The first reader pony

by Booker Longlegs

Use

Booker was staring up, looking at the pony hard at work up on the roof. He was trying to get a kite out that had somehow gotten lodged underneath the planks on top of the house. The pony was trying to hold up the planking and do something under it. The string probably got tangled up in something. Booker thought, Hmm. Maybe that explains why he doesn’t just cut it. If it’s all tangled up in the electrical wiring, that’d be bad.

“Hey!” Booker called, “Need any help up there?” The pony turned to face the noise and saw who was asking. For just a second, his face shifted into what Booker called the Look before he composed his face into a more neutral expression. From that, Booker knew what the answer would be.

“No, thank you.”

Booker sighed, then called up, “Okay.” He turned away and made for home. It’s like they all think I’m an invalid, Booker thought angrily, Honestly, all I needed to do was hold up that plank. How useless do they think I am? His anger vanished, replaced by sadness as some of the things he’d heard in other towns echoed in his ears. Very.

He violently shook his head. He refused to let depression take hold of him. He used an old trick to help keep it at bay; he started reciting all the useful things he’d done recently. Okay, so I helped Pink with her homework.

Yeah, big deal. I always do that.

Shut up, me. Alright, I was a test audience for Fluttershy’s bird choir.

Because music is so useful.

I said, shut up, me. Anything else…

No.

Darn it, me! There has to be something.

There isn’t.

Yes there is! I…saved Rarity’s career! As the thought crossed his mind, Booker remembered Rarity’s words of thanks. He remembered the look of gratitude and relief on her face, and his sadness evaporated. He grinned. He looked up and saw his house just at the end of the street. His grin broadened. He was expecting a new book today, and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he thought he saw a package lying on his doorstep. He quickened his pace, all trace of his previous melancholy gone.

---

There was a knock on the door. Booker and Pink looked up from the cards in their hooves. “I wonder who that could be?” Booker said, standing up. He moved to answer the door, and upon opening it he saw a brown earth pony with an apple cutie mark. Strangely enough, she also had a dog draped over her back. Booker searched his memory of the welcome party for her name. “Hello,” Booker said, “Applejack, wasn’t it?” She nodded, looking a bit surprised. Booker felt his mouth tug up a little, the party had been a few weeks ago, after all. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Applejack said, “It’s mah dog, Winona. She’s had a fever fer quite a while now, and ah’m startin’ to get worried.”

“Don’t you think a vet would be a good place to visit then?” Booker asked.

“Ah already tried the vet,” Applejack said, “They said the medicine ain’t workin’ on her. Ah took her to mah friend, Fluttershy, but none o’ her home remedies are workin’ either,” Applejack was starting to babble now, “So, ah went around town, asking if anypony knew anything that might help. After a while, ah came to Rarity, and she told me to try askin’ you. Somethin’ about gemstones. Ah didn’t really catch the last bit, ah was anxious tah get here so ah could-“

“Okay, okay,” Booker cut in, “I’ll see what I can do. Come in.”

“Thank ya,” Applejack said, stepping inside. They came to the kitchen, where Pink was waiting curiously. Levitating Winona onto the counter, Booker explained the situation to Pink. He gathered up his hand from the game he and Pink had been playing.

“Applejack, I need you to do something for me.” Booker said. Applejack came over, and Booker held the cards out to her, saying, “Don’t lose.” Bemused, Applejack took the cards and sat down opposite Pink. Pink explained the game, Go-Fish, to Applejack while Booker left the kitchen, muttering, “Now, where do I keep the medical books.”

Booker searched the Medicine Room for about half an hour, but the only book about animal-related illness was dated last year, so Booker doubted it would have anything the vet hadn’t already tried. He made note of the fever medicine the book recommended, so he could ask Applejack if that was what the vet prescribed. He made his way back to the kitchen. As he got closer, he could hear Pink and Applejack talking.

“Ha! Take that!” Pink shouted.

“Come on, that was one pair more’n I had.” Applejack complained. Booker grinned a bit. It seemed Applejack had lost, and Booker could up the melodrama for comedy. Maybe it’ll make her feel a little better. He could hear the sound of cards being moved. Applejack said, “Ya know, fer a kid, ya talk pretty normal.”

“What do you mean?” Pink asked.

“Well, mah little sister comes home with all sorts o’ weird words.” Applejack said.

“Oh,” Pink said. She lowered her voice. “You mean slang.”

Booker was right outside the door by this point, and he heard her despite the lower tone. As soon as she said “slang” Booker let out an anguished groan. He entered the kitchen, where Applejack looked shocked and Pink looked a bit guilty. “Why do you even bring it up!” Booker said, sounding in pain.

“What’re you goin’ on about!” Applejack said, looking back and forth between Booker and Pink.

“I hate slang!” Booker said vehemtly, “I hate it with every fiber of my being!”

“Why!” Applejack said, looking confused.

“It makes reading older books a royal pain!” Booker said, “The author uses slang to make the book more ‘relatable’. What they don’t seem to realize is that later generations won’t be able to understand what's going on since the slang will have changed! It’d be bad enough if it was only confined to fiction, but oh no! You gotta keep those nonfiction works relatable so that they’ll hold ponies’ interest! Can’t use regular grammar in a book that nopony is reading for enjoyment! Nope, gotta keep things ‘relatable’ and-“

“Would you shut up!” Pink shouted over his tirade, “We get it, slang is awful! Now, can you please focus on the reason our guest is here.” Booker and Pink started staring daggers at each other, and Applejack had the only reasonable reaction.

She burst out laughing.

She laughed and laughed until, holding her sides and wiping tears from her eyes, she looked up at Booker and his sister. Booker was grinning at her. “Mission accomplished,” he said, “Good job, young one.”

Pink shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me, Booker.”

“Now what are y’all talkin’ about.” Applejack asked.

“My brilliant plan,” Booker said with a flourish, “I saw you were worried about your dog, so I decided to make you feel better.”

“Were you in on this?” Applejack asked Pink.

Pink shook her head. “No I wasn’t. I thought he was acting normally.”

“So…does that mean he normally acts like that at the mention of slang.” Applejack asked.

Pink let out a little laugh. “Well, maybe he was being a little more dramatic than usual.”

Booker let the moment go on for a few more seconds, then he returned to business. “Now, I looked through my medical books. The only one that focused on animals was pretty recent. Did the vet give Winona a medicine called infernyl?”

“Yeah, ah think tha’s what it was.” Applejack said.

“Well, that was the only medicine in my books that said would cure a dog of fever.” Booker said.

“So, yer sayin’ ya can’t help me after all.” Applejack said. The happiness of a moment ago drained away as all her worries came back. She looked so…defeated. Booker felt a surge of defiance. He would not let her down.

“I never said that.” Booker said. Applejack looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Just give me a minute to think.” Booker pulled over a chair and sat down, closing his eyes.

Okay, so what have we tried? Modern medicine and ancient home remedies. They failed, so what do we use? Hmm. Ancient medicine or modern home remedies are the only options. I don’t think there is such a thing as a modern home remedy, and I don’t trust them anyway. So, ancient medicine it is. What did ancient people use to cure fevers? I wish I had access to ancient medical texts, but I don’t…hmm…what about fiction stories set in the past? They might not be true, but I’d say that if a lot of them use one particular remedy then it’s got some basis in fact. What have I seen used as a fever cure in multiple stories? The answer’s right on the tip of my tounge…

“Willow bark!” Booker exclaimed, eyes flying open.

Applejack looked over at him. Pink had left for parts unknown. “What was that?” Applejack asked.

“Bark from a willow tree,” Booker explained, “Ancient people used it to break fevers, and as a painkiller in a pinch. All we need to do is get some, make it into a tea, and that should break the fever.”

“Do ya think that’ll work?” Applejack asked skeptically.

“Yes.” Booker said, with more confidence than he felt.

“Do ya know it’ll work?” Applejack asked.

“…No,” Booker admitted, “I don’t know it’ll work. Ancient medicine books are notoriously hard to come by. I’m guessing that this’ll work.”

“Where’d this idea come from?” Applejack asked.

“There are numerous stories set in ancient times that reference willow bark tea as a fever breaker, too many for it to just be a convenient plot device.”

“So, yer using stories to tell what medicine to use on Winona?”

“Yes.”

“And, yer expectin’ me to trust Winona’s well-being to these stories?”

“Yes. It’s the only option.”

Applejack looked decidedly uncomfortable at the whole idea. Booker held her gaze. She shifted her weight, fidgeting in place. Eventually, she looked away. “All right.”

“Thank you.” Booker said.

“Fer what?” Applejack said.

“Believing in me.”

---

Gathering the bark took next to no time, since Applejack knew where a willow patch was. Making the tea went quickly, too. Booker poured it down Winona’s throat while Applejack held her mouth closed so she had to swallow it. Then came the waiting. Booker pulled out his pack of cards, and they played a few rounds of Go-Fish. Applejack’s heart wasn’t in it, though, and she kept glancing over at Winona. After his fifth win, Booker decided it’d be better to move to something else. He led Applejack to her favorite section, realistic fiction, and let her pick a book. He grabbed one as well, and they went back into the kitchen. Pink came back inside, apparently she’d had some creative burst and needed to work on her next project. An hour passed, then two, then three.

Just when Booker sensed Applejack was about to take her leave, Winona shuddered and started panting madly. Instantly, Applejack was at her side. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“Well, dogs pant because they don’t have sweat glands,” Booker said slowly, “So this is her equivalent of sweating a whole lot. In one story, once the patient had broken the fever, they started sweating. So maybe…” Booker grabbed his first-aid kit, pulling out the thermometer. He put it in Winona’s mouth, and then sighed with relief.

“Her temperature’s normal. The fever’s broken.”

---

Applejack left Booker’s home with many thanks and a very tired dog. Booker told her that Winona should rest for a few days and she’d be fine. As he watched them disappear into the growing darkness, Booker felt a wave of satisfaction. He turned away, ready to make up Applejack’s loss of his game. Then he looked at the sky again and realized Pink should probably get to bed. She had school in the morning, after all.

Author's Note:

Really quick update this time around. Thanks, spring break boredom!