Scootaloo woke up from her deep sleep; she looked over from her bed at a picture in a frame. The picture was of her standing beside her idol, Rainbow Dash. There was no other pony like Rainbow; she was the greatest pony in the world to Scootaloo. She slowly got out of her bed and walked over to a mirror next to her window. “I wish I was like Rainbow Dash… she is amazing” Scootaloo stared at the mirror for several seconds, then flapped her wings. She didn’t fly, actually, she couldn’t fly. Scootaloo just stared at her wings for a short time before her ears flopped down and she lowered her head.
She wanted to fly.
Scootaloo trotted out of her bedroom and down the hard, wooden stairs that led down to the entrance of the house. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her stomach made a low grumbling sound. She was hungry.
Scootaloo walked into a small room. It was the kitchen; it had drawers, cabinets, a table and a fridge. She walked over to one of the cabinets and opened it, only to find there was nothing in it with the exception of some empty alcohol bottles.
She took a bottle out and sniffed the lid. It smelled of cider, but not Apple Family cider. No, this cider was much stronger than anything she had smelled before. The smell burned in her sinus, causing Scootaloo to gag slightly before placing the bottle on the table beside her. She then began rummaging through a few of the other cabinets, only to find a couple of empty cereal boxes and a few potatoes that were shriveled and blackened with age.
Scootaloo walked over to the fridge and opened it. Most of the things in the dingy fridge that could still be considered food was long out of date. She saw one sandwich that looked to have some sort of flower and grass in it. Scootaloo tried to reach it, but she was not tall enough. She furiously flapped her wings while trying as hard as she could to reach the sandwich. Scootaloo gave up and walked over to the table again, she started to pull a chair over to the fridge, when she slipped on some sort of liquid on the floor.
“Ow! My wing!” Scootaloo pulled herself up from the cold linoleum floor and held her wing, she took her hoof away to examine the damage.
Her wing was slightly bent, but nothing seemed broken. Scootaloo held her wing and walked over to the cabinet on the far side of the room. Behind the door that hung awkwardly on a single hinge was a medical box with all sorts of things to treat any type of minor injury. Once she found it, she opened it up and rummaged through the box to find some bandages and tape.
Scootaloo found a hypodermic needle, some medical sponges and bandages; however, the tape was missing from the box. She never wanted to touch anything she knew she couldn’t handle, so she just pulled out a sponge and the bandages. She never touched the needle, she never wanted to. Scootaloo started to walk over to the chair she had beside the fridge and stood on it.
She picked up the sandwich with her teeth and placed it in her left hoof. In her other hoof was the medical sponge and bandages. She got down from the chair and laid both, the medical supplies and the sandwich on the floor.
Scootaloo then wandered across the room to the cabinet which held the plates and opened the door. Inside the cabinet were a couple broken plates and some dirty ones. She carefully inspected the contents of the cabinet and in the back, behind the mess of filthy and damaged plates, was a single clean dish. Scootaloo took the solitary, clean, bone white plate and placed it on the floor next to her, she then trotted back over to the food and supplies she put on the ground and picked them back up. Carefully, Scootaloo tried not to slip again while walking back over to the plate on the floor.
She placed the sandwich on the plate, let go of the bandages and sponge and trotted back over to the chair next to the fridge. She then pulled the chair over to the drawers above the cabinets. Once she got the chair next to the cabinets, she climbed back onto the chair and opened the drawer and began rummaging through it.
She found some forks and a couple spoons, but not what she was searching for. While digging through the drawer, she had not noticed where the knife was and slid her forearm across the blade, leaving behind a bleeding three inch slit in her arm.
“Ahh! Stupid knife!” Scootaloo picked up the knife and threw it across the room in anger.
Scootaloo held onto her forearm and pressed on it to try and stop the blood flow. Her arm was cut bad, it wasn’t deep, but it was quite a large wound. She continued to rummage through the drawer until she found what she was looking for. It was a roll of tape that she used to keep things together.
Scootaloo stepped down from the chair and trotted towards the plate with the sandwich on it. She picked up the small medical sponge and pushed the chair to the sink.
Climbing onto the chair once again, she reached across the sink to turn on the tap. Cold water started to come out of the faucet, flowing down through the small hole at the bottom of the sink. She held the sponge beneath the cascading water and soaked it. She turned off the tap, climbed off the chair and sat down beside the plate with the sandwich on it.
Scootaloo took a deep breath and placed the sponge over her injured arm, she held it down hard. It stung a lot, but Scootaloo knew that this was the only way to help her wound. After she had the sponge on her arm for several seconds, she dropped the sponge, then picked up one of the bandages and wrapped it around her forearm. She used her teeth to cut the bandage once it was wrapped several times around her arm; she then picked up the tape and circled it around her forearm like she did with the bandage.
When Scootaloo was finished with her arm she looked back to her wing that was still sore and throbbing slightly. She stretched her wing out, wincing at the dull throb of pain coursing through the appendage, and carefully soaked it with the dampened sponge. She dropped the sponge to the floor again and wrapped the rest of the bandages around her waist, keeping her one injured wing tied down and stopping it from moving. She finished by wrapping her waist with tape to keep the bandages in place.
Satisfied with the end result of her first-aid treatment, she climbed back up onto the chair and looked around for a cloth to wipe up the liquid that she slipped on. She found one towel on the sink. It was slightly damp, but it could be used. Scootaloo picked it up and jumped off the chair again.
She trotted over to the liquid and sniffed it to know what she slipped on. It smelled like liquor, or maybe some other form of alcohol. Scootaloo wiped it up by throwing the cloth on the floor and using her hooves to clean it up. The cloth didn’t really soak up the alcohol, it more pushed the putrid liquid around the floor; she had hoped it would be more like a sponge. Although the dampened corner of the cloth could be used.
Scootaloo soaked the floor with what water was contained in the cloth, and then wiped it up with the parts of the cloth that weren’t wet. Afterwards, she walked over to the entrance of the kitchen to try to find the knife she threw. It was lying on the ground with small amounts of blood along the edge of the blade beginning to dry and turn a dark maroon color. Scootaloo cleaned the blade with the cloth and wrapped it around the knife. She then trotted back over towards the chair and threw the cloth and the knife into the sink.
Scootaloo looked around her, only to see that everything was clean again. The only thing that was on the floor was the plate with the sandwich on it.
She trotted back over to the sandwich and sat down beside it, she picked it up with her hooves while leaning on the cabinet that was behind her. She took a couple bites from the sandwich and looked back around the room. She never felt so lonely in her life; this is what she had to do every day. Caring for herself became second nature to Scootaloo. She was still sad and depressed whenever she was here, but at least she knew someone cared. Someone to whom she felt loyal to the bottom of her heart; someone that would never let her down. Rainbow Dash.
“Is this my life?”