//------------------------------// // Survival // Story: Horseshoes // by Peter Yellowhammer //------------------------------// Macintosh genuinely could not believe what he had heard. It was ridiculous. "The only means I have to survive?" How could he have survived until now if he didn't have... Wait. One explanation did rear its ugly head. Oh, no. Oh, please no. His mind hurriedly collected the facts: 1) He hadn't been to Caramel's house in years. Well, 'been around' would be more accurate. 2) Caramel had a couple of belongings in the barn. 3) This barn had hay in it, very old hay at that. He had forgotten to replace it with all the mess of the year. 4) He saw the water bucket in the corner, half full with what must have been rainwater. 5) Caramel smelled awful, and he couldn't bathe here. Please tell me yer jokin'. Please tell me Ah'm jus' crazy. “Y-you mean...yer tellin' me--” "Eeyup," answered the dirty pony in a weak voice. "This is my house." You cain't be serious. "You cain't be serious! You cain't be! Yer...yer jus' bein' melodramatic, right? Right?" "Nnope." Big Macintosh felt itchy. Evening sunlight bathed the probably bitter hay...the hay on which Caramel was sleeping. This really was his home. "H-How...how th' hells did it git like this?! Don' you have a job or somethin'? Some support?" “I don't. But it's not anypony's fault but mine. Something's wrong with me: no matter what I..." Caramel stopped. All Macintosh could do was watch the beige pony's chest rise slowly with the inhale, fall deeply with the exhale; each second was stretched to its absolute limit. The floor beneath him seemed to shift with Caramel's breathing, even though he was rooted to it motionlessly. His eyes started burning again. "It's bad, Big Mac.” He stifled one final sob from his earlier trembling; it still hurt to think about what he had done, but this was seriously becoming strange. He felt like he was on a roller coaster. He hated rollercoasters. The one everypony made him try after the Cup was enough to turn his insides out...and Caramel might as well have been pulling the lever right then. He jostled his aching head. “U-um...whaddya mean?” “I mean..." Caramel got up off the floor. "Well, lemme show you.” He watched the beige pony walk over to one of the hay bales and put his hoof against it. “Now watch me try and push it.” Confused, Big Mac kept watching. The hoof applied pressure to the hay...and then slipped right through it. He forgot how to breathe. That hoof might as well have slipped right through him. That wasn't supposed to happen. Bale hay was packed specifically so things like that wouldn't happen, but his hoof slipped through the surface and inexplicably broke the tension holding it all together. The hay bale anticlimactically started to fall apart as if it were loose the whole time. “How did...you jus'...whut?” Caramel bowed his head, and Macintosh had to keep from bowing his own. Caramel wasn't supposed to be sad. It was one of the constants of his life: the sun rises and sets, the apples grow and fall, and Caramel's always happy. This wasn't right, it wasn't right at all. Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. “It's been like that since I can remember," Mel confessed. "I can do little things like write and walk and...eat, if there's no plate to break...but when I want to do something useful, something like that always happens. Like if I were to...you know what? I'm not going to demonstrate and risk ruining the support beam. I'm too tired, anyway.” “...Wait jus' a minute,” interrupted the listener. “Ah saw you work on th' farm, or try to anyway, an' you never destroyed a bale or anythin' like that!” Caramel brought his head back up and laughed bitterly. He wasn't supposed to be bitter, either... “I was a foal then, Big Mac! I was too weak to do that much damage...or something like that. Not anymore, though. Nnope...not anymore.” Then the hay destroyer just looked at him and sighed. “But yeah, this is what I am: a walking disaster. Whatever I touch, I ruin, unless it's gigantic. The only thing I can do well is shoe tricks. Just...just imagine somepony like that trying to get a job. And now you understand why I'm here...I make sure to eat light, so no worries there.” Macintosh was reeling from what he had just learned. This sort of thing shouldn't have been able to happen, not to Caramel, not to anypony. But even with the horror demonstrated, some way to live honestly had to be there, it just had to be. Yet...here they were. “Jus' how long have you lived like this?” Caramel looked to the floor of the barn. It seemed he was deliberately avoiding his guest's eyes, even though Big Mac was in truth the host. He was the host of something truly abominable. “...A little over a year.” He sat there in silence for some time. It was hard to know what to say or do; seeing the little pony like this was steadily wrenching him from the inside out, but he couldn't just sit there. He had to investigate. The big work pony decided to press further. “Nopony would take pity on you?”, Macintosh conjectured. The cursed pony grimaced. “I got by from staying at someponies' places overnight, up 'till this. That, or I just camped out. Usually, somepony would just let me come over and eat dinner with them, nice as can be...but I guess I was just too proud to tell them about me. Besides, that's the symptom and not the disease, as they say.” Caramel did look pretty thin. In fact, he looked like he had been sick lately. Perhaps he had been sick a lot, having lived in here for so long. Over a year - no, even more than that - of sickness and destitution, not asking for help...it was stupid. It was downright moronic. But more than anything else, it was heartbreaking to see... “Well...could yer talent--” “No." He had to recoil as Caramel blurted the harsh response. "I've looked. I've experimented. I've even tried to...well, it was far-fetch'd, no point in even mentioning it. There is absolutely no money in shoes, and I'm not talking mares' hoofwear.” Macintosh felt himself sink along with Caramel to the floor. "I wouldn't mind it normally, believe you me. Mine's not the only talent that's completely useless. But when this came into the picture, it just...well, you can imagine." Truthfully, he didn't know if he could. How could it possibly be this bad? No, it couldn't be. Caramel had to be mistaken. “Whut about yer family? Wouldn't they--” “I...don't want to talk about it.” Chills ran down the interrogator's spine as his subject changed tones dramatically: Caramel suddenly sounded meek and scared instead of just bitter. He didn't want to hear either tone, but there was no way he was leaving that alone. “Mel, Ah cain't accept that answer--” “I said I don't want to talk about it," his objective challenged, bitterness revived. "So...we're not gonna talk about it. Okay?” Macintosh got up to close in on the wounded pony, hoping to intimidate him. He had to step it up before he lost his nerve, before he lost him. “Nnope.” Caramel just stared back at him. “Tough.” “This is too serious t'sidestep, Mel," he insisted. "Ah need t'know if Ah'm gonna be able t'help you.” “Oh, sure, go ahead and try!”, Mel countered with exaggerated sourness. “Really! Five doctors couldn't figure it out, so wouldn't it be the funniest thing if a simple farm pony finally cracked the code! Now this I gotta see”, he finished as he laid on his back, hooves laid casually - irritatingly - behind his head. He felt itchy again. Calm down, Macintosh. He's upset. Be a peacemaker. Quelling his frustration, he inferred as much as he could in his head. Besides Caramel's house, he hadn't seen the pony's father in years either; it just wasn't important to him to check. After all, he figured everything was fine until now. Did he just sell their house and leave him here? As much as he hated to keep asking, he needed more information. Dagnabbit. This ain't like you at all...Why're you makin' this so difficult? “Okay, forget it fer now,” the simple farm pony offered. “Whut about...whut about them 'surreal' jobs? You certainly seem smart enough fer one o' 'em.” The jobless pony seemed to calm down a bit, and therefore so did Big Macintosh. He only had to keep things businesslike, eeyup. He could do this. “Tried that, too.” “...An'?” “...And look where I am now!", Caramel retaliated with a glare. "What do you think happened?! And it's called 'cerebral', by the way, not that it matters.” “But how in Equestria did...?!” “It was always something stupid. I would touch a desk or a stack of forms wrong and completely ruin them. Even I can admit that's not employee material for the up and up...” Just for a second, the failed employee seemed like he was about to break down, but then he wiped all expression from his face. Macintosh tried desperately to do the same, racking his brain for a solution. He looked at the sunlight streaming on the broken hay...then beamed as the answer sat right in front of him. “Hold on! You wrecked that bale purdy good. Whut if you did demolition work?” “Hah! Nice try,” Caramel spat back. “That was the last job I went for. I wasn't turned away because I was inappropriate...but because I was inadequate! Imagine it! If you had the choice between quality explosives and wrecking tools versus some cursed pony who could just...ruin some hay or whatever, which would you pick? Oh, that really summed it up for me; too much for one kind of job, not enough for another. "And it goes without saying I couldn't work the tools myself; believe me, the one time I tried it was...I'm just glad nopony was hurt. They kept my secret just to get rid of me; I can't blame them." Now Macintosh started to tremble again. But this time it was from that tiny flicker of anger that was hampered in his mind, which suddenly burst to life. Nopony could be this stupid... "Well, then you shoulda gone fer a smaller demo job." The clueless pony looked completely incredulous...but then he chuckled. It wasn't a forced chuckle, just a normal one. What was so damn funny? "'A smaller demo job'. Cute. You think of that yourself? Do you seriously think that kind of job exists?" ...Oh, now Ah see how it is. Big Mac took a deep breath to calm down: he had to just run through the possibilities until he found the ticket. "You could make that job. Experimentin', like you said before." "Oh, please tell me you don't think I haven't thought of that," pleaded Caramel sarcastically. "It's a nice sounding idea until you realize...I would still be selling my defect. Who in Equestria or beyond would be comfortable taking work like that? "And before you even say it," Caramel preempted just as Big Mac prepared to rebut, "pity will only go so far. Pity...is a novelty that will wear off, and I've seen that happen just in interviews for jobs. Add that with the lack of demand for something like that, and there goes that idea. Sorry." Big Mac took another deep breath. "You say that, but did you try it?" Now Caramel just looked exasperated. As frustrated as he was, he had to admit it was a cute face. "WAY too risky, Macintosh. If it failed, I'd have nothing to show for it except everypony knowing about what I am." "Eeyup," insisted Macintosh through gnashing teeth, "an' then they could HELP you." "Pfft," spat Caramel. "Avoid me, more like. They'd get paranoid that I could melt their flesh or something stupid like that. 'Oh, stay away! It's the Disintegrator, Aaaah!'" Big Mac did not laugh. "...I'm telling you," continued Caramel, "you can't sell my destruction, just like you can't sell tricks with shoes." That...! Even if that's true, that doesn't mean you should give up...that's DEFINITELY not like you. "...Use yer shoes t'do other jobs. Like...whut do you call those things trains ride on?" "Railways?" "Eeyup, them. Ah...Ah don' see why you couldn't...hammer nails into th' metal with a shoe or somethin'." Even he knew he was losing momentum, but he had to keep going. "I actually did try that...and dear Celestia, what happened was awful. If I hammered even slightly different than the other workers, part of the railway would explode. They wouldn't even let me try to fix anything; they just fired me and told me to never come back." "...That's weird," commented Macintosh. Caramel nodded wryly. "But anyway, you could...do somethin' that didn't involve labor. Like counseling." "You need a degree for that, AND I'm not exactly the consoling type. I can't just smile other ponies' problems away." For a second, Big Mac could have sworn he saw Caramel mouth to himself: "Believe me, I've tried." "...Music." "That does involve labor with instruments, and I ruined said instruments. They were expensive to replace, too; Dad was not happy that day." "Singin'." "Do I sound like a singer to you?" "Mascot." That at least made the stubborn pony pause. He stepped away from him to help him think. "I can't feed myself on wages that low. And even if I could, can you picture me - just me - as a mascot? Costumes are out of the question, because...you know. They'd just find somepony more suitable for the job...assuming they even wanted one." "...Fortune telling!", grunted Macintosh. "A fortune teller shredding cards doesn't inspire too many ponies, Mac," said Caramel with an aggravating smile. "ROLL CALL! All you gotta do is stand in one place an' count. Don' tell me that's outta th' question, too!" "I don't know if you've noticed, but that's not a paying gig. But keep trying; this is fun!" Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. Don' git carried away, jus' stick with yer brains. "Announcements." "Electronic equipment." "Use a Unicorn fer that voice enhancement thingy!" "Oh, but this pony right here doesn't need that! 'NEXT'." "Foal sittin'." "It's juuuuuuuust a little awkward when you have to explain to a foal--" "Consultin'!" "You-You don't just get a job like that. Too much in the way." "Don' gimme that--MAKE IT WORK!" "I TRIED! It was all I could do at that point; trying to cut red tape for pointless jobs. It just...it just doesn't work when you have a track record like mine." Big Macintosh was beyond trying to control himself. He would not accept the 'hopelessness' of the situation, no matter how difficult it was. "You...JEWEL APPRAISAL!" "You think a jeweler would risk making flaws in--" "ANIMAL SITTING!" "Now you're just desperate--" "STAND! UP! COMEDY!" "I'M! NOT! FUNNY!" Big Macintosh flopped to the barn floor in defeat, groaning loud enough to make the weakened structure shake a little. Wait, no, he couldn't give in here! He made himself stand up just as he registered Caramel mumbling something along the lines of: "At least that's what the club owners said..." “Ah...Ah refuse t'believe anypony could be forced t'live off mah farm like...like this! You cain't jus' git discouraged an' give up like this, babe! There hasta be somethin' you can do fer bits, there jus' hasta be!” Caramel kept his face neutral, looking to the roof of the barn. Big Macintosh ran through every money-for-work situation he could imagine...but all he could really think of was the dirty pony in front of him, disillusioned and silently broken. No matter how stupid the pony was being, he didn't deserve this. “Well, if there is, I'd love to hear it. I'm stumped myself.” It hurt to hear that. It hurt so bad. It had to stop; this whole ordeal had to stop. ...Whut did Ah say back there? Oh no...Ah-Ah gotta ignore it an' press on, it's too important. “C-Caramel...Ah'll help you, we'll find somethin'. Maybe we'll find a cure or SOMETHIN' t'end this. This...this is unacceptable.” The homeless pony's mask was finally starting to break. And so was he. “I know. I...I know it is. Do you think I would w-wish anypony away that could help me?! But nopony can! None of 'em! Not my teachers, not my father, not my doctors, not the entertainment industry, AND CERTAINLY NOT SOME FLAWLESS DOLT LIKE YOU!” Macintosh lost his grip again as he saw hot tears running down Caramel's dirty cheeks. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it at all. He just sat himself down and caught the grieving pony in his hooves and held him tightly, shutting his eyes from the sight. He felt hooves grab his neck and pull him down. He shivered as a muzzle buried itself in his shoulder, craning his neck to do the same. Each sob brought him closer to tears of his own. It was exactly what he wanted to do, and it was exactly what he was afraid would happen. Macintosh cradled him as best he could, struggling to stay strong. But after a couple of minutes went by, he felt it all too powerfully. Caramel was so vulnerable, so broken instead of his usual sweet and mild self he had come to admire. And he was right there, comforting the pony with his entire body. It was too much. It was too sudden. He just couldn't keep it up; it made him so weak. Lifting his muzzle, the flawless dolt shook as he nuzzled Caramel's neck and gingerly licked his cheek.