//------------------------------// // Prologue *Revised* // Story: Nemo Curat // by Unpronounceable //------------------------------// It was an unusually breezy autumn evening in Manehatten. The beauty of the few trees that lined the streets was enough to lighten up anypony before the bone-chilling winter came along. Two ponies, a happily married couple, sat down in their living room after dinner to listen to the radio. The tension was in the air as Daring Do, the famous adventurer from a series with the same name, found herself in quite the pickle. Despite the fact they knew that Daring would be fine; they found themselves on their hooves in anticipation. The radio went to a commercial break just as the sand rose above the adventure’s head. The mare got up to turn the radio down when something unexpected happened. The doorbell rang. She trotted to the door and opened it, half expecting it to be the mailmare. Emptiness, the dark of night, pierced only by the occasional working streetlamp and lit-up window, stared her in the face. She looked left and right and left again. She even looked up for good measure. As the earth pony wondered, she looked down, the only logical direction left. She found, sitting on her doormat, a box. No postage, only a note. “Honey,” the mare called, “were you expecting something?” “No, Baby. Why?” Honey half-yelled back. “Umm… There is a box on our doormat.” she managed to trickle out of her mouth. “Just bring it in, Daring Do is about to resume! I can’t wait to see how she gets out of two straightjackets! Two straightjackets! I personally think it is overkill, but, hay, we got to trust the writers.” The stallion was quite the fan, almost as big a fan as another certain pegasus. The mare agreed, being a fan herself. As she picked up the box, she was greeted with a yelp. She nearly dropped the box after lurking backwards. She rushed the box inside, onto the oddly named coffee table (that is a discussion for another day), and did the only logical thing to do when you find a mysterious box; open it. Daring became the last thing on their mind. She stared at it, or rather, him. A small, light grey foal (notably lacking wings or a horn), with a streaked charcoal black mane and red eyes stared back at her. All three stood speechless; it was not hard to imagine why someone would not want him, but shoving him onto somepony’s doorstep? That was a shock. They gathered themselves to read the note: the note that expectedly changed their lives. To Whom It May Concern, As I brought this foal into the world, I realized quickly that I would not be able to fulfill my motherly duties to it. So, after much debate and thought, I decided to leave him at somepony’s doorstep. I realize that abandoning foals is cliché, but it was the best I could do for it. So, if you don’t want to take this foal as your own, I understand; just send it to an adoption center. If you do, however, decide to take him as your own, you will not be forgotten. Sincerely, Jane Doe “What should we do?” asked the pegasus. The three of them had been standing in silence for a solid ten minutes. The foal could not help but be quiet, as he was a foal. The couple, however, voluntarily basked in the awkwardness of the situation. The stallion was the most nervous, as he wanted to keep the child. His wife, still a nervous wreck from the doctor’s visit several years ago, probably did not. “I… I don’t know. Umm…” The wife was speechless. Ever since that horrible day at the doctor’s office, she gave up on having kids. She stopped wanting to have kids. Yet, here in front of her was a bundle of joy with a foal next to him. He wanted kids so badly. That’s why they got married earlier than most, to get a child of their own. But now, she didn’t want to have one. “I want to keep him.” Honey stated gingerly. “Keep? You want to keep him? Like an owner would keep a pet?” “No! Why would you assume that? I don’t even like pets!” “Then keep was not the right word, now was it?” “Don’t go all English major on me, miss!” “I’ll go all English major on your plot if I want to!” “Ha, you’re not supposed to end sentences with prepositions, Miss English!” The argument quickly devolved into one about the finer points of the (now that I think about it, oddly named) English language. Meanwhile, the foal sat there, basking in the heat of the argument. He didn’t know anything, not even his own mother. The garble that was the couple’s subject made no sense to him. Nothing did, really. “Well, the plural of octopus can also be octopuses!” “Octopi sounds better, though. And what sounds the best also is the best!” The pegasus was about to retort when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a grey ball. He did a double take and quickly realized that it was the curled-up figure of the abandoned foal. “What are we going to do about him?” asked the husband. “Ah, I see that you are changing the subject. Does that mean that I win?” “No, we can finish it later. Right now, though, we need to figure out what to do with him.” He pointed to the grey mass. “He doesn’t even have a name!” “Fine, if you’re so concerned for him, take care of him. I’m going to bed.” The earth mare stomped off to the bedroom. The stallion looked down at the foal. Then he noticed something peculiar. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a puddle of… “Oh, c’mon!” The mare trotted lightheartedly out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where her husband was in an insomiactic stupor. He barely noticed his wife approaching, but when she came close enough, he whispered loudly “Thanks, Miss English. I stayed up until one this morning trying to get him to sleep. Thank Celestia he’s still sleeping. Oh, and you know what? He made several messes last night, all of which I had to clean.” “Well then, maybe you should go into town and get some diapers for our lil’ Nemo here.” “Huh?” “Oh, and can you pick up a crib as well? Thanks. Well, of to work I go. Bye, have a nice day!” “Wha… what just happened?” asked Honey to nopony in particular. “She’s crazy. She must be crazy.” He looked into the living room at Nemo. How did she come up with a name like Nemo? He had so many questions, but right now, there was yet another puddle to deal with. Earlier… The earth pony lied down in the bed, almost guilty of her actions. She did not want a child. That she knew. But her husband wanted one so badly; that she knew as well. She was torn. She did not know what to do. She heard a loud crash, followed by words more colorful than a rainbow. Her husband was not faring well, but she still refused the guilt. He brought this upon himself, she reasoned. She laid her flank against the mattress and attempted to go to sleep. Yet, she couldn’t. Her husband needed her. The foal needed her. She pondered this; they needed her. She shot up as a realization came to mind. “Sweet Celestia, we’re keeping him, aren’t we?” She said this aloud, though the stallion was too busy to have possibly heard it. She slowly flattened onto the bed. With that out of the way, the foal needed a name. Arthur, Sinbad, Meek, and Fog all came to mind, but she eventually decided on Nemo Curat. She did not know what it even meant, but something, possibly her self-diagnosed schizophrenia, told her that it was his name. Anyway, with that out of the way, she moved onto more important things. “What color should his room be? Hmm… How about a nice pale green?”