//------------------------------// // Blood And Tears From A Stone Grey Pony // Story: Cast Iron Chaos // by Mr Merritt //------------------------------// Two Days Later While he would never admit it out loud, there were days when Peppermill wished he wasn’t as mature as he was. That way he could get away with having a nice, old-fashioned temper tantrum and not feel guilty about it. Given the way his week had been going, he needed to vent his frustration in the worst way. But the little cook, wise beyond his years, had to settle for keeping a tight lid on his annoyance and settled for admiring his soon-to-be prize. Once the colt had discovered which of Ponyville’s stores would be carrying the six Pygg Iron Cast Iron Pans, it became his proverbial home away from home. Any moment he wasn’t trying to earn some bits or having to do his hoofful of chores at Sweet Apple Acres, he could be found at the store. It reached a point that the store owner, a mule by the name of Mr. Pack, had modified his daily routine around the grey colt. Every day since he had received his shipment of pans, Mr. Pack always found the colt sitting in front of the window to his store first thing every morning. Sometimes he was staring into the gloom of the sales floor, and other times he was pacing back and forth in front of the building. He always gave the mule a polite, if somewhat tight greeting as he unlocked the door to the store. The colt would then wait exactly five minutes, no more and no less before noising his way into the store to where the cash register sat. It was then that they had what Mr. Pack thoughts of as their usual conversation: “Good morning…Mr. Pack.” “Good morning Peppermill.” “How many…do you have left?” “I still have all six ready and waiting…” “Has any pony…come in and…asked about them?” “No, you are the only pony in Ponyville who seems remotely interested.” Once Peppermill was satisfied that he wasn’t going to run the risk of Mr. Pack running out of any of the half dozen pans in stock, he would be on his way. Despite the brief sense of relief it brought, Peppermill would usually fall back into a dark funk of desperation as he left the store as he pondered his money woes. The next pony that tells me I should just cook to earn the money is going to get a smack, Celestia help me… Peppermill’s dark mood resulted in him being less than pleasant towards the friendly townsponies that he passed by. That is until he came across maybe the one pony that could brighten his day, if only for a few moments. “Still pining for your pan, are we?” asked the grey Earth filly, her long white braid bouncing as she fell in step beside the grey colt. Silver Spoon, like the rest of his circle of friends, knew of the various misadventures Peppermill had been experiencing in his quest for bits. Unfortunately, like some of those same friends, she also seemed to thinking making light of his embarrassment was a good idea. “Did you think you could dig up your own iron in the mud?” “Please…don’t do this…Silver. I’m not…in the mood.” growled Peppermill. “And you make a…much better food critic…than a stand-up comic…” “Well, I thought it was funny.” Silver Spoon shrugged and went silent as she continued to walk with the colt. Inwardly she was scolding herself, her attempts to lighten the mood having fallen flat. It made her heart ache to see one of her closest friends so down. “Why is it…so hard to…earn a few bits? I mean, all…sorts of ponies work…for a living…” grumped Peppermill, head bowed and dragging his hooves. “I suppose it wouldn’t help to mention that I probably won’t have to work a day in my life?” asked Silver Spoon, making another effort at humor. “You’re right…it wouldn’t…” “Right…” Filly and colt continued to trudge along, with Silver Spoon’s patience beginning to wear thin. Finally, she snapped angrily at her friend. “Honestly Peppermill, you are so stubborn!” “Huh…” snorted the colt. “Would it really and truly kill you to just make a pony or two pay for a hoof-made five course meal? It’s not like you couldn’t do it, and better than any pony else I might add. Nopony would think less of you…” “Tell me…Silver Spoon…do you remember one…of the things you were…most afraid of when you…finally had the chance…to break free of…Diamond Tiara’s shadow?” “What does that have to do with this?” demanded the filly angrily. “You were scared…that nothing you would do…would make anypony see you…as nothing more than…a bully. You wanted so…badly to prove that…you weren’t. Has it occurred to…anypony that maybe…I want to be seen as…capable of things that don’t…center on cooking?” Silver Spoon could only set her mouth in an unhappy pout at this. “I know everypony…wants me to cook. But my own father had…to scrimp and save…and struggle just so he could…earn enough bits to buy one of those pans. In fact…I remember very clearly…my mother telling me that…he refused to consider…a restaurant before…he had the equipment to use…in it.” “Your father had one…” A sudden realization of what might be the real reason behind Peppermill’s frustration came to the filly, but before she could act on it the colt spoke once more. “If I want…to be even remotely as good…as my father was…as a cook I need to go through…the same things he did. I don’t want to have…everything handed to me…as gifts or otherwise. But it seems…that nothing I do…turns out right. Every job…I’ve tried I’ve…failed at. I’m such a…” “Peppermill Apple, if you even think about finishing that sentence the way I think you want to I’ll never speak to you again!” The ferocity of the filly’s exclamation made the colt genuinely jump in surprise. Silver Spoon spun and planted herself in front of him, halting his progress. “Listen to me Peppermill.” Silver Spoon stared hard into the colt’s dark eyes. “It’s wonderful that you want to be like your father. It’s…it’s something I really like about you. But every time something goes wrong at one of these odd jobs you beat yourself up so much it is scary. And I’m not just the only one who thinks that.” Peppermill had never seen his friend so livid, and he found it hard to take his eyes off of her. “Do you know who actually begged me to come and talk to you today?” asked the filly. “No…” “Applebloom.” “Applebloom?!” “Yes, the one filly that probably cares for you more than I do. The same filly that even to this day still constantly physically plants herself between the two of us whenever she has a chance…” “She’s just…” mumbled Peppermill. “I know what it is Peppermill.” Silver’s expression softened. “She told me that I was the only one that could, and I quote, ‘get through that darn foal’s head’” “That’s a…remarkably good imitation.” managed Peppermill with a weak smile. “Just don’t tell her I did that or she’ll tear my braid out.” smiled Silver Spoon. “My point is that nopony thinks less of you for…messing up once or twice. Nopony is perfect, after all. And they certainly won’t fault you to swallow all that Apple pride of yours and ask for a bit of help. All we want is for you to be happy, and if that means having to spend a few…well, a lot of bits to do so then so be it.” For a long few minutes, the two grey ponies stood face-to-face with grim expressions. Finally, with a defeated sigh and slumped shoulders, Peppermill blinked first. “I wonder…what my parents would…have said if they knew…just how stubborn their…son would be?” “I think they would be proud of how determined you can be.” “…thanks Silver. I think…I need to go and…talk to some ponies…about some money.”