//------------------------------//
// Ch. 10: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings 
// Story: Good Griff! 
// by Von Snootingham 
//------------------------------//


Good Griff! 


Part 2 – The Road to Nowhere


Chapter 10 – I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings


(In Which Everyone’s Family Is Just… Just Really Great)




‑=VERMONT: THE FIFTH DAY=‑


Awkward.

That’s the only thing I have to say right now about last night. I kinda want to talk to Bones about it, but I kinda don’t. Not that I have a choice. She’s been avoiding me all day. She locked herself in her room last night and won’t come out. Or maybe just not when I’m around. Beats the shit out of me. I can’t figure her out. She won’t even answer the door when I knock. Guess she just needs space?

Flim and Flam were kinda weird this morning too. When I passed them, they gave me this weird smile and just stared at me like they were expecting something. I don’t know what the fuck that was about.

Then I went out and exercised for a while. I tried all sorts of new stuff. I mean, I sort of had to. Pushups don’t really make any sense when you walk on all fours all the time anyway. Now wingups… Those are for winners. I made them up. They’re like a pushups, except for your wings. Pretty clever, huh? Say what you want about this whole situation, but with all this extra time on my talons, err, hands, I’m getting a hell of a workout lately.

But you can only take up so much time exercising, so then I went and actually helped Sunny Daze in his little garden. Weirdly enough, stuff’s actually starting to sprout, even though we’ve only been here five days. Guess he really is good with plants. I thought that was supposed to only be earth ponies, and not pegasuses, but what the hell do I know? When I offered to help him, I swear, I thought his jaw was going to fall off. Then he shook it off and asked, “How’d it go?” What’s “it”? I don’t know what the fuck that was about either.

So we worked in the dirt for a while until he decided we were done. Now I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I have WAAAY too much time on my hands these days and not enough to fill it. Maybe I’ll go work on my tree house in the woods. I dunno. I better figure something out or I’m gonna go nuts.


»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»


‑=THE SIXTH DAY=‑


She’s still avoiding me today. What the hell?

I haven’t even seen her out of her room. I just hope she’s at least coming out for food when I’m not around. I know I used to tease Steve about needing to go on a diet, but this isn’t what I was talking about.

After my morning workout, I went to see if Flim and Flam had anything they needed help with. I’m that bored. They didn’t, but we got to talking. They’re really not such bad guys once you learn to ignore the asshole carny exterior, especially Flam. I think Flim was pretty much always kinda like this a little. I mean, he did willingly hock shitty appliances on TV. But Flam’s a little bit more like Steve was: a dweeb. I mean, that doesn’t mean we have anything in common, but at least that’s something I have experience dealing with.

We do have some common ground, I guess. He reminded me that he used to be female and we got to talking about how it’s super shitty how people expect you to be a certain way just because you’re chick. Flim took that as his cue to leave. Man, It’s gotta suck for Flam. This transformation thing’s hard enough without growing a cock. Huh, maybe I should have been nicer to Bones about that. Except, you know, she went the opposite way. Whatever.

So yeah, anyway, turns out the reason Flam stays pretty much by himself in the RV, is he’s still pretty embarrassed about it. He really hates the mustache. I asked why he doesn’t shave it off and he looked at me like I was crazy. He said it, “just wouldn’t feel right”.

We chatted for a while until we realized we were both really hungry. That’s now. So now it’s off to the kitchen to get some grub. Not literal grubs. I’ve actually found myself looking at bugs out in the woods and thinking they look kind of tasty before I catch myself. Maybe griffons like bugs? I don’t care, I am NOT doing it. I’ll stick to meat, thank you. Mmm. Now I’m thinking about porkchop sandwiches. Maybe that’s what I’ll have for lunch. 

Just as we’re at the house, I hear the sound of car coming up the driveway and I stop.

Flam notices my reaction and asks, “Why, what ever is the matter?”

“Just get inside,” I order him. He does. I need to see who’s coming up the drive.

I jog over to the corner of the house and peek around. There’s a silver BMW coming driving up. Oh, it’s just Liz. She’s early today. When she parks and gets out, I tell her so. “Hey, Liz. You’re here early. What’s up?”

At the sound of my voice, she tenses up before forcing herself to relax. “Hello, Gilda,” she greets me as we enter the house. Her smile is obviously forced. Flam is just inside the door, waiting for me. He greets Liz too. “Yes, hello, Fern,” she bare acknowledges him before turning back to me. “A client cancelled on me, so I had an opening between appointments. I thought I’d get this out of the way early.”

“No deliveries today, my dear?” Flam asks.

“I’m a realtor, not a courier,” is her blunt reply. “Where’s my brother?”

“Ahhh, dunno. We haven’t seen in all morning, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” I admit.

Liz just sighs.

“That boy’s got a regular green thumb, he does. Or hoof, as the case may be. There are two places he’ll be if he’s anywhere. If he’s not in the living room, he’ll be in his little garden. If I were a betting woman; and I am a betting woman; I’d wager that’s where you’ll find him,” offers Flam.

Liz pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a sharp breath. Suddenly, she shouts, “DAAVEEY!”

We hear the sound of something falling over in the other room, followed by the clip-clopping of hooves and Sunny’s face popping into the doorway. “Oh, hey sis!” he chirps.

Flam and I share an embarrassed look. “Or that surely works as well.”

“Come on, Beth! I wanna show you something!” Sunny announces. She sighs and walks over to him. He wraps a wing around her to prod her along fast and she stiffens. Then they’re out of the doorway and out of sight, leaving me and Flam alone.

“Is it just me, or does Liz not like us?” I wonder.

“I am beginning to get the impression that no, she doesn’t care for us so well,” Flam agrees. We go about making our lunches.

As we do, I can hear snippets of whispered arguing from the other room. “...have time… this nonse... no… babysit… weird friends… my job… illeg… David…”

“I guess we’re not the only ones she isn’t crazy about right now,” I tell Flam.


»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»~»


‑=THE SEVENTH DAY=‑


Fuck, man. What the hell? She’s still avoiding me. Did I do something wrong here? I mean, she’s the one who came out and said it. I didn’t do anything. I’m starting to get offended and kinda pissed about it. Women. I tell ya, I’ve got ninety nine problems and bitches are about half of ‘em.

I tried spying on her to get a read, but that didn’t help any. Listening under the door just got me some more of her dream gibberish. Sounded like more stupid poetry, “Head the ship for England. Shake out every sail. Blithe leap the billows, merry sings the gale. Captain, work the reckoning. How many knots a day? Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way.”

So if that’s supposed to tell the future, that means we’re going to go sailing to England, I guess? Probably to see her family. Ha, like I believe that. I figured she was awake and just messing with me, so I flew up and peeked in the window, but she was definitely conked out. This sort of thing isn’t creepy, is it? Peeking in your roommate/friend/maybe love interest’s second story window? Nah.

And the rest of these clowns are acting weird now too. Am I the only normal one here? Whenever I’m around, it’s like they’re expecting me to do something. Do they know about my and Bones’s situation? Nah, how could they?

Not much happened today. I finally got around to calling my boss and telling him I had to resign. He wanted a reason and details and stuff, but obviously I couldn’t give ‘em. Like he’d believe it anyway. So that sucked.

Let’s see, what else? Did my exercises. Offered to help Sunny in his garden. But like I said, he was weird. When I first came up to him, he asked, “Sooo… how’s LB?” I told him I didn’t know and offered to help him. He got all goofy and said something else needed my help. When I asked him what it was, he grinned at me and said, “Oh come on, you knooow…” before running off.

So I went to see Flim and Flam. They told me almost the same thing and then almost immediately they started talking in French so I couldn’t understand them. I think it was something about bugs driving limos, because they kept saying “el bee” and “my petite chauffeur”.

Since everyone around here is literally insane, I went out into the woods to be by myself and worked on my tree house. I finished it, but now it can’t really be called a tree “house”. Now it’s more of a tree “box”. It’s just kind of an open topped wooden box up in a tree that’s just big enough for me to curl up in. Maybe I’ll bring Claude out there or, like, build a nest or something. When in Rome, right? But yeah, I’m really not good at this “building” thing. But in my defense, it was a weird place to work and I had shitty materials.



Since I was out building my box so long, I missed dinner and went straight into my evening flight. But now I’m done with that, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m ready to relax.

I make my way back to my tree box to retrieve the tools I borrowed from Flim and Flam. I grab them and bring them back to the Eagle 5. Oh yeah, that’s what Flam calls the RV: “Eagle 5”. Don’t ask me why. I thought he was making fun of me at first, but whatever.

Anyway, when I return the tools to Flim, he takes them and warns me, “Your cell has been sounding steadily since sunset. Careful, kid, I caught on that it’s a considerably cutting caller.”

Okaaay… That doesn’t sound like trouble at all. What the hell’s that about? I guess it’s best to just see.

I go inside and find Sunny and Flam sitting at the card table in the kitchen, using it for its namesake: actually playing cards. 

“I’ll raise you five grapes,” Flam challenges and levitates the fruit to the middle of the table from out of a bowl on his right. His bowl is looking a lot fuller than Sunny’s.

“You’re bluffing,” Sunny counters. But when they see me walk in, they stop and both just stare at me with a look that says “dead man walking”.

“Uh, Flim said something about my phone?” I ask.

“It’s in the living room,” Sunny tells me grimly.

“We’ll allow you some privacy,” Flim adds. As I’m leaving the room, I hear him mutter, “My word, I don’t envy her one bit, no sir.”

In the living room, I find my phone charging in a corner. The screen reads, “19 Missed Calls.” They’re from- Oh shit. The three letters I least want to see burn on the screen: “MOM”.

FUCK. Why is she calling now? 19 calls in the last couple hours? Actually, yeah that sounds like her. There’s no way she’s gonna give up, so there’s no way I’m gonna get out of talking to her. I mean, yeah, I could just leave my phone off, but then she’ll probably put out a missing persons report. How can I even begin to explain this? I need time. I just need some time to think this over and figure th-

“♪Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’. Into the future,” my phone starts to ring. Are you fucking kidding me? It’s like someone planned this. Well, I guess there’s only only thing to do now. I take a deep breath and thumb the Answer button.

Mom starts in before I can even get in a word. “Well, it’s about time! Where have you been? Why don’t you answer your phone? Are you screening my calls?”

“Hi, mom.”

“Who is this?” she demands. Uh, what?

“Wha? Mom, it’s me,” I answer in confusion.

“Me who?” she asks. What the hell’s going on here?

“Jesus, Mom, who else would it be?”

“Abigayle?”

“No, Ma, it’s your other daughter,” I say sarcastically. I hate it when she calls me that. Or worse, Abby.

“You don’t sound like her,” Mom accuses. OHHH! Right.

“I’ve got, uh, strep. ‘S why I sound weird,” I pull out of thin air. Oh yeah, I’m good. Thinking on my feet.

“Oh, you do?” Mom asks. She doesn’t sound like she buys it. “Is this this ‘mysterious illness’ I’ve heard you have? The one that caused a ‘family emergency’? The emergency that no one in the family has heard of?”

Uh oh. I think I’m busted. I start to explain, “Oh. Yeah, that was just an excuse I had to come up with real quick to-”

“An excuse you could use to just quit your job and miss paying rent? To just run away and disappear?” Mom interrupts. 

Wait. How did she know about that? About what I said to my boss, or about quitting, or anything? And then she just decided to call me the same day I quit? Nineteen times? No fucking way is that a coincidence.

“Mom, are checking up on me?” I accuse.

“Of course!” she answers, as if it should be obvious.

“You’re talking to my boss? And my landlord?” I ask in disbelief.

“Of course, dear. I call them every two weeks to make sure you’re behaving,” she explains. She says it the same way you would talk down to a kid to tell them to be good so Santa will bring them presents. “You have responsibilities, Abigayle. I have to make sure you’re meeting them, and not running away from them again.”

What the fuck? What gives her the right? What makes her think she can do that? To treat me like that? She’s been like this my whole life. Am I still ten years old? No, I’m an adult now. Why does she think she can still control me? And most important, why am I just thinking these things and not actually saying them?

Oh right. Because as awesome and badass as I am, there’s always been one person who always always ALWAYS makes me shrivel up and turn into a little cringing coward. And she’s on the phone. There are so many ways I want to tell her off, and I’ve never been able to so much as talk back to her.

“Abby? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, Ma, I’m here,” I reply weakly. What a pussy.

“Do you care to explain what it is you think you’re doing? Where you are? What this little stunt is about?” Mom demands. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

What do I have to say for myself? How about, “I’m not a little kid, Mom!” Or, “Can’t you trust me to live my own life?” Or, “Fuck off, you raggedy, old bitch, and leave me alone! I got huge fucking problems and I don’t need you bitching your bitchiness at me, bitch!” Come on, Gayle, ANYTHING.

Here I go. “It’s complicated, Mom.”

...That’s it? That’s the best I’ve got? All of my swagger and I can’t even defend myself on the phone with this woman.

“Oh, it’s complicated,” she repeats with fake sympathy. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Abigayle. It’s time to grow up and stop playing these silly games. Now, I want you to come home. Now that you don’t have that job,” she says the word “job” with such mocking scorn that I can almost hear the air quotes, “anymore, you’re free to come take a position at my firm. Like you should have years ago. I’ll fire an intern tomorrow and we’ll get you right in there.”

How is taking a handout job from my mommy “growing up”? I worked hard to get where I am at the gym. I’ve built up a reputation as one of the best trainers in the city. I’ve got a loyal client base with a waiting list a mile long. And I did it all myself. How is that not being responsible? Dammit, Gayle, say that to HER!

“Excuse me?” Mom asks with the same level of disbelief as someone who’s just watched a pig fly by their window. “Are you talking back to me, young lady?” Am I? Did I actually just say it? What did I say? Oh man, this bad habit of thinking out loud actually worked out for once. But can I do it on purpose?

“Yes.” Okay, it’s a start.

“‘Yes’, you’re talking back to me?” she asks, completely baffled.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I can do this. I just need to actually say all the things I’ve been thinking. That’s not so hard, right?

“I’m warning you, Abby-”

“I hate when you call me that.” Not the most important point, but we’re getting there.

“What has gotten into you?” she asks, anger starting to come through in her voice. “Is this about a girl again? Did you run off with another-”

“Another what, Mom!?” I interrupt. “What were you gonna say about the girl I loved? Huh? The girl you made sure I never saw again!”

“I thought we were going to forget about that and try to move on?” she chastises.

“Forget about it!?” I ask in disbelief. “Seriously? You really have no idea how bad you screwed me up with that?”

“Are you trying to blame us for your… preferences? Or is it you’re trying to punish us?”

“I… I…” For once in my life, I’m actually at a loss for words. How can this woman be so clueless?  “Holy shit, Mom. Are you for real? It’s not a choice or- or- or… a mental disorder! It’s just the way it is. The way it always was! I’m sorry to break it to you, Ma, but your daughter is a big, fucking dyke!”

“Oh, don’t say that about yourself,” she responds with as close to sympathy as she can manage. She says it the same way you’d say it to cheer up someone who’s just insulted themself. Like, “I’m such a stupid, worthless idiot.” “Oh, that’s not true. Don’t say that about yourself.” God, that pisses me off.

I’m not giving in on this. “It’s not a debate, Mom. You raised a big dyke.”

“This is just a phase; you’ll see. You’re just confused a-”

“Dyke.”

“The language, Abigayle! It is completely unnecessary. We can discuss your… situation without having to resort to such language,” she scolds.

“GODDAMMIT, MOM, fuck my fucking language!” I scream into the phone. “My ‘situation’? My love life is not part of my situation right now. It’s not even on the radar. My situation right now is so fucked up there’s no way I could even start to explain it to you! And if I did, you’d never believe me!”

“Try me,” Mom challenges.

“Okay, how about magic and talking horses and the fate of the world?” I tell her. It is the truth.

“You couldn’t come up with a better lie than that? That’s pitiful,” Mom says with disgust. “I’m still convinced this is-”

“THERE’S NO FUCKING GIRL!” I scream, “I mean, yeah, there is a girl involved and I like her, but that’s not what this is about! And even if it were, it wouldn’t be any of your business!” I yell. “I AM an adult and you have NO RIGHT to come into my life and tell me how to live it!”

“How dare you-”

“How dare I?” I interrupt again. I’m on a roll and I’m not letting up on her. I don’t know what it is that I’ve suddenly got the balls to stand up to my mom, but I’ll take it. It must be my transformation and now knowing that I was someone else before; a true ultimate-tier badass. That thought sparks another thought inkling in the back of my mind. I can tell it’s important, but I can’t quite make the connection yet. Meanwhile, Mom is still talking.

“Yes, how dare you!” she cries indignantly. “After everything your father and I have given you; all we’ve done for you! You have the nerve to be not only ungrateful-”

“Grateful!?” I can’t believe my ears. “For what!?”

“For giving you everything you ever wanted!” she answers. Yeah, everything. Except trust, respect, confidence, love, etc. “Do you have any idea how much we spent on your schooling alone? To ensure you got good grades! To get you into the best schools!”

“Get me into the best schools!? YOU SENT ME AWAY TO PUNISH ME! You know what they call that? Banishment!”

“As I recall, it was your decision to-”

“Only because you were going to have me arrested and sent to juvie!” I remind her.

“Abigayle-”

“That’s not my name. Don’t call me that,” I order, my quiet tone not hiding my simmering anger. There’s something about that. That stray thought is almost in my reach.

“That is your name, Abigayle,” Mom repeats it. “I would know. I named you. Whether you like it or not, I am your mother and-” I don’t hear what she says after that. 

Holy shit. It clicked. I made the connection and realized what that loose thought I was thinking was. My suddenly having the courage to stand up to her. My transformation. My past life. My name really ISN’T Abigayle. It’s Gilda. ...And she’s not really my mother.

I don’t even know what she’s saying, but I cut whatever is off. “No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” Mom asks. No. Not Mom. “I’m not what?”

“You said ‘Whether I like it or not, you’re my mother’,” I remind her. “You’re not.”

“Not what?”

“My mother.”

“EXCUSE ME!?”

“You’re not my mother!” I repeat. “You’re not my mother!” I shout it almost giddily. 

“What!? Have you lost your damn mind!?” Not-mom demands. “You disrespectful, little whelp!”

“My mother is a griffon! You’re not a griffon!” I say.

“What are you talking about? My name is Griffin, just like yours,” she reminds me, sounding extremely confused.

“No! A griffon griffon!” I correct her. “She’s probably a great warrior or something! Not some bitchy paper pusher. She’d be proud of me! I can’t wait to meet her!” I proclaim.

“Abigayle…” Not-mom starts, sounding equal parts confused, angry, and hurt.

“Gilda,” I correct her.

“What’s that?”

“My name is Gilda.”

“I’ve heard enough of this!” she announces. “You’re obviously very ill and need help. Your name is Ab-”

“My name is Gilda. And you have no place in Gilda’s life,” I growl, and with that I end the call. And I turn off the phone for good measure.

I did it. I finally stood up my mo- that woman. I’ve been trying my whole life, or at least as long as I can remember the last twenty five years, and I finally did it. I got it all off my chest, stood up for myself, and won an argument.

So why do I feel so shitty? I slump over onto the floor and sigh. I always dreamed of telling her off and I finally nutted up enough to do it. And on top of it, I got to tell her she’s not my real mother and then drop the mic by hanging up on her. I should feel great about it. Why do I feel the opposite?

It could be the things she said to me. The awful shit she says about me and how completely ignorant she is about the stuff that really makes me tick. Calling what I do “silly games” and my orientation “just a phase”. Fuck her. 

But more than what she said, it feels like what I said is the problem. Why? I was completely justified. And fuck, she’s not even my mother anyway, so why should I care about her? I’m still clutching my phone, the stupid fucking thing. This is all your fault! I slam it on the ground a few times. If you hadn’t rung, this wouldn’t have happened. I’m in the right here! I throw the thing across the room as hard as I can. I can hear it slam into the wall and shatter, but I don’t even turn to look. I just roll onto my side and drape my front leg over my face, trying to fight back tears of anger and disappointment and frustration and depression and betrayal and regret. I feel all of those things and at the same time I feel hollow and empty, like the bad feelings are eating their way through me and leaving a big gaping hole behind. I don’t think you can get any lower than this.

Then I feel something soft and warm pushing into my back. It’s her. I can just tell. My heart leaps into my throat. “Hey,” whispers Lazy Bones.

I don’t turn to look at her. I don’t want her to see my face. “Hey,” I whisper back. I don’t trust myself to talk any louder and still sound calm.

“Whatcha doing?” she asks. It’s subtle, but she sounds a little different. I almost didn’t notice, but she’s got a little bit of an accent creeping into her voice. It’s not like her British accent; it’s something else. It’s barely there, but it’s there. 

“Nothin’. Just laying here,” I answer.

She’s quiet for a few seconds before responding. “Gil, you don’t have to pretend. I heard.” 

Shit. “You did?”

“You weren’t precisely quiet. I think everyone heard the whole thing,” she informs me.

Double shit. I try to laugh it off. “Yeah, it was a pretty good fight. We’re always like that.”

“Gil, I’ve heard you talk with your mother before. It’s never been like that,” she calls my bluff. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Okay, fine. You got me!” I admit. “But I’m right. She’s wrong! I didn’t do anything wrong.” Bones doesn’t say anything. Is she judging me? “And hell, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t ever have to talk to her again.” She still doesn’t say anything. Who is she to judge me? “It’s not like we’re related or anything. She may as well be a perfect stranger. I do-”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“What?”

“Gilda, you’re not really going to try to pretend you believe that, are you?” Bones asks, exasperation in her voice.

“I do believe it,” I argue. “You said I’m really Gilda from Erquerstia.” 

“Equestria,” she corrects.

“Whatever. So my real mother was a griffon in that world who I don’t remember. Emily Griffin is just some random woman who makes me feel bad about myself,” I explain.

Bones sighs. “Oh, Gilda. If that were true, why do you feel so bad?”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine. I’m great,” I croak.

“You don’t listen very well. I said you don’t have to pretend. I know you’re not okay,” she says soothingly. “Look, Gayle and Gilda are two parts of the same whole. Just because Gilda came first, doesn’t make Gayle any less real. Emily gave birth to Gayle just like any other mother. That was real. Her parenting method may be questionable, but that’s real too. That history shouldn’t be swept under the rug and ignored.”

“Aren’t you the one who said ‘Don’t worry about that past. Just worry about the future’?” I remind her.

“‘What’s past is prologue’,” Bones says cryptically.

“What does that even mean?” I wonder.

“It means that the past informs the future. Even though the future is what matters and it’s the thing to be concerned with, it’s shaped by the things that came before it. You shouldn’t worry about the past, but you also shouldn’t forget it. After all, ‘Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it’,” she explains.

“What does that mean to me?”

“It means,” she says seriously, “that you need to remember the things you’ve seen, the things you know, before you act. You have to remember. The future is too important for you to be impulsive and start throwing out the past.”

“Huh?”

Bones sighs. “Fine. We’ll do it this way.” She presses closer into my back, right between my wings and that tension that was just here a second ago melts away. Mostly. She nuzzles her face into my fur. She says into the back of my neck, “It means that that woman has been a part of your life for as long as you can remember and as terrible as some of the things she’s done are, you still care about her.”

“Why should I?” I demand. “She doesn’t care about me. At least, not as a person. Just as a… a… a thing she can change and do whatever she wants with.”

“Because you’re good. After everything, you still care,” she whispers.

I squirm a little. “Dude… come on. Gay.”

“Uhhh…”

“You know what I mean,” I dismiss and shake my head. 

“If it makes you feel better, look at it this way. You win. You beat her. You’re better than her,” Bones says and wraps her front legs around my neck. I can feel her breath in my feathers.

“This sucks,” I whine. “It’s just… It seems like every time we talk now, it ends up with some big girly emotional breakdown. And what’s with you? You disappeared for days and now suddenly you come back and you’re getting all super sensitive and touchy-feely and snuggly?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes and starts to move away from me.

“I didn’t say stop.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes again and goes back to hugging me. It makes me feel good, but then why am I still trying to hold back tears? I sniffle.

“Gil, come on,” she breathes, “I told you, you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not.”

“Gilda, it’s okay to just be who you’re going to be,” Bones reassures me.

“I’m not a crybaby,” I argue, then sniffle, ruining the effect.

“Maybe not Gayle. But maybe Gilda was?” she wonders, “I never met her, but she was a griffon. She had that hot-blooded griffon passion. Maybe she had higher highs and lower lows. Either way, you’re not Gilda and you’re not Gayle. You’re someone else. Be whoever that is.”

“When did you become such a bullshit self-help guru?” I question.

I feel her shrug. “I just know what to say. Just something I picked up. That’s why I locked myself away. The first few days after the transformation finished, I tried living like I was Steve. But I’m not. I needed to come to terms with it. I needed to figure out who I am. Figure out if it was okay for me to do, well… this sort of thing,” she says, squeezing me and exhaling into my feathers.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

“You tell me.”

It’s actually working. I feel better. Some, anyway. I still feel this empty ache, but at least I don’t feel like crying anymore.

“It’s alright,” I shrug. “And for the record, I wasn’t crying.”

“Of course not.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling. “You’ve gotta let it out sometime, though.”

“I’m Gilda. I don’t cry. Definitely not going to cry anymore,” I vow.

“Not as long as I’m around, eh?” she mumbles. “No one said you had to cry. You can let it out other ways.”

“Yeah, how?”

“Why don’t you sing about it?” she offers.

“That’s stupid. You’re stupid,” I grumble. “You know I can’t sing. You dragged me to karaoke with your friends that one time and you remember how bad I was.”

“Gayle couldn’t sing. But something tells me YOU can,” she encourages.

“No way.”

“Come on, do it.”

“Fuck no.”

“Do iiiiiit,” she whines. Well who could resist that?

I let out a sigh of defeat. I know when I’m beat and I have to give in to my girlfriend. I roll out of her hooves, then get to my feet and turn to face her. Wait, did I just think of her as…?

Bones sits up and I see her face and her ears are bright red. She’s blushing so bad I can actually see it on her cheeks through her fur. Guess she’s not so smooth after all when she’s face to face. She looks away, not meeting my gaze, rubbing the back of her head. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.

“So, yeah. You want me to sing for you,” I grimace. She just nods quickly, still looking away. “What should I sing?” She shrugs. Oy, this is going nowhere. I roll my eyes, then turn around. “Does this help?”

“Yes, thank you.” I can hear the relief in her voice. “It’s just, you’re so… And when you look at me…” she trails off. I hear a sound like hair whipping, like she’s shaking her head back and forth. “Um, right. You’re supposed to be venting, so sing about your mother. Just sing whatever comes to you.”

Okaaaay. Here comes one mean, nasty song in a horrible voice coming right up. I take a deep breath, let my mind go blank and just go.

“La la la la laaaaa! La la la la laaaaa!” To my surprise, it doesn’t sound bad. It’s actually pretty good. It’s just a bunch of La’s, but it’s to a slow, sweet little melody and my singing voice is surprisingly great. I keep at it, finishing up a verse of La La La’s. The rest comes just comes to me, like I’ve always known it.

Take a melody,
Simple as can be
Give it some words and
Sweet harmony
Raise your voices,
All day long now,
Love grows strong now
Sing a melody of love
Oh, love

Love is the power
Love is the glory
Love is the beauty
And the joy of spring

Love is the magic
Love is the story
Love is the melody
We all can sing

I repeat each verse a few times before moving onto the next until I’m tired and feel like the song is done, where I trail off.

Huhnhh… Where the ballsack did that come from? I’ve never heard that song before, but I feel like I’ve known it my whole life. Plus, you know, it’s so sappy it makes me want to puke. I do feel a lot better though.

Well, time to face the music, I guess. Ha ha, I’m hilarious. “So? How was that?” I ask as I turn around. Bones looks awestruck. But more than that, there’s three more faces watching me from the kitchen door. Flim is subtly smiling to himself, Flam is wiping away a tear, and Sunny is grinning like a fool.

Then he starts stamping his hooves in applause. “Woooo! Encore! Encore!”

The fuckers! Who invited them? “Fuck off!” I shout at them, then grab Bones by the foreleg and drag her upstairs to her room, locking the door behind us.

“Wow,” she says breathlessly. “Where the heck did that come from?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“When I said ‘sing about your mother’, I was expecting ‘She’s A Bitch’ or something of that nature,” Bones smirks. “You really took that ‘be someone new” talk seriously, huh?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was expecting the same thing. Then I just thought, ‘mother’, and that’s what came out.”

“You made that up?”

“No, I don’t think so. When I was singing it, I had this feeling like it was the first song I ever learned from my mother when she was teaching me to sing,” I tell her.

Bones looks extremely confused. “What? Your mother- that mother taught you to sing?”

“No.”

“Then what-”

“It’s in the past. Don’t worry about it, right?” I suggest, turning her own advice on her.

“But-”

“Just do what I do. Say, ‘whatever’ and try not to think about it,” I offer.

Bones stares at me in disbelief for finally breaking down giggling. “You’re really something, you know that?

I laugh too. “Yeah, I try.”

“Most people, in light of life altering transformations and discovering their entire world is wrong, wouldn’t go from mental breakdown to ‘whatever’ quite so fast,” she notes, shaking her head.

“Hey, I’m the fastest. Speed’s my thing,” I brag.

“Don’t let a certain blue pegasus hear you say that,” she warns jokingly.

“If she wants to challenge it, I’m right here,” I gloat, holding my hands out.

Bones breaks out in a fit of giggles.

“What?”

She answers, “I was just picturing you pounding your chest and shouting at Dash, ‘Come at me, Rainbro!’”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Okay, so what about you?”

Her smile evaporates. “Wha- what about me?”

“Three days locked in your lair and suddenly you’re little miss huggy bear, all rubbing up me,” I clarify.

She blushes and sputters a bit, then seems to regain control. “It’s the mental changes. Bits of the old pony reasserting herself. You get extreme moodswings, I get crippling embarrassment and social anxiety,” she explains and shrugs. I just grunt at having my one single flaw pointed out. She agrees, “Yes, we’re just a grab-bag of personality disorders, eh? Anyway, once I recognize it, I can try to clamp down on it. But yeah…”

“But what about the disappearing act?” I ask.

“I had a lot to process. Both for this whole nightmare situation we’re in and for,” she looks away and blushes again, “you know… the other night.”

“Yeeeaahh… kinda wanted to talk about that,” I grimace.

“It can’t happen,” Bones says firmly.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry. We’ll take it slow. I’ll show you… wait, what?” It takes a second to process what she said. I must have heard wrong. I’ve never had a girl turn me down. I’m kind of legendary.

“It would be extremely weird for us to be… together,” Bones reveals.

“What? Why? What’s the problem?” I wonder. I can’t believe this.

“It’s just very… strange. On a few different levels.” Well that didn’t clear anything up.

“‘Different?’ What’s that mean? You think we’re too different from each other?” I demand. 

She chuckles. “No, trust me, it’s definitely not that. You-”

“Why does it matter if I’m a griffon?” I interrupt, “I know you and you know me. We both like each other. Trust me, I’ve had enough girlfrie- Oh crap! I already have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t worry about Ellen,” she says.

“If you say ‘She doesn’t matter,’ I’m gonna swat you. She’s still my girlfriend,” I threaten.

Bones holds her hooves up in a defensive gesture. “Fine, I won’t say it. I just mean that things are going to work themselves out. Whether or not I think it’s weird or you’re still attached to Ellen, for however long that is, we’re still going to end up together.”

“Jeez, and I thought I was sure of my ability to bag a girl,” I say wryly. 

She shrugs. “Ehh. It’s not that. You just can’t fight fate. Or love. Or even biology. Lord knows it’s practically Steve’s signature. His whole life, fighting it. I’m not. I’m just going to ride it and enjoy what comes. You should keep that in mind.” Um, okay, what? What’s she rambling about now? 

“And that means what, exactly?” I ask, bewildered.

Bones closes her eyes, brings her foreleg up her front, like she’s gathering air, and takes a deep breath. Then she blows it back out and pushes her hoof away from her mouth. She scoots herself closer to me, pushes into my side, and drapes a foreleg over my back, gently guiding me to lay down. “It means we’re stuck with each other, so just lay back and enjoy yourself,” she smiles. “Why don’t we ‘lay in the course to our next adventure.’”

I did ask for this, didn’t I? I guess that’s why they say ‘be careful what you wish for’. But who am I to argue? I answer her quote from our show, Portal, with the the classic response, “As you command, Captain.”

Bones nuzzles my neck. Fuck me, I created a monster.



/_‾_‾_‾TO BE


CONTINUED‾_‾_‾_〉