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CH1: Newcomer1,784 words
CH2: Annoyance2,490 words
CH3: Nightmare1,657 words
CH4: Mingle2,259 words
CH5: History2,526 words
CH6: Tips2,257 words
CH7: Offer2,185 words
CH8: Berries2,718 words
CH9: Luck2,079 words
CH10: Deception2,147 words
CH11: Reunion2,838 words
CH12: Shopping2,186 words
CH13: Danger2,593 words
CH14: Inferno4,867 words
CHFIN: Dualities6,318 words
CHFIN-A: Shortcoming1,256 words
CHFIN-B: Longcoming4,500 words
CHEP: Pink Symphony1,026 words

CH12: Shopping

Special Thanks to:

Editor: DaMobbs
Proofreader: Meeester
Pre-Reader: Axel_Nyan

*****

Well, you’re in a sour mood today, aren’t you? Two close calls with death and you act like your father died... Oh wait, he did.

…!

Hey, put your damn hooves down and listen to me. Maybe your father wasn’t the best example. How about a molerat? You know what those are, right? A hybrid of a rat and a mole? Back where I come from, my town was full of them; always stealing our vegetables, getting into the garbage, and you know what? One of them blamed me for it and—

…..

Ya know, I think we had this argument before. It’s your story I’m reading, so I’ll do whatever I damn well—

*POW*

OW! The hell did you punch me for!?

…..

The next time you do that, I’m throwing this book into the fireplace, you got that? Sheesh, stupid hot-headed jerk...

*****

Chapter 12: Shopping

“Ooh, ooh, Mr. Top Hat, wanna go shopping?”

A few days had passed since the events of the ‘Grand Opening’ and the surprising reunion of the band. It was early in the day, just before noon, and you were sitting at Berry’s Bar, casually sipping some apple cider during your break. You had to get back up on stage in a bit, but you figured wetting your whistle wouldn’t hurt. That, and an apple cider for some reason sounded absolutely refreshing when you woke up.

Seemingly out of the blue though, Pinkie managed to corner you and ask if you wanted to shop with her. You tried, and failed, to suppress a guttural groan at the thought of shopping with a mare, specifically Pinkie, willingly. Most likely, it would involve lots of walking and more window-shopping than anything else.

“Oh, go on you two, go have your fun,” Berry interjected. You looked at Berry incredulously, motioning to the stage and her repeatedly. Was the boss really telling you to ditch work to go shopping?

“I’m extending your break. Besides, it looks like you need some time off. You look like somepony is constantly kicking you in the shins, for Celestia’s sake.”

“Huh? Mr. Top Hat, someone kicked you in the shin? Who did it!? I’ll give them such a talking to… and then we can all be friends!” Pinkie exclaimed.

Leave it to Pinkie to make you chuckle. Sometimes you wondered if the phrase ‘Figure of Speech’ didn’t exist in her little world. It was a miracle that she got this far in life if she was always this naïve and silly. Then again, it’s not like you could hate her for being funny and happy. You tried to play it off as one of Berry’s numerous jokes, but she didn’t let it go.

“Huh!? Someone kicked you in the shins as a cruel joke!? What kind of pony thinks that would be funny? Words are funny, not kicking thin—mmph!?”

Her mindless chatter was cut off as you covered her mouth with a hoof. At least now she could hear you over her own rambling. Despite her previous assumption, your concise explanation quickly changed that.

“Ohhhh, okaaaaay.” She sang before quickly adding, “I still want to know who kicked you in the shins, though.”

*****

So there you were, roaming the streets of Ponyville with a bouncing pink mare to shop for Celestia knows what. Merchants crowded the street, each sporting a small wagon or cart laden with items ranging from fresh produce to furniture. Ponies weaved to and fro between each, stopping here and there to peruse their wares before moving on. Back in Canterlot, the market wasn’t nearly this chaotic, even on a busy morning. It was a far cry from there, but this organized chaos, this hustle and bustle, reminded you of days past. However, they didn’t really feature a sugar-coated pink mare.

You couldn’t recall the last time you went shopping with a mare. Sure, Beaver would regale you with his dating adventures concerning shopping, but they always ended badly. Whenever he got to that particular portion, he merely skipped ahead, detailing it as probably the most boring part of the date. He did let slip that during that time was when his bit pouch became exceedingly light. Beaver came up with the nickname ‘Shopaholics’ for those kinds of mares.

“Ooh ooh, let’s check out that candy store over there!”

Pinkie Pie, however, was a Candyholic.

Your window shopping with her consisted of wandering amongst the confectionery stalls and toy stores. Considering her personality, it wasn’t surprising that this was what she meant by shopping. It seemed she spent every single waking moment of the day surrounded by sugar or toys. Sometimes, you doubted that she was even a pony to begin with, but was actually an alien in her disguise. At this point, you really didn’t care. At least you weren’t bored out of your mind like Beaver said would happen.

“Ooh ooh, what do you think of that Lollipop? It looks so colorful and rainbow-y! Ooh, there’s even a candy-sized pony in there! It looks good enough to eat!”

A chill flew down your spine. Why on Equestria did that give you the shivers? Regardless, the rest of your two-hour shopping experience led to nothing but candy shop after candy shop. At the end of it all, your patience was beginning to wear thin. Just how much candy could this mare eat!? She had to have bought an entire store’s worth by now, yet she was still chowing down like they were going out of style. It didn’t help that whenever you opened your mouth to say something, she’d shove a hoof full of gummy bears or a lollipop in.

You sighed in relief as you took a seat on a bench, dropping the numerous boxes of candy that she had bought on the ground for the time being. Pinkie followed soon after and sprawled out on the rest of the bunch with a happy smile, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach. An abrupt loss of weight on your head meant only one thing, and sure enough, Pinkie was now fiddling with your hat.

“Wow, this hat is always as fit as a fiddle, isn’t it? Say, how did you come by such a neat-o hat anyway? I mean you’ve taken really good care of it, but you’re no tailor; you’re a musician.” She gasped, taking in a giant breath of air before looking at you in utter shock. “You’re not a tailor by day, musician by night are you?!”

You merely shook your head. Apparently the lack of a cutie mark even hinting at being a tailor wasn’t enough to convince her otherwise. When you figured out that you loved music, revealing your cutie mark, your father gave you that hat, telling you to take care of it until you passed it on again. She gave your hat a quick spin in the air and placed it on her head, giggling all the while.

“Oh yeah! I remember, you told me about this before. So your father gave you that hat, then? Come to think of it, where is he now? What was he like?” she asked.

You opened your mouth but closed it a moment later at a loss for words. It wasn’t something you could just talk about in casual conversation. Well, you could, but it would probably make everypony within earshot quickly uncomfortable. Instead, you tried changing the topic of the conversation, but when Pinkie wanted something, she held onto it with an iron hoof.

“Aw c’mon! Can’t you tell me? Pretty please with a cherry and frosting on top? Wait, or is it frosting and a cherry on top? Ohh who cares, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!”

Her pleading, blue eyes seemed to eat away at your resolve the longer you stared at her. You’d seen this stare many times back when you were in Canterlot. The fans who wanted an autograph or a hoofshake had the same stare. It made you feel guilty. Countless times of exposure to such stares quickly nullified your original feelings. In other words, her stare wasn’t really doing anything but make her look like an adorable puppy.

Instead, you looked up at the sky, taking your hat off her head and placing it firmly back on yours. She seemed disappointed when you took it away, but averted her eyes toward the ground.

“Why won’t you tell me?” she asked quietly.

You raised a brow at her.

“Is it… y’know, something bad? I mean, you seemed rather upset when I asked...”

You sighed again. This habit of constantly sighing was getting annoying now to say the least, but you couldn’t help it. It was Pinkie Pie after all.

You got up from the bench and began to walk off. Not a moment later, Pinkie Pie was hot on your tail, although lacking in the bouncing department this time.

“W-wait! Mr. Top Hat, where are you going? You haven’t told me anything yet!”

Something inside you snapped, if only but for a moment. You told her that it was none of her damned business. Pinkie recoiled slightly, confused at the way you were acting.

“M-Mr. Top Hat?” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

Almost immediately, you felt bad. Not only had you snapped, but you had snapped at Pinkie Pie, of all ponies. A quick glance in her direction revealed the normally boisterous party mare to be downtrodden and sad. Even her coat seemed to dull in color, not to mention her hair lay flat against her head.

You looked toward the sky once more and sighed in frustration, quietly berating yourself for doing such a thing. It was still a sensitive subject and not something you willingly told anyone, even your own friends. Still, you apologized to the saddened pink mare, explaining that it wasn’t something you could talk about lightly. Pinkie’s mane perked up ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry… I-I didn’t know…”

You told her that someday, when you were ready, you would tell her. Until then, she would have to wait. Thankfully, she seemed to perk up even more.

“So, where are you going now?” Pinkie asked. Seeing as you were technically on break, it was about time that you headed back to Berry’s Bar. Pinkie nodded in understanding. “Um, are you still mad at me?”

You hesitated mid-trot. Of all the ponies that you knew, she was the only one to address the metaphorical elephant in the room so bluntly. You told her otherwise and that you’d see her back at the bar later before continuing down the street, leaving Pinkie Pie behind.

*****

Now that you were alone, you wiped the sweat off your forehead. It had been a while since you thought about what happened to your father. Even now, you still missed him. Sometimes, you envisioned him giving you wise words of advice about life. He was your coach, your teacher, and your father. Even now, you question what kind of path you should take in your life; should you stay in Ponyville, or reunite the old band and get back into the swing of things?

No. You couldn’t go back to that, not after the chaos that made your life a living hell.

*THUNK*

You fell back on your butt, massaging your head with a hoof to ease the growing bump on your noggin as your uttered some choice swear words. You opened your eyes, ready to confront the pony who barreled into you before realizing you were staring at a brown, brick wall. While cursing at inanimate objects was a nice stress reliever, you had better things to do. Not to mention you’d look pretty crazy if someone witnessed you cursing at a wall.

After getting back on your hooves, you were about to continue on before curiosity got the best of you and you looked at the overhanging sign.

‘You Wreck It, We Fix It’

A weird name for a shop, to be sure, but you’ve heard weirder. You took a peek inside, noticing their plethora of antiques sitting in the windows and on their shelves. It seemed like it doubled as a pawn shop of some kind, too, if the amount of items inside was any indication of such. One thing in particular caught your eye though.

It was an old-fashioned Gramophone.

You blinked a couple times. You looked at the sign again, and then back at the Gramophone. Is it possible the pony working here could repair Gramophones?

You tapped a hoof in thought, deciding if you should head in or not. Alas, curiosity got the best of you again. You placed a hoof on the doorknob of the store and headed in, the jingling of the door bells heralding your entrance.

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