Dear Dr. Cardio,
I want to see if it's possible for me to be shod in your office. I know how that sounds, but it'll be fine if you look at your data on me, I think you'll agree it just makes sense it's the only option. I'm enclosing my hoof measurements in case you agree. I'm fully capable of paying extra if the process...
“...Dammit!” Caramel threw another shredded and smeared draft into the trash.
“Watch yer mouth!”, said Applebloom. Caramel grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry...wait. When did you learn that word?”
Applebloom blushed, ducking out of the room.
After a few dozen tries, Caramel finally managed to write the three request letters to the three doctors he suspected would perform the surgery-ritual-whatsit. It became a lot easier once he finished the first one: he just had to apply the same pressure two more times...or twenty. He had to rush Macintosh out of the room to make sure the pony didn't try to help; it was important to him to write his own letters for once. After a wearisome persuasion, he did convince Big Macintosh to deliver the sealed envelopes to the mailbox to avoid any further possible mishaps; the grumpy pony only did so after a long, hard stare to try and make Mel regret what he was going to do. Fat chance of that.
The Apple Family waited a long, tense three days time for the response. In the meantime, the other members besides Mac decided to weigh in on the decision. On the second day after breakfast, the others pulled him aside.
“Now Ah wouldn't've tolerated any o' this nonsense from mah dear Appletree when she wuz still here,” started Granny Smith, “but it's clear as sky this ain't just some dim-witted impulse t'look like some rough an' tumble warrior. Ah don' like it, let me make that clear: Ah don' like it one bit. But nopony should live with what you've had t'suffer, Mel. Ah reckon this is one o' 'em 'necessary evils'. So you jus' make sure yer not dealin' with some quack, an' come back in one piece,” she finished with a cautionary eyebrow raise.
Mel was floored. That old biddy had made a better speech in thirty seconds than any of his over three months. And she called him 'Mel'...Life was a little brighter just then. Mac seemed to be furiously debating himself, if the pony's face was any indication.
“Oh, no offense, Quincy.”
“QUACK!”
Caramel looked to his family: they seemed to recognize the quack as Quincy taking it in stride. He watched the duck waddle off toward the lake again.
Applebloom had some trouble understanding what was at stake, but she seemed to accept the gravity of it all once broken bones were mentioned. She seemed speechless by herself...but then her two friends ran in from behind the open window and decided to give their opinions.
“I don't know if it's worth hurting yourself, mister,” said Sweetie Belle.
Mac smiled at the filly. Of course he would, the turkey. No offense intended to Terrence, obviously.
“So...you'll be shoving nails into your bare hooves to stop ruining things and be stronger?”
Caramel himed and hawed at the question before answering: “More or less.”
Scootaloo frowned. She seemed ill at ease at the concept...until: “That is just too cool! Only a pony like Rainbow Dash would dare to do that. I can't wait to see how it turns out!”
Slightly unnerved, Caramel just smiled and turned to Applebloom. The filly looked highly conflicted. Like brother, like sister, it seemed.
“Mel?”
Mel had to keep himself from grinning like a madpony.
“Yes, Applebloom?”
“Are you gonna be okay, after this? 'Zit, you know...gonna backfire or somethin'?”
Everypony else in the room looked to him. He knew exactly what to say, though.
“It very well might, I dunno,” he said with a smile. “But that's okay. I need to try, and if it doesn't work, then we'll just try something else. But to be perfectly honest--”
Mac cleared his throat very loudly.
“...I would say you don't have to worry about it,” he finished with a glare to his boyfriend.
Mac grimaced, looking askance to the open window. Who knew what that devilish lug was thinking, really? That devilish...handsome lug. Ahem.
Applebloom frowned a little. That filly wasn't going to be satisfied on a maybe, it seemed; he'd have to remember that. Mel decided to whisper in her ear:
“I was just being modest; it's going to work, and that's the truth.”
Applebloom smiled. Mac sighed. Granny Smith seemed confused.
“Well, Ah'll be honest,” said Applejack, “Ah dunno how Ah feel 'bout this. It's right on th' cusp o' evil an' good, if'n you ask me. All Ah'm gonna say is...it had better work.”
“...Eeyup,” said Caramel.
The entire room lapsed into an uncomfortably long awkward silence.
“...Well, I dunno about y'all, but that shoe pile outside ain't gonna do tricks on itself.”
On the third day, Caramel and Big Macintosh out to check the mail with a touch of anxiety. Despite their disagreement on the issue, the latter begrudgingly admitted to the former that getting refused on the matter would be disheartening; but only because Mac couldn't think of any other possible solution at the time. They didn't talk on the way.
They saw the mailbox: the flag was up. Both ponies sighed, but for different reasons.
“It's about time,” said Caramel. “Three days should never feel that long.”
“...Nnope.”
Mel knew too well that his lover wanted them to be even longer. But he also knew if that happened, then he would have to punish the worrisome pony for slowing down time itself. At least Mac didn't refuse to check the letters once they were here; accidental shredding was one risk neither of them were willing to take.
Mac opened the mailbox and took out two thin envelopes...and one big one.
“Looks like we have a winner there!”
“...Eeyup.”
“You fought a good fight, guy,” Caramel soothed sarcastically. “Now let's see what...Cardio has to say!”
Caramel watched as Macintosh opened the envelope: the grouch couldn't have done it more reluctantly if he tried, each agonizing inch of tearing showing on his face. As long as Mac didn't ruin the letter, Mel would let him be as melodramatic as he wanted. Ten pages were inside, most of it looking like medical information. He watched Mac peruse the first two pages, his brow furrowing with each second.
“...Well, come on, what's it say?”, Caramel pressed.
Mac looked up from the pages, staring straight to the horizon. He had the most magnificent pout as he extended his hoof to make them visible to Mel.
“...Uh huh...oh, that's great! I didn't count on him doing it for free!”
Mac groaned softly.
“Oh, get over yourself. Let's see...hmm...oh. That's not good. No, t-that's not good at all.”
“Nnope.”
“...Well, it's not gonna stop me.”
Mac sighed and deeply bowed his head. Then he pulled himself back up, clearly fighting the temptation to just flop onto the ground.
“...Yikes. I'm glad he could get custom horseshoes. I didn't even know he knew my skeletal structure enough to do that.”
“...Shoes,” grunted Mac.
“Horseshoes.”
“Shoes.”
“...Anyway. So we just need to leave for Canterlot tomorrow morning, get there by 1:00, and come home with shiny new hooves! Can't wait!”
Big Macintosh did flop on the ground with a loud groan after Mel finished, dropping the papers behind him in the dirt path. Mel had to jump sharply to his right to avoid disintegrating the letter. He ended up stumbling right on top of his stud. Mac felt extremely tense. Mel rubbed the grouch's shoulders, getting a weary chuckle in return.
“But seriously, Mac...thank you,” he said as sweetly as he could. “For putting up with this. It really, really means a lot to me.” He nuzzled him.
Mac turned his head and nuzzled Mel in return...very thoroughly.
“Eeyup.”
“I...really, really love you.”
“Heh heh, eeyup.”
“T-This is big of you t-to do...!”
Mel started panting. Mac nuzzled even more slowly.
“Eeyup!”
“You're the o-only one I'd...okay, you're making it hard f-for me to massage you.”
Mac chuckled richly, licking under Mel's chin.
“Ah bet.”
Mel felt the need to sit down before his knees became too weak.
“O-Okay, I'll just...um...oh, screw it.” He collapsed on top of Mac purposefully.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!”
“GAH!”
Caramel rolled off of Big Macintosh at the sound of the shriek. Some mare they couldn't see (her voice suggested she was probably Lily) in their haphazard state galloped away. Mel blushed at the realization of what he was ready to do in front of anypony.
Even though their relationship had been public for months, it seemed open displays of affection were still shocking. It annoyed the two of them, but they knew such displays by anyponies were only tolerated on certain times of the year like Hearts and Hooves Day, so it was just as well.
They had more important things to worry about, anyway.
“Um...we should go back and start planning,” said Mel as he got up.
Mac stood up himself before responding: “Eeyup...wait.”
“Huh?”
“You were massaging me,” Mac explained. “Why couldn't you--”
“Oh,” Mel answered. “They were wearing towels.”
“Whut?”, asked Mac as he stowed the letter in his saddlebag.
“...Don't ask.”
Mac looked completely bewildered...then started a gentle bellylaugh. Mel felt himself smiling in embarrassment.
“Let's just say those mares won't look at me the same way again.”
Mac reared his head back as he laughed even harder. His voice rumbled all around them, and then Mel wasn't quite as embarrassed.
“...It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't massage the lower bits.”
“OHOHOHOHOHO! O-Oh, that's bad, Mel. Ah'm s-sorry you hadta-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA! So t-that's why after showers you made me towel you off-FFFFFFFFFF-HEHEHEHEHEHE!”
Mel blushed, but he was still smiling.
“Well, it's not like you were unwilling.”
“HAHAhaha...true. Ah just...just wanted t'MASSAGE YA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Mac laugh that hard at anything. And considering what would happen tomorrow...he decided to just let him laugh.
Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applejack had been in a blur all through the train ride. The only thoughts on their minds were how the other Apple sibling could be there – because the acreage could be idle for one day with no real consequences – why she decided to be there – because she felt her brother and her friend could use the support – and how telling it was for the last few months' events that Caramel did not have to explain himself for sitting alone in the middle of the aisle. Apart from that, they didn't want to think about anything else.
Ponies kept saying how Canterlot looked different every year; but even as Caramel and Applejack looked at it, it looked the same as the last time they were there. Sure, there wasn't a red carpet at the gate, but fancy ponies were still fancy, pretty buildings were still pretty...did cities ever actually change? Big Macintosh just took in the sight himself. Caramel thought it was like watching a big dog doing the same thing.
The blur still steeped in their minds guided them to the office in question: curiously low-key for Canterlot. In fact, it was very modest in comparison to the buildings surrounding it, having only two stories. But Caramel knew it was the right place; he had been taken there enough times, and the letter he sent got a reply, so the address he had must not have changed. The three of them entered as the blur on their minds was quickly blown into the ether, and was soon replaced with an unbearable anticipation.
The office on the inside looked similar to the general practitioner's office back in Ponyville (who was one of the letter recipients, who also categorically refused to shoe anypony whatsoever). The lobby was reasonably accommodating for the moderate number of ponies the Apples suspected – and Caramel knew – came for medical attention. No quirky/artsy arrangement of chairs, no fashion statements for the walls or ceiling or anything, no conceited aroma, no overdressed reception ponies, no help ponies serving drinks, no ponies...
No ponies whatsoever. The office was void of all life, apart from the three of them and a fern in the far left corner. They stepped forward warily, sharing the muted fear of a trap...
Suddenly, the one door to their right started humming. They looked to see it enveloped in a pale blue glow, opening to reveal a middle-aged, white Unicorn in a lab coat. The red and blue hairs of his mane twisted around each other in a natural second ponytail, although it was all slightly frazzled. He looked ridiculously stressed...but he smiled that smile made for comforting others.
“I thought I heard hoofsteps,” Dr. Cardio greeted. “It's nice to see you again, Caramel. You can come on back whenever you like.”
“Um...”, stalled the three, looking around them.
“Oh, I cleared the clinic for today. I figured random patients didn't need to see what's going to happen here, and as for my receptionist, I just wanted a day away from her for once, haha! I'm sure...well, anyway, follow me.” The good doctor waved for them to go with him down the hallway and to the third door on the right.
The four of them walked into a simple check-up room: cabinets, tongue depressors in a jar, butcher paper on a doctor's table, and so on. No tools for shoeing were apparent.
“Now I know what you're thinking,” offered Dr. Cardio, “but this is just next door to where it'll happen. We'll discuss it first in here.”
The other three looked to their left: a wooden door with a sign, with the words 'OPERATING ROOM', waited for Caramel. The room suddenly felt much warmer than before. The patient sat on the doctor's table without a word.
“Caramel, Caramel, Caramel...” the doctor began as he levitated a clipboard to himself, “you've always been a head-scratcher. But your letter got me thinking about that old ritual, and I talked with your other examiners. We all agree it's the most probable solution--”
Mac snorted.
“Oh, hush,” chided Caramel.
“...even though they didn't want anywhere near the actual process,” finished the doctor.
“No surprises there,” said Applejack.
“But yeah, it was so simple once we found out about it,” Caramel commented. “I was...kind of mad you guys didn't think of it, to be perfectly honest.”
Mel spied Mac whispering out of the corner of his mouth: “That's 'cuz it's unthinkable.”
Dr. Cardio shrugged before responding: “It's a mea culpa. If I had thought of it, I would have told you. Even though it's not exactly a peaceloving sentiment. When I was looking through the few records of it that exist, I kept getting drawn to how pressure played a role...”
---
Blah blah blah blah blah...
“...might be because the shoes were in lines, creating a kind of magical circuit to amplify the decay...”
Always the same with doctors. I like this one, but he's still another doctor.
They never stop yapping about what they think. It's never hard, cold facts...or at least, not for me. Passive magic theory this, historical possibility that. He already told me the one possible parallel to this was a dead end; why is he rehashing it? And look at those two, drinking in every word.
This butcher paper is itchy...
“...but it turned out to be a dead end. I can't tell you how frustrating that was, I really can't.”
Wait. Usually butcher paper just melts when I lay on it. And this feels different...
“...so you can imagine why shoes have befuddled scientists for centuries. Maybe it's the shape, maybe it's the process of making them; it's a mystery I'm sure will never be solved.”
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Caramel interrupted, “but is this some new kind of butcher paper or something?”
“Oh! You noticed!”, said Dr. Cardio, turning to face him. “Yes, in fact it is. I was considering your condition again with the letter you sent, and besides the horseshoe, er, shoe element--”
Mel noticed Mac frown ever so slightly. When would the silly pony let that go?
“--It occurred to me anything that's meant to be sat or lied upon is probably safe. But that's assuming it's Earth Pony made or part of nature. I suspect the stadium debacle only really happened because everything in there was artificially produced by Unicorns without Earth Ponies in mind. If you think about it, it's really strange they would do that for athletic events featuring Earth Ponies...but them's the breaks, as they say.”
“Huh...I wish I had known that earlier,” said Caramel. After he said that, he realized it came off as sarcastic.
“Believe me, I wish I had known as well,” countered Dr. Cardio, “but there's just not enough known about this condition; there's so little to go on. Not to mention your father wasn't keen on you being experimented on, which is understandable.”
Mel noticed Mac narrow his eyes ever so slightly. He knew full well the overprotective pony wasn't about to stop being overprotective. It was just his way...apparently. Mel just hoped his father wasn't going to be brought up much more.
“Hold on, hold on,” Applejack chimed in. “Whut 'bout this here clinic? Ain't it made by Unicorns?”
“Actually, no,” answered the doctor cheerfully. “I commissioned this building to be made by Earth Ponies, using materials they would normally use for a clinic. Nothing beats that kind of craftwork, I have to say,” he finished with a flattering smile.
Now that Caramel thought about it, when he came here as a foal, any steps he made on the streets of Canterlot left “dirty” prints. The ritzy types just thought he was a dirty commoner who didn't respect their property. Or at least that's what he gathered by the looks they gave him. As for when he came here today...
Whoops. I'm sure that was a nasty surprise for the street cleaners.
...Hey, wait a minute.
“Wait a minute,” said Caramel. “When I found out about shoeing as a solution, I bore a hole in the ground. That's not Unicorn made at all!”
The doctor sighed.
“It's just a theory. Maybe the number of shoes had something to do with that like you wrote?”
Or maybe my body likes screwing with me.
“Maybe.”
That's wasn't the first time I marred the ground, either. That grass was completely shredded when I copied Mac. How can any of this make sense? This condition just seems to make up its own rules as it goes along! It'll wreck whatever it sees fit! Even as a foal, it would jerk me away from shoe tricks to show me how...
Wait a minute.
That's right; I was playing with a horseshoe before I pushed the tree. Maybe the theory's right after all. Sheesh, the only reason I was playing with it was to make that whooshing sound. To be young again...
To be normal again...
Well, this is the next best thing.
“Caramel?”
Mel jerked his head up at Applejack's voice.
“Huhwha?”
“He asked you if'n you wanted the painkiller or not. Ah dunno whut featherbrain of a pony wouldn't, but please tell me yer goin' t'take it. Ah don' care how tough those callouses are, those nails are gonna hurt like th' dickens.”
Caramel sighed. He knew this was going to be a controversial decision.
“Doc, you told me it might keep the nails from setting, right?”
“WHUT?!”, shouted Applejack. Big Macintosh just shut his eyes.
Dr. Cardio bowed his head. Caramel was suddenly more cognizant of how unpleasant this would be for anypony whatsoever. His heart skipped a beat.
“Yes, unfortunately,” the doctor stated. “The only painkiller that would be strong enough could interrupt the flow of passive magic to your hooves. In case you two don't know what that means, it risks his body rejecting the shoes; that's the reason I recommended against it. It's not that likely, but I think we all know how important this is to him...”
Caramel sighed.
“So there isn't any alternative?”
“Any milder painkiller...,” the doctor responded, “might as well be a glass of water. It wouldn't do anything useful for you. Believe me when I say I'm terribly sorry, Caramel.”
Caramel buried his head in his non-shod, bare hooves. So this was it. The only way to ensure his life would get better was to be awake and alert as they were mutilated. Wussing out and taking the painkiller risked making things that much worse for him. The best thing he could say about it was that it made his decision simple.
“I am not risking something like that for this.”
“YOU IDIOT!”, roared Mac, making Dr. Cardio cringe. “AH CAIN'T BELIEVE YOU'D--”
“FINE, YOU TELL ME YOUR IDEA! I'm all ears...” He mocked his lover by flicking his ears up and down.
He expected Mac to stomp through the tiled floor...but instead, the big lug screwed up his face gloriously in what Mel assumed was thought. He had never seen Mac this determined to come up with something.
“...Paste?”, Macintosh offered weakly.
“HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared Mel. “That's a good one, hon! What, did you come with that all by...yourself...wait, could that actually work?! If the paste were strong enough, that is?”
“HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared the doctor. “If only! But in seriousness, the idea is to have your body accept the shoes, not just slap them on. The metal needs to be in direct contact with your hooves, with no foreign substance messing with the flow of passive magic. Something like paste wouldn't keep anyway, with the flow destroying anything between yourself and the shoes. That's the same reason the nails we have are made from the same metal as the shoes; they'll essentially become part of them.”
Applejack seemed to be lost for comment. Caramel didn't blame her in the slightest.
“Well, I think that's everything!”, said Dr. Cardio. “If you'd come this way, Mel.”
Caramel jerked his head toward the door as he stepped off the doctor's table. His brain was on fire; his heart was pumping madly; he was so scared, and yet so, so eager. It hurt so much.
“Oh, there is just one thing,” teased the doctor.
“What?!”, cried Caramel.
“I doubt either of you two would want to accompany him, but you are welcome to do so as long as you don't interfere.”
Mel instantly felt clammy. He looked to the Apple siblings, who couldn't have looked more conflicted if they tried.
“Well, Ah...heh...,” started Applejack, “Ah'd like t'support you an' all, but Ah don' know if'n Ah could watch that...let alone listen to it. Ah ain't proud of it, but--”
“It's okay,” Caramel soothed. “I don't really want you watching or listening to it either. It's...well, it is what it is.”
He looked to Mac...sweet, overprotective Mac. The lovable lug seemed to be beating himself up over this.
“Ah...it'd only be right ta...ta...oh, Ah cain't do this. Ah'm sorry babe, Ah jus' cain't.”
Caramel smiled.
“No worries. I'll be done in, what, half an hour?”
“That sounds about right,” answered the doctor. “If you wish to stay in here, I'll soundproof the door.”
The Apples visibly shuddered.
“We'll wait in the lobby,” Applejack answered for both of them. Both of them started walking for the entrance.
“Alright, then. Right this way, brave one.”
Caramel walked into the operating room. He saw another doctor's table, but this one had restraints, presumably to keep him still. He also saw an operating assistant with a hammer and nail cutie mark. He supposed it was fate.
The assistant pulled out three normal horseshoes and one round horseshoe that was flat at the top. Maybe it was a special one for his left hind leg? That was considerate of them to make. All four of them had eight holes, but spaced uniquely from each other. Eight holes...
Finally, he saw the nails.
“Um...,” he stalled, “are they supposed to be that long?”
The assistant turned to face him before answering gruffly: “They won't go all the way in. I'll cut them off once they've set.”
Caramel was wild-eyed as he turned to the doctor, grinning nervously.
“Ooooooooon second thought, I think the painkiller would be a good idea.”