Dear Flam,
It’s been a long time since we last talked. I’ve heard that…
“No, no…wait,” the stallion muttered under his breath, crumpling up the parchment with his magic. He tiredly tossed the wad aside, where it plopped on the floor next to a trash bin overflowing with similar pieces of paper. Tapping the quill against his cheek, he pulled out a sheet from his desk for the umpteenth time and began to scribble.
Dearest brother,
How have you been? It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other! Word on the street is that you’ve found yourself some business up in Fillydelphia. That’s…
The quill froze in the air, and Flim found himself staring blankly at the ink scrawled before him. His lips silently moved, trying to find the word to finish that sentence.
Great? No. Fantastic? No. Amazing? No.
He systematically rolled through every possible synonym his mind could come up with, but for some reason, none seemed to do the trick. So the stallion simply shook his head, slowly got up from his desk, and decided to take a well-needed break. He crept past the lumpy mattress crammed into the corner of his room, and headed towards the kitchen.
Sunlight trickled through the semi-closed blinds, the only illumination for the otherwise dim apartment. A couple of cardboard boxes and apple crates were skewed around the make-shift living room; some still contained their contents, left to sit for more than a year in the same spot. A glass coffee table was in the middle of it all, and a stained green chair was the only object parked next to it. Lying on the table was a newspaper flipped to the Career section, with numerous red Xs littered across the page. The place smelled of old dandelion sandwiches and hard cider, but Flim paid no heed, making his way to the tiny niche he called his kitchen.
The stallion sighed as he pulled a glass out of the cupboard, filling it up with tap. He took a calm sip, cringed a bit, and kept on drinking while holding his breath. As he did so, his green eyes wandered to a calendar hanging from his doorway. The first thing he saw was a crossed out event that sent a shiver down his spine. “Job Interview-November 2nd”. That was three weeks ago.
With a furrowed brow, his eyes scanned further down the page, lighting upon a different date which sent the same shiver through his back. “Flam in Town-November 30th”. That was only a week from today.
Flim leaned against the counter, slowly running his hooves through his mangled red mane. He felt bad, truly he did. A twin was excited to see his other half coming by to visit, or at least, that’s what should ideally happen. But as much as he tried to conjure up some joy, to imagine that warm feeling you’d get from seeing an old lost friend, he only ended up feeling emptier inside. Then again, this wasn’t exactly a visit—more like a chance encounter really. Then there was the issue of the last time they met years ago, which didn’t exactly end on kind terms and quiet voices.
“Bah! Who cares, right?” Flim said to the floating glass. “I’m sure that’s all water under the bridge by now. He’s my brother, he’ll listen. He…he has to…”
Gulping down the last bit of water, the former salespony made his way back to his bedroom, kicking random bags and wrappers out of his path. He sat himself down at his desk, levitating the quill over the blank piece of parchment staring back at him. Taking in a few deep breaths, he touched the pen tip to the paper once again.
Before, part of him wanted to give Flam an unexpected surprise; after all, he figured he had enough charisma left in the tank for it. After carefully considering the last words he had said to his brother, that was certainly out of the question. So Flim forced himself to write a letter. So that maybe—just maybe—things wouldn’t be as dreadful as he expected them to be.
To My Dearest and Loving Brother…
The quill paused. Yes, this one could take a while.
A mustache-clad stallion stood at the side of a dirt road, a white cap dangling lazily from his limp hoof. The sun beat down upon his face, and the locks of his red mane were damp with sweat. He was leaning against a large odd contraption emitting a rumble, exhaust spewing out of its bottom. Rolling his eyes, the salespony let out an exasperated sigh and commented, “I don’t know about this, Flim.”
Suddenly, a head popped out from underneath the contraption. It was another stallion, who looked remarkably like the other, sans the mustache. Rubbing the thin layer of soot off his face, the other unicorn smiled and replied, “Nonsense, good ol' brother of mine! You mustn’t worry so much!”
Not even looking down, Flam said, “You don’t need to talk like that, you know.”
Flim slipped out from underneath the Super Cider Squeezy, using his magic to clean off the dust from his fur. Brushing back his mane, he answered jubilantly, “Sorry, Flam. Just trying to get into character is all. But I am being serious though. Don’t worry so much! I've got this thing fixed up and ready to go.”
"I'm not just talking about the machine."
After tossing a toolbox into a small compartment with a CLANG!, Flim turned to his sibling, dusting off his hooves. "Oh, pish-posh. You're just in a sour mood. It's going to go fine!"
He tried to put his foreleg around his brother’s shoulder, but Flam nimbly shrugged it off, taking a step back. He narrowed his eyes, letting out an annoyed huff. “That’s what you said last time around, and they didn’t take too kindly to the, ahem, performance.”
“True, true. But don’t you remember what we said before? We knew there was bound to be a couple of rough spots every now and then. Every new business gets them! That doesn’t mean we won’t get our break sooner or later!”
“But we—.”
Flim shoved his snout into his brother’s face, his eyes wide and his mouth pulled into a toothy grin. This time he forcefully took Flam into a close embrace, putting cheek against cheek. He theatrically waved a hoof towards the horizon, where a tiny village atop a hill surrounded by clouds could be seen. “Haven’t you been paying attention to what we’re singing?” Flim asked confidently. “There’s opportunity all over the place, my dear brother! I don’t care if we need to travel from town to town until we find the right fit, because I know it’s out there.”
“But what if it isn’t?” Flam quickly shoved his sibling away, much to Flim’s surprise. Seeing the hurt in his brother’s eyes, Flam’s expression softened. With a calm sigh, he continued, “I'm sorry, Flim. But don’t you think our act is getting a bit…I don’t know…stale? I mean after Ponyville, things haven’t had quite as much umph, you know? Why don’t we try changing things up a bit?”
The two stood in silence for a few seconds, staring into each other’s faces. Flam tilted his head, hoping for some kind of reply. But for a while, Flim was silent, staring at the ground with his hoof to his chin, as though he were lost in thought. Then he abruptly burst into laughter, shattering the stolid façade. Leaning against the vehicle, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, he said, “Ha ha! Change things up? Pssh, now you’re talking crazy, Flam! This is what we envisioned, we ought to stick to it.”
“I envisioned us making money,” the sibling grumbled under his breath.
“And this is how we’re going to do it!” With a cocky smile, Flim climbed up the Super Cider Squeezy, reclining into the cushioned chair with his hooves behind his head. He gazed over the side to find Flam glaring up at him with fiery eyes, shooting up daggers. Recoiling a bit, Flim reassured, “Oh come on, don’t give me that look. This is the one, I’m sure of it. They’re just a bunch of stupid pegasi, what the heck do they know about the cider business? They’ll be amused by our little diddy and then they’ll be playing right into our hooves. I’m telling you Flam. This little venture we have is unique. The Super Cider Squeezy 7000 is going to be a smashing hit!”
“Only as long as you stop making bets with the costumers. I can let Ponyville slide. But Detrot and Las Pegasus? Really?”
“You’re never going to let me live that down are you? I promised I’d never do it again, isn’t that enough for you?”
His voice rising, Flam replied, “It’s not enough, Flim! Look, I’m just trying to say…I don’t think you’ve got your businesses straight. I think you’re forgetting what we’re here to do!”
“Well I think I’ve got a perfectly good grasp on things.” Just as he finished, a bell echoed out from the cloudy village, followed by the sound of a galloping stampede. It was lunchtime, and hungry ponies were swiftly flooding the streets for food—and drink.
Flim’s eyes lit up. Banging on the vehicle, he called, “That’s our cue! Put on your cap, Flam, and get on! Come on, chop, chop!”
After muttering something unintelligible, the twin reluctantly plopped the hat on his head. He crept his way onto the Super Cider Squeezy 7000, silently taking his place in the lawn chair next to his brother. Seeing the grimace on Flam’s face, Flim said, “I know you’re upset, brother. But I promise you, this one’s the one. Now put on a smile. Let’s give these pegasi a good show, okay?”
“…Okay.”
The two’s horns simultaneously lit up, and the contraption slowly started to chug forward. Then the brothers put on their best smiles—chin up, chest out, eyes open—just as they had rehearsed hundreds of times before.
"Well, lookie what we got here, brother of mine, it's the same in every town..."