//------------------------------// // Birth // Story: The Sad Sad Life Of Poopy McScooperton // by Whalesbefreeyo //------------------------------// Birth A Stallion sat waiting in the hospital. The smell of disinfectant and disease invaded his nostrils. The stallion brushed his mustache in a vain hope that the hairs protruding from his upper lip might somehow block out the smell. His name was Rubble McScooperton. A proud stallion from a proud family. For years the Mc Scooperton family had bred strong colts and mares, and Rubble was no exception. On his flank lay the image of a smashed rock, signifying his strength and particular talent for demolition. Rubble was a Construction Colt, though his usual job was to bring down a structure instead of build it up. It was known that Rubble once took down a whole building with just one swing of the sledgehammer. He was a proud stallion and today he couldn't be any prouder. Today the McScooperton line was going to continue. Today his wife would bear him a son and make Rubble McScooperton a father. Rubble shifted into a daydream of the greatness his future son would surely ascend to. Again the smell of disinfectant invaded Rubble's nostrils, irritating him to no end. He looked to the door, a worried expression washing over his face. It had been 6 hours since his wife went into labor, he didn't know how much longer her could wait. His son was about the be born, his son destined for greatness, how could he wait? Rubble breathed in deep in a attempt to hold off the nervous excitement. It worked momentarily until he gazed upon the door and the anxiety invaded his mind once more. The anxiety made it hard to be patient but Rubble managed as the hours ticked away. During these hours Rubble slipped into his fantasies. He imagined his future son flaunting a large thick blond mustache, Mares throwing themselves at his feet as he tore through buildings like they were paper. Nothing could stop this mighty McScooperton as he put the other stallions to shame. The opening of the door threw Rubble out of his day dream. He turned his head to the doctor that exited the room. It was Dr. Redheart, a stallion with an average build. The doctor brandished a mustache much like Rubble's, but crimson red instead of pale blond like Rubble's. Rubble had never cared much for doctors or their cold jabbing tools, but Dr. Redheart was an exception. The doctor was old acquaintance of Rubble's, having met by coincidence at a bar years ago. The two stallions each bought a few drinks, a few being enough to kill a buffalo in Rubble's case, and drunkenly spoke of their lives. As it would turn out, Dr. Redheart had a daughter 4 years ago. Rubble had met the doctor's daughter once, after not being to move for 5 days from a hangover the size of Luna's moon. She wanted to become a doctor just like her father. Rubble chuckled remembering this and hoped that his own son would want to become a construction colt just like him. His laughter immediately ceased as he saw Redheart's face. All these good memories were going to have to be pushed aside as it was obvious the doctor did not have good news. A grimace was painted onto the his face as he looked over at Rubble McScooperton. " I'm sorry Rubble". With these words Doctor Redheart looked down at the ground solemnly. Rubble's mouth ran dry as he searched for the right words to respond" Wh-what do you mean". The doctor looked Rubble in the eye. " she didn't make it through childbirth. I'm sorry". Rubble had not cried in years. He did not cry when he broke his legs, he did not cry when he lost his first home to a fire ,he did not cry when father passed on. In the McScooperton family tears had been considered sign of weakness and were not to be shed, not by colt or mare. It was in this moment that tears began to emerge in Rubble's eyes no matter how hard he tried to fight them back. "I do have some good news though" Redheart said with a smile that still held signs of sorrow under it,"Your son is alive". Rubble 's wiped his tears away and his eyes met with Redheart's. "Would you like to see him?". Rubble confirmed his desire to meet his son with a shake of head faster than the eye could see. The doctor led him into the room and inside of it a small foal sat wrapped in blankets atop Rubble's now deceased wife. At that moment something happened inside Rubble, it was as if something snapped. This was supposed to be his proudest moment, the point where he would start raising a child destined for greatness. Instead his wife was laying dead before him, and it was all the fault of this child. Rubble knew what he was supposed to feel at the moment. He was supposed to feel pride, accomplishment, love, and joy. Rubble McScooperton felt none of that. What he felt instead was anger and raging hatred, hatred for this small creature. If not for this thing his wife would still be alive. Rubble once again delved into his fantasies. He dreamed about saving his wife from this monstrosity, this tumor that grew inside of her and destroyed her from the inside. "What are you going to call him?." These words snapped Rubble back to reality. "Huh?". "What's his name?" Asked Redheart. Rubble looked down at the ground , pondering what to name this monster. It took him only a moment to come up with the worst name he could think of. " Poopy... Poopy McScooperton", Rubble said with a gruff tone. The thin stallion rubbed his red mustache and looked upon the new father curiously. "Poopy?". " Yes Poopy" Rubble spat at the doctor. " I don't know if that a wise thing to c-", Redheart found himself interrupted by Rubble, who spoke once again in a growling tone. " I'm his father, I know what's right for him. I decide what his name is". Rubble picked up the foal with his teeth and headed out. He looked down at it as he passed through the hall and growled. Rubble swore his wife would be avenged, that this monster would get what it deserved. He would care for this beast, but nothing more. Rubble McScooperton would cloth and feed this creature that dared call itself his son, but nothing else. He gazed down onto the foal in shame and anger. This beast took away his wife. He would show it no love in its life. It did not deserve any love, affection, it didn't even deserve to live. It only had a name because he was forced to give it one. This creature was only a day old and Rubble could already feel his hatred for it burning. Rubble could feel his anger subside for only a moment as he exited that hospital and his focus was drawn away from the foal. Leaving the Medical facility he saw Clyde Pie's wife , Sue Pie, wheeled inside by two pegasus. She was due to give birth to triplet fillies. Clyde had already told Rubble what they had planned on calling their foals, Inkamena, Pinkamena, and Blinkamena. Rubble, to be blunt, thought these names were unequestrianly stupid ones. They were like something out of a pointless game for foals. Rubble let out a snort as Clyde and his wife passed by. There was something Rubble had never liked about Pie Family. He couldn't put his hoof on it, though he speculated it might have something to do with the fact that they were rock farmers. The stallion had never liked rock farmers that much. No, it was probably the fact they were so unponily boring. The Pies rarely added any kind of emotion to their voices, always talking in a near monotone that irked Rubble to no end. The fact that the Pie family supplied the rocks used for making cement didn't help Rubble much, it only meant he had to get involved with them much more than he would wish to. His eyes moved back to the foal in blankets he was holding in his teeth. While he did not care for this child whatsoever, Rubble would be damned if he ever let Poopy get involved with a Pie. He couldn't stand the idea of a Pie being anything more than business partner, even that involved too much interaction with the Pies in Rubble's mind. Never would Poopy become involved with the Pie family, this he would make sure of. On the way home Rubble had to fight the urge to drop the foal and "accidentally" stomp it to death. The only thing stopping him was his conscience and the fact that there were ponies all around him that would see him. As much as he hated this creature , he couldn't kill it. Too many questions and too much guilt. After a good 20 minutes of walking, Rubble finally made it to his home, a pure brick house with a shingled roof. This house was another thing Rubble could feel proud of, one of the many achievements he'd accomplished in his life. The instant of pride he felt was instantly dashed as he looked at the foal still held in it blankets. He groaned as he set it on a table and proceeded to glare at it. He refused to acknowledge this thing as his own flesh and blood. " Your only a day old. I can already smell the stink of failure on you...Poopy." He spat out the words, emphasizing the foal's name, a name he despised and would always burn with anger at the sound of. "I Already know what you're going to be in life, I don't have to raise you to know that". The stallion circled around the foal that was wrapped in blankets like a predator ready to strike. "You're going to be a failure. You're going to die alone, cold, bitless, without any friends. And you know something else Poopy". Rubble stopped his circling ,again emphasizing the child's name. "No-one is going to mourn you. You were born a loser and you're going to die a loser", he said in whisper as his face neared the foal. "At least I'll have friends when I go..but you...You'll be lucky to have a funeral, or even a person that gave a buck you died.." With these words he readjusted himself and stood up straight. Rubble headed into the kitchen only looking back once at the foal he would never be a father to. " I Hate you, you failure.." Perhaps Celestia was listening that day, Perhaps Nightmare Moon or even the spirit of chaos himself. Whatever the reason was didn't matter because from that day on young Poopy suffered at the hands of other ponies. Fated to become his namesake, he was to become the subject of ridicule and despair. This Colt was to be doomed, even in his grandest moments, to a life of loss, hatred, and rejection. Next: A Friend