The Ponyville bowling alley, also known as “Kingpin’s Alley”, for Mr. Kingpin was the proprietor, looked very much like any other bowling alley I’d ever been to. It had the same polished lanes, the same 10 pins, the same balls, the same concession area, but how on Earth did ponies bowl?
This question was foremost on my mind as I entered, and my ears were immediately met with the familiar “thud, roll, and crash” of a real bowling alley. The lanes were quite occupied tonight, and there was a general din of voices. Many of the ponies there were wearing bowling jerseys, and I could even see a little colt with a bowling cutie mark. How skilled would he have had to be to have a talent in bowling at such a young age?
Over in one lane, I heard a tremendous crash of pins, and a loud, deep “YEAAAAAAH!!!” that nearly made me jump out of my skin. The owner of the exclamation was a stallion of frighteningly huge, muscular proportions, complimented with red eyes and a blonde buzz-cut mane, his cutie mark a dumbbell. At first, I thought he was an Earth pony, but could barely pick out the tiny pair of wings on his back, so tiny that they looked like they belonged on Pound Cake more than this over-bulked giant.
(Just keep walking, Dave. Don’t make eye contact…)
Then, thankfully, I caught sight of Big Mac. Small wonder, for how easily he stood out.
He was standing at a lane with three other stallions. One was a yellowish Earth pony with a brown, neatly combed mane and three horseshoes for a cutie mark. Another was white with a brown mustache, his cutie mark consisting of three footballs. The last was a brown Earth pony with a blonde mane and a guitar for a cutie mark.
“So, how are things with you and Sassaflash, Caramel?” asked the mustached stallion, speaking with a strong Midwestern accent.
“Getting pretty serious,” said the yellowish Earth pony. “In fact, I think I’m gonna pop the question pretty soon.”
“Atta boy!” said the other stallion, cuffing Caramel on the shoulder. “Go get ‘er, tiger!”
“Sassa’s a fine gal,” said Big Mac. “She’d make you a happy stallion, Caramel.”
Just then, the blonde stallion nudged Big Mac’s side and pointed in my direction. Every head turned towards me.
“Dave!” boomed Big Mac, “Glad you could come! Fellahs, this here’s Dave, that human I was tellin’ ya’ll about. He’s stayin’ with Pinkie at Sugarcube Corner.”
“Hello, folks,” I said, coming over.
“Dave, this here’s Caramel, Meadow Song, and Hondo Flanks, all friends of the family.”
“Hi there!” said Caramel.
“How ya doin’!” said Hondo Flanks, the mustached stallion. "Friends call me 'Magnum'."
Meadow Song politely nodded without saying a word.
“He’s a little shy,” explained Big Mac.
My attention, however, was on Magnum. There was something familiar about his face, but where had I seen it before?
…
Wait a minute.
That photo in Rarity’s boutique!
That stallion in it was this guy! Rarity’s father! There was no mistaking that mustache.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” I said to him, “but would you happen to know a Miss Rarity?”
“Aha!” said Magnum, “You’re friends with my little girl?”
“Yes, sir. She’s been very courteous towards me ever since I arrived.”
“Well, a friend of my daughter’s welcome in my book! Put ‘er there, son!”
He extended his hoof, and I gripped it, whereupon he gave my hand a very hearty shake.
“The missus and I just came back from out of town,” he said. “We wanted to check up on Sweetie Belle before a night on the lanes.”
“She didn’t wanna come along?” I asked.
“Nah, she said she already tried for a bowling cutie mark.” He chuckled. “I take it you know Sweetie Belle too?”
“Yes, sir. She and her friends even inducted me into the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
I took out my Crusader's bandana to show him. Magnum laughed out loud.
“That so? Just watch yourself, then. Those kids get up to some pretty nutty stuff, I hear.”
“I’m sure I’ll see for myself when I actually partake in some Crusading,” I said, grinning. “But, in all seriousness, sir, you have wonderful daughters.”
“Well, thanks for saying so, sport,” said Magnum, slapping me on the back. “You seem like a real stand-up guy yourself.”
“Say, Dave,” said Big Mac, “why don’t you go grab yourself a ball? We’re waiting on another team to arrive. Magnum here sent his wife to round ‘em up.”
“All right.”
I went and browsed the racks for a good-sized ball, but as I did so, I thought there was something peculiar about them. I couldn’t quite place what it was.
And then it hit me.
None of the balls had finger holes!
Of course, I really shouldn’t have been too surprised. What use were finger holes to a society that only had hooves? Come to think of it, there wasn’t even a place for renting bowling shoes. Again, though, unnecessary. But that just begged the same question that was on my mind when I came in: how did ponies bowl?
I picked out a nice 12-pounder, having to carry it in both hands as I returned to the guys. At least they had a conventional ball return receptacle, but unlike the alleys back home, this place relied on the conventional scorecard system rather than a computerized scorekeeper.
"Got yer ball?" Big Mac asked.
"Yep. Right here," I said, holding it out for show.
Then, without warning, it slipped right through my fingers and landed right on my foot.
"YEOW!!"
The stallions winced from the impact, and I bounced about, clutching my foot in my hand. Thank God it hadn't been the same one I kicked that tree with, or I might have busted it beyond repair.
"You all right?" asked Caramel.
"I will be," I groaned, through gritted teeth. "Just gimme a sec."
Gingerly, I put my foot back on the ground, then bent down and picked up the ball again, trying to balance it between my two palms.
"Just gotta get used to this grip."
Any more accidents like that, and I'd need a wheelchair.
“Yoo-hoo! We’re here!”
I turned to see five mares approaching. At the head was a unicorn who I knew must be Rarity’s mother, the same one from the portrait. Her cutie mark was a trio of cookies, one with a bite taken out of it. Behind her, to my surprise, came Cheerilee, Bon Bon, Lyra, and a pony I didn’t recognize, all wearing matching jerseys.
This last pony was an odd sight. She was pink in color, with a purple and white mane and tail that seemed even wilder than Pinkie’s, the mane topped with a little propeller beanie. Her eyes were large and purple, but looked glazed, and seemed to lack pupils. Her cutie mark was a baseball and a screw.
The three mares I recognized smiled brightly upon seeing me.
“Hi, Dave!” said Lyra, waving excitedly and bouncing on her hooves. “Fancy seeing you here!”
“Hi, Lyra! Hello, Bon Bon!” I greeted.
“Hello, Dave. Good to see you,” said Bon Bon, kindly.
“Cheerilee, I didn’t know you bowled,” I said to the schoolteacher.
“Not many ponies do," said Cheerilee, kindly, "but sometimes I like to unwind after a hard day’s work at the schoolhouse. Besides, Big Mac and I usually duke it out on the lanes together.”
Big Mac, who heard this, raised his head, and the two exchanged a sly wink.
“That so?” I asked, interested.
“Honey, this is Dave,” Magnum was saying to his wife, “He’s friends with Rarity and Sweetie Belle. Dave, this is my wife, Cookie Crumbles. Friends call her Pearl.”
“Well, how are ya!” said Pearl, clapping me on the back. “Has Rarity made a clothes model out of you yet?”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” I said, blushing, “I don’t think she intends to take me down that route.”
“I’m only teasing,” said Pearl, good-naturedly. “She’s a sweet girl, but sometimes I wish she could loosen up a little on the dressmaking. At least the poor dear has her spa days to help her relax.”
“She actually expressed interest in taking me there one of these days,” I said.
“Oh, you’ll love it! I went there myself, and it is gorgeous! Aloe and Lotus, the attendants, work wonders on a pony. Well, here’s hoping those wonders work on a human!”
She let out a hearty laugh, and I chuckled along with her. My attention was then turned to the mystery pony, who was looking at me intently. When she saw I was looking, she averted her eyes. Caramel had come by my side, so I asked him,
“What’s her story?”
“Hers? Well, it’s not a pretty one,” he said, grimly. “Have you ever heard of Discord?”
“Twilight told me about him, yeah."
“Well, after he started turning Ponyville upside down, when Twilight and the others sealed him away again, Screwball there was the only one who didn’t turn ‘back to normal’.”
“Screwball? That’s her name.”
“Yep.”
(I wouldn’t wish that name on my worst enemy.)
“Well, is she, you know, all right?” I asked, delicately.
“She’s a good pony," said Caramel. "She’s not much of a talker, though, and…well, let’s just say things never go, er, 'normal' with her.”
“How ‘not normal’ are we talking?” I asked, with some hesitation.
“Little things. Little odd things. Things you’d only expect out of Pinkie Pie.”
“Ohh," I said, catching on.
“Most ponies give her a wide berth if she starts acting…funny. Like I said, she’s not bad. Just a little…odd.”
To think that there existed another pony as random, maybe even more random, than Pinkie, was something I didn't think possible. Then again, she didn’t seem malignant. She actually looked a little wary, as if afraid she was going to say a naughty word or cause something to explode. I approached her.
“Hello there. I heard your name was Screwball.”
She said nothing.
“My name’s Dave.”
Again, nothing.
“It’s…nice to meet you.”
Still nothing. This wasn't working.
“…Ok. Well, hope you have fun.”
She gave a slight nod, and the merest of smiles. Well, that was a start, anyway. I rejoined the guys.
“So, Dave, you ready to rock some pins?” asked Lyra, in a pumped voice.
“I hope to, if I can figure out how these balls work.”
“How they work? You mean they work differently in your world? How? Tell me!”
She had reared up and put her hooves to my shoulders, pressing her nose against mine and grinning with wide-eyed madness.
“Lyra,” said Bon Bon, in a warning voice. “Down.”
Lyra, having heard the reprimand, gave an embarrassed chuckle and got off of me.
“It’s only that bowling balls for humans have holes for the fingers and thumb,” I explained, tracing with my finger where the holes would be.
“Ooh! That makes sense,” said Lyra.
“I’m actually curious to see how ponies manage bowling balls with hooves,” I said.
“There’s no real secret to it,” said Lyra, with a shrug. “We just do.”
‘We just do’. Guess that was as good an answer as I was gonna get.
Everypony else had brought their own bowling balls, even Screwball, and were putting them in their lanes’ ball returns. Screwball’s could never be mistaken as anyone else’s; it was painted like a giant baseball.
“You guys mind if I keep score, too?” I suggested, though I knew they must have had some ways of writing with a pencil.
“Well, shoot, Dave, that’s mighty neighborly of ya,” said Big Mac. “Go right ahead.”
“All right, just tell me what order you all wanna go in,” I said, picking up the pencil.
In due course, we had the whole team arranged on the scorecard. Everyone agreed to give Big Mac the first turn, followed by me, then Magnum, then Caramel, with Meadow Song finishing up. Meadow Song said nothing to this arrangement, so no surprise there.
“All right!” said Magnum. “Big Mac, you’re up first!”
“Knock ‘em dead, Cheerilee!” said Pearl.
The two ponies approached the lane, balanced on their hind legs. Big Mac held a massive red ball in his hooves, while Cheerilee’s was a deep purple. I kept my eyes on how they threw their balls, and was impressed to see it was all one easy, underhand motion of the fore hoof, almost as if there was a magnetic pull on those hooves of theirs.
The two tossed their balls at the same time, and the alley rang with the double crash of two strikes at once. For someone as docile as Cheerilee, she really knew how to throw! Everyone applauded, including me, and the two traded a high-five.
“You make it look so easy,” I said to Big Mac as he came back to our side, after I marked an X on his first frame.
“Big Mac makes everything look easy,” said Caramel.
No question about that. Apple Fritter had said he had kicked an entire tree out by the roots. He could probably de-apple one just by casually knocking his hoof against the trunk.
“All right, Dave, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Magnum.
Not really sure what to expect, I stepped up and picked up my ball, Lyra zipping over to take her turn. I looked from the pins to my ball, unsure of what to do. Lyra seemed to guess my hesitation, as she said,
“Watch what I do.”
She grabbed her ball, reared up, stuck her tongue out in concentration, stepped backward, and then dashed forward, shifting the ball from two hoofs to one as she gave it an underhand toss, when sent it rolling. It knocked down the four pins on the right of her lane.
“Shoot!” she muttered. “Always pulls to the right.” She turned to me. “Well, I’m sure you can do better. Give it a shot!”
This vote of confidence gave me a bit of a bolster, so I tried to mimic what Lyra had done. I stepped back, positioned myself as best I could, then ran forward, shifting the ball to one hand. I gave it a good toss…and it curved right into the gutter.
“Dang,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Dave,” called Big Mac. “You’ve still got another roll!”
My ball rolled back, and I retrieved it. Lyra threw her next shot, and managed to take down another three pins.
“Man, must be off my A-game today,” she muttered. “Oh well!”
She trotted happily back to her team as I took my position, eyeing the pins steadily.
“Ok, Dave, you can do this. Focus…”
Slowly, I began stepping forward, picking up speed as I brought my arm back. Skidding to a halt, I rolled, and bore witness to 8 pins crashing upon impact of my ball.
“Whoa," I muttered, astonished. "Did I actually do that?”
Apparently I had, as I heard applause from behind me.
“There ya go!” whooped Big Mac.
“Not bad for a first frame!” said Magnum.
“Atta way!” said Caramel.
“See? Easy as cake!” said Lyra.
Well, if I kept that up, I might actually do pretty good! I sat down and marked an 8 on my frame, as Magnum and Pearl took their turns. Like Big Mac, Magnum also hit a strike, while Pearl just barely managed a 9. Then Caramel found himself the unlucky recipient of a 7/10 split while Bon Bon picked up a spare. Now it was Meadow Song and Screwball’s turns.
Meadow Song pulled off a spare, but my attention was more on Screwball. She tossed her ball, and it seemed to curve right for the gutter, but all of a sudden, it pulled a sharp turn into the opposite direction and pulled off a strike. My jaw dropped, but she didn’t seem surprised at all by this unusual occurrence.
“What the…that was…How did…That can’t be possible!” I spluttered.
“For her, it is,” said Caramel. “Not always a strike, but she never gets a gutter ball.”
“That’s…that’s unbelievable!”
“That is the power of Screwball.”
I looked at Screwball, who was being applauded by her fellow teammates. Going by what Caramel had told me, it was a relief to see that she was still being treated like a real pony among this circle of friends. Even the unusual deserve a little kindness and understanding, after all.
***
The game was toe-to-toe…er, would they still use that term here?…between our two teams. It was always Big Mac and Cheerilee who were the most neck-and-neck, never getting a shot lower than a spare, and one could definitely see the fire blazing in their eyes. Again, for a pony as gentle in appearance as Cheerilee, she had a fiery, competitive spirit.
Screwball, of course, never ceased to wow us with her unconventional and unusual shots. Her ball would take the wildest swings away from the gutters, go in a straight beeline just to make a shift to the side at the last second, or even, once, pulling a series of pinball-esque diagonal shifts. If this was leftovers of the curse of Discord, I didn’t want to see what it would have looked like full force.
I was doing pretty decently myself, after that first frame. I mainly averaged a good 6 to 8 pins in a frame, so that the whole thing was neck and neck. We played two games, in the intermission of which Magnum and Big Mac went to grab some refreshments. While we waited, I managed to fall in talk with Cheerilee, as she sat opposite me.
“So, Cheerilee, I’m not making any broad assumptions, but is it enjoyable, being a schoolteacher?” I asked.
“Enjoyable? I love it, Dave! Ever since I was a filly, when I first decided on it, I’d hoped that I would help my little pupils blossom into bright young ponies.”
“Is that what your cutie mark means?” I asked, intrigued. “It makes so much sense now! I had no idea they could be so specific.”
“Oh, cutie marks come with a wide variety of interpretations. No two cutie marks are exactly the same."
“Fascinating. And how about the Crusaders? How would you rate them as students?”
“Very eager little fillies, and such sweet dears," said Cheerilee, fondly. "A little overly-rambunctious at times, but I’ve never seen fillies with as much spirit as them. Oh! And speaking of them,” she added, lowering her voice, “I heard about Scootaloo. Was that your doing?”
“Well, I helped move it along, if that’s what you mean," I said, bashfully.
“That was very noble of you, Dave," said Cheerilee, warmly, "finding her a family in the Hooves. Dinky’s such a sweetheart, but I’ve always seen her keep to herself most of the time. Now that she has Scootaloo for a sister, I think we’ll see some definite improvement.”
“Especially now that she was made a Crusader,” I said, in agreement.
Cheerilee looked surprised.
“Dinky, a Crusader? When?”
“Just today. I was present at her initiation.”
“Oh, how adorable!" said Cheerilee, before her face fell. "Then again, I’m also a little afraid of what might happen to her during one of their little Crusading schemes.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” I concurred.
“In fact, I found myself the unlucky target of one of their projects,” she said, grimly.
“What?" I asked, surprised. "You? They didn’t-”
“Oh, no, don’t worry!" said Cheerilee, hastily. "It was nothing dangerous, just, well, rather bizarre. You see, I told them last Hearts and Hooves Day that I didn’t have a very special somepony, so they took it into their heads to…” She blushed briefly. “Well, to find me a stallion for my own.”
“Aww, well that was very considerate of them,” I said.
“Yes, I agree, only, they’d decided that that stallion should be Big Mac.”
If I’d had a drink in my mouth, I would’ve spat it out right then and there.
“W-What?!” I spluttered. “You and Big Mac??”
“Pretty crazy, huh? Well, to be blunt, they weren’t very subtle about trying to hook us up, but then again, they’re only children, so I can’t really blame them for trying. Then they got rather sneaky, and actually persuaded the two of us into a taking a love potion.”
“Hoo boy,” I muttered.
There’s a reason genies and fairy godparents ban wishes concerning true love, and a love potion was mingled in with that reason.
“Well, I don’t really remember what happened after I drank that potion," said Cheerilee, "but when I came to, I was wearing a wedding veil, and sitting with Big Mac on a mattress in a hole in the ground.”
She said this so matter-of-factly that I honestly could have mistaken it for a joke.
“No, no joke,” she said, noting my bemused expression. “They explained the whole situation, and even though we had to teach them a lesson by having them do Big Mac’s chores, I really did appreciate that they wanted to make me happy.”
“They’re good kids,” I said, nodding.
“And I suppose I do have them to thank for my bowling nights. Ever since they started shoving Big Mac and me together, we started having little get-togethers like this, just for fun.”
“Well, that’s good, but, uh, you two aren’t, uh…are you?” I asked, delicately.
“Are we what?” asked Cheerilee, puzzled.
“Well, you know, not-”
“Chow time!” boomed Magnum, he and Big Mac having returned with a big pizza, a bowl of nachos, and some sodas.
“Never mind,” I said, “it wasn’t important.”
Though still looking a little puzzled, Cheerilee let the matter drop with a shrug, and joined the others crowding around the newly-arrived refreshments.
***
The second game played out very much like the first, though by then, I’d managed to get a little better, so that Lyra and I were turning into a pair of rivals. She’d cast me what she must have thought were intimidating grimaces, but they only managed to come out goofy. Big Mac and Cheerilee still managed to lead the pack, though Magnum and Pearl were no slouches, either. Caramel, Meadow Song, and Bon Bon were on an average level, like me, as they weren’t as zealous about the game as the first four. Screwball, of course, still managed to play with the laws of physics with her throws, until I’m sure Newton had rolled in his grave so thoroughly that he brought himself a few inches lower into the dirt.
At last, my final frame came up. Having gotten used to this new, unwieldy way of handling the ball by now, I rolled without any prior hesitation.
One strike.
Two strikes!
Oh, man, if I got a third, I could give us an early sweep! I rolled…
A 7-10 split.
Groans sympathetic to my disappointment arose from my team, and all I could do was take my final roll and knock down one of the offending pins, leaving the other standing to mock me.
“Now that’s just rotten luck,” said Caramel.
“The bane of any bowler,” said Magnum.
“Ain’t a big deal, Dave,” said Big Mac. “You bowled a good game.”
“Thanks, Big Mac.”
I sat down and watched the rest of the players take their last frames. Now it was all down to Screwball. What would she pull off this time?
One strike.
Two strikes.
…A 7-10 split.
It was an almost-perfect playback of my own last frame. Screwball, however, didn’t seem deterred. She rolled the ball, and…and…
How do I even describe it?
Her ball pulled an elaborate serpentine maneuver all the way down the lane, curving this way and that, in such a way that, in one sweep, it knocked down both of the pins in the split!
Her entire team exploded into cheers, while us men just sat there, mouths agape like a pack of slack-jaws.
(Thank God you’re not alive to see this, Sir Isaac, or you would have been sooooo mad.)
“Looks like that wraps it up, boys!” said Pearl. “Good game!”
“You were great tonight, honey bun!” said Magnum.
“Oh, thanks, sweetheart,” said Pearl, exchanging a kiss with him.
“In your face, boys!” crowed Lyra, while Bon Bon rolled her eyes.
“You at least have fun, Dave?” asked Big Mac.
“Oh, definitely!" I said, eagerly. "We’ve gotta do this again sometime.”
“Good, good. Ah’ll be sure to let ya know when we’re plannin’ another.”
“You’re not too bad for a first-timer,” said Caramel.
Meadow Song politely nodded.
“Thanks, guys," I said. "Well, I’d love to stick around, but I’ve got one more stop to make before I call it a day, so I’ll be heading off. Good night!”
Amid a chorus of ‘good night’s and goodbyes, I made my way off toward the exit, but was stopped by a tug at the back of my shirt. Looking down, I saw my interrupter to be Screwball, who still looked shy.
“Hi there,” I said. “You were amazing tonight. I’d never seen anything like that!”
She remained silent. Throwing caution to the wind, I knelt down beside her.
“Hey, listen. I know, or at least heard, some ponies think you’re a little…odd, because of that whole Discord thing, and I don’t really claim to know everything about what happened, but I don’t think that matters. You seem like a nice pony, and I just want you to know that you’ve got a friend in me.”
I held out my hand. She looked from it to me with those glazed eyes, and then put her hoof into it, and said, in a quiet voice,
“Thank you.”
They were the first words that had come out of her mouth all night. I smiled.
“Well, good night, Screwball.”
She nodded quietly, and I again made my way toward the exit, just to feel somepony squeeze their way under my arm, so that it was draped over their back. It was Lyra, who grinned when I looked at her.
“Hey, you,” I said, with a grin of my own.
“Hey!” she said. “Mind if I walk you home?”
“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Miss Heartstrings, but I have somewhere I need to go before I call it a day. But, if you’d like, I can walk you home.”
“Why, how gentlemanly of you!” said Lyra, in a jestingly polite tone of voice that would have done Rarity justice.
Bon Bon wasn’t long in coming up by my other side.
“Relax,” I said, noticing a tirade imminent on the lips of the candy-maker, “I’m just escorting you ladies home tonight.”
“Well, that’s very sweet of you,” said Bon Bon, “but ‘ladies’? I don’t see anypony else but Lyra.”
“Oh, shut up, Bonnie,” snarked Lyra, and Bon Bon giggled.
***
As it turned out, Lyra and Bon Bon lived very close to the latter’s sweet shop, and that was not a very great distance from the bowling alley. It was now half-past 8, and the moon had long been up in the sky at that point. Some ponies were still milling about, but many seemed to be heading homewards, like my two companions.
We stopped right at the door, and Lyra used her unicorn’s magic to lift up the door mat and fish up the key hidden beneath it. As she unlocked the door, Bon Bon said,
“Thank you very much for walking us home, Dave. Are you sure you won’t stay for a bit?”
“I’d love to, Bon Bon, but I’d already made arrangements. I’ll definitely swing by one of these days, though.”
“That’d be lovely.”
“Got it!” Lyra swung the front door open. “Well, g’night, Dave, and thanks!”
“Good night, Lyra. Good night, Bon Bon.”
“Good night, Dave.”
The door closed behind the two housemates, and, with a purposeful step, I was finally on my way to my real destination. I had a date with a certain great and powerful pony.
Er, wait, did I say…No, I didn’t mean it like…Oh, forget it.