Taking the Train anywhere out of St. Petershoof might as well have been a journey across Equestria, given how the industrial metropolis was about a million miles away from just about everywhere. In his haste, Crafter put his home up for sale and packed only the essentials and a few personal belongings. He had two suitcases full of parts, tools, blueprints, and other miscellaneous things that he wanted to keep and a cardboard box which held his most prized possession, his lifeblood: his typewriter. He had been on the train for about a week and was getting anxious; he decided to take the train to the end of the line.
“Next stop Ponyville, end of the line!” The ticket master called suddenly. “All remaining passengers must get off here.”
Ug finally! Crafter thought, gathering his luggage.
Once the train pulled into the small station and came to a stop, Crafter stepped out into the town of Ponyville. As soon as he left the car, he was blasted in the face by a wall of heat, despite it being the end of summer. Being from the north, he was accustomed to the arctic environment. Sweating profusely, Crafter walked about town, trying to find an apartment with an open room. He noticed a very pink pony walking down the street, humming a happy tune. When she reached him, she opened her eyes and let out a huge gasp. “Ohmygosh!”
“What?” Crafter asked, confused by the random outburst directed at him.
“You’re new!”
“Yes….” This mare seemed very hyper; her very presence gave him a headache. Now would be a good time to mention Crafter had a difficult time processing auditory information. She ran off, leaving the green unicorn very confused. Before he could walk off again, she came back with a strange wagon. “What is that?” He asked cautiously.
“I'm glad you asked!” She pushed a button on the wagon, causing it to open up. Several horns and flags popped up with an explosion of confetti while a cheerful song started up. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, a fine welcome to you. Welcome, welcome, welcome, I say how do you do?” The pink pony started singing and dancing.
As sporadic and headache inducing as the song was, Crafter found himself enjoying the welcome and tapped his hoof in tune with the beat.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome, I say hip hip hooray. Welcome, welcome, welcome, to Ponyville today!” she finishes with a drawn out note. “Wait for it…”
“Wait for wha-” but before Crafter could finish asking, he was blasted in the face with cake batter.
“Dang it, I mixed up the confetti cannon and oven again!”
Crafter simply licked the batter off his face. “I'm not complaining.”
“That’s the spirit! By the way I'm Pinkie Pie what's your name?” she asked, sticking her hoof out in greeting.
“Crafter, I'm moving here from St. Petershoof.” He answered after shaking himself off, then accepted her hoof.
“St. Petershoof eh? So THAT’S why you’re so sweaty!” she exclaimed. “So where are you living? You need a party to PROPERLY welcome you to Ponyville.”
Folding his ears back, Crafter simply looked at the ground. “I um, don’t have any place to live yet.”
Pinkie gasped again, put his luggage on her back, grabbed him by the hoof and darted off.
***
Mayor Mare was walking up the steps of town hall to start her busy day when she was stopped by a familiar voice. “Mayor Mare! We have an emergency!”
Turning to greet Pinkie, she was startled to see her with a new pony and his luggage on her back. “Who’s this?”
“His name is Crafter and he doesn’t have a home!”
This whole ordeal was giving Crafter a migraine, and on top of that, being pulled across town at light speed left him dazed. “Hi.” Was all he could manage.
The mayor chuckled, “I think you broke him Pinkie, I’ll take it from here.”
Pinkie gave Crafter his luggage back and darted off to do… something. After his belongings were returned to him, Crafter walked inside (albeit dizzily) with the mayor.
Once in her office, Crafter put his suitcases and box by the door and took a seat in front of Mayor Mare’s desk. “So Crafter,” the mayor began, walking towards a filing cabinet “what is your budget?”
Crafter’s ears folded back as he shrunk into his chair. “Well, until somepony buys my old house in St. Petershoof, I have almost no money. I was hoping to find an apartment or something to rent.”
Mayor Mare stopped in her tracks. He’s broke? “Well Ponyville isn't large enough for any apartment buildings…” She started, when she turned to look at him from the filing cabinet, she saw his cutie mark and instantly made the connection to his ideology. “But….” She added.
Crafter’s ears perked.
“Ponies aren't exactly lining up to move in, and ponies in your predicament are rare. So here’s what I'm going to do.” She had Crafter’s full attention now. “By the look of your cutie mark, I’d say you’re a repair pony and that's something we don't have; there is a small, fully furnished shop-home combo that would be perfect for your needs.” She smirked as she saw Crafter’s face light up with hope. “It’s yours, free of charge. Think of it as a way to welcome you to our community.” Mayor Mare was sure to put emphasis on the word ‘community’.
At first, a look of confusion was on Crafter’s face. Then, once he processed what she had said, realization with a mix of fear hit him like a train. How did she know?! “Um, Th-thank you.”
“Relax; your secret is safe with me.” She said reassuringly.
“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about.” He lied horribly, eyes shifting about left and right.
Mayor Mare rolled her eyes, and decided to play along. “You're right, I must have been mistaken. Regardless, welcome to Ponyville.”
***
After receiving his house keys from the mayor, Crafter quickly left to find his house. As he walked, he took in the sights around him. The town of Ponyville was a much brighter place than St. Petershoof, both physically and emotionally. Although he found the tiny town incredibly cheesy in some areas, he felt it was lifting him out of the depression that had always been present within him.
When Crafter found his home, he was shocked by how new it looked; the exterior of his home looked brand new. The paint wasn’t faded, the two large display windows were as clean as could be, no cracks in the plaster, and not the slightest sign of decay on the wooden cross beams. When he unlocked his house and walked inside, all the lights had been shut off, but that would make sense given how nopony lived there. Crafter flipped the light switch and the room was flooded with light, and something else. “SURPRISE!!” a dozen voices called out as ponies jumped out from behind various hiding places, most of them from behind the counter.
Aside from when he got the second note, Crafter had never been so frightened in his life. He fell backwards with a less than dignified scream and lay clutching his chest.
“I think we broke him.” a concerned voice said from somewhere inside the mass of ponies.
“You know that’s the second time I've done that.” Pinkie said, helping Crafter to his hooves.
After giving the ‘all good’ sign, Pinkie resumed the party. The loud music, the dozens of ponies introducing themselves, and the background chatter instantly gave Crafter a killer migraine. Once the introductions died down, (he wouldn’t remember a single name) he snaked his way to the back of the room where the food was set out and action wasn’t. Crafter was content to stand by the table the food was set on and eat; he couldn’t stand social gatherings like this one due to his headaches.
As the party started to die down, he saw her, a grey pegasus mare with a blonde mane. The mare’s eyes were a golden yellow and stared off in opposite directions, just like his did in the morning. Crafter got lost in her eyes as she danced without a care in the world. Pinkie, who noticed his staring, looked to see what he was looking at so intensely. She saw who Crafter was looking at and grew a sly smile as she bounced over to him. “Go introduce yourself silly.” She said once she reached him.
Jarred out of his trance, Crafter simply replied with “Huh, what?”
Pinkie just giggled. “I said to go introduce yourself, she won’t bite, unless you’re really a muffin.”
Crafter noticed the mare of interests’ ears perk up at the word ‘muffin’ and she looked towards him. Frantic, Crafter just waved slightly. She smiled and waved back, then went back to her dancing.
“What are you waiting for?!” Pinkie urged.
“I-I can’t.” he said sadly.
This just confused Pinkie, “Why not?”
The only reply she received was Crafter’s ears splaying back and he shrank into himself, just like a certain yellow pegasus Pinkie happened to know. Knowing what that body posture meant, the party pony bounced off to the grey mare.
“Hey Ditzy, what's up?”
Ditzy stopped her dancing, “Hey Pinkie, just dancing.” Her voice screamed ADD.
“Have you introduced yourself to Crafter yet?”
“Well, n-not yet.” She said hesitantly, the faintest blush on her cheeks. “He looks too overwhelmed right now, maybe later.”
“Alright, but don’t wait too long.” Pinkie said sternly, and then proceeded to bounce off elsewhere within party.
***
As the party came to a close late in the night, only two ponies stayed to help clean up, Ditzy being one of them. “So how did you like the party Crafter?” Pinkie asked.
“I had a great time.” He lied, not wanting to hurt Pinkie’s feelings.
“Great!” she happily exclaimed “Well I got to get back to Sugar Cube Corner for work tomorrow, see ya Crafter.” And with that, she bounced happily out the door into the night, leaving Crafter alone with Ditzy.
As he nervously kicked at the floor and avoided eye contact, Crafter spoke. “So uh… you already know my name, er, what's yours?”
“M-my name is Ditzy Doo," she said nervously "I deliver the mail around Ponyville.”
“Oh, cool.” Crafter said, then fell into nervous silence.
“So uh, I'm going to go now. It was nice meeting you.” She said, feeling the awkwardness rise.
“Nice meeting you too.” After she had left, Crafter let out a sigh. He was tired, sore, and had a killer migraine. Crafter picked up one of his suitcases with his magic and brought it upstairs, once in his room he pulled out a dartboard with a picture of a heart taped to it. The picture had several puncture holes in it, as if it had been used many times before. After hanging it on the wall, he brought up a dart with his magic and launched it at the board, landing a bullseye; as the dart struck the paper, Crafter felt the familiar pinch of pain in his heart. “There.” He said sadly “Now she doesn’t have to.”
Crafter could feel the source of his depression slowly returning as he lay down in bed. Most ponies his age have had a special somepony at some point, but try as he may, Crafter could never get a marefreind. He had been shot down so many times, he started throwing darts at a picture representing his heart every time he felt a crush developing. He did it to save them the trouble of shooting him down. 'If you don't ask, they can't break your heart' had become his motto.
Crafter had given up on ever finding a mare who would love him, he was a broken pony.