It took a while to my usual morning stupor fade off… I stayed on the bed for a little while, enjoying the warm blanket and comfy pillow.
Man, what a dream… I’ve been watching way too much pony…
After around ten minutes, I raised from the bed. It was still a bit dark, but sunlight was already pouring through the closed blinds.
On the moment I tried to get on my feet, I lost balance, hitting the cold ground… I couldn’t walk at all! No matter how much effort I put onto it, my two legs couldn’t support the rest of body, regardless of my numerous attempts at it!
Stricken with anxiety, I rubbed my hand across my face… only to find that I didn’t have a hand at all! No digits, just my palm!
It wasn’t a dream, it really had happened – was happening right now, or I definitely lost it. No such luck on waking up from it, so it seems…
After a while, I was able to stand on all my fours… it was just like riding a bike… everything comes back to you.
I reached out to open the blinds.
The light coming from Celestia’s star almost instantly flooded the room, making me instinctively avert my sight. I was on a simple bedroom… it had a lone bed, a desk, an empty bookshelf and a cabinet… nothing apart form the usual you’d find on an average bedroom… yet, the way it was crafted, with ponykin’s distinctive style ,set them apart from their human counterparts.
Hearing sounds from outside, I directed my gaze towards the window.
Various equines running their daily lives, the city bustled with activity and laughter.
I couldn’t help but feel a little envy towards them… they had no worries, no secrets to hide… they lived in harmony with each other in a perfect, almost utopian society… a society in which I was displaced. I knew that no matter how good I could pose as a pony, no matter how long I could deceive them, deep inside, I’d always remember exactly what I am…
A human… moreover, a being living a lie, posing as something he isn’t… I knew that I would never truly belong on this world. Somewhat, I was all alone in that regard… forced to spread lies to sustain my continued existence… what’s worse, there was nobody I could confide the truth, the only moments I could be completely honest with my feelings was in solitude, inside my own mind…
I felt I tight pang on my heart, loneliness gripping my thoughts… I suddenly felt immensely homesick… while earth was by no means perfect, it was my home… that fact alone made it worth so much for me…for it was where I truly belonged.
Shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, I pushed myself away from the window. I shouldn’t – couldn’t – let emotions dictate my actions; after all, my survival is on stake. There was little hope on treading down that path, just an irrational waste of energy spent of self-pitying and viewing the wrong aspects of the situation.
You ever noticed that, on some movies, when the protagonist is facing an impending choice with potential to cause severe implications to his future and the future of his world, there is always somebody dear to him who advises said hero to “listen to/follow his heart”? In truth, that’s a very lousy piece of advice. Literally so because, as many of you may know, the heart’s function lies solely on pumping blood to the rest of the body, not on deciding matters of life and death… that’s the brain function. And metaphorically so because basing your actions solely on emotions only works on poorly-written fictional stories… in reality, such actions would almost surely land you into a disastrous or in some way, disadvantageous scenario. Under the guise of emotions, we can’t have a clear view of the situation, being impelled by them to act before we can properly assess the situation.
In my case, as much as I desired to go home, there was nothing I could do about it right now… I had no idea of what – or who – had brought me here on the first place, or if said thing could bring me back. I would need to acquire more resources in order to properly pursue that goal in due time.
Instead, I trotted across the room and neared the desk.
Upon the furniture, my notebook. Cheerilee returned it yesterday, as an act of “good faith”… she was probably trying to make up for her emotion-ridden actions, even though I’ve already forgiven her.
I flipped over the pages, taking comfort on seeing my own atrocious calligraphy… on those pages laid a whole world, my world… a set of thoughts and opinions intrinsic to my own mind, perfectly ordained… everything had its place and function, every detail summing up to the big picture.
On the last pages, the graphite marks were still fresh… great thing I’ve remembered to write down the events that occurred yesterday before I went to bed, while they were still clear on my mind.
That notebook was invaluable, irreplaceable to me… without it; I would be barely able to keep track of my records and general progress on my current situation, having to rely on my pathetic, bias-ridden, unreliable mind for that important task. Even more, it was psychologically comforting to read my diary… putting in perspective my rationale and obtaining new results by antagonizing and questioning it later… it was almost like carrying a conversation with my past self, understanding the whole reasoning and adding up where it was flawed , shallow or incomplete.
I carefully closed the notebook and stored it inside one of the empty drawers on the desk along with the pencil. See you two later.
Getting past the door, I trotted along a small corridor.
Sounds could be heard downstairs… Cheerilee was awoken too, most certainly fixing breakfast.
I’d best do the same as well, but before that…
I tried a few doors until I found the bathroom. There, I washed my face and hooves; also, I’ve satisfied less mentionable physiological needs.
Then, I eyed the mirror. A blank-faced grey colt stared back.
I’ll never get used to that… displacement feeling, looking at the eyes of a stranger, more so, a sentient creature that wasn’t even supposed to exist on the real world… and realize that said creature is just a frail husk, if ponies could see my true self, they’d feel the very same unfamiliarity, shift on the natural order of things, that I’ve felt… after all, by their standards, I was the mythical creature… there’s no telling on what they would do if they come to know the truth…
I blinked a few times, just for the kicks of seeing the colt mirroring my motion… then; I opened my mouth and eyeballed the tongue and the pristine arch of white teeth.
I’d better keep my teeth that way, seeing how much I will use them to grip things for now on…
Returning to the small corridor, I trotted to the stairs and shouted downwards.
“Cheerilee, you have any spare toothbrushes?”
The answer followed almost instantly.
“Check the counter under the sink!”
And I did so, finding a green toothbrush. Without thinking twice, I squeezed some toothpaste over it and started brushing my teeth… brushie, brushie, brushie… I brushed my teeth around six or seven times before I even noticed what I was doing…
I stopped and gave a good glance to my hoof, realizing the logical impossibility that laid right there… I didn’t had any fingers, there was absolutely no way I could hold a toothbrush like I was doing, and yet, I held it just like a human would do, regardless of a total lack of thumbs for the operation, opposable or not.
Of course, I knew that such detail was portrayed on the show every now and then, but experiencing it on my own… I felt a bit frustrated at it, from the sole fact I couldn’t elaborate at all on logically explaining the phenomena, it was almost like… magic. Ironically so, keeping in mind where I was, that would be a reasonable hypothesis.
I never really liked answers on that style, one-dimensional and simplistic explanations that were somewhat beyond our comprehension, because that’s what they are essentially, the “shut-up-and-accept-it-forever” kind of answers used for more than one complex question.
But being unable to provide an answer on my own, I had no choice but to cope with the “M” answer for now… I made a mental note to write it down on my notebook later, in order to mull over it.
After I’ve finished brushing my teeth and my mane, I trotted downstairs to the kitchen, finding Cheerilee already having some toast… she was intercalating between chewing her food and browsing the newspaper. Just as I approached the table, she put the newspaper away and spoke to me.
“I didn’t take you for an early bird…” she commented. “Most foals don’t wake up early on a Saturday.”
“Saturday?” I questioned as her mention, again, my own ignorance coming back to sting me… I don’t even know in which day of the week we are. “This means no school today, right?”
Wrong question, but I couldn’t help asking it… her eyes shifted uncomfortably at me. “Normally no…” she begun, quickly recomposing herself as she took a sip from a mug of coffee “You’ve gotten yourself a day off, perhaps you should take a tour around Ponyville, go sightseeing, make friends or such… whatever enjoyable activity kids do these days.” She rested her mug upon the table. “But before that, help yourself of some breakfast.”
The table was filled with various dishes: toast, eggs, pancakes, juice, hay…
Wait a minute… did Cheerilee just…?
Yes, she just did… she brought up the “F” word, I knew that was bound to happen sooner or later, took her long enough. I’ll never figure out the strange reason why motherly figures (either real or fictional ones) obsessed over on sending their protégées towards making friends with others… almost like it was something mystical that would solve every mundane issue and problem… to me, that notion was akin to an undecipherable, dead language: I’ve understood the concept, yet, the concrete worldly applications are something entirely alien to my perspective.
Friendship… I simply knew better of it, it didn’t worked this way on earth. Of course that this is an idealized world populated my magical talking equines where even abstract feelings and virtues such as “laughter” , “loyalty” and “honesty” had physical manifestations under certain circumstances, but still… that could only work out for ponies.
Anyways, my bias about Cheerilee’s suggestion was the possibility of becoming a bit too…involved with other equines, raising the risks of blowing my cover sooner or later.
Cheerilee’s voice broke my trance
“Boulder aren’t you going to eat something…?”
“Huh? Ah, sure thing!” I voiced, laying eyes on the breakfast table before me.
The first thing I served myself from was the hay. Unsurprisingly, I never had eaten hay on my entire human existence. But as a pony, it’s a different story… I am supposed to eat – no, even more: enjoy eating – hay. With that in mind, I’d better endure the flavor now, on a friendly environment, to get used to it and better convince other ponies of my ponysona’s genuineness.
I picked up a small portion of it and placed it inside my muzzle… it was like chewing a weathered boot, had the possible taste of one too. I fought the urge to spit it out at once and swallowed it. Surprisingly, it went down smoothly enough, even sating some of my hunger… I can probably credit that to my new equine physiology and stomach specialized on digesting that kind of food… I can only assume that the “bad taste” is merely a psychological effect of being used with human food.
The next two servings were slightly better, now that the initial shock had been dealt with. But I would still need a while to get used to that… I moved on to the other dishes, having some eggs, a few toasts, three or four pancakes and some juice. At least, I was familiarized with those.
Everything – except the hay – was delicious and finely cooked… who knew that Cheerilee was a rather decent cook after all?
The least I could do in turn was complement the mare.
“Thanks Miss Cheerilee, everything was much tasty, very delightfully so.”
“Well, glad you liked it.” She smiled at me. “Say Boulder, on what you were thinking back then?” Cheerilee unpretentiously asked as she retrieved the empty plates.
“Stuff.” Was the first word my mouth produced, followed by an awkward smile. “I mean, taking a stroll around Ponyville seems a pleasant idea… I was just wondering if you could point out the city’s main attractions for me.”
“Now, just let me see…” The teacher held her hoof thoughtfully. “There’s the Ponyville clock tower, the dam, a bowling court, the street market… it’s always crowded on the weekends, the Ponyville library if you’re into reading and…” The mare’s face twisted onto another smile. “Sugarcube Corner, yes, you should definitely start by heading to Sugarcube Corner, the sweet shop is run by the Cakes, they make and bake the most delectable sweet-flavored delicacies of Equestria, plus, there’s Pinkie…” Cheerilee cut her sentence short, pondering on what to say. “I should probably give you a heads up about Pinkie Pie…”
I raised one of my eyebrows… I knew exactly what she was going to say about Ponyville’s premiere party pony.
“What about it?”I feigned curiosity
Cheerilee delayed a whole minute or two before reaching an answer.
“Nevermind… she is a lovely mare and you two will get along just fine.”
Seems legit… good thing I already made up my mind about meeting with any of the six, especially one as rand…
My train of thought derailed at that point, I realized that this time, Cheerilee was right… I should meet Pinkie Pie as soon as could, despise the fact she is one of the elements of harmony.
The reason was that it simply couldn’t be helped at all. If I didn’t… let’s put it this way: nopony in Ponyville would mind if they didn’t get to meet and befriend a new arrival on their city, nopony but Pinkie.
The Party-loving mare prided herself on making friends with just about everypony in Ponyville, the only way to escape such fate was not being into the town at all or not being a friendly sentient being, like a diamond dog or such…
Of course, I could just keep trying to avoid her whenever possible… but that would be like trying to put out a forest fire with a medicine dropper; a futile, almost pathetic effort. I knew enough about Pinkie to expect just about anything from her, she would relentlessly hunt me and harass her way to my friendship… impossible feats were nothing but daily achievements to that mare, she’d outrun me, find me whenever I was, would even go through my stuff… In sum, she would go way, way, way, way out of her way in her efforts to befriend somepony she just met.
I had absolutely no hope of outsourcing Pinkie in any feasible way, and using reason and logic with said being would be asking for those shallow notions to be mocked and bested in face of her very peculiar… talents. In fact, I suspected that I was already pushing my luck too far for being able to go through a whole day without stumbling into her… trying to do that for a second day would most likely be nearly impossible.
Indeed, much alike death and taxes, attempting to avoid Pinkie would make things much worse. It was a case where the poison is the best antidote. The quicker I become Pinkie’s friend, the quicker she will lose interest on me and move on to pursuing another stubborn schmuck.
“Can you come with me, Miss Cheerilee? I’d feel much less nervous about meeting new ponies if you were around… so we can leave if I… you know… do something stupid.”
For a moment, I though I saw a shade of concern moving on her eyes…
“Well… I have some chores to do on the schoolhouse today” The teacher replied “I guess there’s no harm on sparing some time to visit Sugarcube Corner first”
Thanks Celestia! A quick way out in the possibility that things get out of hoof. It shouldn’t get to that, but better safe than sorry.
“Alright Boulder” She cheerfully voiced as she picked up her readied saddlebag. “Come with me.” And she trotted outside while I contented myself on following along.
So, I have to become friends with Pinkie… shouldn’t be so hard, she’s the friendliest pony around… what possibly could go wrong with that?
==========================[><]========================
“Welcome, welcome, welcome, a fine welcome to you! Welcome, welcome, welcome…”
I kept observing as the pink mare did several over-the-top pirouettes around Sugarcube Corner, a big smile plastered around her face… as always, it seemed like she had an endless source of energy.
The muscles on my face were getting stiff… I have never kept a smile for so long… at least this was slightly less annoying than being bombarded by that confetti barrage again.
For the first time Pinkie sang her welcoming song, it was amusing… yet, the following twelve encores, on each gradually raising the volume, not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I like Pinkie as much as the next brony, provided she is on the other side of the fourth wall. On person, her main qualities formed a dreaded combination to my poor eardrums: A high-pitched voice, a tendency to sing random, highly repetitive, upbeat songs out of nowhere, a total lack of regards for personal space (for Celestia’s sake… she was almost sticking her head inside my ear) and the uncanny ability to use the song cues to bring out loud musical instruments which she played with extreme prejudice for my hearing.
Now, the earth pony was playing some bagpipes! Good god, I need to find some way to distract her before I get deaf!
“Pinkie…” I was barely able to speak over her cacophony. “Can we do something else? Like play a game or…”
“Why didn’t you said before? I love games!” She giggled, and next thing I saw, she somehow crawled under me unnoticed and I was over her mane “We can pin the tail on the pony, that’s my favorite! Or bob apples, or raise piñatas, or…” and she kept on naming a large amount of various entertaining activities while bouncing around. I did my best to keep steady over the tottering mare.
“What about a nice, calm game of shhh?” I asked at the first break. “Who can be quiet the longest wins!”
“I’ve heard about that game before!” Pinkie stopped, allowing me to descend. As soon as I did so, she pierced me with those lively blue eyes of hers. “Fluttershy tried to teach it to me, but I couldn’t understand the rules right… I mean, are you allowed to make noises other than speaking? And what about using other objects to make noise? Technically, the noise wouldn’t be coming from you, and…”
Just my luck, just my damn luck…
“She also told me she was the world champ of that game… I can only imagine how competitive this game must be internationally, I bet that she was on the verge of sleeping once or twice while defending her title! Well, I, for myself, could never…”
I was barely able to keep up with her ceaseless yapping… I need to find something to distract her from me, lest I’d be suffocated by this much love. I knew she wouldn’t stop on her own…
I scanned the room for something that could aid me. Miss Cheerilee was near the counter, chatting with Mrs. Cake. They seemed to be having a good time… I couldn’t bear to ruin it straight away by begging to leave, at least not now. Instead, my gaze drifted to the opposite side of Sugarcube Corner, where stood a big table filled with trays and more trays of tasty sweets: cakes, candies, cupcakes and the like…
Pinkie wouldn’t be able to either speak or sing (or at least, wouldn’t be able to do so loudly…) if her mouth was busy chewing…
“Say, Pinkie… those treats seem delicious…” I started. “I have never seen finer sweets… I bet they must taste incredible.”
“You betcha they do!” The mare cheerfully interjected as we approached the table. “They are the most deliciou-tastic treats you’ll ever find around! I know because I hoof baked them myself!” She added. “Take a bite, its sure to beat anything you tasted before, both in richness and flavor!”
Well, if she says so… I picked up a cupcake, opening my muzzle to taste it…
That’s when she unrolled her kilometrical tongue and placed it under a dozen of other cupcakes, like a snake constricting its prey, lifting the entire row intact and conserving them still wrapped and upright inside her open mouth.
Still with the untouched cupcakes inside her maw, she flooded it with an entire bottle of hot sauce before chewing the whole thing down, leaving a lot of crumbs on her wake… it was mesmerizing.
“Hey, are you going to eat that?”
I swear, if I had moved my hoof a split-second later, she would have snapped it on a single bite along with the baked good!
By the looks of it, this is going to be a very long visit… I wonder if Pinkie always acted like this with just about everypony she met… does she never get enough of such… exuberance?
==========================[><]========================
“Oh Cheerilee… she used to be way more flashy than that… she’d throw a big party and invite just about everypony in town, it was just until recently that I convinced Pinkie to pipe down her welcoming parties… now she knows that not everypony feels comfortable with crowds. I remember when we told her she was hired…” Mrs. Cake smiled “After that party, it was almost impossible to find insurance that would be willing to cover us.”
The teacher nodded to Mrs. Cake answer. For the past minutes, Cheerilee had been watching over Boulder, the colt was now having some cake he’d just accepted from Pinkie… perhaps it was just her mind, but it seemed that the kid was purposely taking his time on each bite of it…
“So, nowadays she just sets up a little get-to-know to welcome her newest friends, though she still needs to work on her…”
“Discretion” Cheerilee completed. It was easy enough to spot that little flaw on Pinkie Pie. “But its really no big deal, Boulder seems to be enjoying it.”
“Yes, he does… its kinda weird that he lasted his long, though… most of the foals tire off from Pinkie’s antics in much less time.” The baker commented.
“And yet, she never tires in turn?” The teacher laughed. “It must get exhausting sometimes to live every single day like a big, endless party…”
“Its not so bad, she isn’t usually like this.” Mrs. Cake replied “Pinkie just gets this hyper when first meeting somepony new, give her a day or two and she will tone it down back to her usual self.”
The teacher merely nodded and glanced towards the impromptu duo, Pinkie and Boulder.
“He is your nephew or something, Cheerilee?”
“Oh…” The mare blushed. “It’s a long story, really…” Cheerilee smiled nervously. “Perhaps some other…”
That’s when she was interrupted by a certain intruding, whining child.
==========================[><]========================
“Please, please, please Cheerilee, can we leave now? I can’t take it anymore!”
The mare just gave me a quizzical look as I explained myself.
“She has given me EIGHT slices of cake already, EIGHT!” I voiced, and then I turned to Mrs. Cake “No offense Mrs. Cake, it was delicious and everything, but I am simply not used to this much cake… or love, all at once.”
“You can try saying no… that works pretty well.” Cheerilee amusedly said, exchanging a look with Mrs. Cake and breaking in laughter with her, all to my confusion.
“Yes, but I was afraid to, you know… she seemed so happy to…” It was hard to admit that I cared a bit about the mare’s feelings…
Mrs. Cake reached out and ruffled my mane. “Isn’t he the sweetest little thing? Look Boulder, Pinkie is a big girl… she understands that not everypony likes to party as much as her… you should had just spoken with her on the first place.”
Now that she said it… it seemed the obvious thing to do, stupidly so. Besides her childish attitude, Pinkie was, after all, an adult mare, able to carry on a frank conversation and understand my awkwardness, saving me from a ton of embarrassment had I spoken frankly with her before… I felt embarrassed… why I overlooked this little detail? Now that it was revealed to me, it seemed as obvious as the fact that placing a hoof after another enables you to trot…
“I guess we should go, anyway…” Cheerilee looked through the window, eyeing the big clock tower. “Its almost noon and we still have to make a quick stop on the schoolhouse.”
I almost started skipping from happiness.
“Bye Pinkie” the teacher kindly voiced as she made her way out. “Goodbye Mrs. Cake, it was lovely to meet you again.”
“Bye Mrs. Cake, see you later Pinkie!” I politely spoke while trotting to the exit.
“Wait, wait, wait! Don’t you want another slice of cake? You know, one for the road!” The pink equine interjected, pushing the plate containing the cake only an inch from my mouth.
“No more cake!” I voiced, a bit more loudly than I expected.
Everything fell silent… everypony, Mrs. Cake, Cheerilee, the customers… even Pinkie… they all fell silent and looked at me.
That very familiar, far recognizable, feeling: awkwardness.
“I mean…” I feebly smiled. “I need to save some space for lunch.”
To which Pinkie’s semblance shifted back to her usual smile.
“Okie dokie lokie!” She was more than happy to swallow the cake herself.
After I waved apologies to Mrs. Cake for my rather unfortunate outburst, I trotted after Cheerilee outside of Sugarcube Corner.
“Well… that was quite…” The teacher broke the ice after a while, then, in the middle of the sentence, fell silent for several minutes. She was clearly searching for a proper adjective…
“I’d go with interesting” I completed as I shook my mane, observing another batch of confetti falling from it. I was literally leaving a trail of them behind me… I had no idea how so many of those got caught on my mane during Pinkie’s merciless bombardment. “I’ve never met anypony like her.”
“Just give her a day to settle down her attitude” The mare smiled. “At first, Pinkie may seem a bit intrusive and overly outgoing, but in truth, she does it because she cares… because she takes her friendships a little too serious.”
“It’s alright…” I spoke in turn, shaking off more confetti from my mane “Ended up being a nice, distractive change of pace on my stay, so far.”
Cheerilee shrugged and we cleared the rest of the distance between the sweet shop and the schoolhouse without any more sounds, except the one of hair being shook… those blasted confetti don’t untangle easily, I tell ya…
“This won’t take long” The teacher spoke as she unlocked the door, using her hooves to wield her key ring… just like everypony else inexplicably used their hooves as usual human hands “I just need to dispose of the junk” She swiftly added.
The mare went directly to her desk and used the keyring to open the very same drawer from yesterday. She started to pull out all the kinds of impounded items from it: Comics, prank materials like the invisible ink, a slingshot, a knife…
“Why would anypony bring a knife to the classroom?” I questioned. “Don’t they get scissors for their crafts classes?”
“One of the foals thought it would be hilarious to carve… certain words on his desk” A hint of censure could be picked on Cheerilee’s tome. “They never hear me… somepony could get hurt with this kind of thing…”
So, ponykin wasn’t completely strange to the notion of violence and harm… all the more reason not to indulge on such.
While I understood why some of my fellow human beings would be so eager to resort to it in my situation, due to their own historic/society/conditioning/personality reasons, it wasn’t by any means justifiable… I know this may ring as obvious for some of you, but violence should only be used as a last, desperate, life-dependant resort… which should amount around 1% of the situations a human would face in a reasonably peaceful world like Equestria. Out of that very quaint, narrow and almost nonexistent situation, the cons far outweigh the benefits: you’d be marked as a criminal who deserves an one-way ticket to the moon, it won’t earn any sympathy towards your cause or objective (whenever it may be, aside from the propagation of the heinous act itself) and it’s a sure way to contribute to consolidate a caricatured, negative, stereotypic portrayal of humanity as a whole by the eyes of ponykin, in the event you’re discovered (by which they’d believe we are as attracted to violence as flies are to a slab of rotten meat)
“That’s everything” The teacher spoke after dumping everything on her desk. “A whole drawer filled with junk…”
Indeed… most of the contents seemed old, broken, dusty, or in some other way, rendered unusable… but standing out on that mess, I spotted something of interest.
A dusty pair of brown saddlebags! From the moment I set my eyes upon it, I knew for sure: I wanted those.
“Cheerilee, what are you going to do with all of this stuff?” I asked innocently.
“I don’t know Boulder…” The mare spoke frankly. “Until yesterday, I’ve been piling up everything into the drawer, but now that it’s full, I should get rid of these things… nopony ever comes to reclaim them anyways…” The teacher began pushing the items into her own saddlebags. “I’m thinking about burning or burying them altogether…”
“Can I keep those saddlebags instead?” I cut directly to the point. “That’s if nopony is going to use them…” I asked, my saucer eyes pleading for it.
“This old thing?” Cheerilee blew the dust off from the foal saddlebags. “Ah, I almost forgot about these… these saddlebags belonged to one of my early students, a little filly… just about your age, a very gifted student.” The teacher’s voice was filled of nostalgia.
My curiosity got the best of me.
“What she did to have her bag impounded?”
“She did nothing, in fact, she was one of my best students… her bag wasn’t impounded… in truth these saddlebags, her saddlebags, were vandalized.” And the mare lifted it from the desk, so I could get a better look at it.
Adorning the side of each saddlebag, a big picture of Daring Do… if I had to guess, she was the filly’s favorite heroine. However, the word “daring” was crossed out and replaced with “dweeb”, also, Daring Do’s already protuberant plot had been… well, enlarged… comically so. I had no idea how that could be done by foals, probably a special kind of prank magic used to mess with pictures.
“Woah… I hope everything ended up alright for her…” I commented.
“Eventually, it did.” Cheerilee continued. “Being a more stellar student than the rest of the class, she got picked a lot… foals of this age can be especially mean… inconsequentially so. But on the end, the culprits on this case ended up serving detention and had to pay for a new pair of saddlebags.”
“So, she won’t mind if I use it, will she?”
“No, she won’t” Cheerilee smiled to me. “But on this particular condition, these bags are hardly… appropriate” She carefully phrased. “Daring Do is still a huge fad amongst foals, using these saddlebags might send a wrong message about your opinion about it.”
She had a point. As long as those defaced images permeated the saddlebags, I wouldn’t get any love from Daring Do’ fans.
However, there was an alternative.
“And what if we cut off the fabric, take off the pictures and sew another clean slab of fabric on its place?” I questioned, keeping my hopes high.
“It just might work…” Cheerilee spoke thoughtfully, lifting the saddlebags and examining them from side to side. “But I’d say that’s a lot of effort for this old thing…”
Indeed, those saddlebags had seen a lot of love, but yet, even being secondhoofed, I liked them. They lasted this long and were still reasonably sturdy, I can deduct they’d be resilient enough for my own usage.
“You were going to discard it anyway…” I voiced. “Let me have it, please.”
“Alright, alright…” And the mare laid the saddlebags on her desk. “Just help me by holding them steady.”
I approached the desk and used my hooves to pin the bags down against the wooden furniture. Cheerilee gripped the knife with her mouth and used her own experience in such dexterous maneuver to deftly move it against the fabric, cutting off a perfect square on each of the bags.
Afterwards, she packed the knife and the discarded pictures along with the rest of stuff into her saddlebags, giving me the temporarily useless saddlebags.
“Now to sew the fabric on these gaps…” I begun, expectantly eyeing Cheerilee.
“Sorry kid, that’s not my field of expertise.” She dismissively waved her hoof. “You’d best bring these to a tailor or something…”
My heart sank almost immediately… I already knew to whom exactly that line of conversation would lead me to, but I asked anyway to keep appearances.
“And I presume you could indicate one for me, correct?”
“I’d say Rarity” She confirmed my guess. “Of course there are more tailors on Ponyville, but Rarity is one of the few professional tailors that opens on Saturdays… I bet she could fix that saddlebag of yours in a jiffy.”
Having to meet two elements of harmony on the same day… I’m just lucky, aren’t I?
“Where I can find this Rarity you speak of?” I sighed… I assume I should just go on with it today already than postpone it and risk something worse… like stumbling on the whole mane six when visiting her boutique.
“Just head east, after the town hall pavilion…. It’s a big building shaped like a carrousel, name is Carrousel Boutique, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks Cheerilee.” I took a few steps to the door. “I’m off to there.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Boulder?”
I stopped to mentally check if I was… still carrying the saddlebag, I needed nothing more than that. “Nope, I have everything.”
The teacher just laughed and dug her saddlebag for a small pouch, which she opened, revealing several bits. “You simply can’t rely forever on your childish charms and astonishing good looks for getting free stuff.” She joked
I instantly blushed. Of course, money… not only as a pony, I’m lousy as a human as well, for forgetting about it on the first place.
Cheerilee dumped the cash into her saddlebags, saving two bits into the pouch and hoofing it to me.
“That should be enough to cover for her services and material expenses” Cheerilee voiced as I placed the pouch upon my mane. “Also, keep the pouch…”
“Aren’t you going to miss it? Seriously Cheerilee, I don’t want to take it if you’re…”
“Just accept it” She deadpanned. “I can always buy another one.”
“In this case, much appreciated… see you later, Cheerilee!” I voiced as I trotted away.
“Don’t be late! You still haven’t lunched yet!”
==========================[><]========================
After an eventless trot across the almost deserted town – after all, it was a Saturday afternoon… ponies were probably resting home or enjoying a picnic at a park or something… - I was before Carrousel Boutique.
It was an imposing and classy, yet feminine and overly ornamented, delicate structure… much alike its owner.
I reached the doorbell and stood on the tip of my hooves to ring it.
That familiar sequence of chimes ringed… I don’t know if it’s just my taste or anything, but that doorbell always sounded incredibly tacky.
A few minutes later, the door opened, revealing a small white unicorn.
“I’m sorry, but my sist…” Sweetie Belle begun, breaking off her phrase when she saw to who she was speaking to. “Hey, I know you.” She said. “You’re than new guy… Boulder, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh” I smiled. “And you’re…er… sorry, I didn’t catch your name back during Cheerilee’s class… “
“Oh…” She nudged her head. “I am Sweetie Belle.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Sweetie Belle.” I voiced. “I am looking for Rarity…”
“She is my sister.” The filly joyfully informed. “But she isn’t home right now… she went out to have lunch with her friends.”
“Then, I’d best come back later…”
“Wait just a second…” The filly trotted closer and her eyes went directly to my saddlebags. “Don’t tell me you need those repaired.”
“Yep.” I found myself answering to her. “Too bad your sister isn’t home…”
“Tell you what…” A mischievous grin crept upon her face. “Why don’t you let me handle it? I am as almost as good as her.”
“Do you really think that’s a good…” And before I could complete it, she withdrew my saddlebags and darted inside.
Not having a say on the matter, I simply resigned myself on following her into the second floor of the boutique.
Yes, I know that Sweetie Belle had no future as a professional fashionista like her sister was, but the filly was able to patch up the cutie mark crusaders capes, and the costumes for that talent show… besides, she simply had to sew fabric upon the saddlebag’ gaps… how bad can anypony mess with that?
As I entered Rarity’s atelier on the top floor, Sweetie Belle busied herself searching cabinets and shelves, pulling out a number of needles, threads and other tailoring materials on her search.
“Don’t worry, I did this a million times before.” The filly proudly spoke as she finished scavenging materials.
“I bet you did…” I half-heartedly grumbled. “I just need you to…”
“To sew brand new fabric upon these gaps… I can do it.” Sweetie Belle smiled, then, she eyed the messy room. “Now, if I can just find the…”
And her eyes gleamed.
“Perfect!” She interjected, running to a mannequin attired on a very fancy gown… it was a sight to behold, the fabric was dual-toned as to mimic the night itself… it even had small glistening dots, stars… just a cursory glance told me that the making of that thing probably had given Rarity a lot of headaches…
And a certain filly would have no qualms on serving herself from a generous slab of fabric…
“Er, Sweetie Belle…” I timidly interrupted as she was taking measurements. “The color is nice and everything… I especially like the brilliant white dots, but that particular fabric seems rather…” And I searched for an appropriate term. “Flimsy.”
“Flimsy?” And she instantly let go the measuring tape. “But it fits perfectly! It clashes magnificently with the brown coloration of your saddlebags and everything! Trust me, I have a good eye for these things.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do.” I commented. “But I need fabric that can withstand dust, rain, dirt… you know… this one simply doesn’t look… well, practical enough.”
“I see…” The filly disappointedly mumbled. “Then, what kind of fabric would fit your needs?”
After eyeing the sea of miscellaneous materials and stuff that Rarity insisted on calling an atelier, my eyes sat upon some boxes, seemingly forgotten under a shelf…
I ducked and moved the front box from under the shelf, proceeding to open it.
That box was filled to the top with streamers… nothing we could use.
Then, I followed on to retrieving a second box…
It was labeled… a very delicate and fancy calligraphy indicated: “Scrap materials.” Bingo!
I dragged it to a nearby table.
“Are you sure?” Sweetie Belle’s semblance was of doubt. “Looks like this box had been sitting there for a million years or even more…”
To which I just rolled my eyes and opened the box anyway.
The cardboard box contained the unsorted remains of five different dresses… a crimson cape with a thundering cloud, blue overalls and galoshes, a green tutu with empty balloons, a giant cupcake hat, a purple blanket with numerous constellations stitched upon it, an overly flowery gown…
So, this was the fate of the girls’ “favorite” dresses after the events of “Art of the dress”… to rot in a dusty box. Most of the dresses weren’t complete anymore… I could clearly see that they were ravaged by a savvy fashonista here and there, cutting whenever sections where she could salvage valuable fabric.
I guess Rarity won’t mind if we use these…
Still under Sweetie Belle’s intrigued gaze, I sorted out AJ’s overalls and Twilight’s gown.
“Those seem nice enough.” I indicated. “Cut the overalls so that the pocket ends up on the center of the resulting square, and cut the purple dress along here.” I place my hoof over the smiling sun on Twilight’s former dress. “So that the image of the sun ends up on the center as well.”
The filly shrugged. “Not my taste, but hey… the client is always right.”
And so, I sat upon a stool while she used a pair of scissors to cut where I asked… she ended up doing a good job at that, looks like Cheerilee’s craft classes and the CMC hearts and hooves day’ projects have paid off…
She lifted two perfect squares: one azure with a small pocket on its center, and the other, a deep purple one with a happy shining sun incrusted on the middle.
I smiled and nodded approvingly. Those would do just fine. The picture of Celestia’s star would no doubt be a nice homage to her and a great way to dissipate ill assumptions about my nature, while having an external pocket for my saddlebags would be very practical. Of course I would end up having a mishmash of clashing colors, but I cared little about being trendy.
“Now you just have to sew them.” And I nudged towards the sewing machine. “You know how to operate those, right?”
“Sure I do.” The filly voiced. “I’ll have it done in no time!”
I giggled a bit at her excitement. Even knowing that she had second intentions by helping me (attempting to acquire a cutie mark, clearly so.), it was amusing enough.
“Just take your time” I observed as she took the fabric and the saddlebags, placing them on the sewing machine’s table. “There’s no need to rush, keep calm and take how long you need to do the job alright.”
“Gotcha!” And she started the sewing machine, threading the fabric and the saddlebag into a single item.
After a little while, I saw that there was something wrong… she was sewing too loose, giving way too much thread. The fabric would end up floppy, hanging up from the saddlebags, only held precariously by the thread and leaving the interior exposed.
Instead of breaking her concentration to point out her mistake, I simply waited through it. Arguing with someone while they are in the middle of something just adds unnecessary pressure to the procedure, which could risk ruining it altogether…I knew how well Sweetie Belle fared under pressure, when even placing a small garnish on a plate can be a real challenge.
“And done.” She said as the machine’s noise died.
“Let me try it” I asked, trotting closer to her workstation.
Having a quick nod for a response, I dressed the saddlebags. As expected, the most recent additions hanged loose by far too much thread.
“Ooops…” the filly offered me and apologetic smile. “Looks like I’ve messed up with the machine’s sewing settings.”
“It’s alright. Everypony makes an honest mistake every now and then.” I nodded and hoofed the saddlebags back to her. “You can always try again.”
“I guess…” She said, a hint of newfound doubt in her tone. “One more try will set it right.” The filly added, returning to her usual state of enthusiasm.
And then, she unraveled the thread and started over, this time overseeing her work fervently.
Sweetie Belle was so focused on tightening the thread that she missed threading the whole surface of the fabric… somewhat, she skipped entire portions of the fabric.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes… must remember… patience, discipline, self-restraint…
Attempting to stifle my own impatience, I decided it would be a good idea to set my eyes away from the working filly… observing her while knowing exactly what she was doing wrong was tempting me to either perch over her workstation and mercilessly point over her mistakes one by one, or go over there and take over the sewing machine to do it myself.
Both alternatives which wouldn’t do any good at all… I was no tailor, and Sweetie Belle didn’t knew better, it wasn’t her fault… while the flaws were obvious to me, they probably weren’t so to the filly’s perspective… I should understand that and be comprehensive with her shortcomings… after all, I’ve been on the other side of this kind of situation a few times before…
I shifted away from the window as I’ve heard a sharp ripping sound…
The filly was blushing faintly now. My saddlebags laid one her hooves, they had a recent, straight cut along the area she was sewing the fabric which came from Twilight’s gown.
To Sweetie Belle’s credit, I can personally attest that she is skilled on a lot of different things… however, tailoring in particular, wasn’t among such skills.
Keeping a straight face, I went towards the box again and retrieved what was left of Rainbow Dash’s red cape.
“Sew this under the cut…” I hoofed over the fabric. “You can do it, just keep trying.”
This time, she didn’t said anything… the filly merely nodded and started over. I could tell she was beginning to get frustrated with her own work…
Eventually, she did it… after three more unsuccessful tries, she gave me the saddlebags again.
Sweetie Belle was a tad downtrodden now… I guess she was already expecting another flaw on her work.
I trotted to the mirror and eyed over the result. Now the thread was properly tightened up and covering the whole patched area… Sweetie Belle’s sewing was crude and rough-edged, but I didn’t mind it… the only mistake this time was on the external pocket: having accidentally cut it down on her last try, the filly sewed it back… only that now it wasn’t upright anymore, but rather, rotated diagonally 45 degrees to the right, somewhat defeating its purpose. Apart from that, everything was fine… the structure was quite strong and sturdy enough. I sighed. Sometimes we all have to accept subpar results… nobody is perfect.
“Sweetie Belle…” I begun. “This is…”
“Terrible, I know…” She dropped her head. “I shouldn’t have offered to fill my sister’s horseshoes…”
“Come on…” I added a smile to my semblance.”It isn’t so bad… in fact, this is good enough for me.”
“Really?” She lightened up a little, then bit her own lip. “You’re just saying that to cheer me up, don’t you?” She groaned. “I am never getting a cutie mark on tailoring, it took me five tries to come up with something barely decent…”
“Do you really believe that tailors always get their work right straight on their first tries?” I asked.
“Is it that obvious?” Hooves covered her face. “That I was just pumping my bubble back there?” She set her gaze on the floor. “Yes, it’s true… I am hardly an amateur tailor…”
“We all have to start from somewhere…” I commented. “Before you worked on my saddlebags, id you had any idea on how to fix one?”
“No, I didn’t.” Sweetie Belle lifted her eyes back to me. “What’s your point?”
“That you didn’t know how to do it, but now… you do.” I spoke softly. “If somepony else presents you a saddlebag for now on, you will know how to sew it…won’t you?”
“I see…” She thoughtfully commented.
“You learned something through trial and error, Sweetie Belle! If you keep going on that path, you will gradually get better and better at it. That’s how everypony masters something, even grownups!”
“You’re right. I can see where I went wrong with my sewing and avoid doing it twice.” Her eyes glowed again with enthusiasm. “Do you think I can still get a cutie mark on tailoring? After all, in the end, I’ve repaired your saddlebag and everything…”
“Perhaps… who knows?” An abstract answer was the only way of balancing things without bursting her dreams. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t bet all my coins on just one horse… your special talent might be what you least expect it to be…” I smiled. “I hope on finding mine eventually as well…”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She kindly retorted. “Good luck on finding yours.”
“Thanks Sweetie Belle…” A quick glance towards the window revealed me that the afternoon was almost over… Cheerilee wouldn’t be happy at me if I stick around for too long…
“I should really be going…” I directed myself to the stairs, but a small shuffling sound reminded me of something.
I stopped and pulled the pouch from over my mane, retrieving the two bits and storing the pouch into my newly repaired patchwork saddlebags.
“Here’s a little something for the materials and your troubles.” And I gave over the two bits to the filly.
“No, please… I’d feel a bit embarrassed to accept your money, especially after how you’ve been so cool me wasting time on remediating my failed attempts and everything…” She smiled awkwardly.
“I can’t help it.” I mirrored a smile of my own in retort. “I have issues on accepting gifts without giving at least something back. Take it, you deserve it… a fair payment for a fair job.”
“Then… thanks.” And her smile warmed up.
“See you around, Sweetie Belle…” And I turned to leave.
“Catch you later, Boulder.” She voiced back as I trotted downstairs.
Finally… A saddlebag to call my own!
==========================[><]========================
“ And then, a branch gave way and spilled sap all over us! That’s like the fourth time this week.”
Rarity merely grumbled in response, most of her focus directed upon sewing a dress…
Sweetie Belle either didn’t noticed or didn’t minded her sister’s half-hearted answers… the filly was used to it. Every time the fashionista had a load of work to do, she couldn’t afford to detract too much attention from it.
Though that never stopped Sweetie Belle from attempting to carry on a conversation.
“So,uh…how was your day?” She hopefully asked.
“It was absolutely delightful… we had a lovely picnic, and afterwards, I treated the girls to a session at the spa! You wouldn’t believe how much tension I was carrying on my back… Oh, aloe has magical hooves, that one.” The unicorn happily remarked. “When I noticed, it was already five o’ clock. Time surely flies when you’re having fun.”
“That’s nice. While you were out, I’ve met one of my classmates.”
“Good to hear that the girls dropped by to see you, little sister.” Rarity commented as she threaded her way through the dress.
“It wasn’t them this time. The one that came today was a new colt on my class… Boulder, I don’t think you know him yet.” Sweetie Belle remarked. “He asked for a tailoring service of yours.” She added.
“I suppose you told him to come tomorrow when I’d be home…”
“Actually, I took care of it with my own hooves, sis!” The filly proudly announced. “Simple thing, really… I just had to sew some fabric upon his damaged saddlebags.”
“Nice fabric?” Rarity gulped and stopped her work, dashing upstairs to her atelier…
What was her surprise when she noticed that the gown she was making especially for Luna was… intact. It was so unlikely of what she expected.
“What’s the matter, sister?” Sweetie Belle asked as she entered the room.
“Oh, nothing.” The fashionista nervously smiled. “So, everything went well with that service?”
“Yep, I used the fabric we’ve found on that box.” And Sweetie Belle pointed to the opened cardboard box containing the ruined dresses that Rarity hadn’t seen in a long time. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Those old things? Not at all.” Rarity released a breath of relief. “But still, it’s so strange to me, you carrying tailoring orders in my place…”
“Why it is so difficult to believe that I was able to complete that order successfully?” Sweetie Belle inquired, a bit of annoyance permeating her tone of voice.
Because my boutique is still in one piece – was the first answer that crossed Rarity’s mind, but she knew better than to say it. “I’m sorry Sweetie Belle… it’s just that you’re growing up so fast…” And she embraced her sister. “Your first satisfied customer…”
All of a sudden, Sweetie Belle Cheered up.
“Can I get a cutie mark for growing up?”
Rarity released her sister and giggled a bit. Sweetie Belle might be getting more responsible with some things, but in other ways, she was still her little sister… as she would always be. Nothing could ever change that…