Catch Your Own Train

by El Presidente

Mundane Blues

Chapter Two – Mundane Blues

The day that succeeded the arrival of the stallion from Manehattan was considerably better than the last, because the sky was bright and blue, without a single cloud to hinder its beautiful pigment. While it was a beautiful day, it was still very early morning, and most ponies were still asleep—which probably had something to do with the fact of holidays. Even so, there were still some ponies that needed to provide for other ponies, Vanilla Essence being one of them. She woke up at the crack of dawn, which is exactly why she went to bed so early every night. There was no need for her to work past the closing hours of The Coffee Hoof.

Today, since the weather was much greater and in better condition for doing things outside of the home, the cream-coated mare was sure business would be stronger than it was the day before. She even thought that perhaps it would give her old friend a chance to meet some of her customers that regularly attended the café, or possibly even meet some casual newcomers. Mike was in need of a friend or two, having left everything behind in his old city.

It was very, very early in the morning indeed, evident in how soundly the stallion was sleeping on the couch in the mare’s living-room. Vanilla couldn’t just leave him at her house, though. There was no way that she’d let him be alone in her walls and under her roof, especially in his state. The poor guy needed company. The mare started to make herself a quick coffee before she went to work—a caffeine hit always helped her get through the work day. Intending to wake Mike up as well so they could be on their way, she made him one too. Vanilla Essence remembered he hadn’t had any sugar the day before, so she made sure not to add any of the sweet stuff.

With two steaming cups of java, she made her way to the coffee table—the centrepiece in her living room—and set the cups down. Her gaze shifted to Mike, and she paused to think about how she would possibly be able to wake him in a way that wouldn’t annoy him, but quickly, she dismissed that thought and clapped her hooves in front of his face like she’d done when he was staring into space the night before.

At the sound of the clapping hooves, Mike instantly opened his eyes and looked around in shock, then finally to his waker. “Oh, uhm, good morning,” he said, alert, a wide-eyed look on his face. Vanilla moved her hooves away and allowed Mike to sit up. Wordlessly, she slid the coffee across to him, the mug rested on a coaster—Vanilla cared about her furniture, and there was no way she was going to let a drop of coffee ruin the wonderful oak table.

After a short stare, and seeing she wasn’t speaking, the stallion reached forth and grabbed the coffee awkwardly, pulling it to him to take a sip. “Sooo,” he droned quietly after his sip. “Why’d you wake me up before the sun?” Mike inquired, quite unsure why, but soon he was able to answer his own question, although it wasn’t as if Vanilla was going to. “You open at 6 AM, that’s right,” he groaned, setting the mug down on the table before falling backward, the soft cushion of the couch catching him. A long pause lingered, and the stallion finally raised the question. “Any reason you’re being a bit grumpy?”

“No, not really, it’s just how I can be some mornings,” she admitted, a bit annoyed she had to. “No hard feelings, Mike, don’t worry.” Vanilla wanted to reassure Mike that nothing was wrong, because she could tell he was damaged, especially from how different he seemed since when they were friends back in Manehattan. “I er, should’ve been a bit more conscious. I can’t even imagine how terrible what you’re going through is. Sorry.” A silence came after her apology, a frown across her face, and she dared to take an uncomfortable sip of her beverage to help quell the awkwardness. Almost immediately, she felt bad about her usual morning attitude.

Mike said nothing for a good minute or two, a dead air between them. All he wanted to do was sit back in the couch and idly stare at the ceiling. It was clear to the both of them that it was a topic that would be best left alone—truly quite a touchy subject to try and speak about, something which they should have both learned the day before. The stallion leaned forward and took a big drink from his mug, then wiped his maw after he’d set it back down on the coaster. “Alright, let’s get going,” he sighed, ready to go. “I don’t want to be a burden to your work-life.” The stallion stood upright and shuffled out from between the couch and the table.

The mare turned her head to the clock in the room and urgently jumped up, seeing they were cutting it close with the opening time of the café. “Let’s get going indeed! Good thing we didn’t get tied up with all that business,” Vanilla said quietly, on the most part to herself. She stood, trotted to the door, and overtook Mike. Her hoof moved to the knob and turned it, pulling the door inwards to open it up, wide open for Mike to go through. The stallion stepped forward and outside into the breezy, wintery, early-morning.

Vanilla Essence stepped out right after him, closing the door behind her, locking it with her keys that jingled at the slightest movement. Almost instantly, Mike became busy gazing at all the low-lit scenery that surrounded them—snow covered shrubbery and bushes, trees, grass, adorably little houses caked with white, powdery snow. Ponyville was a winter wonderland, and an extreme contrast to the urban city of Manehattan.

Mike glanced over his shoulder at Vanilla. “So are you going to keep me at the café all day or something?” he asked, his gaze following her as she moved to overtake him, beginning to trot down the street. The stallion soon followed behind at the same pace as her.

“Oh, yeah, well, that’s one thing you could do,” the mare replied, looking back over her shoulder at him. “Unless you had something else in mind that you think’d be more interesting—I can’t go with you of course, I have a shop to run. I just thought if you sat down at the café you’d get a chance to meet new ponies, maybe read the newspaper and see what’s what in Ponyville. Look for a job you could do or an apartment or something.”

The stallion smiled at his friend. “Why, do you already want me out of the house? Did I really snore that loud last night you want me to look for my own apartment?” Mike joked, but partially questioned—he knew the answer would be no, but it could as well be yes, and with all the business that had been happening recently, the latter would quite simply crush his spirits.

Luckily for Mike, Vanilla shook her head in response. “No, no,” she reassured him and his possible doubts. “I said you could stay as long as you liked. The real issue rests with me; I honestly don’t think you can stand me. With my spontaneous grumpiness and early morning wake-up calls, I doubt you’d survive very long living with me. As for the job, well, everypony’s got to earn their keep, and whatever funds are left in your account aren’t going to keep you afloat for long.” That was the truth, and they both knew it. She could understand why he might not want to work for the time being, but she knew Handsome Mike could understand that it was at least wise to see what there was to offer in terms of work. Vanilla was sure he wouldn’t want to work as her café assistant for the next few months.

The stallion took it to heart, and thought about it on the way to the café. The streets were as barren as they were yesterday—which was an apt comparison, because it was quite clear ponies weren’t eager to be up before the sun, or out and about in the lull of a cold winter’s day. Vanilla advanced to her storefront and pulled out her ring of keys, sticking one of them directly into the lock and turning it without any hesitation. As usual when a pony entered through the front door, the little bell jingled its merry notes.

Vanilla flicked on the lights and walked inside, Mike following right behind her until he reached the spot where he had sat the day before, a place only a few feet from the counter of the café, where his friend had gone and started to set up. Plenty of questions about his friend’s work came through the stallion’s mind, rushing through his psyche. It was strange he couldn’t think about anything else. “So how many customers do you get a day?” he suddenly blurted in question. “Like, twenty, fifty, a hundred?”

“It’s not like I count, Mike,” the mare replied as she tied her apron around her waist, getting ready for the day ahead. “But I’d say a good seventy-five or so on a good day—keeps me on my hooves with a constant flow of ponies. It’s only a small town, though. I’ve been around long enough to know that.” Her answer was pretty bland, probably because she assumed Mike was asking about the customers to see how many he might have a chance to meet. That, or he was just gauging her success as a café owner and operator.

For a while, nothing happened, and Mike found it hard to sit still. Vanilla did her work; cleaning dishes, washing plates, scrubbing kitchenware in the steaming hot sink behind the counter. It was a very small café, but it made it all the easier for the one mare to operate it. The operation was just her, a coffee machine, her smile and her generally friendly attitude all under one roof. She was proud she’d made a business out of what she loved. There was little to no conversation between them, and although Mike was there, he didn’t feel like he needed to be. He felt like he was being foal-sitted, like he couldn’t take care of his own being. Now he thought he sounded like an angsty teenager thinking his parents weren’t letting him do anything for himself. Emotions were hard.

“So, do you want me to get the newspaper and start looking for what you were saying before?” Mike asked, gesturing his hoof back toward the door, looking at Vanilla, then to the exit behind him, and switching between them a few times, waiting for his permission to be dismissed.

“Oh, go right ahead. News stand is just around the corner from here. ‘Paper should cost a bit or two,” she said, seeing that Mike was already preparing to head out, because he’d started getting out of his chair. “Grab me a newspaper too; I need something to do in the downtime—like the crossword or something along those lines.”

The stallion nodded to Vanilla and he turned and walked out the door, into the breezy streets of a wintery Ponyville. The cobble streets of Ponyville had been cleared of snow, which made them all the easier to navigate. In no time, after he’d rounded the corner, Mike spotted the news stand, a blue-maned, blue-coated pegasus stallion behind it. The two of them exchanged nods and goods, the tall, earth pony stallion grabbing himself two twined-up newspapers. Mike couldn’t imagine how that stallion at the stand could do his job, it was freezing outside. He wished he’d had more time to pack when he’d high-tailed it out of Manehattan. All that was in his case he’d taken to Ponyville was a nice shirt or two, his toothbrush, and a packet of sherbet lemons. He was in a rush to say the least, most certainly not thinking about the cold, cold weather.

Mike made it back to the café in a matter of minutes, and as he reached for the door, he noticed the sign on the outside had been changed to Open. It must’ve passed 6 AM while he went to get the paper. The stallion slipped in, and almost immediately eyed a pair of ponies that had come inside while he was gone. They looked like travellers, not locals. Vanilla didn’t seem that interested in them, and was still fairly distracted with her work.

The two ponies turned their heads, noticed Mike, and then returned to the conversation they were having earlier. The tall earth pony stallion didn’t feel ready to make new friends yet. He found himself a seat close to the counter, and Vanilla looked up at him. He flashed the newspapers to her, and she shot a smile right back at him. “Set one on my counter, I’ll take a look at it when I have time,” she said, nodding to him as she scrubbed away at the dishes—the dishes she had been working on cleaning the day before, and even earlier in the morning.

The newspaper-bearing Mike pitched forward and an outstretched hoof and placed the paper on the counter. He slinked back to how he was sitting before and huffed, taking his own newspaper and looking for something that may intrigue him. The front page was nothing spiffy, just some stuff that Mike no longer cared about, being freed of all that had burdened him before. Moving from Manehattan had its upsides, but its downsides usually outweighed them by a whole lot. At least the poor stallion hadn’t carried any debt with him; otherwise he would be in a real heap of trouble. He would be hated, exiled, homeless, and broke.

Every minute that went by, the café seemed to get busier, more and more ponies pouring in through the little front door of the shop. Conversation, laughter, and general good mood picked up, and the coffee shop became a vibrant and cheerful place. Every so-often, the brown-coated, brown-maned stallion and his old friend from years ago exchanged looks and smiles. Vanilla hadn’t been wrong about the number of customers that visited her store every day.

The newspaper began to decrease in its interesting qualities. It hadn’t taken the stallion long to breeze through all the interesting articles—he’d even spied one that involved Manehattan, outlining the outrageous increase in prices of contract labour. He had a slight hunch that had something to do with him; he had always never charged much for his services as a contractor. What happened must’ve sent ripples through the infrastructure of the city. It was probably just a coincidence, perhaps even a sign—a story like that would only be in Manehattan’s local paper. Mike thought the fact the story had made it to Ponyville was fairly strange.

Pages and pages of useless stories, useless information and useless ‘funnies’ comic strips followed, but Mike read every single one of them, because there was nothing else for him to do. He felt anxiety whenever he thought about approaching somepony in the café. There were cute mares that sat alone, stallions that looked important with possible jobs for him to do, but whenever he looked at anybody who was not his friend Vanilla, he simply felt nervous. The idea of losing everything again danced around in the innermost depths of his questioning mind. Simply contemplating the idea felt painful to him. He needed a hot beverage.

Mike raised his hoof from where he sat in an attempt to get some attention. “Yo Vanilla,” he said. “Can I get a flat white over here?” he proceeded to ask, Vanilla now turned and facing him.

“Uhm, sure, I’ll have it ready in a few minutes,” said the mare, grabbing a cup from a stack and placing it under her machine, pressing buttons, twisting knobs, the machine gurgling to life as it prepared to churn out another brilliant coffee. Mike returned to his paper, eager to get another taste of the deliciously amazing coffees that Vanilla made. His eyes scanned over the pages in search of something interesting. Eventually, after a hard search of the material, he found himself a page full of places for rent. He didn’t have the money to buy a house yet, so rental was the next best option.

Vanilla came out from behind her counter, carrying a coffee cup and saucer. She placed it in front of Mike on his table, sneaking in a glance at what he was reading. “Ooh, apartments. I appreciate the initiative, Mike,” she giggled, moving back to her counter to continue working. The stallion looked up to her just as she tossed him a pen, which he very nearly didn’t catch. “Circle the ones you like,” she said as he fumbled not to drop it, which was hilarious to her.

He gained traction of the writing implement, and then calmly turned to look at the lists of apartments, houses and buildings for rent. Buildings were out of the equation, houses were expensive, and since he grew up in an apartment, it seemed natural for him to choose one. Narrowing the choices down was easier than it seemed, but even so, there were at least ten or fifteen apartments to choose from, each one of them promising more than the last. He would have to visit just about every place to decide.

Calmly, he sipped his coffee and reviewed the list once more. Five or six ones struck his eye, and he circled each one of them in the red pen. He’d visit them as soon as he could, in the next few days, hopefully. They had nice views, good walking distance from the centre of town, and overall looked pretty beautiful—to Mike at least. They didn’t run a high price, either.

It was about midday, and for the last six hours, the stallion had managed to rifle through the entirety of a newspaper, in depth and to its fullness. At least he felt informed. Ponies had started to clear out of the cafe, and only a few remained, continuing the conversations they’d started about half an hour earlier.

Content with his findings, the stallion sat back in his chair and heaved a loud yawn which echoed through the mostly-empty restaurant as he stretched out both his hooves in their own different outward directions. From behind the counter, Vanilla looked up and beamed a smile at Mike. She’d taken a break and started going through her own copy of the paper, now working at the crossword puzzle she said she was going to do. As Mike settled and slumped back over the table, she called out to him. “Is that early-morning wake-up getting to you, Mike?”

He looked up at her and smiled right back, sitting up properly now. “Well, yeah, it is, and I really can’t wait to get home and relax, I feel like sitting in something different than this chair,” he chuckled, grabbing the back of the seat and shaking it gently. “I probably won’t be around tomorrow, anyway”

“Is that so?” she responded, unsure of what he meant. She leaned in across her counter and looked at Mike more closely, interested in what he had to say next. The stallion was bored of looking through the paper all day, that was for sure, and the fact he sat in one spot the entire day might’ve also been a contributing factor to him wanting to do something else.

“Yeah, those apartments I found, I want to go take a look at some of them—maybe check out the real-estate office here and see if they have any more I might want to look at, too,” explained Mike, folding up his paper and preparing to leave.

“—Hey, hold up,” she said in response to his movement. “Where are you going, it’s only twelve!” she was a bit upset he wanted to leave so soon.

“Oh, I’m gonna go see if there’s any places I can get something pretty big to eat. I know you got your tarts and quiches here, but I’m looking for something like a sandwich with some hay fries.” Mike stood up and left his paper and coffee cup there. He moved to the door, his hooves clacking across the café’s tile floor as he went.

“Alright then, er. I’ll see you at home, be back before dark, Mike!” she called out to him as he left through the front door of the café. Perhaps Mike was done being bored—sitting alone in a café reading a newspaper can definitely get on somepony’s nerves.

Mike left the store and proceeded down the street. He had half a day ahead of him, the question was if he was going to utilise it to its full potential, or otherwise simply waste it. A new town to explore on quite a bright, cloudless day. In his eyes, it was a gift.

Comments

[Longhaul]

Very nice read so far. I like how you establish the characters and their relationship without going too in-depth, but at the same time giving us just enough information. Looking forward to the next chapters!

[PublicEnemy]

I like eet! Unlike most stories I stumble across on this site, I can actually read it through without skimming over unnecessary information. You would not believe how many fics are chock-full'a unneeded information. It throws me off, bores me, and makes me put down what would probably otherwise be a great fic. Luckily, your fic doesn't fall into that category! I also like how it's based off'a RP and means I'll make an appearance hurhurhurrrrr. Anyhow - you're doing well, and keep up ze good work!