Happiness Is What You Make Of It

by Nameless Narrator

23

“Aah aah aah aah,” I try to shake some feeling back into my chilly hooves.

Lying curled up in my box was relaxing for few moments, but time goes on, and I eventually notice the unpleasant smell all around isn’t just the dumpster. Having spent far too much time in bed without a proper shower definitely left my scent a bit ‘natural’.

Or maybe it really is just the rotting food.

I sniff under my foreleg.

Nope, it’s me as well. So, I’m back where I started, but all wise and smart after all that’s happened! Now, what is the smarter me going to do about the situation? Last time I woke up I knew what to do, I knew to go to the castle and look for a job which needed no experience.

What do I know now?

I know that I’m really cold, I’m somewhat hungry, I stink, and I have no bits. Hmmm… not good, not good, but nothing overwhelming.

My stomach grumbles. I pat it just so it knows I’m thinking about food too. It’s good to ensure your bodyparts that you care. Maybe.

Alright, food first. To get food, I need bits.

“Eny aideeyas were to get fud, Steeches?” I ask the plushie sitting in the box next to me. He doesn’t answer. I guess he’s still tired from all that thinking about how to get out of Border Glades and avoid newsponies or guards. I’ll just let him rest in the box for now. Perhaps he’ll think of something when I return.

The plan is simple, that’s good. I need simple. First, I need bits… or do we need bits? Do plushies eat? I haven’t seen Stitches nom anything yet, but he’s a sneaky fellow. Even if he’s partially only in my head or something. No reason to think too hard about it.

Don’t get distracted, head! I’m hungry here. Food. That means money. Money means a job. A job means being clean. If that doesn’t work, I need to rummage through some trash cans around restaurants like I used to which would make me dirty again. Hmmm…

Alright, my old routine used to work so let’s stick to it. That means the fountain first.

As I’m walking through Canterlot, I draw some glances due to being pretty much the only pony around without any clothes, but I avoid further attention by sticking to the alleys and side streets where my smell goes unnoticed. No reason to bother the nice ponies yet. Some half an hour later, I’m in a small public park with a fountain still flowing even in this cold. I suspect magic is involved, or some clever engineering.

Hmm, I’m not too keen on jumping inside. Let’s take it slow.

“Aaaaaa!” the first contact is quite the shock. The icy water is like needles being stabbed into my forelegs. However, I know I can walk that off later, now I need to just push through the pain.

Alright, change of plans. Let’s make this as quick as possible.

Jumping inside, I immediately regret my decision, but soon I feel some sort of inner warmth fighting the freezing water. I’ve clearly forgotten how this felt, because it is quite the ordeal. I think I just got too used to warm beds, warm food, warm warmth.

“Hey, what are you doing in there?” somepony calls out.

“W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-” I look at the approaching pony, unable to get anything out through my chattering teeth. Wiping the water out of my eyes, I notice the pony has a helmet and a gold-foiled armor.

A guard!

I bolt, straight away from the curious peacekeeper. Soon I’m leaving just a cloud of snow behind as the water freezes all over my coat. I’m sorry, mister guardspony, I know you must be nice, but I apparently am not or something, I’m not sure.

Now I remember why I used to wash myself in the early morning, not this late. Nopony is around at those times.

A quick turn of my head two streets later, I notice he isn’t following me. It can’t be easy, running in full platemail. I slow down so that I don’t have to gasp for the freezing air. The short and brisk gallop helped my blood flow, though, and the water isn’t dripping off of me anymore.

Nevermind, that’s because I’m now walking with an icy crust all over myself. Fresh, clean, not-smelling freezing crust. Maybe I should keep trotting.

It’s getting really bad, I’m shivering even while running. Few minutes later, I can barely feel my fetlocks. Even I know that’s not good.

Passing by a pizza place, I finally have a good alley to hide from the wind. I remember this shop! They have a huge oven right by the wall which keeps it warm even out here. It takes only a moment to find the correct spot, and soon I’m standing pressed against the wall as at least some feeling returns to my limbs.

I turn around and warm myself up for a long while, but minutes passing are the least of my worries. Alright, legs working again, not coughing anymore, I think it’s time to look for lunch.

The smaller trash cans come first. Considering I’m right next to the shop-bakery-place, it’s unlikely I’m going to find rotten stuff, but rather misshapen orders and remains the staff didn’t eat.

Bingo!

There are a bunch of pizza boxes, and it looks like somepony didn’t like crusts. I find one box with full circle of crust cut off. That’s enough for a whole day, two if I’m desperate. Alright, let’s dig through a bit more.

Oooh, I can take the boxes as well for some insulation under my living box.

After some sorting out, I think I’m done with my scavenging for today. Three pizza boxes, crusts aplenty, one actual slice of pineapple and cheese somepony didn’t finish.

I. Am. Set!

Alright. With the real pizza bit inside me, I can go back, hide the bits and pieces I found, and look for some simple job.

Do I have to rush? No, let’s spend few more minutes with my back against the warm wall. The wet hair of my coat has frozen over again while I was searching, and I’m shivering once more in the creeping cold.

Warmed up again, I set out on a trip home. Grey clouds are hanging over Canterlot, it’s snowing lazily, so I’m not under any huge pressure, and it is early afternoon, unless I completely forgot how to read the big clock on a tower I’m passing by. The streets are definitely livelier than before as the numerous balls of fur and clothes trudging through the snow show.

Huh, no time to waste, right?

I approach a pony wearing a heavy coat, a woolen cap, and other bits and bobs protecting against cold.

“Helou, mem. Ken Ai ask yoo were Ai cud get a job?”

“Get away from me, you disgusting hobo!” she chokes up, immediately shoving her hoof to her muzzle and backing away.

I sniff around and give her an apologetic smile.

“Soree, Ai forgot Ai smel bed. Bai, mem.”

She huffs, tosses me a bit, and trots off.

Oops, I did it the wrong way around. I should have gone through the trash first, THEN washed in the fountain. I even planned it like that. Though I’m not a smart pony, so mistakes are bound to happen. I’m guessing I’ll do this three or four times again maximum.

I can’t blame the pony for being annoyed, I stink of garbage again. Bleh. Okay, okay, so that part of today didn’t work out as I imagined, but I got enough food and that’s what counts. It’s time to go home, get out of the wind and snow, and rethink some small details. On the other hoof, I GOT A BIT! FOR TOTALLY FREE!

Real ponies are the bestest!

“Tank yoo!”

She rushes off.

A meal, a bit, and spare cardboard? Can this day get any better?

It can, because by the time I return to my alley, the snow stops falling completely. It’s still freezing, and my nose is completely stuffed, but that’ll ease up when I get away from the wind.

I hear scratching and skittering as I enter the shadowy alley coming from behind the big dumpster. It can’t be Stitches, can it? Is he a real pony now?

“Steeches?” I rush to my box hidden from anypony looking from the main street.

Inside it, sitting under the umbrella and next to Stitches, is a… pony? He… she… I have no idea which it is… is pitch black and is watching me with wide, completely blue eyes, no pupils, irises or anything at all, just big, sky-blue eyes. Well, not today sky blue, which is grey, but blue sky blue. Oh, and it has huge, sharp teeth, two fangs even. And a small horn like unicorns have… and holes in its hooves? That creature is weird, although who am I to talk? I know so little. Who’s to say this buggy pony isn’t a normal resident of Canterlot?

It doesn’t have hair over its body, only those black… plates? Like a…

“Ar yoo a buckponee?”

The poor guy is shaking all over, his eyes darting from side to side.

“W-what?”

“A buckponee, laik a buck end ponee. Dey gou bzzzt end flai,” I wave my forelegs as fast as I can to imitate fly wings.

He tilts his head, now more confused than scared… or cold. Still, it’s an improvement.

“You’re not… scared?”

“Yoo hev beeg teeth but yor smol. Doo yoo eet ponees?”

His fidgeting resumes.

“Maaaaaaybe.”

“Eeeeeh...” now I’m nervous. The teeth are rather scary, “Ken Ai et leest get mai boks bek? Or Steeches. Nou, Steeches first.”

“Steeches? Wait, YOU live here?” he waves his leg around my box and umbrella, “Did you mean this plushie?” he picks Stitches up and presents him to me.

I take him with no resistance. Good, no hostage situaiton.

“Yes. Ai ken faind a boks eef yoo reely wont dis uan. Yoo ken keep d umbrella too. Ai ken geev yoo a leg eef yoo let d rest gou, but only uan. Ai need d rest too wolk on.”

He blinks few times.

“So… you put those things here? This morning, right?”

How does this relate to how I taste?

“Yes,” I nod.

“That’s pretty crafty, especially how the umbrella protects from the wind. Shouldn’t it be directly above in case something falls from the roof?”

“Uhh, Ai ken show yoo. Eef yoo dont eet mee Ai meen.”

“I’m not… particularly hungry right now, so you’re safe. Unless you start calling other ponies, then I’m in- I mean then you’re in trouble.”

“Ponees dont com heer becuz of d smell,” I drop the pizza boxes on the cobblestones and sit down next to the bugpony. The box becomes rather cramped very quickly, “Weit, ar yoo a hee buckponee or a shee buckponee?”

“I buck everything that goes my way, if you know what I mean,” it laughs.

“Ummm, nou. Wai wud yoo keek evryponee?”

“I didn’t mean buck as in kick, I meant- you’re not the brightest bulb around, are you?”

“Ai dont glou.”

“Alright, I’m a he, although it doesn’t really mean much. Why did you ask anyway?”

“Aim not suppousd too touch mares een sum pleises end dis boks ees too smol eef we ar sitteeng laik dis.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Okey,” I reach my forelegs upwards and pull the dumpster lid open, which means sliding it above us, “Dere, nau we hev a ruf end d umbrella on d said.”

“Oh queen’s long legs, that’s genius!” he looks at the small trash heap I brought with me, “And what about those pizza boxes?”

I push myself out of the crowded living box, open the first pizza one, and show the bugpony the crumbs, “Fud,” then I point at the others and at the cobbles under him, “Eensuleyshun.”

He stares, mouth slightly agape. After a moment he shakes his head.

“So, you’re not scared of me.”

“Not reely, unless yoo trai to bait mee. Den Ail be scared.”

“Well, I don’t exactly eat ponies, per se. Just love, affection, friendship… lust. Feelings, emotions.”

“Ai hev sum of det.”

“A little, yes. Some regret about lost friends, a lot of fear, but a lot of general… love. Ambient positive feelings.”

“Yoo ken see det? Dats ausum!”

“Definitely a useful ability. You see, what I eat grows back quickly if I don’t overdo it.”

“Dets better den eeting a leg.”

“It certainly is. Most ponies get scared of it, though.”

Hey, I’ve got an idea. Positive feelings, right? He didn’t bite me, that’s positive.

“Do yoo eet hugs?”

“What?”

“Ai ken geev yoo a hug.”

“Can’t hurt to try, I guess?”

I pick the shockingly light bugpony up, sit down into the box, put him into my lap, hug him from behind, and give him Stitches to hold. He’s hard as a rock, but eventually eases himself to my embrace.

See? Even bugponies are great no matter them being hard and cold. NOTHING IS HUGPROOF!

“I… I think this box is big enough for two.”

“End Steeches.”

“Alright, for three.”

Food, a bit, spare cardboard, and a friend in one day? I am the luckiest pony alive.

With my legs wrapped around my new black friend, I gradually warm up again. After a while, he burps.

“Huh, that went way better than I imagined,” he covers his mouth.

“Wot deed?”

“I ate a bit of your affection. It’s kind of general and unfocused, but tastes good nonetheless.”

“Ai dont feel eetn.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to hurt somepony feeding me willingly.”

“Ai dont wont to hurt enyponee too.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a pony, so...”

“Buckponee?”

“I’m a changeling.”

That rings a bell! Time to impress my new friend with a bit of knowledge.

“Oh, a shenjeeleenk? Yoo hev venim,” I beam at him.

He looks at me, brows furrowed.

“Uhhh, we… do,” he hops out of our box, “You know, that’s not exactly a thing that makes ponies comfortable around us. Well, neither does our chitin, weird eyes, sharp teeth and… you don’t care about any of that, do you?”

“Doo yoo hurt ponees?”

“No. Kinda would make it hard to feed on positive feelings if we hurt you, wouldn’t it? I personally do the opposite, actually.”

“Den eets ol gud.”

He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head.

“You mean it, you actually mean it,” he turns around, pointing at my pizza mess, “So, what do we do with this? Insulation, you said?”

Well, time to get to work upgrading the shelter. Thankfully, I can feel my legs again and my coat has dried out at least a little. I’m strangely chilly from the inside, but it’s a new weird feeling, not the freezing all over one, so there’s no reason to worry too much yet.

Now, we need to put some pizza boxes under our living box, hide the one with the crumbs so that nopony finds it and I don’t need to go through garbage again too soon. I’d prefer avoiding full-body fountain baths for some time.

“Wai ar yoo een mai boks enywey?” I ask while stomping a pizza box to be flat and more stable.

The changeling hiding in the shadows and doing the same answers:

“I’ve lived here for few weeks. Got a word from a… friend that a changeling can make it in Canterlot if he’s careful and doesn’t cause a fuss. You know, the ponies are scared of us thing.”

“Yor not TOO scaree.”

“Tell that to villagers with torches and pitchforks. Trust me, they don’t like us and throw stuff at us on sight.”

“Uhh, meybee dose ar geefts?”

“Rocks and bottles on fire aren’t gifts. Look, ponies don’t like us, and I can’t blame them. The changelings in the Hive aren’t even remotely friendly to ponies as well. Guys like me who just try to live in a city are different.”

“So, hau do yoo… uhh, work eef yoo kant leev d alley?”

“I can shapeshift. You know, CHANGEling.”

Heheh, I kinda forgot.

Hey, here’s an idea. I look at the last inhabitant of our living box.

“Hey, Steeches, ar yoo a shenjeeleen- shenjeeling?”

Stitches stares at me stoically. Oh well, it was worth a try.

“Your plushie isn’t a changeling. It’s just a plushie. We can recognize another changeling even in a disguise.”

I shrug. He’s the shapeshifting bugpony. Who am I to doubt him?

“Okey.”

“Do you want to see how we transform?”

“Doo yor bones krak end yoo howl end ol dat?”

He raises an eyebrow, or he would if he had any. Alright, his eye makes the motion it would if he had an eyebrow to raise and did so.

“That wouldn’t be too sneaky now, would it? No, just look,” he focuses, green flames out of nowhere rush over his whole body, and in the next instant there stands a-

“Yor a maer!”

“At the moment, yes,” says the rather catching light blue pegasus mare with pink eyes and a long tongue for a cutie mark.

“Soree for touching yoo eensaid d boks, mem. Ai deednt meen-”

She facehoofs.

“It’s still me. Don’t worry about it. So, when I do my business with ponies, I look like this. Being a mare makes them more… receptive,” she presents a hoof, “The name’s Tender Feather.”

I know this one! I had time to practice.

I take her hoof and shake it.

“Greyscale, mem.”

The burst of totally-not-hot fire envelops Tender Feather again, and her… his changeling form returns. I wish we could have used that for some heat.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Reely prettee,” I nod, “So ar yoo a mail shenjeeling or a laydee shenjee-”

“We don’t have genders! Technically, I mean… you know, physically. We can transform into anyone we need. I’ve always thought of myself as a stallion, though.”

“End yoo deesguys yorself as a maer.”

“Look, my feeding place is a brothel in the mountainside part of town. It’s a LOT easier to feed off of lust as a mare, trust me.”

“Olrait.”

Aaand, our box improvement is done. Now it sits atop a small dias made from pieces of cardboard.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a great upgrade. Oh well, it’s just day one. I’ll get some more materials later.

Idea!

“Hey, doo yoo need a help at work? Laik sumponee to kleen stuff?”

“You’ll need a strong stomach to clean down there.”

“Ai yoosd to kleen a lot een d barraks. Ol d sheefts wolking over d pleis. D floors were olways dirtee.”

“It can’t hurt to ask, sure. I’m there every night so I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yor d best!” I hug him again.

“Heheh, hey, calm down. If I get too fat we won’t fit into this box.”

“Yoo ken just shenje eento a sleem shenjeeling den.”

“It doesn’t work like- nevermind,” he rubs his muzzle against my neck, “A snack is a snack.”

It’s starting to snow again. I guess I can have a rest after such an eventful time. I’ll have to go look for some blanket or something later, but for now-

I curl up inside the box and Feather fits himself into the remaining space. Stitches, being the good guardsplushie he is, goes on top to shield us from any snow that gets around the dumpster lid and the umbrella.

The final piece of cardboard flies over and covers us.

“Yoo ken yoos mejic?”

“Just telekinesis.”

My new friend is so cool! Real ponies and now even real changelings disguised as unreal ponies are amazing.

Comments

[StarzGecko]

Haven’t read in a while and still loving it! Sweet to have a little friend for him to hang out with.