The Last Impressionist

by CrackedInkWell

Chapter 18: The Present

Author's Note:

First, I want to apologize for not uploading anything for a while. I've been getting distracted and people asked me to do this or that favor. Not to mention that I have too many ideas I want to explore with this story.

But for the moment, let's take them one at a time, and let's enjoy the story.

“Mr. Brush?” Gustav asked in surprise, “As in the Valet, the painter, Mr. Brush?”

I nodded; my memories were still fresh for last night’s date as I sat down to eat breakfast. “Indeed, from last night, he has proven himself to be a capable coltfriend in my eyes. I am rather sorry for telling you this now, but I wanted to make absolutely sure if I really wanted this relationship with him. Now it seems that I have.”

“That’s understandable sir,” my butler said. “Though, to be honest, I never took it that Mr. Brush was into stallions at all since he usually keeps to himself.”

I raised an eyebrow, “You mean that he’s quiet downstairs?”

“Shy is a better term I would use sir. Some of the maids and hoofcolts are lucky to make small talk with him from time to time. Mr. Brush usually focuses on either his duties in the house or paints as far as I’m aware of. Although looking back, it really does make sense that he’s a little talkative around you.”

“This is just a thought Gustav,” I said spreading some butter on my toast. “Does Acrylic have made any friends from downstairs?”

My butler thought for a moment. “I would think that the closest pony that he has to a friend in the house would be Ms. Copper Pot. I’ve seen him ask her for advice every so often. But outside of that, I’m not so sure.”

“One of these days, we ought to get him to be with like-minded ponies to make friends with.” I mused before munching on a piece of toast, “Preferably ones that know how to cope with depression and to deal with stressful moments. The last thing I want at this point is for him to attempt suicide again.”

“Sir, since you told me about who your coltfriend is, it does present a question from me.”

“That being?”

“Don’t you think that Mr. Brush is getting some special treatment because you have an interest in him? When word gets to everypony downstairs, I’m afraid it could spread some jealousy. After all, he went from the second hoofcolt to Valet in about a month. You’re not going to make him do any less work or that sort, are you?”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “You know, Acrylic did bring the matter to me before. I actually promoted him not for the reason so he could work less, but rather so that he could attend his other job as an artist. He’s not quite ready to leave as of yet. Mr. Brush will still have the hours and payment that is fair, but whatever bits he gets from outside of the household is his alone, even when I discuss the prices. So no, you can tell the staff that he’ll get just as much treatment and payment as the rest of them.”

“Very good sir,” he nodded. “Is there anything else I ought to know?”

“There is actually. Gustav, I’m planning to take a holiday to Neighpon, beginning two weeks from now.”

“For work or pleasure?’ he inquired.

“The latter, it’s been a while since I’ve gone somewhere for the sake of enjoyment. Besides, I’ve saved enough bits to go someplace exotic. But of course, I’m going to need to do some planning here and there.”

“So I can assume you’ll be taking Mr. Brush with you?”

I shrugged, “He is both my Valet and coltfriend after all. I don’t see why not. Besides, I’ve asked him last night and he said that he’s willing to go.”

“Do you know where in Neighpon you’ll be going to?”

“I could always ask father about his time in Neighgasaki, I’m sure he’ll come up with a few ideas or at least met somepony over there.”

_*_

“When was the last time you’ve owned a pet?” Fleur asked. By now it was nearing dinner time and I’ve already carried out some deals for a future gallery. As to where we are, we’re in a pet store, looking through the various cages and tanks of yipping dogs, slithering snakes, purring cats, silent fishes, and gossiping birds.

“It’s not for me per-say,” I answered her as I looked through the section of the store that has rows of felines. “Rather it’s on the lines of getting Acrylic the perfect present.”

“But why a cat?” she questioned as she too looked at the cages, “Aren’t they a lot of work to take care of?”

“Well, when father was here, we found out that the town he grows up in practically worships these felines and see them as protectors against evil spirits. I figured that given the recent events with his parents, I figured that he would want a furry companion when I’m not exactly there. Father suggested that I ought to get one. Besides, from our date last night, I found out that he wants to have a family someday, so why not give him something that helps prepare him for that sort of responsibility.”

“That’s… actually thoughtful of you,” Fleur commented. “But which one should we chose?”

A good question indeed – there are rows of cats of various shapes, sizes, furs and breeds to choose from.

“Can I help you with anything?” We looked behind us to see a mare in a forest green uniform come up to us.

“Yes actually,” I said adjusting my monical. “Do you know these cats?”

“I sure do.”

“Then perhaps you can assist me in choosing one.”

“Oh, looking for a kitty to adopt?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I’m rather at a loss at which one to get.”

“Okay then, are you looking for a kitten or a fully mature one?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Of course,” she went up to a cage that had about five tiny orange felines. “Kittens like these little guys are the kind you can train with. They take a good deal of work to do so.” She then went up to a larger cat with long white fur. “Those that are mature, however, at least you would know what you’re getting yourself into given their past health records, and their personality as well. Take Snowy here, he was sick when he was a kitten but has gotten better. An indoor cat, this little guy likes to just lie around in especially warm places. Although I’d admit, he’s kinda… spoiled.”

“Ah, I see.” I nodded, “Question for you, are there any cats here that can be loyal to their owners?”

_*_

The door to my study opened to which I looked up to find Gustav stepping through, “Sir, Mr. Brush has just returned. Shall I send him in?”

“Please do,” I smiled as he places the papers away.

“Right away sir, although I must warn you though, he seems rather upset when he came in.”

“Is he alright?”

“He’s not crying if that’s what you’re asking. No, he looked very furious a while ago. Are you sure you want to see him now?”

I nodded, “Yes. I want to know what’s wrong.”

My butler nodded while I checked my watch, it was eight eleven. That’s rather odd because he usually returns by seven thirty. I poured myself some brandy, wondering what has gotten him so upset.

Then Acrylic came in wearing a scowl on his face. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

He marched over to the desk, “Well, I’ve found one client that I’m never going to talk to again.”

“What?”

“First of all,” he sat down across from me. “Do you know if the kitchen has anything edible? Like soup or anything?”

“You mean you haven’t eaten?”

A mock laugh escaped his mouth, “Are you kidding? After what was a ‘special treat’ from her, I would gladly eat out from a dumpster then spend another minute of that narrow-minded, thin-viewed, uncompromising, manipulative…” he let a shout before slamming his hooves on the desk with his head the following suit. After a pause, he let out a frustrated moan, “Fancy, I’m sorry but… that client was just as big of a bigot as my parents!”

“Okay, calm down,” I used my magic to ring for the servants, “I’ll make sure you get something to eat.” A moment later, Gustav reappeared, “Could you send word to the kitchen that Mr. Brush is in need of dinner. Send up some of that soup if there’s any left.”

He nodded before leaving us alone again. I got up to go around the desk, “So who was the client, if I may ask.”

“Some uptight critic,” Acrylic looked up as I patted his back. “I think her name was Zesty… something.”

“You mean Zesty Gourmand?” he nodded. “Oh you poor miserable soul,” I sighed, “What happened?”

After taking in some very deep breaths, the Artist explained, “Okay, aside from… her, today was just like any other mundane day. The first two clients were alright since all I had to do is paint their houses. But then…” he sighed, “there was Zesty. All she wanted was her portrait done. Nothing to it really, she sat down while she played some music as I painted. I don’t think she said much as I worked, and once I was done, she liked it. She said that she was so impressed that she was willing to take me out to her favorite restaurant to show her gratitude while the paint dries.”

“Oh this ought to be good,” I said as I gulped down some of the bourbons.

“You know what, since she told me that she was a food critic, I thought, ‘Why not? She was willing to pay and I get a free meal.’ So we went down to this place called Restaurant Row to go into one of these places. For the life of me, I can’t remember the building was called, but let’s not get into that. So we sat down and since I’ve never been to this place before, I let her order. Well, when the food arrived, she and I got into a shouting match, all because I asked her one question.”

“And that being?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Where’s the rest of it?” I just busted out laughing, but he continued, “No, really! That was the question. We were given plates were there were like four or five tiny pieces. She told me that this was only the first course so I should go ahead and try it. And I don’t know what I put in my mouth, but I can tell you this Fancy. It looks like food, but it has no other properties of being food. There was no smell, no taste, and the texture? It was practically gone before I could even chew! I thought: ‘Huh, that was weird. Maybe the next course will be better.’ It wasn’t. I swear that whatever they served, it was exactly the same! I don’t know how that critic could even stand it!

“But I’m getting off track, aren’t I?” There was a knock on the door; it was Acrylic’s dinner being brought in. The hoofcolt placed the bowl was set down on the desk along with a glass of water and a spoon. “Thank you,” he said before the servant left us along again. After taking a spoonful, he hummed happily, “Flavor.”

“So what you were saying about Zesty?”

“Oh, right,” he followed another spoonful of the stalk. “As I was saying, eventually I ended up scooping up everything on the plate and putting it all in my mouth at once. This got her frowning, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked me. I asked her how many courses do we have because I would imagine that it would probably take at least fifty to make me full. Well, as you can imagine, our argument only heated up from there.”

“What happened?”

He eats some of the soup before answering. “She told me that since she knew that I immigrated here that she said, and this is her own words, ‘Of course, what was I thinking? You’re ignorant to know about high society cuisine.’ Oh, that really ticked me off! I told her that I know well enough that this food (if you can call it that!) wasn’t by any means a cultural experience if it gave nothing for me to remember by. Like a good painting, good food should at least leave me with an impression of something.”

I nodded, “I whole heartily agree.”

“Then she said something on the lines of, ‘Well, you don’t know how to appreciate such settle taste, the elegance, and hint of true flavor.’ Well, I asked her, how could I appreciate something when it doesn’t even try to be good? This food never once, not ONCE had tried to give me a reason to actually like it. At least with this soup that I’m eating, I could tell that Ms. Copper Pot had tried to make something good.”

Smirking, I replied, “You’re preaching to the choir.”

“But that was nothing compared to what she said next that made me storm out. Do you even want to guess what she said?” I shook my head, “She told me, and I quote: ‘Say’s the pony that couldn’t afford to go to college.’”

Now that was appalling, “She really said that?”

He nodded, “At that point, I was at loss for words. To tell you the truth Fancy, I would have loved to call her a bi- no! That insult is more of a compliment to describe her. I might have told her to go buck herself, but I don’t want to wish something like sex upon her. I was so angry Fancy, I wished that I want to invent new insults, just to describe to her how much I hated her. Like… ‘I hate you so much, that I hope every bit of food you take will taste like fresh charcoal.’ Or ‘I hate you so much, that if there was a choice between your dish and shot of poison, I would go for the poison because at least I would actually taste something!’ No! How about, ‘Then what’s the difference between having something in your mouth that you can’t taste, can’t chew, or can’t swallow and eating nothing at all?’”

“Wait, wait!” my horn flared to reach for a pen and paper. “I got to write this down. This is just too good to pass.” I quickly jot down from the humorous insults I heard before saying, “Continue…”

I saw his anger melt away as he came up with: “How about…. ‘I would rather eat my own paintings than have this dinner again.’ Or, ‘I hate you so much that your ugly ego would go nicely as a modern art masterpiece!’”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I wrote that down. “This is great,” I chortled. “Got anything else?”

He gave a sly grin, “It does really make you wonder what her mother fed her, mites?” Acrylic chuckled. Shaking his head, he picked up another spoonful of soup. “But in all seriousness Fancy, I just couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her. I thought my parents were narrow-minded, but nope! Here was this mare, probably grown up in a much better circumstance than what I or my family had grown up in, and her idea of the good life is to eat in a place that gives you nothing to remember by. Come to think of it, what was it that I’ve eaten again?”

“Acrylic, I understand this perfectly,” I told him. “Between you and me, I disagree with Zesty as well when it comes to the subject of food. Sure, I may be the head of the elite, but even I dread that I would be invited to these sorts of places. Plus, I’ll even tell you a little secret: for those who have spent their lives in Canterlot, we already know where to go to enjoy our meals at. In fact, the only rich ponies that I know that attempted to eat at Restaurant Row, are those who never been there, to begin with.”

“I can see why,” Mr. Brush commented.

“But I am rather sorry that you had her as your client, if I would have known she would invite you to dinner, I would have spared you from having such a dreadful experience.”

“As I’ve said, I am never going to paint for her after tonight.”

“I won’t blame you for it either. Of course, now I’m going to have to face her as well soon.”

“Would you please do me a favor,” he asked.

“Of course.”

“When she comes in and negotiates about the price of her portrait, tell her that the Artist wants it destroyed. Have it drenched in alcohol and lit on fire. There will be no payment.”

“That seems rather harsh don’t you think?”

“She insulted me, Fancy. I don’t want my art to be hung on the wall of the pony that called me stupid.”

I sighed, “Let me see what I can come up with. But since this is clearly upsetting you, can we discuss something else other than Ms. Gourmand?”

He snorted, “Yeah, sure. How was your day?”

“Quite a long day, to be honest, I’m starting to prepare plans for going to Neighpon in two weeks. I wrote to Father to ask him a few details about the country.”

“Did you tell him about us?”

I nodded, “Since its official, I felt that it would be best that he ought to know about it. I am rather curious as to what he’ll say, but it’s going to be a couple of days to hear a reply from him. But I’m getting off track.

“I had a few art deals here and there, as well as setting up a new exhibition for an upcoming sculptor. But aside from that and some paperwork, it was really a tedious day. Well, except for a few things.”

“That being?’

Smirking, I replied, “Hearing your rant about a pony that I don’t like was oddly satisfying. That and I’ve gotten you a present.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What present?”

I rang for the bell once more, Gustav opened the door when I said, “Would you go get Mr. Brush’s present?”

“Yes sir,” a couple minutes later, he returned with the covered cage. Acrylic looked at me in confusion, asked me what was it. “Where do you want me to place it?”

“By the desk Gustav,” I pointed as he sat it down. “I’ll be the one to uncover the cloth.” He did so as I got up towards the cage, “Acrylic, this is for you.” With my magic, I uncovered the cage that held the cat. The smoky white coat spotted creature looked up at my coltfriend with her jade green eyes.

At the sight of the feline, Mr. Brush immediately got up and bowed to it. “Who’s this?”

“I’m afraid that she hasn’t gotten a name yet. This here is a Coltyptian Mau, from what I know, she’s nearly a year old which is our equivalent of a very young teenager. And she’s yours.”

His eyes went wide as he looked between me and the cat, “Could you let her out?”

I did, as soon as the latch was unlocked, the furry thing jumped right out of her cage and into the study. The cat did a full circle, looking around at her new surroundings. She seemed to be very curious as she went up to me, then Gustav and finally went towards Acrylic. The feline paused as he lifted a hoof over her, “May I?” he asked.

When she didn’t move, Acrylic proceeded on to stroking its head. Eventually sitting down on its hindquarters as he continued to pet her, “At least she’s friendly.” I commented.

“You said that she has no name?” Mr. Brush inquired.

“From what I’ve learned from the Pet Store, she came to the store quite ill where the owner abandoned her. There’re health records, but they didn’t mention where she came from or who the previous owner was.”

“Sir,” my butler spoke up. “Are you sure about this is a good idea to have a pet inside the house? A cat no less.”

“Hey!” Acrylic interjected, “The Felines are sacred, and we’re blessed to have one in this very room. To have her here is protecting us from whatever evils that come here.” He then scratched behind her ears in which she let out a purr. “Although, I admit that this is rather weird since we never keep them as pets. However, since someone has abandoned her, then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take care of her.”

“Which brings up my point,” Gustav said before turning to me, “Do you know how to care for this cat, sir?”

“From what I’ve been told, we’re given a weekly trial to see if we can keep her. But from what I’ve learned, it ought to be easy. Since she is a Coltyptian Mau, there’s not much grooming to do other ten to weekly brush her fur and teeth every week. Not to mention that her claws are trimmed for obvious reasons. And her litter box would need to be clean regularly too. Let’s see… oh, since she is an indoor cat, she will grow close to everyone in the house that she will grow loyal with. At the same time, do keep in mind that she is playful and very fast.”

“What do you mean?” Acrylic asked as the cat suddenly hopped on his back.

“We have one of the fastest domestic cat breeds there are out there. So keep that in mind.”

“So like a cheetah,” he inquired as he looked at the cat. “I mean, she does have the spots of one so I suppose that would make some sense.”

“Would you like to keep her Acrylic?”

I saw a smile on the stallion’s muzzle, “Fancy, this is very thoughtful of you. I would be honored to look after something as beautiful as her…” he trailed off in deep thought. “Coltyptian? What about… Cleocatra?”

“As in the last Pharaoh of Coltypt?” Gustav asked.

I smiled, “It would only make sense. I mean, look at the eyes. They seem as if they’re painted, don’t they?”

Acrylic looked at the cat on his back, “Would you like to call you that, Cleocatra?”

She only rested her head on him, purring.