I feel like I've woken from a terrible dream.
It's only midday, and already it's like I've started a new daily cycle.
Feelings typical of the morning come forth as the sun shines brightly on my features, transferring its uplifting warmth into my soul. The ponies around me seem to be enjoying it too as they smile and prance around, energetically going about their daily lives. The day presents to me its resplendent glory, but that isn't the reason my face gleams with happiness.
I'm walking next to my buddy, Lyra. She smiles at me when I look at her, so I'm sure she feels just as happy as I do. Together, we share in the atmosphere of Ponyville as newly-formed friends, ready to take on the challenges we might face within ourselves, inside Ponyville, or just at home, when dealing with Bon Bon. She can be a little fussy sometimes.
Unlike magnets, happiness draws ponies together. It's no surprise that Pinkie Pie, the paragon of happiness, comes bouncing into view, wearing a tool-belt.
“What'cha up to, fella?!” She yells at me just five feet away, startling a few ponies right next to her. Lyra looks up with surprise.
“Hey Pinkie!” she calls out.
“Hello!” Pinkie responds, but quickly diverts her gaze back to me.
“Did things go alright with your friend? Because you seem happy enough.” She pulls out her smile-o-meter, essentially a bent ruler, and puts it up to my face. She rubs her chin for a few moments as I wait patiently for her to finish, trying my best to retain a rapidly fading smile.
“Hrmmm, in-ter-rest-ting.” Pinkie ponders for a bit. “Your smile started off the charts, but it rapidly went down to twenty-five percent...I think I'm going to need another mind to help me decipher this information. Stay right here! I'm going to find Twi-”
I quickly brush the “smile-o-meter,” and consequently, Pinkie's hoof, from my face. “Wait,” I say. “I was just a little irritated by your smile-o-meter. I don't like it when ponies touch my face.”
Pinkie frowns in response. “I guess the smile-o-meter is a bit too intense for this town's newcomers. I'll need to keep that gadget in the reserves.” She puts the smile-o-meter back into her belt, except this time, with a bold 'R' marking the spot. I see that about seventy five percent of her gadgets have an 'R' marking their positions.
I shudder a bit, thinking about what other devices she may have to torture other ponies with.
“So, did everything work out? I can't seem to figure out if it did,” Pinkie continues.
I smile. “Well...yes, thanks for asking. In fact, she's hanging out with me right now.” I gesture to Lyra, who seems to be a little irritated by her exclusion from the conversation. Every now and then, I'd notice her tap her hoof on the ground with impatience. She looks up at me, trying to hide the fact that she was getting antsy.
Before she can say anything, Pinkie gets all up in her face. “You!” Pinkie says in an accusatory tone, staring Lyra straight in the eyes. “You'd better treat this...this thing right! I don't know what he did, but you should've seen him about five hours ago! His shoulders were all slouched, and even one of my specially made cupcakes couldn't cheer him up! He cares about you, so you'd better treat him right, or so help me, I'll--” Pinkie puts a hoof to her chin as she tries to think of a punishment on the spot. “Hmmm. Ah! Yeah!” She pulls another gadget from her tool belt, this one's spot was marked with an 'X'. “I'll get you with my feather! Nopony I know, no matter how grumpy, can withstand the debilitating effects of this otherworldy weapon! To those unlucky few that I do wield the feather on...the story is too horrible to tell,” her voice goes gravelly at the end. Thoughout this monologue, Pinkie wields and waves a feather at Lyra's face.
I'm forced to sit down and clutch my stomach as bouts of laughter assault me. Lyra, while at first gritting her teeth with guilt, soon found herself falling over to Pinkie's infectious antics. We both laugh out loud a little, but soon realize that a crowd of ponies had gathered around us, staring with bewilderment at the pink pony waving a feather at two incapacitated creatures, one being of an odd body type.
While Lyra seems to enjoy the attention, I immediately get nervous and make to leave the ring of ponies. They let me pass as I push through the crowd and go for a nearby alleyway.
A few seconds later, Lyra materializes next to me and says, “We've really got to make you comfortable around ponies. There were no negative feelings there, and you just tucked tail and ran.”
“I know, I know,” I protest. “It's just for some reason, I can't help but feel paranoid that some pony is judging me. You've told me over and over again that ponies don't do that and yet I can't get out of that mindset.”
“Don't worry,” Lyra says and smiles at me. “As long as I know you, I'm going to help you chill out.”
“Ok.”
We walk down the alleyway for a bit until we get to a four way intersection. To my right, I see a brightly colored shop. A small sign hanging under the entrance's overhang reads Sugarcube Corner. I look at the shop, then at Lyra, then the shop again.
“You want to eat there?” I ask while pointing to my right, down the alleyway.
“Sugarcube Corner?” she asks with surprise. “They don't serve lunch there, it's a sweets shop.”
“Pshaw,” I say. “That's what I consider a good lunch.”
We start heading toward's Sugarcube Corner regardless, but when we finally make it out of the alleyway, Lyra points to a store right next to it. “How about we stop by the Hearthfire Cafe first, and then stop by Sugarcube Corner?”
“As long as they serve good food...” I mumble to Lyra as we head to the Cafe.
We walk in and the door bell clinks behind us. I nearly run into an orange pony with a light-yellow mane. She has a brown hat on her head, cocked at an angle so as to make it easy for her to see.
“Oop!” she exclaims. “Don't mind me sugarcube, I'm just on my way out.” She walks past me, but I feel like something significant just happened. Much like my encounters with the pink pon—eherm—Pinkie Pie, Twilight, and that yellow-furred pony. While I immediately found most of them irritating, I couldn't help but sense a certain special quality about them.
I guess they're just more vibrant, or something like that. All of them have so much life.
I ask Lyra who she is.
“Applejack,” she says. “I can't count how many times she's helped me out while in need. That pony is trustworthy.”
I ponder this while we make our way to a window seat, with two cushiony booths facing each other. Four sets of menus rest on the counter and Lyra and I take the ones closest to the large window on the side of the shop.
I look at the menu, and find that I have no clue what half the items are. Elderberry wine? What's an elderberry? Candied Chestnuts? What in the world are those?! Coltsfoot tea?!?! Are these ponies really vegetarian?!
Lyra notices my eyes bugging out at the Coltsfoot tea, option. She quickly explains. “That's a type of plant. We don't actually take colt's feet and simmer them in water.” She facehoofs. “We're not barbari--” she cuts herself off mid sentence, realizing the unsteady ground she had tread on. “We're complete herbivores, I assure you.”
I give a sigh of relief. “Whew. I wasn't exactly sure what you meant by not eating meat. 'Juices' don't exactly qualify as meat you know.” I raise an eyebrow at her.
Lyra punches my shoulder. “Hey!” she exclaims. “You're a sicko. You know that?”
“Back where I lived, I probably got that a lot. Heheh--” A voice cuts into our conversation. It's the waiter.
“Have you all decided what to order yet?”
Shit.
I quickly scramble through the menu looking for something that I can recognize, to no avail. I look at Lyra, my face begging for help. “I don't even know what half of these things are.” I whisper nervously. “Helllppp.”
She laughs and asks the waiter for just five more minutes. The waiter leaves and Lyra admits, with wide eyes that... “I totally forgot to decide what to order too...”
I laugh, a bit too loudly, gathering some stares from the ponies around us. I try to ignore them and continue, “Seriously though, I need some help, could you help me once you're done with deciding?”
Quickly, overdramitically, Lyra scans the menu, much like hackers look at their computers during a particularly hairy infiltration operation. She puts a hoof on the table and presses on it with fake anxiety, until, fifteen seconds later she slams the menu on the table. “I got it!” she yells, too loudly. This time, a few of the ponies around us mumble with irritation. I chuckle a little and Lyra gives me a dead-serious face. “Pick up that menu boy,” she says in her best drill sergeant impersonation, stretching her mouth into a frown. “We don't have all day.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying my best not to laugh. “Whas thad?” I manage to get out from my covered mouth, while pointing to something on the menu.
Lyra looks stonily at me. “Son, get yer hand outta your face.” She brushes my hand away, her eyes widening a little as she does so. However, she quickly gets back into character. “Right there son, is what we like to call candied chestnuts—wait...what the buck are you doing in the dessert section? Do you even have half a brain?!”
I giggle, but quickly clench up, feeling a little immature because of it. She continues as she flips the menu over in front of me. “What you want...hrmm...yer gonna want this almond toast right here. It's good for the tummy and heck! It'll make your flimsy arms a whole lot stronger!” Lyra hoofs at my 'flimsy' arms.
I hug my arms to my chest, feeling a little stab at my pride. “My arms aren't flimsy—“ Lyra interrupts me.
“You talkin' back to me son?! I'm the only reason you're going to survive this restaurant encounter, so listen up buddo! The only other thing in this cafe worth buyin' is the scallion sandwich, which kinda tastes like onions, if you know what they are. Do you?” I nod. “Good! So pick! Scallion sandwich or almond toast?”
Terrified of what an onion sandwich might taste like, I point to the almond toast. “Nice choice for a small feller like you. It ought to serve yer arms mighty well. See to it that you eat every last crumb!” I look at Lyra with an 'are you serious?' face, not enjoying the fun poked at my normal-sized arms. Completely ignoring my plight, Lyra bursts into a fit of laughter, unable to hold her character any longer. It doesn't take too long for me to join in, because, after all, that was pretty funny.
After a few seconds of laughing though, we're interrupted by the waiter again. “Soo, I've been getting some noise complaints from your neighbors here. If you don't quiet down, we're going to have to ask you to leave.”
Lyra cringes. “Sorry about that, it wont happen again.”
Surprisingly, the waiter appears to completely forgive us and asks, “Have we all decided what we want to order?” Both Lyra and I nod.
“What did you want then?” the waiter addresses Lyra. “I'd like the scallion sandwich please,” she responds.
“...and what would you like to drink?”
Crap.
I scramble though the menu again, trying my best to act casual in front of the waiter. There is no way I'm going to make her wait another 5 minutes.
I scroll down the list, feeling disheartened by the sheer number of discrete drinks I had no idea even existed. Eventually though, lo and behold, I come across two simple words that immediately become familiar to my mind, 'Apple Juice'. With a sigh, I sit back and wait for my turn to order.
Both Lyra and the waiter look at me like I've just escaped from the circus. “You guys, were probably waiting for me while I was going through the menu...” I say, feeling embarrassed.
“No worries,” the waiter says. “Are you ready to order now?”
“Yes.”
“What would you like?”
“I'd like the almond toast please.”
“And what would you like to drink?”
“Ah, the apple juice please.”
Both the waiter and Lyra look at me with raised eyebrows. I look back and forth between them until finally saying, “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” the waiter looks down for a moment, composing herself. After about a second she asks for the menus and leaves.
Lyra continues to look at me with raised eyebrows. “What?!” I ask again, a little bit irritated. “Can't I guy just order a normal glass of apple juice here?”
Lyra remains silent for about another minute, and I'm left to stew over what I'd done. Finally, when I look back up to her for the fifth time, she says, “Classy,” her eyebrows still raised.
Turns out apple juice is a very high-class drink, not to mention costly.
“I am so sorry,” I apologize to Lyra, begging for forgiveness. Surprisingly enough, she seems nonchalant that I just ordered a drink ten times more costly than her own.
“Don't worry too much about it,” she says while inspecting her hoof for dirt. “You forgot to compare the prices is all.”
I sigh with relief, but still feel pretty ashamed.
“But...” Lyra starts up.
Uh oh.
“...you still owe me.” She looks at me expectantly.
Ready to redeem myself I say, “Whatever you want, I'll do. I was such an idiot for spending that much of your money.” I clench my teeth, still angry at myself.
She grins and I immediately know I've made a mistake. Evilly twiddling her hooves, Lyra explains her proposition. “I want you to give me permission. Permanent permission to touch your hands whenever I want. This includes tapping, petting, squeezing, cuddling, hugging, licking, and all possible forms of master—“ I interrupt her.
“Wait, what? Licking?! And don't tell me you were actually going to say master—“ Lyra interrupts me.
“First of all, licking your hand isn't exactly that big of a deal after what you pulled with the apple juice. Also, I was going to say masterfully handling if you hadn't so rudely interrupted me. Now that I've got that covered, we have a deal now, right?” Lyra looks at me matter of factly, as if this were going to happen.
“Somehow, masterfully handling doesn't make me feel any better than if you had said master—“ Lyra interrupts me again.
She practically hisses at me, “What do you think I am, some kinda sicko?”
“You are pretty obsessed with my—“
“I'm not that obsessed! Geez! I hope this makes you feel better, because I'm going to address it right now. My genitalia will have nothing to do with what I've got planned for your hands.” While Lyra had tried her best to keep her voice down while hissing at me, the word genitalia floated in the air all to well, as well as the rest of the sentence involved due to their neighbors' strange selective hearing abilities. I look up to see three tables of ponies staring at us.
We leave.
Both of us burn bright red all the way into Sugarcube Corner and Pinkie Pie makes sure to keep it that way.
Taking just one step, one step into Sugarcube Corner, I find that Pinkie is immediately right between us, commenting on how our faces resemble that of ripe tomatoes.
“Yeah, we know Pinkie, and you aren't helping out too much,” I try to tell her.
She ignores me and continues on in her long stream of dialogue. “Ooh! I bet your faces are red because you're embarrassed. Unless it's a disease!” Pinkie jumps a few feet away and yells out, “Are you infectious?!?!” We get more stares from strangers. “Nah, you're clean actually.” She zooms up to us and smiles. “My Pinkie sense usually tells me when ponies are sick. You two are clearly embarrassed. I wonder what could've caused it? Ah!” Pinkie looks at us slyly. “Are you two in loooovvveee?” More stares from strangers, even a bit of applause rings out. “Strange though, could you two even produce colts together? I mean, we have you...” Pinkie puts a hoof up to my chest. “...a human, and you...” Pinkie extends her other foreleg two feet from her body to reach Lyra's chest. I choose not question how that is even physically possible. “...a pony....ok, I'm being too much of a skeptic here. It's possible.” Pinkie looks at me and smiles. “You've got a dong after all...” She looks at Lyra “...and you've got your lady parts.” She addresses us both, “Make sure to show me how the colt loo—“ A hoof gets shoved into Pinkie Pie's mouth.
It turns out her boss, Ms. Cake, comes to save the day.
The blue furred mare with her pink, licorice styled mane drags Pinkie Pie away kicking and screaming, apologizing profusely to us. “I am so sorry, you two. This one can get out of hand every now and then. I'll make sure to talk to her so this doesn't happen again.” She walks into a back room with Pinkie Pie in tow, shutting the door behind her.
Both of us stand where we are for a bit, in a daze as to how to act now, after nearly passing out from embarrassment. Thankfully, Mr. Cake, a yellow furred pony with a short, orange mane gives us an option.
“How about you two have a few treats on the house? I can't imagine what our pink fiasco must've put you through.”
“Yeah,” Lyra weakly responds. “That. I'll do that.” She follows Mr. Cake to the counter, and like a zombie, I mindlessly do the same.
Our embarrassment soon dissipates as we enjoy some mint-frosted chocolate cupcakes offered by Mr. Cake.
The fresh aftertaste makes my tongue tingle as I digest the tasty cupcake. Lyra had already finished her cupcake long ago, gulping it in one bite. I would've beaten her too, if I'd had a larger mouth.
I grumble to myself, feeling a little emasculated that a female pony managed to beat me in a cupcake eating contest, especially when she didn't even know about this personal competition I always held for myself. Stupid...stupid...
I hear Lyra laughing beside me. I turn around to see she's pointing at my face. “What?” I say, a bit grumpily.
“You have the sourest look on your face right now. Ehehe. I mean, mint cupcakes aren't exactly sour. Ahahaha. What's gotten into you?” Her smile improves my mood a bit.
I open my mouth, but decide against trying to explain myself. I come up with a lame excuse instead. “I'm...just not a fan of mint's aftertaste.”
“Reeeaaaaly?” Lyra asks, clearly skeptical, but Mr. Cake buts in.
“I'm so sorry about that. I wouldn't have gotten you mint if I had kno--” I interrupt, trying to reassure him.
“Oh no, the cupcake was delicious. I knew what I was getting into, so you have no reason to feel bad.”
“Alright then, if you want any more free samples though, let me know.” Mr. Cake heads back to his duties behind the counter.
I handled that well. I smile to myself smugly, proud of my shirking a difficult explanation. “B.S.” Lyra cuts in. She grins a little, due mainly to the fact that that was the first time she'd used the phrase 'B.S.'. I taught her that didn't I?
“There is no way the taste of that cupcake had to do with your facial expression,” Lyra accuses.
I look at her quizzically, as if I'd done nothing.
“I know you're hiding something,” Lyra presses. “Care to explain?” Yeah she's onto me.
“Explaining things would take too long. You don't want to listen to me go on and on about myself for an hour do you?”
“I'm patient,” Lyra immediately replies. Dang she's stubborn.
“Alright. Ok. You win. We should probably get out of Sugarcube corner though. There's no telling when Pinkie Pie will get back.” My face already stretches in concern. Ms. Cake could be done with lecturing Pinkie any minute now.
Lyra gets up. “Let's go! Let's go!”
We both speed walk/trot out of Sugarcube Corner.
“So are you ready for my hour long explanation?” I try to make it clear that this explanation will be boring.
“Yep,” Lyra responds, chipper.
I take a moment to stare across the field we sit in, the grass rippling with the warm, autumn wind. No pokey thorns, buzzing insects, or even leaves mar the countryside. I shake my head in disbelief, amazed at the perfection of it all. Even the grass reflects the sunlight, sparkling with cascading glitters, blown about by the whispers of nat—yeah, I'm getting carried away here.
I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts. How do you explain social roles to these ponies? They clearly lack them...I say that as if it's a bad thing...heck, I wouldn't be surprised if Lyra were lesbian, feeling completely at ease among a society of understanding ponies. Y'know what? She probably is a lesbian isn't she? After all, she is living with Bon Bon...
“You're a lesbian aren't you?” I ask Lyra, completely forgetting that I was supposed to explain my feelings from Sugarcube Corner.
“What?” Lyra exclaims. “Where in the world did that come from? Weren't you supposed to be explaining yourself to me? Even then, how did you even come to that conclusion?”
“Well, you and Bon Bon live in the same house and I thought th—“
“We're roommates, ...” Lyra pauses, unsure of my name, but continues on with her thought. “...just because we live in the same house together doesn't mean we love each other or anything. While I'm unsure as to what gender pony I might end up falling in love with, I assure you, Bon Bon is out of the question. There is no way in this wide world I'd end up falling in love with that snooty, self-dependent, prideful, insolent—“
“Alright,” I interrupt Lyra, smiling. “I think I get the message.” I can't help but giggle a little bit. “Do you want me to continue with my explanation then?”
“Yeah,” Lyra replies, a bit grumpily.
I turn away, trying to actually get this explanation over with. So, social roles, social roles. As long as I tell her about heterosexual norms and what they mean to me as a man, everything should be explained well enough. Strange how these are some of the things I've got left inside my brain.
“Sooo,” I start up. “There's something about my world that's different from yours. Pretty much, people where I used to live would judge you, hard-core. If you acted really differently than them, you were automatically their worst enemy, which kinda explains why I wanted to run away when a lot of ponies looked at me for doing something weird. Naturally, this applies to how a man is supposed to react to situations compared to females, and vice versa. Does that kinda make sense?”
Lyra nods.
“I think we called them gender roles. My gender role, as a man, was to be the most successful person I could be, not to mention strong enough to eventually protect my female partner.”
“Partner as in...”
“Sorry, I meant something like...romantic partner. Pretty much, society where I came from, dictates that I'm supposed to love a female, who I have to protect with large muscles and a just-as-large paycheck.”
“That...sounds really...constricting. Who has the right to tell you what you want to do?”
I grimace at her. “Yeah...”
I never thought about it like that...
I start back up, “So! About the cupcake. As a male, I felt like I had to beat you, a female, in my own little private cupcake eating contest because that's what society tells me I should be better at...in a more general way.”
“But how did that make you feel angry?”
“Well, if you don't follow this male stereotype, other males will look at you like a wuss. Eventually, it gets ingrained into you that you are a wuss if you can't follow the male gender role, regardless of whether other males are there to mock you...lets just say I got angry at you because you made me feel like a wuss.” It felt kinda silly, admitting that out loud.
I hear Lyra snort next to me. I turn to see her bursting at the seams, barely able to keep her laughter in. I can't help but chuckle myself. Gender roles really are stupid aren't they?
“Go ahead, let it out,” I groan, feeling sheepish. However, an obnoxious laugh bursts forth that is very uncharacteristic for Lyra. I look over at her, startled...
Just to find her staring wide-eyed at me. My hackles rise as I feel a soft tap-tap-tapping on my left arm. Slowly, dreading what I'd see, I turn to see Pinkie Pie poking my arm.
Petrified, I try to stay as still as possible, hoping she'd get bored and walk away. It didn't work of course.
“Yoohoo, spindly fella! I wanted to say something to you!” I don't move, react, or blink, in the hopes that my plan will still work. She tips me over and I'm forced to catch myself. I groan. “What do you want, Pinkie?”
“Whew! I thought you were dead for a second. That would've sucked! We're good though, at least it looks like it, so I just wanted to say sorry! I can get a little excited sometimes, and it gets very hard to stop myself. Heheh, I probably almost killed you two with embarrassment now that I think about it...but yeah! I am sosososososo sorry and it wont happen again! Could you guys forgive me?”
I look at Pinkie, a little stunned by her apology. Lyra comes in, “Don't worry about it Pinkie Pie. I'm sure we both can forgive you. I think you just frightened him is all.” Lyra giggles, pointing at me with a hoof.
“I...yeah...that,” I say, still trying to regain my composure.
Pinkie giggles too, but does so while pulling out a smoke bomb. She throws it on the ground, blowing it up and enshrouding us all in smoke. After coughing and waving the smoke away, we find that the pink pony is nowhere to be seen.
“Okaaaaay,” I say to Lyra, weirded out by Pinkie's antics.
“She's a different pony alright,” Lyra says, chuckling. “I can't tell you how many times she's cheered me up when I've gotten into a rut.”
“You?! Sad?!” I say incredulously.
“Everything's not sunshine and rainbows for me either you know,” Lyra says. “I admit I get paid pretty well for my street performing, but getting paid isn't why I chose to do music. I do it to connect, to express myself. I don't mean to be mean here, but I can't get that from ponies here in Ponyville, well, except for Octavia. She's usually too busy doing her own professional music concerts though.” Lyra looks down, obviously sad.
“You could teach me how,” I say, trying to find a solution.
“Sorry, but I don't think that'll work. To understand music's little nuances, you need years of experience. Only Octavia has that.” Lyra continues to look gloomy.
“Yeah, ok. I'll make sure to keep on the lookout for other ponies then,” I respond. The gloominess starts to infect me, but I suddenly think of something important that Pinkie had said, ...'I mean, we have you...a human'...
“Hey Lyra?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember when Pinkie was bothering us in Sugarcube corner?” My cheeks flush a little upon recalling it.
“Ahh, yeah.” Lyra averts her gaze from me, her cheeks flushing a little too.
“I think she called me a 'human' while getting us all embarrassed.”
“A human? What's a human?”
“I think that's what my kind is called. I have no clue how she found out about it, but if it were anypony, it would be her.”
“Didn't you say you couldn't remember anything about what your kind is called? How do you know Pinkie's right?”
“It...it just really rings a bell. It feels right, and it'd be nice to actually have a label for once.”
“Alright, human,” Lyra smirks. “I'll oblige. I actually like the sound of that. Can I call you 'human' from now on?”
“Sure,” I chuckle. “It sounds kinda funny.”
The sun finally dips below the horizon and I suddenly realize how long we'd been talking out here. All of the grass before me has lost its sheen and I'm left staring at a bleak, dark landscape. The wind still graces my cheeks as it softy blows by, stirring the grass at my feet.
“We should probably go,” I say, not sure if Lyra has to wake up for something tomorrow.
“Yeah,” Lyra says and gets up. “I'm about ready to hit the hay.” She yawns.
While I'd suggested leaving in the first place, I choose not to move.
“Human?...Heehee. Are you ready to go? What're you waiting for, Hearthswarming?”
I wait for a bit, thinking about whether I should ask a question I had burning in the back of my mind. I go for it. “Could I try playing that harp of yours? I think it'd be fun.”
“Uuuh, sure, but we should probably get sleep first, I've got a long day of performing to do tomorrow.”
“Yeah, ok.”