//------------------------------// // Day 3 // Story: Golden Harvest - Babysitter // by SpigotOfTheFrigate //------------------------------// Tuesday was a market day in Ponyville. Every week between the time the farmers woke up and everypony else did the town square was transformed. First came the farmers setting up all sorts of carts, wagons, booths, and stalls to sell all sorts of fruits, vegetables, flowers, and grains. Then came the swarm of kids on their way to school. They spent the few bits of their allowances on a treat to go with their lunches. After that came a small lull. A few ponies showed up, the stay at home parents and the few professionals who managed to get the day off. Eventually the shop owners and day laborers would take their lunch break. They would fill the market to capacity perusing for groceries and a bite to eat. But that was just a reason for going to the market, but not the reason. The reason was the gossip. Gossip was the favorite pastime of all small towns, and Ponyville was no exception. On this particular Tuesday the rumor mill was in full swing. The stories and scandals were zipping through the grapevine like the busiest of bees. The ponies working the mill were doing the complicated dance of trading bits for produce and tale for tale. They would form small groups and share the word on the street. Then they would disperse to the various vendors and make their purchases. They’d get a few tidbits of information and then regroup to share with the others. It was a well-oiled machine that insured everyone knew who did what and to whom. Being a bit of a slow week for gossip the townsfolk returned to their favorite topics. The mayor’s dating woes were prominently discussed thanks to her recent and disastrous date with Filthy Rich. The weather workers were once again grumbling about a strike they would never go through with. Berry Punch was back on the wagon and everypony was just thrilled to hear it. And of course there was the Odd Couple. The close friendship between Ponyville’s most cheerful mail-mare and its crabbiest anything was a source of near endless speculation. They proved to be the perfect storm for gossip. Neither of them were well suited for simply answering any questions about their lives. Ditzy Doo was too flighty and too quixotic to be of any real help. She would happily answer any questions you asked but the answer often left more questions behind her wake. On the other end of the spectrum was Golden Harvest. She was too sullen and too withdrawn to answer any questions at all. Since pressing the issue with one ended in confusion and the other ended with several large bruises the good ponies of Ponyville were forced to make their own answers. All of this was completely over the head of Golden. She knew that the market was as good a place to get the skinny as anywhere else, but it was singularly uninteresting to her. It was there and so was she. That was that. She only saw two reasons for the market’s existence. To get foods and to get bits. Much to her chagrin the latter of those two goals was more difficult than it had any right to be. She grew good food. The best carrots this side of Canterlot, possibly the best in Equestria. Most ponies just didn’t love carrots enough to buy them consistently. There was also the other problem. With limited bits to spend ponies naturally felt more inclined to give them to their friends. This shrunk Golden’s consistent customer pool to an embarrassingly small droplet. This lead to more than few complications in her life. “It’s fucking strong arm robbery!” Golden shouted. The pony she was shouting at had a stony, expressionless visage only years of haggling could developed. “I’ll say it again. Pears are out of season. I don’t have many to sell.” Pyrus explained slowly working to remain calm. “Scarcity drives the prices up.” “Bullshit! You’re just being an asshole.” Golden said while jabbing an accusatory hoof at the stallion. “Or maybe I should grow less carrots and “drive up prices.”” “You’d certainly have to throw fewer of them away.” The stallion muttered to himself. “What was that?” Golden hissed. “I said the pears are five bits apiece. If you want five it’ll be twenty-five total.” Pyrus said quickly. “I can do the math.” Golden muttered darkly as she took her coin purse out of her saddle bags. She counted her bits. Then counted again. Could she really be down to that little money? A second recount confirmed her poverty. “Just forget it.” Golden said turning away. “I’ll take them.” A sugary, androgynous voice said from beside her. Turning to identify the speaker Golden found herself face to face with a cream colored earth-pony sporting a pink and indigo mane. “Bon-Bon?” Golden gasped at her friend’s sudden appearance. “Yes it’s me. That was twenty-five bits?” Bon-Bon confirmed and confirmed again as she handed over a princess’s ransom for the pears. She then unceremoniously dumped them in Golden’s saddlebags. Golden was flabbergasted at that. She blushed in embarrassment and muttered a quick response. “You don’t need to do that.” “I know.” Bon-Bon said cordially. “Care to walk with me for a bit?” “Sure.” Golden said falling in line beside her friend. She made sure to shoot a dirty look over her shoulder at Pyrus before she got too far away. The two moved at the slow, languid pace Bon-Bon set. Of the few ponies Golden had ever thought of as a friend Bon-Bon was the toughest nut to crack. She was the perfect mix of sweet and sour. She could praise and scold with equal skill, a talent that was often lost behind her prodigious confectionary talents. Her disappointed gaze had forced many a young foal to return a stolen piece of candy, only for it to be given back after they apologized. In Golden’s mind Bon-Bon was that rarest kind of pony. A pony born to raise and care for children. That in itself was enough to ensure Bon-Bon’s motivation was beyond Golden’s comprehension. But there was more to it than that, she could never really understand why most ponies did what they did. What made Bon-Bon such a peculiar friend was in how they became friends. Most of Golden’s friends had a defining moment were they became her friend. Bon-Bon on the other hoof had simply been around. Until one day Golden realized somewhere along the way the two had become friends. “What do you need the pears for? If you don’t mind me asking.” Bon-Bon said her earnest curiosity shining through. “A friend of mine has a… weakness for them.” Golden explained snickering at her own joke. “Ah.” Bon-Bon remarked, her tone knowing. “The fuck is that supposed mean?” Golden asked with a side long glance. “I just question the wisdom of throwing so much money away to annoy Applejack.” Bon-Bon explained as if she was talking to a child. “You mind reading bitch.” Golden was dumbfounded. It wasn’t the first time she had suspected Bon-Bon of having some sort of ESP. She always seemed to know what was going on. Even, and especially, when she had no reasonable way of knowing what she knew. “I’m no psychic.” Bon-Bon chuckled. “I’ve told you time and time again, if you stay in the loop it really isn’t that hard to figure out what’s going on in a pony’s head.” “Bonnie look, pumpkin futures!” A perfectly timed shout came from galloping unicorn. “Usually.” Bon-Bon muttered to herself. The unicorn came skidding up to the two earth-ponies holding a small stack of papers. Her name was Lyra, Bon-Bon’s longtime girlfriend and Ponyville’s resident lyrist. “Squash Casserole is offering a great deal. By buying them today we can save fifteen bits apiece.” Lyra explained joyously in her sing song voice. “I see. How many did you buy?” Bon-Bon said obviously leading her lover. Lyra contemplated the inch thick stack of papers. “Too many?” Lyra answered and asked at the same time. “Bingo.” A bit of ice crept its way into Bon-Bon’s voice. “So CT, how’s things?” Lyra said desperate for a subject change. Golden closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Carrot Top was already a demeaning enough moniker, shortening it to “CT” was just a slap in the face. “Fine.” Golden grumbled. “Sparky and Dinks run away from home yet?” Lyra asked with a cheeky smile. “Lyra!” Bon-Bon said aghast delivering a quick hip check to her ladylove. “I told you not to bring that up unless she did first!” Her whisper was just loud enough for Golden to hear. “It’s actually going pretty damn well.” Golden said matter-of-factly. “Really?” The two paramours asked in perfect unison. “Really.” Golden said before murmuring, “So much for being in the fucking loop.” Golden’s friends were speechless as she kept walking. Eventually they arrived at Golden’s wagon and she sharply flipped the closed sign to open. She then quickly fished a half-dozen of her choicest carrots and passed them to the still amazed Bon-Bon. “Color me impressed!” Lyra exclaimed. “I thought for sure you’d have fled to the heart of Zebrica after the second day.” “Well thanks for the fucking vote of fucking confidence.” Golden said darkly. “Well childcare isn’t exactly your… primary skill. No offense.” Bon-Bon tried to be delicate with her hot headed friend. “It’s not so tough. The first day was a piece of shit, but yesterday I sat Sparkler down and we reached an understanding.” Golden explained. “Did you just call her Sparkler?” Lyra asked in the same shocked tone most ponies reserved for questions like “She’s a guy?” “Like I said we reached an agreement.” Golden began to pack her cart back up when she felt a hoof jab her in the ribs. Turning she found a dumbfounded Lyra poking her. “Who are you and what have you done to Carrot Top?” She asked in a grave tone. Golden gave her a withering glance that could set a lake to boil. “Do you mind if I ask a question?” Bon-Bon said inserting herself between the two. “Shoot.” “What about Dinky?” “What about her?” Golden asked more than a little lost. “Did you have a talk with her too?” Bon-Bon asked in her “you have forgotten something and I don’t want to be rude and just call you on it” tone. A tone she used embarrassingly often in her social circle. “I didn’t need to. I passed the buck to the middle sister.” Golden said as she got the hitch on her wagon ready. “What about today?” The tone was back with a vengeance. “Aren’t Tuesdays and Thursdays when Sparkler goes to the Boutique to work with Rarity?” “Oh shit.” Golden whispered as the realization hit her like an avalanche. Lyra couldn’t help but snicker at her expression. “At least we know it’s really her.” Lyra joked pausing for laughter that never came. “What the hell am I going to do?” Golden groaned electing to ignore Lyra. “You’ll be fine.” Bon-Bon said soothingly. “No I won’t. I wasn’t even good with kids when I was a kid.” “The trick is to stay positive.” Bon-Bon ensured her. “Hello my name is Golden Harvest, I don’t think we’ve met.” Sardonicism always came easy to Golden. “You don’t have to be that upbeat.” Lyra offered her two cents. “Lyra I really don’t need your shit right now.” Golden sniped back. “I’m serious. It’s like when you first start drinking. You can go from zero to blitzed in one shot, but as you get older it takes more and more booze to get drunk.” Lyra rambled while staring into the middle-distance. “Kids are like that. It doesn’t take much to be nice, or supportive, or thoughtful in their mind because they haven’t really built up a tolerance yet.” “That actually makes sense.” Golden said taken aback. “The key is to try. Children can pick up on your intentions even if your execution is lacking.” Lyra said squinting in concentration. “Where did you read that?” Bon-Bon asked teasingly. “Parenting for Dummies.” Lyra answered obliviously. “Anymore advice?” Golden asked in an unimpressed voice. “School ends in five minutes.” Lyra said glancing at the clocktower. “Damn it all to hell!” Golden shouted. ... By the time Golden arrived at the school she was a sweaty mess. She had towed her wagon at full speed under the ever watchful eye of the sun all the way from the center of town to her farm on the farthest outskirts. When she reached her farm she quickly detached herself, before throwing a tarp haphazardly over her livelihood. She then began her sprint back across the town. For a moment her world was ruled by the pounding of hooves, the whipping of wind, and the kicking up of dust. She ran as if Nightmare Moon herself was nipping at her heels. She ran as if the fate of all the world depended on her speed. She ran as if she intended to run herself to death. All to arrive only fifteen minutes late. Her tardiness ensured the school was next to deserted. If she was thirty seconds late most of the students would be gone. After fifteen minutes the school looked like it had been abandoned years ago. Golden knew at least one little filly was still inside the schoolhouse though. And she was keenly aware that it was her fault. As she approached the front door Golden took several heaving breathes, desperate to get her breathing back to normal before she stepped inside. Fortunately she was given a little more time to do so. Unfortunately it was because a pony stepped outside to meet her. The pony was a mare a few years older than Golden. She had a plum colored coat and mauve mane and tail. Her eyes were a pale green and her face was currently sporting an ironically cheerless frown. “Hey there Cheerilee.” Golden said guiltily looking anywhere but at the teacher. “Hello Carrot Top.” Cheerilee said her voice neutral. “We need to talk.” “I know, I’m sorry I’m late. I got held up at the market.” Golden wheezed, speaking a little faster than her lungs could currently support. Cheerilee sighed shaking her head. “That’s not the problem.” Cheerilee said sitting down heavily, leaning back against the sun warmed wood paneling of her school house. “Dinky is in detention.” “Pull the one of the other ones it’s got fucking bells on it.” Golden couldn’t believe it. When she was younger she was a delinquent, in and out of trouble on an almost daily basis. As she got older she ended up in a small circle of friends, each one more of a trouble maker than the last. All except for Ditzy. She was the good kid in the group with a perpetually clean nose. From the way Ditzy bragged about Dinky, Golden assumed her to be exactly as well behaved. “I’m afraid I’m not joking.” Cheerilee said sternly. “What’d she do, pass notes during class?” Golden asked in disbelief. “She got into a fight.” “Bullshit!” Golden almost shouted. “What happened?” “I’m afraid I’m not sure. Neither she nor the fillies she got into a fight with are talking.” Cheerilee patiently explained. “Don’t give me that crap. You may not have seen what happened but you’ve got to have some ideas.” Golden got in her face. Something she knew instantly she should not have done. But she didn’t care. In her mind Dinky was Ditzy 2.0, and no one was allowed to mess with her friend. “Please calm down.” Cheerilee said refusing to budge. “When I said I don’t know what happened I mean exactly that.” The two simply stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to break first. It was a classic battle of wills. Golden was as stubborn as a pony could get, but at last she had met her match. Cheerilee was a teacher, and as a teacher she dealt with stubbornness on a daily basis. In doing so she had developed the one skill more powerful than obstinacy. The power of patience. Golden stewed for a few moments after she realized her inevitable defeat. She gave a frustrated huff before spinning around and plonking herself down next to the teacher. She vented her frustration with a few deep breathes. After only partially succeeding Golden tried once more to get some information. “What can you tell me then?” She asked doing her best to remain calm and collected. “I really don’t know as much as I would like.” Cheerilee answered her tone carrying a little gratitude for Golden’s self-control. “The other two fillies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, have a tendency to pick on their classmates. But for them to end up in an actual fight, and with Dinky Doo of all ponies, is not something I expected.” “Do you know how it started?” Golden said remembering the many, many fights of her past. They all had one thing in common, somepony always threw the first punch. She wasn’t sure what difference it would make. If Dinky was the aggressor Golden would hardly be in a position to give her a lecture. If Dinky was the victim... Golden hadn’t truly lost control in a long time. It wasn’t a prospect she savored. “The only thing I know is what the other students are saying.” Cheerilee said with a deep sigh. “I don’t know how reliable my little blabbermouths are though.” “What are they saying?” Golden said getting impatient. “They’re saying Diamond and Silver were picking on Dinky. Then they said the wrong thing and Dinky just… snapped. Before you ask I don’t know what they said.” Cheerilee said cutting off Golden before she could begin. “I’m afraid this leaves us in a bit of a pickle though.” “What’d you mean?” Golden asked warily. “When a student ends up getting into trouble, especially trouble like this, I like to work with their parents or legal guardians. But with Ditzy out of town…” Cheerilee let the silence sit between them, her implication clear. Golden simply sat there staring into the distance, mulling over the situation. “I could talk to her.” Golden said stoically. Wait, what? “Wait, what?” Cheerilee said sizing up Golden. It wasn’t easy to shock a pony who made their living looking after children, but Golden so rarely did things that were easy. “I could talk to her.” Golden repeated. No I couldn’t. Why am I saying this? This is a terrible plan. “I suppose Ditzy did leave you in charge while she was gone.” Cheerilee chewed on each word as she spoke. “I can handle it.” Golden assured her. You lying bitch! “I’ll go get her.” And then Golden was left alone with her thoughts. What the fuck was that? Shit, maybe Lyra was on to something, I might be possessed or some shit. ‘Cause I didn’t want to say a word of that. So much for “just don’t try so damn hard and you won’t fuck it up.” When Cheerilee returned she was not alone. Next to her was a downcast Dinky Doo. She was shuffling, staring solidly at the ground in front of her hooves. The evidence of her fight was clear to Golden’s experienced eyes. There was a slight rumpling to her coat and her mane was messy despite the clear attempts to fix it. Her right cheek was a little swollen. On the left side of her neck just, below her jaw line, was a Power Ponies bandage. It was all very nostalgic for Golden. One thing stuck out as different from her own experiences. Dinky’s eyes were red and puffy, with obvious tear tracks in her fur. “Hey Dinky.” Golden said sympathetically. She had been there. She had done that. If she had any money as a kid she would have bought the t-shirt. She began to get a little worried when Dinky didn’t even look up. She glanced at Cheerilee who simply nodded before turning and going back into the school house. Golden wasted no time. She quickly bent down and relieved Dinky of her saddle bags. She slung them over her neck before lowering herself onto her belly, her side to Dinky. “Hop on.” Golden whispered in what she hoped was a nurturing voice. Dinky finally looked up at that, her eyes wide with confusion. “Huh?” “You look like you could use ride home.” Golden said smiling at the little filly. Dinky nodded glumly and climbed up onto Golden’s back. She immediately snuggled down into Golden’s back, making Golden acutely aware of every hair that came into contact with the filly. She also couldn’t help but notice how soft Dinky’s coat was or how much warmth her little body created. Golden set off from the schoolhouse at a slow walk. She was no stranger to hauling things on her back, but she was still careful. This was by far the most precious thing she had carried in her life. So she went slow and steady, continually throwing glances over her shoulder. A few minutes passed before Golden felt Dinky shift her weight. She scooted up Golden’s back until eventually she was mostly resting on her shoulders. Then she buried her face in Golden’s orange mane. Golden knew what was happening before she even heard the muted sniffles and sobs. She let Dinky cry for a bit. Ditzy had once told her that bad feelings needed to be gotten out, and Golden was more than willing to defer to her wisdom. And so Dinky cried, and cried, and then cried some more. After a while she finally seemed to exhaust herself. Golden slowed to a stop and craned her neck to face her young ward. “It’ll be alright Dinky.” Golden did her absolute best to sound motherly. Doing so of course meant doing her best Stanza Star impersonation. “No it won’t.” Dinky moaned pitifully. “Ditzy is going to hate me.” “Aww, no she won’t. Ditzy doesn’t have it in her hate anything, least of all you.” Golden explained. “But she said I should never hit another pony. And now I hit two ponies.” Dinky persisted coming very close to crying again. “She’ll forgive you. She loves you.” “But what if she doesn’t?” Dinky asked quietly her eyes once more filling with tears. “I’ve known Ditzy a long time Dinky.” Golden said calmly. “In that time I’ve gotten into a lot of fu- …fights, and I hit a lot more than two ponies. She forgave me every time.” “So if she forgave you, then she should forgive me?” Dinky rationalized slowly retreating to logic as her safe place. Her face still looked more than a little sad, but there was a glimmer of hope in her gaze. “Exactly.” Golden said as she started walking again. Dinky still seemed quite a ways from happiness but it was a start. She just needed to finish the job. That was easier said than done. Golden only knew two things that could consistently cheer her up. One of those things was currently in transit to the Crystal Empire. That left one option. “You know what always cheers me up?” “No.” Dinky answered her voice heavy with curiosity. “I listen to music.” Golden said proud of her cleverness. Her gramophone just kept coming in handy. Some jazzy little album and Dinky would be smiling like a fool. Problem solved. “Will you sing me a song then?” It was at this moment Golden almost swallowed her tongue. She hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not much of singer.” Golden said backpedaling so quickly she almost started walking backwards. It was her opinion that singing should be left to singers. Seeing as Golden had little to no rhythm and was slightly more tone deaf than your average rock, she definitely did not think of herself as a singer. “Please.” Golden made the mistake of looking back at Dinky. She was an adorable filly, and with her wide eyes full of hope and desire she was impossible to resist. “I guess I can try. I can’t promise I’ll be any good though.” As she finished speaking she closed her eyes. Picking the right song was easy. She knew instantly the best song for the moment. Replaying the song in her head proved similarly easy. She listened to the introduction with her mind’s ear. A clarinet did a small improvisation on the main theme. It was a happy, bouncy sound specifically designed to put smiles on faces. Golden let the melody fill her. She did her best to time her steps to the tempo of the song. Then she began to rock ever so slightly from side to side. Enough to get a feel for the swing of the song without being enough to dislodge her passenger. Finally the clarinet ended its solo with a fading trill, and the lyrics began. "Grab your coat and get your hat. Leave your worries at the doorstep. Just direct your feet, To the sunny side of the street.” As she sang Golden did her best to monitor Dinky’s reaction. Much to her surprise the young foal seemed to be enjoying the old song, even this particular rendition of it. She had even begun to bounce along with Golden’s swaying, doing her best to hum the melody. “Can’t you hear the pitter pat. And that happy tune is your step. Life can be so sweet, On the sunny side of the street.” Golden had sung on occasion before. Every so often she would be alone and feel the need to belt out a few bars. As a child her teachers had often used songs to help their students memorize facts. According to her friends, she had once even given a stupefying performance that had consisted of equal parts the Equestrian national anthem and I’m Your Penis while properly shit-faced. None of that was even close what she was doing now. Now she was singing for an audience. It was odd. She felt less as if she was singing and more that the music was simply working its way through her. Some ancient, powerful, benevolent spirit was channeling its essence through her, all to cheer up the small foal on her back. And for the third time in under an hour the question of Golden’s possession was raised. If this is what being possessed is like it isn’t all that fucking bad. “I used to walk in the shade, With my blues on parade. Now I’m not afraid. This Rover’s crossed over.” Then Golden did something odder still, and that was saying something. She bucked her body upwards, launching Dinky skyward. Part of her mind screamed out in protest. Dinky was fragile both emotionally and physically. She really needed to not be dropped on her head. Another part of her mind pointed out that she had managed to catch her just fine, and Dinky seemed to love it. With her most daring act of cheering up behind her Golden dropped all sense of moderation. She began to sing at the top her lungs, filling the air with subpar but enthusiastic music. She wondered if anypony was around to hear her. Then she realized she didn’t really care, or as she would say she didn’t give a fuck. One pony was listening and she was the only one that mattered. “If I never have a cent, I’ll be as rich as Rockefeller. Gold dust at my feet, On the sunny side of the street.” As the song ended Golden’s fears and worries came scurrying back to her. Did she sing well enough? Was it the right song? Was it even the right thing to do? Should she just have left Cheerilee to deal with it? Had she just sprung Dinky from detention early without even realizing it? Instantly the doubts were banished by the sounds of clapping hooves. Dinky looked positively ecstatic. “That was amazing!” Dinky shouted. The look on the young unicorn’s face was enough to let Golden know she had done well. Plastered on Dinky’s face was the same smile Golden had seen Ditzy wear a thousand times before. The same one Sparkler had sported the day before. “If you think that was good you should hear an actual singer do it.” Golden said as she trotted down the path; looking like the cat who had not only eaten the canary, but most of the other small pets in the house as well. Advancing Dinky’s appreciation for the classics was high on Golden’s list of priorities. The first thing she did when they arrived at the old homestead was set a Louis Hoofstrong record to play. Dinky on the other hand immediately set out to do her homework. Golden had to admit it was a little awkward to hover as Dinky did her work. It’s not like she needed help. Golden also couldn’t help but reminisce to her own days of doing homework, or more accurately not doing it. When she finished Dinky set about getting a board game for the two of them to play. Golden surprised herself by being disappointed when Dinky passed over the battered, old copy of Shoots & Ladders. Instead she fished out a garishly colored box with the name Candyland splayed across it in candy-cane letters. Playing Candyland with Dinky proved to be informative if nothing else. Dinky may not have talked constantly, but she came close. She shared any and all information that she found interesting. Apparently ancient Manechuria issued paper money. The delta symbol represented change. The Everfree Forest had been a national park for one-hundred and thirty-six years. In between the random facts Golden did manage to pick out a few snippets of information about Dinky. Her favorite color was yellow. Her best friend was Bon-Bon’s sister Twist, and her favorite color was pink. Dinky didn’t have a favorite class because she liked them all. Eventually the game ended and Dinky let out the victorious cry of “I win!” “You sure did.” Golden bluffed. If she were being totally honest she hadn’t really been paying much attention to the game. For a while the two simply sat there. It was a silence, or at least as close to a silence a one could get with a brassy trumpet solo in the background, but at least it was a comfortable silence. After a while Dinky spoke up. “I really am sorry I got into a fight.” She said looking for some comfort from her caretaker. “I know you are. And you learned your lesson right?” Golden said back to her. She was glad Dinky was as smart as she was. It meant this could be the beginning and end of her “fighting is bad” lecture. “I’m not going to hit anypony else.” Dinky said proudly before giving a small dejected mutter of, “Even if they are just bullies.” Golden had to frown at that. Something about what Dinky said hit her ear wrong. When she figured out what it was she knew she had a much more difficult discussion ahead. It was a lesson that few ponies ever really learned, even if everypony should have learned it at some point. “Did Ditzy ever tell you the story of how she and I became friends?” Golden asked as she began to pack up the game. She made sure to take her time. Conversations like this one were always easier when you could do something as you spoke. “No.” Dinky said, shaking her head. Golden wasn’t surprised by this. Ditzy genuinely loved her friend, but she preffered to remember the moment they became friends as opposed to the first time they actually met. “The first time we met I called Ditzy names until she broke down and cried.” Golden forced herself to say. It wasn’t a moment she liked to remember much less talk about. Sometimes things just needed saying. “Why?” Dinky face showed a mixture of confusion and betrayal that Golden couldn’t stand to look at. “Because I was a bi- …bully.” Golden said matter-of-factly. “But you need to understand I wasn’t just a bully. My parents never liked each other and I got caught in their crossfire more often than not. By the time I got to my first day of school I was a mess. I was a lonely, sad, frustrated kid who only knew one way ponies ever cheered themselves up. So I lashed out at every mothe- …pony who got in my way. This drove everypony away. My parents gave up on me as a problem child. My classmates wrote me off as a jerk. Even my teacher just treated me like “the bully.”” Thinking back on her childhood was proving to be difficult for Golden. She knew a lot of foals had it worse off than she did, but that never really made it easier. As a kid all she knew was that she was unhappy, with no real way to fix her life. “But you’re Ditzy’s best friend now?” Dinky asked confusedly. It was a hard concept for a kid to get. “I got lucky. One day I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away from home. I didn’t get very far and ended up at the library. I hid back in the reference section and just sat there crying. Eventually Ditzy wandered by. I fully expected her to get her shots in while she could.” Golden liked this memory more. It was how she got her first and best friend. “But she didn’t, right?” Dinky asked incredulously. Golden being a bully was one thing, but Ditzy being a bully was completely outlandish. “She didn’t. Instead she just sat down next to me and asked me what was wrong. We talked and after that we were friends. A few days later she gave me my nickname and the rest is history.” Golden’s story may have been a touch anticlimactic but she thought it did all right. Dinky seemed to be thinking deeply trying to digest her story and its implications. “Now I’m not saying I did the right thing, or that being sad gave me the right to hurt others. All I’m saying is that ponies don’t do things for no reason. So its dangerous to just label them.” And Golden knew that was true. If Ditzy hadn’t been able to look past her mistakes she may very well have ended up in a jail cell next to her father. Golden slid Candyland back onto its shelf as Dinky just sat ruminating. All the while the record came to its last song. The esteemed Mister Hoofstrong began played a familiar melody on his trumpet before he began singing On the Sunny Side of the Street. As he played the two ponies listening found themselves feeling just a little bit better. “I like the way you sang better Miss Carrot Top.” Dinky said as she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Thanks Dinky, I don’t think there’s a single other pony in the world who would say that.” Golden said before giving Dinky a stiff, albeit grateful nuzzle. “And you don’t need to call me miss.” “What about Aunt Carrot Top?” “Yeah, that’ll work.”