//------------------------------// // Thick as a Brick (Love Story) // Story: Aqualung: A Tale of Ego and Recovery // by Keatosimo //------------------------------//         Broken Broom sat on the sofa, draping his foreleg around the reading unicorn next to him. It seemed like such a long time ago. It had started slowly, like a newborn beginning to comprehend the world beyond it’s mother’s embrace. Before she knew it, Trixie’s life turned around, much like the cold winter that was now melting into a pleasant but cool spring. Four months was how long it took for the former beggar to claw her way back up. She applied for a job at Donut Joe’s as a hostess. It was a petty job, one that Trixie would never have considered a year ago, but it was a job. One that she was proud of.         “How ya feelin’?” He asked, running his hoof through his girlfriend’s mane.         Trixie sighed, “Well.”         “Really?” He asked, aware of Trixie’s lie.         “Yes, Broken Broom.” She responded.         “T-trixie, I’m not d-dumb.” He returned, his tone much more serious.         “I want something.”         “That’s vague.”         “I... I want to go on a date.” Trixie nuzzled into Broken Broom.         “We go on d-dates a lot!” He replied.         Unfortunately, Broken Broom was not perceptive to the emotions of a mare. His definition of a date was bare bones. Like most stallions, romance was not his strong suit.         “I mean on something more than just a walk in the park, or dinner at a fancy restaurant!” Trixie exclaimed.         “That d-doesn’t count?” Broken Broom asked, surprised.         “It does, it’s just... not what I imagine sometimes.” Trixie explained. “You know, something more... romantic!” “Note to self: Romantic comedies are not reliable sources of information.” He thought to himself. A gleam of inspiration shone in Broken Broom’s eyes.         “I think I c-can remedy th-that. B-be dressed and ready to g-go at eight.” He replied with a sly grin. And with that, he was out the door, leaving a bewildered Trixie in his wake. Seventeen flights of stairs later, he was prowling the streets of Manehattan. His plan was spur of the moment, and it was brilliantly romantic. At least he hoped it was. It didn’t matter anyway, his girlfriend wanted something romantic, and he was obligated to figure something out. He carefully made his way to a flower shop, bits jingling in his pockets.         Trixie stood like a statue, staring intently into her bathroom mirror. She idly combed her hair. It seemed like such a long time ago that she wallowed in the slums of Manehattan, slowly dying as she begged for scraps. It seemed like such a long time ago that a socially inept doctor planted one hell of a kiss on her lips, not days after they had met. By all standards, Trixie should have drawn the line there. But something kept her from doing so. Maybe it was loneliness? Desperation? She hadn’t the foggiest idea. All she knew is that she liked it.         She cocked her head from side to side. Satisfied with her mane style, she trotted over to her wardrobe. A year earlier, her dream closet would have consisted of expensive and lavish garb. Fashion lines from the inspirations of Spitfire, or Photo Finish, or (as much as Trixie despised her) Rarity. Now, her wardrobe was her uniform for work, Broken Broom’s old bomber jacket, and a simple midnight blue dress for formal occasions. She sat on her haunches, and placed a hoof to her chin. She was no fashionista, but even she knew that she had absolutely nothing to wear.         “Nothing, nothing, nothing!” Trixie groaned, throwing herself onto her bed for dramatic effect. After a momentary rest, the showmare rolled off of the bed and onto her hoofs. A look of determination replaced her look of exasperation.         “Well, time to go shopping!” The mare exclaimed.         “Are you sure she’ll l-like these f-flowers?” Broken Broom asked again. “She c-can get really p-picky.” The mare behind the counter at Begonia’s Flower Shop nodded vigorously.         “Yes, sir, I’m sure she will.” She spoke, her teeth grinding. She was this close to kicking Broken Broom out of the shop. Broken Broom, on the other hand, wasn’t taking any chances.         “Okay, I’ll t-take your w-word for it, but if she d-d-doesn’t like them, it’ll be your fault, Miss Begonia.” The doctor continued, undeterred by the mare’s blatant annoyance. “You know how m-mares are, right? Oh y-yeah, you are a m-mare! Sorry, I f-forgot-” Up until this point, Begonia’s anger had been slowly bottling up, and it took all her self-control to keep it in check. Unfortunately, Broken Broom’s inherent awkwardness had managed to pop the seal. Her hooves slammed on the counter. Broken Broom stopped his ranting and stared at the mare, befuddled. “Listen, bud, I’ll only say this once. I am, in fact, a mare, in case you didn’t notice. I am absolutely, positively, one hundred percent damn sure that your girlfriend will love the everloving tartarus out of those Morning Glories. Celestia damn it, I know what I’m doing, so why is it that when all of the love struck stallions come into my shop, they question my expertise? Like what the buck, are all of you thick as a brick?!” The mare exclaimed. She looked up with an exasperated, only to find that all eyes in the store were glued to her. She cleared her throat, and finally noticed that Broken Broom had slipped away, leaving only a pile of bits to pay for the flowers. Broken Broom trotted hurriedly out of the door and onto the streets. He was utterly confused. Had he said something? “No matter. Flowers: check. Suit? Negatory. Picnic? Nope. Okay, let’s get to it.”         Trixie wandered through the boutique like a foal in a candy store. Dresses surrounded her on all sides, and she couldn’t help but ogle at the fancy ponies who pranced around in their expensive clothes. Her drunken stupor was broken when she felt a hoof tap on her withers. She turned around face a pegasus stallion. The stallion was of average build, with a curly but well kept fuschia and red mane. His fur was a light gray, and his eyes shone an even lighter gray. He had a smile that just radiated hospitality and humility. He wore a vest with blue bowtie.         “Welcome to Grant’s Garb. I’m Barnstorm. May I help you?” The stallion asked. His accent gave him away instantly as a native of Dodge Junction. It wasn’t nearly as abrasive as an Appleoosan native, rather it was gentle and soothing, much like that of a country singers.         “Yes, I need a dress. Preferably dark and simple, but still elegant.” Trixie responded. “Thank you.” The stallion’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and then a smile split his face. He beckoned Trixie to follow and began trotting through the aisles.         “I know exactly what you need, ma’am. Something form fitting is a necessity with your figure, which is near flawless.” Trixie flushed. “And you’d like something simple? Definitely not one of Rarity’s or Knit Pearl’s designs.” He continued to browse the selections.         “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with Rarity.” Trixie responded. Barnstorm’s ear flicked.         “Oh, are you? Her debut was breakout, but, between you and me? I find her dresses a bit gaudy, and her fame is owed to being an element of harmony and a friend of Princess Twilight. Still, I can see some appeal to her couture, if not for just the Canterlot nobility.” The stallion grinned. Trixie giggled at the comment, almost giddy that she wasn’t the only one to think that. Barnstorm brought out a rack with several dresses.         “Alrighty, I have some that I think you’ll like. Try ‘em on and tell me how you feel.”         Trixie nodded and stepped behind one of the many privacy curtains. After several minutes of wriggling into the dress, she stepped out in front of Barnstorm. The stallion had a pensive look on his face. He motioned for the mare to rotate. Trixie decided to break the silence. Barnstorm seemed like a pleasant pony to converse with.         “So, Barnstorm, was it? I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem like the stallion to be in this business.” Trixie observed. Barnstorm let out a hearty laugh.                  “You ain’t the first one to point that out, ma’am. What gave it away: the name, the wings, or the accent?” Barnstorm asked, still keenly observing Trixie, who had switched dresses.         “All three, actually.” Trixie responded, twirling in a black dress with royal purple flecks.         “Well, my parents were both Wonderbolts. Fierce Wind and Gusty. They retired to Dodge Junction when I was born, but still thought it proper to give me a racing name since I was a pegasus. Hence, Barnstorm. They weren’t too happy when I decided to go to college rather than join the Wonderbolts, but eventually they warmed up and helped me get a degree as a chemical engineer. Turn around please. Technically, my job is to create synthetic fabrics for a variety of uses. I’m just filling in for my husband since the lab I work for is an extension of this store. Allergy season hits him hard... Ah, I’m ramblin’. Tell me, what is this here new dress for? Party? Date?”         “That’s quite a story, Mr. Barnstorm. As for the dress, it’s for a date tonight, and I just don’t have anything for the occasion.” Trixie responded. She was a little frustrated at this point. None of the dresses really suited her. She slipped into her bomber jacket.         “I’m terribly sorry, but none of these dresses seem to suit me. I just can’t seem to find the right one...” Trixie trailed off as she noticed the stallion staring at her jacket.         “Wait here, ma’am.” Barnstorm commanded. Trixie stood there for several minutes, waiting for Barnstorm to return from whatever quest for fashion he was undertaking. Several ponies passed by, giving  hoity toity glares at the casually dressed Trixie. Barnstorm trotted into view, balancing a black bundle on his back.         “Here, I think this might be the one, ma’am. Oh, and put on your jacket after the dress is on.” Barnstorm said as Trixie lifted the dress magically and carried it behind the privacy veil. After a brief time, Trixie stepped out. Barnstorm grinned wildly and hurriedly pulled a mirror over. Trixie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A tight, black dress with white speckles followed her figure perfectly. The dress had a satin-like finish, but wasn’t overbearing. It was simple, yet graceful and elegant. What really topped it off, was Trixie’s jacket. The brown faux-leather and the fuzzy cream colored lining added depth to the outfit that she knew Broken Broom would appreciate. She turned to Barnstorm, beaming.         “I love it, I love it, I love it!” She squealed, hugging the stallion like a vice grip.         “All in a day’s work, ma’am. Now let’s get you measured.” Barnstorm replied cooly, rubbing his hoof on his vest.         Barnstorm took measured Trixie with a cold and calculating gaze, careful to make sure each measurement was correct. He sent the dress and the measurements back to the tailors, who recreated the dress to perfectly fit Trixie. Ten minutes of idle conversation and two hundred bits later, Trixie was trotting gleefully back to her apartment. This time she took the elevator.         Broken Broom walked into Grant’s Garb, fully intent on looking as snazzy as possible. He slowly trotted through the store, looking for the suit that he knew would blow Trixie away. His bouquet of flowers sat snugly in his saddlebags. He was muzzle deep into a suit rack when the sound of a clearing throat brought him wheeling around. “Welcome to Grant’s Garb, sir. I’m Barnstorm. May I help you?” The stallion greeted Broken Broom, holding his hoof out, which Broken Broom promptly shook. “Yeah, I have a d-date tonight, and I need a suit.” Broken Broom explained. Barnstorm raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and nodded. The stallion eyed the doctor, slowly circumventing the scrawny earth pony. Barnstorm trotted off, Broken Broom in town. “So, tell me about your date. What are her tastes? That alone could make or break your date.” Barnstorm inquired. “Well, she’s g-got simple tastes, I g-guess. She prefers d-dark and simple, but elegant. But she’d d-d-definitely want an aura of g-grace.” The doctor replied, slowly listing off Trixie’s preferences. Barnstorm’s eyes slowly widened as a sly grin crossed his face.         “I think I know exactly what you need, sir.” Barnstorm replied, his voice dripping with giddiness. The pegasus trotted off into the backrooms. Broken Broom stood there, unsure what to do. He stared around the room, occasionally making awkward eye contact with other ponies. Relief finally came when Barnstorm returned with a single suit on his back. He transferred it to Broken Broom’s possession, who in turn made his way behind a privacy veil. Broken Broom emerged slowly. Barnstorm coaxed him out, and when the doctor was fully exposed, he began to examine him. The suit itself was simple in design. A single breasted white suit with ivory buttons. What made it stand out was the black silk peaked lapel and the black chalk stripes running up and down the suit. On the back of the suit, a shallow cut vent further enhanced the dashing properties of the suit.         “Perfect.” Barnstorm whispered. Broken Broom was staring at his reflection, clearly impressed with Barnstorm’s expertise.         “I’ll take it.” Broken Broom exclaimed. Barnstorm nodded his affirmation, and began measuring the stallion. He took the suit back, and the two stallions shot the breeze about sports, politics and other masculine topics as they waited for the tailors to alter the suit. One of the seamstresses brought the suit out from the back and handed it to Broken Broom. He was trepidatious when the price tag of three hundred bits was presented, but these doubts were shaken when Barnstorm reminded of what was really at stake here. Broken Broom exited the boutique more confident than usual.         “Alright, let’s get that picnic.”                  “Ahah! I knew you two love birds hooked up!” Donut Joe shouted. Words could not express his satisfaction when Broken Broom came trotting through that back door with a new suit and bouquet. “I was wondering why you’s of all ponies needed a picnic, and then it hit me!” “Yeah, yeah, Joe. Look, is that order r-ready?” Broken Broom asked, desperate to escape embarrassment. “Yessir, Broom. Two dee-luxe salads, a bottle of aged Canterlot Merlot, and the traditional pic-a-nic blanket and basket. You’re really goin’ all out, arentcha?” Broken Broom nodded, as he fished for bits. “I didn’t th-think that you did this k-kind of business, Joe.” Donut Joe shook his head with a smile. “I don’t. But since you’s a friend, I thought I could make an exception... Y’know, Broom, in all seriousness, it’s good that you’s doin’ this for ya girl. I knew since that mare walked into this store askin’ for a black coffee that she’s been through some tough shit. I dunno what happened between you two, but whatever you did, it’s turned her life around. She may not be my best employee, but she sure damn tries, and that counts for something.” Joe said with a chuckle. “Listen, I was young once too. I made mistakes, lost fillies that I loved, and won ‘em back. Life is too short for that. You’s good for Trixie, and likewise. Whatever you’s got planned for her, make her happy, aight?” Broken Broom nodded with a smile, “Don’t worry, Joe, I fully intend to.”         Trixie sat in the den of her and Broken Broom’s apartment, wearing her new dress and feeling incredibly nervous. There she had been sitting, waiting for whatever Broken Broom had planned for the mare. The clock read 7:56 PM. Truth be told, Trixie’s nervousness was more excitement than anything. It was about time that Broken Broom had at least attempted something to Trixie’s romantic satisfaction. The mare began skimming through a copy of Ponies magazine nabbed from Broken Broom’s clinic. A knock on the door startled her.         “Wh-Who’s there?” Trixie asked worriedly. The door opened, revealing an incredibly handsome Broken Broom. His wiry mane was combed, and suit worn. One of the morning glories from his bouquet sat in his breast pocket.         “You poor old sod, you see it’s only me.” The doctor said with a grin, confidence radiating from his speech. His and Trixie’s eyes widened as they took in each others image.         “Wow...” They whispered in unison. An immediate spout of sputters came from both ponies. Trixie kept stuttering trying to compliment his mane. Broken Broom tried and failed to compliment his girlfriend’s eyes. Eventually, Broken Broom shoved the bouquet in Trixie’s face. Glad to end the stutterfest, Trixie pulled Broken Broom into a hug.         “Is that... Is th-that my old jacket?” Broken Broom asked with an eyebrow raised.         “Uh, yes? Is it bad? Should I change? I don’t w-” Trixie spouted, hit by a surge of self-consciousness.         “Trixie. Honestly, it’s... It’s b-beautiful. You look p-perfect.” Broken Broom cut in. A momentary silence overtook the pair.         “So, um. Are we ready to go?” Trixie asked. Broken Broom remembered that he was on a date.         “Oh! Uh, y-yea! Follow me!” He ordered. He walked over to the fire escape window. At this point, Trixie was slightly confused but followed anyway. On the balcony, Broken Broom’s ashtray and box of cigars was gone. Far above the neon haze and manehattan life, Trixie and Broken Broom slowly ascended. The two reached the roof after climbing a ladder that Broken Broom had set beforehand. Trixie gasped in astonishment. Before her lay a red and white checkered blanket with a wicker basket, a bottle of wine, and candles.         “It’s... How did you do this?” Trixie could only ask.         “Well, th-there are two fire escapes.” Broken Broom explained. Both the doctor and Trixie burst into a fit of laughter as they walked over to their skyline picnic. Twenty stories above the streets, the sounds of life below were dulled to white noise. Broken Broom poured the wine with tact only an earth pony could muster.         “You did all of this... for me?” Trixie broke the silence. Broken Broomed rubbed the back of his neck.         “Well, y-yeah. I mean, you asked f-for it.” He replied with a chuckle. The couple dug into their food, silence overtaking them save for the near inaudible sound of wine sipping and chewing. Candlelight bathed them in a dim light, allowing them to only see the prominent features of their faces. Trixie’s face was purple in the light. Broken Broom’s had turned a shade of red as well. The two finished their food quickly, both satisfied with Donut Joe’s culinary expertise. Broken Broom scooted over next to Trixie sporadically, eventually wrapping his foreleg around her.         Trixie leaned in, pecking Broken Broom on the lips. She looked away quickly, as did Broken Broom, both ponies beet red. They met for another kiss. Trixie pushed into it, shoving her tongue into Broken Broom’s mouth. The stallion fought back, using his own tongue to dance with Trixie. They broke the kiss and met each other’s gaze.         “This is nice.” Trixie stated simply. She couldn’t be closer to the truth. The couple sipped their wine, not speaking, rather enjoying each other’s warmth and presence. Trixie nuzzled into Broken Broom’s neck, sighing contentedly.         “So... Was this r-romantic enough?” Broken Broom asked coyly. Trixie giggled in response.         “Yes, this would’ve been romantic enough even if you would have served ramane.” She replied jokingly.         “Well, in that c-case...” Broken Broom shot back, a mischievous grin splitting his face. Trixie laughed heartily, but said no more.         Some time had passed with the two ponies intertwined in each other's embrace before Broken Broom had felt his mare shiver. He prodded her shoulder.         “It’s g-getting kind of chilly. Want to h-head inside?” He asked. Trixie nodded and stood up slowly. Broken Broom rose with her, stretching his legs. The two walked back down to their apartment in close proximity to one another. The pair entered the den. Broken Broom trotted behind Trixie. The mare had subtly begun swaying her hips. Broken Broom’s jaw dropped as he realized the implications. They reached the door quickly. Trixie whipped around, a sultry smirk plaster across her face. Her magic opened the door, and she walked into the darkness, leaving Broken Broom stunned in the doorway. Seconds later, he felt a tug on his tie, and was slowly drug into the room, the only light an ethereal glow from Trixie’s horn and his tie. The door slammed close behind him.