops hated many things about ice cream. She thought this as she carved out the blueberry spiral Stormy Seas, making sure she got enough chocolate seaponies into the cone. She didn't know why anypony would want to combine rich chocolate and blueberry with frosting-pink strawberry cake, but then she didn't really see the appeal of taking an already sweet flavor and mixing it up with a bunch of syrupy sticky things to compound the error. She hummed the Lost Verse from the sailing-songs of Smart Cookie. "Come into the water, come into the water, come and drink our bitter beer." "Did you say something Ms. Ice Cream Mare?" Ruby Pinch asked. Sweetcream shook her head. Birds left the branches overhead, shrieking at nothing. Hooves on the job, eyes on the customer echoed in her head. She forced a smile and dug out two scoops of birthday cake flavor for Ruby Pinch. She hated all the different flavors, most of them just separated only by a small difference in hue or a different kind of candy mixed in. How many times had she mixed up mocha chip and rum raisin? "It's really my birthday today!" the bright-eyed filly squealed. "Happy birthday," Sweetcream said mechanically. She levitated the topped-off cone to Ruby. She grasped it with both hooves but didn't lick it yet. "I'm turning five years old," she whispered. She tapped her stubby horn. "It's less than four months after my Cutecenera!" "Ah." Sweetcream said. The little filly continued staring up at her. "That's nice." "Momma and mommy were going to take me out to Chez Pom De Ter for the surprise dinner I wasn't supposed to know about, but Colgate's going all over trying to find her, and she gave me a few bits for ice cream. She says momma just had enjoyed herself too much last night and wandered off somewhere to rest, but she didn't sound like she believed it. I don't get why she always drinks out of bottles that smell like the stuff Cheerilee uses to clean desks. Momma never misses a birthday party. Pinkie Pie wanted to plan it for me, but she had to go off to Appleoosa with Applejack and the other elephants of harmony. I like your hat." That was another thing about working for her parents. Sweetcream didn't exactly dislike children, but she didn't know how to deal with them. She pawed the grass, then re-hitched her ice cream cart and headed down the empty street. Better to leave before she said something inappropriate or scared the filly. "Bye bye!" Ruby called, waving after her. Sweetcream heard the soft splat, and then a loud shriek. She turned her harness around. "Oh horse apples!" Sweetcream swore. She remembered there was a child present. "Nightmare Moon damn-it. Oh, pony fea-oh darn." The filly hadn't noticed. She was too busy keening over the mess of shattered waffle-cone and sunbaked frosting. "No, no don't cry! Please! Oh sh-sugar." Sweetcream put one hoof in her mouth. She could almost feel dad shaking his head and sighing, or worse, giving her a pathetic, condescending word of encouragement. She should have served it in a bowl. She should have realized a wee filly wouldn't have the magic to lift a single-scoop cone or the common sense to not wave goodbye while holding an ice cream cone. Sweetcream levitated three perfect spheres of cake ice cream, smacked them into a cone, and shoved them in front of Ruby's face. "Here!" she shouted. "Take it! Free food! For free!" Ruby stopped crying, possibly out of shock . Red-rimmed green eyes stared at the cone as if they'd never seen a mixture of dairy product, frozen water, and rock salt before. "Happy birthday?" Sweetcream suggested. The silence seemed thicker after her too-loud outburst. "Thank you Ms Scoops," the small unicorn said gravely. Ruby added, absently, "you have the best job in the world." Sweetcream nodded, watched her take the first few licks without mishap, and then hurried on down her route. Belately, Sweetcream remembered she'd already given away some maple-cranberry swirl to put out Derpy's mane fire. She'd have to explain to dad why she was short of ice cream. If she worked through break, she might earn enough to cover the "lost" supplies. Sweetcream wiped sweat from her brow. She heard the soft trickle of the saltwater spring on the edge of town. Later, she thought to herself. She hummed the soprano death aria from The Last Flight of Commander Hurricane and trundled off into town. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "That's a pretty good haul for early spring!" Double Scoops said. Her father's voice was bright and cheerful. It was the same tone he used to congratulate Sweetcream as a filly when she managed to eat waffles without getting syrup in her hair. "Darling," Vanilla Scoops said, patting her curly green hair. Sweetcream had worn her hair short after the Brunch Incident. " Yeah, well, I could have done better," Sweetcream Scoops mumbled. She yanked off the ice cream mare uniform with a burst of orange magic. It didn't matter how much money she pulled in. She only had a part time wage, and most of that went into rent. Of course, she didn't really have to pay rent to her parents, but that would involve admitting that this she was going to live here, not just take a break while she sorted her life out. "That's the spirit!" her father said, giving her a kidney-jarring pat on the back. "Always striving! I tell yah, girl, in a few years you could be running the front room of the parlor!" "Darling!" Vanilla Scoops said fondly. Her blood turned to water at the word years. She could feel her smile freezing into place. "This one's on the house," her dad said. He dug out a woven hay cone with two scoops of mint chocolate chip. "Thanks dad," she said, grabbing it with her tail. The words turned to salt in her mouth. "By the way, did you see Rarity about a new uniform? No offense, but that thing's getting a little small for you." "She's out west, doing something for the god-princess Celestia. She doesn't have time to restitch my soda-jerk outfit. " She mumbled the second half, but disapproval registered on her father's earnest piebald face. "Darling," her mother tisked. "There's no call to get smart with me. I was just trying to be helpful," her father said, with gentle reproach. "I'm sorry. Thanks for the ice cream. Sorry. I’m just a little tired," She walked up the stairs, closed her door, and set down the cone. She bit her lip hard and breathed in and out through her nose. They had a saying in Manehattan, "What have you done for me recently?" That's how everyone treated the ponies who wielded the elements of harmony. Sure, they defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord. They'd saved Equestria twice. But there they were, every day, clearing clouds, leading ducklings, selling apples, and somehow they faded into the foreground and background of daily life. Bubblegum Berzerker had dismembered the mutated wyvern terrorizing Cloudsdale with her bare hooves, then ate its still-beating heart with lemon frosting and a side salad. Princess Miamora Cadenza and Shining Armor had pulverized the changelings with magical force. Prince Blueblood had renegotiated the peace treaty with Gryphonia, turning a looming war into a favorable trade agreement. Other heroines and heroes arose to fill up the headspace that six little down-to-earth and up-to-sky ponies occupied. Sweetcream Scoops tried to remember that. She'd tried saying "Thank you for saving the world twice" whenever she went to check out a book or buy zap-apple jam, but it felt awkward and weird, so she stopped. She tried to forgive Pinkie Pie in her heart for throwing her a welcome-home party on her return from Canterlot. Sweetcream Scoops stared at her signed woodcut of The Colt with a Thousand Names. It was the only thing she had to show for months of networking, burning away savings, and trying to become a lead singer in the Trans Equestrian Orchestra. Beneath it, next to the Prehistoric Ponylands book and the skull-shaped candle, was a sheet of music for the bimonthly northeast ponyville quartet. She had plenty of time left to learn it, and anyway their music didn't really need much memorization. She sighed and thought longingly of the death song she'd memorized for her Canterlot audition. They didn't have any high notes, anything to challenge her vocal range. Sweetcream levitated the ice cream cone inches from the ceiling. Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream was her favorite flavor because dad decided it was her favorite flavor, and he'd looked so sad when she'd tried to change her mind. She hated the taste of ice cream going down and the bloating pains it gave her and the fact that after eating it she had to be very careful when she sat down or stood near a lit candle. Even if it didn't trouble her digestion, she felt something was intrinsically repulsive about eating dessert made with cream, because cream was a refined sort of milk, and Daisy Cow was a regular customer. She hated the headaches it gave her. Most of all, she hated the fact that her parents refused to believe anyone could dislike ice cream. She threw open the window and floated the hay cone out through it. She concentrated hard. The ice cream began to melt, then bubble. The hay cone burst into flames. She sighed. Still leaning over the window, Sweetcream Scoops levitated over tin flask filled with something the element of Honesty was named after. She drank deep. Fireflies danced outside her window. Fluttershy's chorus of tiny frogs peeped out their high-pitched tunes, although their performance had deteriorated without her constant attention. Sweetcream whistled a few notes, and the amphibians found the melody again. Her eyes drifted towards the old Saltwater Grotto on the edge of town. To Double Scoops it was just a source of rock salt with lots of family history. For Sweetcream, it was a place to share secrets or play pirates with Berry Shine and Golden Harvest. Later it became a place to hone her pitch and measure, while the distant echoes almost made it feel like she was singing in harmony with somepony. It also had served as an exciting place to kiss boys. Most of all, it was a refuge from the demands of the world. The bitter salt spring was sweeter than any cow-filth confectionery her parents served up. She waited until her parents were asleep, and then headed out for the bar. Night breezes whistled through the grotto's mouth, almost like a lonely spirit keening.