//------------------------------// // Part 2- 'Can't you READ?' // Story: Gilda Meets Oscar // by PensacolaRanger //------------------------------// “Well, well, well…” thought the trash can-dwelling creature, “a worthy opponent at last…” But not wanting to show he was impressed, the cretin heatedly retorted right back: "HEY... WHO'RE YOU CALLING 'MOP-HEAD'...BIRD-BRAIN?" Gilda’s eyes widened a bit…but she only paused, and stood her ground. “(*Ahem*) I’m calling you that, you walking dust-mop…” And for emphasis, Gilda grabbed the creature by the chest-fur, and pulled him up close, so they were eye-to-eye, face to face! “…if you don’t start answering my questions! Understand?" For a moment, neither one flinched, but simply stood, eyes squinting and mouths sneering. Clearly, Gilda Griffon was not afraid of this loudmouth, and was more than a match for him. And, oh boy, did he both love and hate that at the same time. The green one swatted her talon away with a shaggy hand, and threatened her: “NO ONE touches the fur of OSCAR THE GROUCH and gets away with it!” “Oh yeah? Says who?" “Says ME!” “And you are, again?” “Oscar! Oscar-Oscar-Oscar! OSCAR THE GROUCH! Think you can remember that?” “And I’m Gilda! Gilda-Gilda-Gilda! GILDA THE GRIFFON! Think you can remember that?" “What’s a Griffon?” “That’s ME! What’s a Grouch?” “That's ME!” “That’s not saying much.” “Watch it, sister…” “Oh, yeah? What’re you ‘gonna do about it, huh?” “… ... ... (*Groan*) I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something." Clearly, this conversation between grouch and griffon had reached an impasse. Oscar rubbed his chin in thought. Gilda turned her head, sighed…and turned back to Oscar. “Look…will you just tell me where I am, please? I think I’m lost.” “Please? (Heh) Lady, you don’t have to be polite with me. I’m not Mister Manners in this neighborhood. You're the one that got lost. That’s your problem; not mine. Don’t come bothering me with your problems. That ain’t what grouches are for…” By now, Gilda had just about enough of this nasty local’s lip. This was all a stranger like her could expect around here: ask for help, and get nothing but sass in return? Trembling, Gilda ruffled her feathers… "WILL YOU JUST HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHERE I AM??" she bellowed in a griffon battle cry! The grouch had crouched low in his can, trembling and shaking the can. “Sheesh, all right, all right, already…” he managed to say, with much trepidation. Oscar rested his head on the rim of his can, chin in his furry hand, thinking… “THE SIGN!” he declared! “Huh? Sign? What sign?” “Look…do you see that sign, up on the lamp post?” Oscar pointed a furry finger from his can. Gilda followed it…to the lamp post street sign. “What about it?” “(*Groan*) CAN’T YOU READ?" Gilda looked up at the sign…then back at Oscar. “Of course I can read! Just…well…” “(*Groan*) CAN’T YOU READ ENGLISH?" “Huh? English? What’s that?" “(*Grumble*) Oh, brother, you’re some piece of work…” the grouch muttered. “It’s the language we’re speaking right now, to each other!" “Oh…that." “Yes, that. Didn’t you ever go to school?” “Of course I did. Equestrian Flight School. Summer flight camp, actually.” “And you never covered English in class?” “All I’ve studied is Griffish and Equish. Sorry; no English.” The grouch face-palmed himself. “You mean to tell me you can speak English, but you CAN’T READ IT!?” “Hey, don’t ask me. Ask my writers." Gilda shrugged. Now the grouch was completely exasperated. “OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! YOU’RE AT 1-2-3 SESAME STREET, MANHATTAN ISLAND, NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A., ON THE NORTHEASTERN SEABOARD OF NORTH AMERICA! There, I've said it! Is that enough? Is that specific enough for you? Or do I have to draw you a MAP, too?" A long, awkward pause stretched between the two… Gilda dropped down from the side of Oscar’s can, and landed on all fours. Slowly, she shifted her feline hind-quarters, to rest on her haunches. Her face fell. Her eyes glazed. Her wings drooped. And her beak hung open. She looked shocked. Sad. And utterly bewildered. Oscar studied her, from the edge of his can. “(*Sigh*) You really are lost, ain’t cha, kid?” he asked, softly. “Mm--Man-hattan? Nn--not…not Mane-hattan?” Gilda croaked in disbelief. “Mane-hattan? What’re you talkin’ about? Just where are you from, anyway?” “Guh…Griffonstone…” “And…what’s a Griffonstone?” “A small village way up in the mountains, in the northwestern part of Equestria…” “Hmm…that would explain the wings and feathers….wait, what? EQUESTRIA!?" “Yeah, that's what's I said! You got a problem with that, bub?” asked Gilda, springing up and shaking a claw-fist! “Hey-hey-hey, whoa! I ain’t tryin’ to pick a fight with you. Not yet, anyway… But what’s this place you call…Equestria?” “What…it’s not on any of your world’s maps?” “Well…not any that have been dumped into my trash can, lately…” A thoughtful pause passed between the two edgy creatures. “(*Sigh*) Okay, let’s just say it’s pretty far away…a whole different world, with…talking creatures like me. And, um…others. Like…dragons, minotaurs, hippocampus, sea serpents, hydras…” “Really…? Sounds like my kind of place! Heh-heh-heh-heh… What else?” “Well…plenty of hoofstock, too. Mostly ponies. Four different kinds, I think… Let’s see, there’s…Pegasus ponies (they’ve got wings and control the weather) Earth ponies (no wings but they work the land) unicorns (horn on top of the head, and they use magic) and then there’s, umm…Alicorns.” “Huh? Ali-what? What’s a…you know, an Alicorn?” “Well, that’s, um….say, we griffons are hybrids, right? Half bird, half lion…well, Alicorns are…unicorns with Pegasus wings. Two kinds in one. Also…they’re the most powerful of all magic ponies, so…they’re kind of treated like royalty. There’s about four in charge of all the land, um… Celestia the Sun Princess, Luna the Moon Princess, and there’s, uh…Cadence the Love Princess, and finally… Twilight Sparkle, the…umm, the… Friendship Princess.” "Friendship Princess? Yeeech…sorry I asked...” Oscar grimaced. "Wait...only princesses? No kings or queens?" "We used to have a griffon king...but that was ages ago. Not much is known about him." “So…where does Griffonstone fit into all that?” “Well…” Gilda winced, “…it doesn't. It’s kind of high up there and remote, away from the rest of the nation. Even though there are train tracks nearby, we usually don’t get much visitors. We griffons just aren’t all that, um…sociable." At this, Oscar’s interest was piqued. Here indeed was a kindred spirit of a sort, from a far-away land. “And, it’s…kind of a dump. A real fixer-upper. Houses falling apart and everything. When you don’t get many visitors, why bother? Who’s there to try and impress? You wouldn’t like it…” “Oh, wouldn't I?” said Oscar, indignantly: “"Try me! I LOVE dumps! And the more run-down the better, I always say! Look…want to know what really tells people about a society? It ain’t their beautiful cities, or monuments, or fancy clothes or food…it’s their TRASH! It’s what people use & throw away that tells more about them, than what they buy and keep! Treasures all rust and decay, and in the long run, don’t mean nothing. It’s the trash and garbage of a civilization, built up in layers upon layers of fossilized stone and rock, that tell future civilizations more about that same ancient civilization, than all of their gold, silver or bronze hoards, shut up in sealed tombs and buried in the ground. I guarantee you, Gilda...trash is where it’s at! Don’t let anybody tell you different. And don’t let anybody call you trash, or put down where you live. Everybody, is somebody. Even us grouches, have a Grouchland to all our very own!” Here Oscar straightened up, and saluted the lid of his can, patriotically! "Hmph, I know a certain writer pony who'd be hanging on every word of that totally lame speech..." thought Gilda. She wanted to say that out loud, but instead, decided to feign a little appreciation… “Yeah…yeah! I think I see what you mean, Oscar. Being an outlander, does not make me an outcast! Any more than being…a different species…makes me any less important than my fellow Equestrian citizens. You know what, Oscar? You’re really an okay kind of dude. Bad breath and all…” “Aww, gee… Thanks, Gilda; HHHHHOWW nice-and-nasty of you to say that.” said Oscar, making sure he breathed into Gilda’s rapidly grimacing face. Tears welled up in her irritated eyes as the sharp smell ran up the sensitive nostrils of her beak. “And now that all the niceties are over… SCRAM! AND HAVE A ROTTEN DAY!!" And with that, Oscar ducked down into his trash can, SLAMMING the lid with a loud CLANG!! After a pause, as though waiting to see if the grouch was going to do anything else, and seeing that he wasn’t, Gilda got up and wandered over to the brownstone front steps. Clearly her talk with Oscar, while helping her at last to find out where she was, did nothing to help her find a way to get back home. Not knowing what else to do, Gilda did what a griffon usually does to find an answer to a difficult problem…she ambled up the steps, found purchase on a ledge to the left-hand side of the steps, hunkered down…and sat like a gargoyle, or sphinx, to think…and hoped an answer would come to her, soon… *** Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait. About a second or two after she’d settled down, a door opened inward at the top of the steps. Gilda didn’t look to see who or what it was, but heard hoof-clops coming out the door, as it closed. “(*Ah-heh-hem*) Gilda…” a singsong voice softly intoned to the resting griffon. No response. “Gilda Griffon…” the voice gently tried again. Still no response. Evidently Gilda was deep in thought. "GILDA!!" the voice BELLOWED, making the griffon jump and sending her backwards off the ledge! Flapping her wings quickly to keep from falling, she hovered and maneuvered to land back on the ledge. “All right, all right, I heard you already! Sheesh, what do you want? GASP---!!” Gilda stared with wide golden eyes at------the indigo Alicorn Princess of the Moon! Luna beamed a smile at the griffon. “P-p---Princess Luna?" Gilda stammered. “Yes, Gilda Griffon, it is I, Princess Luna, guardian of your dreams..." the Night Princess declared. Gilda just blinked. "Time for you to wake up, now..." said Luna, lowering her horn squarely at Gilda. “Huh?” The horn glowed and FLASHED!! Gilda shot backwards and fell off the ledge, her wings flailing! But instead of landing on the concrete pavement, the griffon tumbled into a black void!! “YAAAAAHHHH…!!!” *** The next thing Gilda knew…she was sitting up in her own nest, in her home back in Griffonstone. She had to look around several times to realize…that it was indeed, all…just a dream. Blearily, she peered out the window, and saw the moon was setting. Another new day was about to dawn. Gilda shook her mussed feather head, and rubbed her eyes awake with balled foreclaws. “That’s it…no more eating mice before bed for me!" the flustered griffon declared. *** As this story now came to its end, Luna appeared in head-shot on the face of the setting moon, while the light-jazz & blues harmonica music faded back in. As she spoke, two letters and a number appeared & faded on either side of her, each in turn: “This story has been brought to you today---or (heh) rather tonight---by the letters ‘S’… and ‘G’… and by the Number ‘4.’” As the music tagged, two signs appeared in front of Luna, each in turn: “This story has been a production of Hasbro Studios-DHX Media, and Sesame Workshop Incorporated. All Rights Reserved.” The picture faded to black, followed by the DHX Media logo, the Hasbro fireworks logo, and the PBS logo. [THE END]