//------------------------------// // Failures and Frustrations // Story: The Courtship of Clementine by The Fillyfooler, Pretzel Poem // by Robo00 //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Failures and Frustrations Persimmon Pepper. By themselves the words are at best, cute but combined they form the name of the most evil pony ever. Oh, how I LOATHED her! I'd figure she would be the one who'd would ruin my life. The only way this moment could get any worse is if she'd invited my entire immediate family (and that's a whole lot of pony) and forced me to wear a clown suit. "So Percy." I said, trying to be as cool as a cucumber, "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" That obnoxious, smug smirk was still plastered on her face. She gleefully spun around, showing off that ugly green and white schoolmarm outfit. The group of confused foals and their parents looked on at the pathetic spectacle before them. "Really, Pretzy. Late again as usual." The venom just dripped out of her mouth as she brought her hoof to her mouth, threw her head back and cackled (again). "OHHOHOHOHOHO!" A sane mare would have retrieved the sheriff, namely since the deputy was right there, and had everything handled in a fair and an impartial manner. It's a shame I wasn't a sane mare. "This was my job, you pastel slattern! Mine, mine, MINE!" Not the best comeback in the world but at this point I didn't care. I was livid beyond livid. Low growling sounds escaped my muzzle, making me sound like some sort of crazed beast pacing in it cage at the zoo. "Oh, Pretzy, Pretzy, Pretzy. I know you heard the phrase "The early bird catches the worm"",she sneered. "Of course, a little sweet talk helps. "Calling it sweet talk, now aren't we." "Then call it, taking the initiative." Persimmon said. "CALL IT SLEEPING AROUND, YOU SKANK!" Now I really wanted to strangle her within an inch of her life. "Who was it? The mayor? The superintendent?" "That is a really low blow, Pretzy." Persimmon said, crocodile tears forming in her eyes. "And for your information, it was the superintendent's brother." I decided to play my trump card against this promiscuous bore and thrust my hoof in Woody's direction. "BWAHAHAHA! Foolish Percy, behold...THE DEPUTY! Ergo, I also know the sheriff! BWAHAHA..." "Hi Woody." "Hello, Miss Pepper." My mouth hung open as I just remembered the small flaw in my hasty plan. Oh yes. Since she was here first, they probably met already,I thought, utterly defeated. "Oh, poor little Pretzy. I'm sure there is a job opening for somepony with your talents. All we have to do is find somepony that would hire drab asexual bookworms with glasses. I'm sure the nursing home is right up your alley, just don't let them mistake you for a resident." "Well...I...er...YOUR MOTHER!" And with that (poorly thought-out) last word I stormed off leaving behind my most hated rival, the foul smelling sheriff's deputy, a gaggle of confused foals, and their irritated parents who would most assuredly try to explain all the bad language their young one absorbed. I stormed through the town in a mood most foul. HOW DARE SHE!, I thought, wanting to scream it out on top of the largest building. Then it hit me. No job means no money and no money means no home. My head hung low as my angry stomping became a sad gait. What to do. What to do. "Watch where ya walkin', ya dumb idjet!" In my fogginess, I seem to have bumped into an elderly mare. A rather angry elderly mare. Rule number one, as told to me by my mother, be polite to your elders. I gracefully bowed to her to beg her forgiveness. "Beg your pardon,ma'am." WHACK! She proceeded to hit me on the head several times with her bag. Oh, how this town DESPISES me. The old crone stopped trying to introduce blunt force trauma to my already aching head and thrust a large heavy crate into me. "Ya'll can make it up to me by loadin' these boxes into the wagon!" The old mare stormed back into a building with a placard that read "GREENGROCER'S GROCERIES. A smaller sign underneath read "GOING OUT OF BUSINESS FOREVER". "So I take it you're Greengrocer." I said, trying to make small talk as I hoisted another heavy crate into the wagon. "No, I'm Princess Celestia. Of course I'm Greengrocer, ya jackass!" The mare spat back. "I was just trying to..." "Less yappin', more loadin'!" This mare and and her formally charming now grating "corn pone" accent was starting to annoy me. I decided to shut my mouth lest I incur another rustic tongue lashing. My ears perked up at a heavenly sound all of the sudden. "You can't be leavin' too, missus Greengrocer?" Clementine! My heart started to sing when it heard her. Of course, the racket irritated the butterflies in my stomach. "TURN OFF THAT RACKET!", they seemed to say as they banged on the wall. "Yep, I'm leavin'! An' you an' your pappy better leave, too! If'n ya'll know what's good for ya." Against my better judgement, I decided to insert myself into the conversation. Like, what the worst that could happen. Greengrocer could hit me again. Clementine could think I was a (bigger) fool. I could catch on fire, be eaten by wild animals, wet myself, and so on. "May I inquire about the current happenings in town that would have you to leave?" "Big Oil." Clementine growled, saying the two words like they were some sort of ancient curse that mustn't be said. "Um...Big...er...Oil?" I meekly asked. A fire of pure anger lit up in Clementine's eyes. The name (if it was a name) struck an unpleasant chord with her. "Yes, Big Oil! Only th' worse pony ever!", Clementine was becoming more angry as she continued. "He been buyin' up the town." "So...um...that's bad?" "YOU'RE DANG RIGHT, THAT'S BAD!" Clementine's voice now became a roar. "That skunk been cheatin' ponies out of their homes and livelyhoods for th' last couple of months." "Well, why don't you call the authorities?" It seemed like an intelligent thing to say at the time. They both stared at me like I was brain damaged. Then they both exploded with laughter. Yes folks, Pretzel Poem has put her hoof in it yet again. "Oh, that's rich!" cackled Greengrocer, like the witch she is. "Every time we get a sheriff, they either wind up in Big Oil's pocket or up there." Greengrocer pointed to a hill off in the distance. Several gravestones peppered the hill. A hideous looking vulture nested on the branch of a twisted branch of a dead tree, adding to the macabre imagery. Frankly, the whole thing made me sort of nauseous. "Are all those..." Clementine glumly nodded. "Each one was a sheriff that Big Oil couldn't buy so his henchmen..." She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. "Have ya'll heard of the Bloodhoof gang?" "Woody might have mentioned them in passing." "Tha' whole lot of them are either crooked lawponies or jus' plain ol' crooks that Big Oil got ta hirin'!" Greengrocer said, as she concluded her packing. "Where ya from, missy?" "Canterlot, why?" "Ya'll better get that ass of yer's back there then!" And with a cackle, the old mare hooked the wagon up to herself and sped off at an unimaginable speed for an elderly pony. "If I had money, my arse would be back at Canterlot." I mumbled to myself. A gentle, reassuring hoof touched my shoulder. Clementine gave me a gentle smile that calmed my frazzled (or in my current state, mangled) nerves. "Don't worry about it," said Clementine. "That old coot says a lot of things." We both looked at each other and, strangely enough started chuckling along with her. A few tears started to form in my eyes, by products of my earlier frustrations. "Thank you." I croaked. "If you need a place to stay, maybe me and my dad can put you up for a few days." "But I shouldn't impose. I mean you have your own problems and I..." "Please, I insist." Damn my soft heart and those beautiful eyes of hers. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. For the strangest reasons, the butterflies left my stomach and an all-enveloping calm filled me. There are many types of magic. Some that can move mountains, others that can pulverize an island but the magic of normalcy is the greatest of them all. "Very well," I said, giving in like the fool I was. "But I must pull my own weight." "Aren't you a teacher?" No use avoiding it now. "Well, I mean I'm pretty intelligent, but my two special talents are...sigh...pretzel making and poetry." I expect her to laugh at me. Like everypony else except my parents. My whole family on both my mother's and father's side are scholars, as are my brothers and sisters. And when your youngest (no matter how smart she is) gains the most confusing and contradictory cutie mark in all of Equestria, you can't help but be somewhat disappointed. But unlike so many others, Clementine didn't laugh at me. "You make pretzels?", she said. I nodded grimly. And suddenly she beamed with glee. "That's great." "I mean it's nothing to wr...WHA?!" "Daddy needs something else to serve at the Pussycat beside booze and pretzels sound like the perfect thing." I stood there in silence for who knows how long. My talent for making twisted salted bread snack is actually appreciated? Pretzel Poem, the pony who is most likely to run screaming from the room when the term "pretzel maker" was used is becoming what she hates the most. And would probably enjoy it. "Well, Miz Poem?", said Clementine with those big, pleading eyes of hers. "It would be a pleasure." said the fool that was I, mentally drooling over the fact I would be under the same roof as my beloved. "Great, I'm gonna try to talk daddy into letting you stay." And she was off like a bolt of lightning, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "I'll be under the same roof as Clementine." I gleefully said to myself. Just then the logical half of my brain (which I haven't been using lately since I stepped foot in this town) kicked in. You know her father might say no. "But there's a good chance he could say yes." Okay, even if you are allowed to stay, what makes you think that Clementine will love you. "I'll just use what I learned from my books to woo her." You mean those brain dead romance novels and those trashy bodice rippers. "Well...I mean...since you put it that way." Plus, what if she offended by the very thought of a same gender relationship. And what would the town say. These types of towns don't cotton well to "fillyfoolers". "Our love would weather any stor..." What happens if she already has a coltfriend. I came to a sudden realization. What if she did have a coltfriend. Not only would I look like a fool (a filly fool as it were) but I would become the town degenerate. Oh, hello Miss Pervert. Fine weather we're having today. Are you planning to spit on our wholesome values with your sexual deviancy? And Clementine would really despise me. "ARGH! What was I thinking?", I groaned out loud. "Um, excuse me?" "YAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I leaped twenty feet into the air, hitting my head on Greengrocer's sign. Turning around I could see the face of sheriff Gossamer. Oh, will he get a good tongue lashing from me and the knot on my head. "Can I...ahem...have a word with you?", said a blushing Gossamer. I put aside cursing out the flaxen maned boob and decided to hear him out. "Yes? Well, out with it, man. I haven't got all day." I said, still feeling cross at loosing a one-mare argument. "Are you a poet? I mean I should have asked because of your name. Plus..." He pointed at my cutie mark (aka the bane of my existence), a quill overlaid on a pretzel. I looked at him, somewhat puzzled. Of course, a mare as well read as myself would have at least a few poetry books, but as for writing the things, my experience is between zilch and nada. "I've been known to dabble.", I replied, lying my ass off. An obnoxious, ear to ear grin formed across Gossamer's face. "Excellent!", he beamed. "I need you to help me write a love poem." "Gossamer, you scamp.", I proceeded to gently nudge him in the ribs. "So, who's the lucky mare?" "Oh, she doesn't know I love her yet." Figures. "And you want me to help you win her heart, is that it?" "Yep." "And who is this lucky gal?" "Clementine." At that instant, my entire world collapsed in on it's self. Gossamer is my rival for Clementine?! I wanted to find a way out. No. I'd just tell him no. "I'd be delighted." Dumbass! I just mentally facehooved at myself. "Great. I'll see you tonight at the jail.' Again, I was alone with my thoughts. I was helping my romantic rival steal the mare of my dreams. Failure. That word screamed out at me. Only one thought crossed my mind at that moment. You blew it, Pretzel. You blew it.