Junior Gala: The golden girls

by the frank

There's no such thing as a free lunch

Alsesta Grandeur breathed through her nose. Her sort-of step daughter Lyra Heartstrings cowered behind her teacup (blackberry with honey and a light touch of cream), occasionally shooting a glance in the muleicorn’s direction. The mare in question kept breathing through her nose as she lifted her cup of coffee (heavy on milk and sugar) and took a sip. Even after she had put the cup down, she kept breathing through her nose. Alsesta Grandeur was the mare to give ‘grumpy’ a face (although she would call it distinguished), but this was bordering on ‘completly pissed off’. Finally Lyra gave in to the pressure of the situation. She had to say something, anything. Just for something to break the awful tension.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Lyra felt the situation go from bad to worse. Alsesta shot her a glance. It was filled with her usual contempt, but when she spoke, her voice was resigned.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry about. You did not know.”

“Yes, but… I should have.”

“Yes. Perhaps you should.” She paused and took another sip from her cup. Then she kept it at chest height and looked down at the beverage. “But so very few do. It’s not surprising either. Most ponies are barely even aware of the hardships of zebras and minotaurs. And even if they are, ‘It’s not that bad’ is their usual comment. Pah. What do they know…” She finished the sentence more to her coffee than to the unicorn beside her.

Lyra sighed. This had been an awful day. And it had begun so good. ‘The DUDE’ was the most noteworthy restaurant in New Baltimare at the moment. And they seemed so in sync with the world… the esoteric menu, the Q-friendly posters... The fact that THEY…

***

It all had started with lunch three weeks earlier, on a Wednesday. Lyra was on her way home from an Anthropology Conference in New Baltimare, but even on her ‘suit-trips’ that she called them, she never left home without her harp and her notebook. So there she sat, with the meal finished, absentmindedly plucking on her harp while she wondered about what she would do the two hours before the train left. That question was soon answered, as a row arose from the office next to the kitchen. Apparently, the pianist had gotten sick, and there was nopony to take the spot for entertaining a group of Scandineighvian business-mares. The director’s desperation was heard all the way into the restaurant. Lyra decided to offer her services and… it had been a success. Her knowledge of old Scandenieghvian folk songs (one of the side effect of dating a comely yak maiden back in ‘73) had come in handy, and it had ended with a three hour-long sing-a-long session.

The director had been OH SO! grateful, but due to the fact that Lyra was not an registred musician in New Baltimare, he couldn’t pay her in cash. What he could do, was offer her five free meals at his restaurant, and a table for two at ‘The DUDE’, the new big thing in Equestrian cuisine, that had opened in New Baltimare just one month earlier. Lyra was not that interested in fancy dinners, but even she had heard some of the buzz about the place and decided that ‘it could be fun’. The letter with the date had arrived that following Monday, time being Friday in two weeks, at 17.30. Table 23.

Of course she wanted to take Bonnie to a fancy restaurant, and her wife had been excited when Lyra told her about it. However, fate had other plans, because two days before the date BonBon had caught a nasty cold. Lyra wanted to cancel, but BonBon insisted that she should go. Lyra finally accepted, but who should she bring? Unfortunately, nopony was avaliable at such short notice. She had called, in turn, Plaid, Minuette, Moondancer and even Sunset Shimmer! The former three responded with ‘Oh, that would have been great, BUT…’ The last one had fairly teared up with appreciation at the invitation, but still had to decline. She had work, and added something about ‘she didn’t want to cause Lyra trouble’. Lyra wasn’t sure what she referred to but in retrospect, she thought, it couldn’t possibly been worse. After Sunset had declined she had to think for a while to find a candidate. She had called Alsesta as a final shot, and she was convinced she would say no. THAT would have left her with Fransie as the only possible candidate, and her mother-in-law… was…no. Just no. Not even as a hollaback mare.

But Alsesta had accepted. There had been a moment though, when the muleicorn had asked where they were going. When Lyra had answered, there had been a silence.

“New Baltimare, isn’t it?” And then there had been a long sigh. And another. “...Alright. I’ll come. Good night.” And then she hung up, and that was it.

They had met at the New Baltimare station. Some simple exchanges of amenities, and they had taken a cab to the restaurant in silence. It seemed to go well...until they got to the restaurant.

It had started the moment they entered the establishment. Lyra had, in surprise, watched how the wardrobe manager went to wash his hands after hanging up Alesta’s coat. There was no doubt it was because of that coat either, because she knew her own jacket had been a bit smudgy (an accident where Toots had stolen herself some half-baked fudge and, while running away from a furious BonBon, had accidentally run into Lyra.) but that had passed without any reaction. When the stallion had touched Alsesta’s coat, however, it was as if had he touched a spider.

Well, they got a table, and they were welcomed in person by the manager, one of the most unpleasant stallions Lyra had ever met.

“Welcome, Mrs. Heartstrings! I can only hope you will enjoy your stay here at our establishment. I heard from Stirfry how you saved his restaurant, and I am happy to be part of your reward. And you, Miss...”

“Mrs.”

“Really. Well, Mrs. Grandeur. Your reputation has reached even New Baltimare. I welcome you, and I hope that your sensitive palate will be able to enjoy the sensation of Equestrian tastes that you will experience here.”

“I am intrigued, Mr. Footlong.”

Lyra looked after him. Equestrian tastes? Lyra wasn’t that well-read into Alsesta’s reviews, but she knew from their previous dinners that Alsesta, for one, was almost stock-conservative in that matter. She was the prime advocate for classic Equestrian cuisine, it was impossible to miss that. She could talk for hours about how it was something to savor and keep. Sure, the Phrench were brilliant in their way, but... Anyway, they had ordered. They had begun with a serving of appetizers. Lyra had chosen the sweet & sour eggplant with homemade flatbread crisps, while Alsesta went with gazpacho shooters with sour cream. They ate in silence. Lyra had to admit that this was indeed delicious, even a step beyond that. She wasn’t much for advanced cooking, but she had to admit, there was something special about this. Alsesta seemed lost in thought. She ate her meal, but one or three times she made a note in her book. Lyra wasn’t surprised; to have her mother-in-law small-talk during dinner… just never happened. Strangely enough, that was a good sign. Lyra had learned that from BonBon one night after having Foto and Alsesta over.

“I don’t think she likes me.” Lyra said, as she put down the empty plates in the sink.

“Are you kidding? She loves you,” BonBon replied from the coffee machine. Lyra had frowned.

“But… she didn’t say a word to me the whole evening!” Lyra exclaimed.

“Exactly.”

It took sometime for Lyra to understand Alsesta, and she still didn’t get half of her. But she knew as much that her silence was a sign of “I tolerate your presence.” And that was impressive, coming from Alsesta.

Then there was the main course. Beet salad with goat cheese and rye croutons for Alsesta, wild mushroom risotto with parmesan for Lyra. Lyra had tried to put some salt on her rice, but Alsesta had stopped her. “No. It will ruin the taste of the onions.” Lyra had no idea how Alsesta could have known that, but she had put the salt dispenser down, and ate her risotto.

Then dessert. They had both only drunk water during the meal, but Alsesta asked for a small glass of brandy with her coffee. (Black. She was in a good mood.) Lyra had ordered the mini German chocolate cake and a cinnamon latté. It had reminded her of BonBon, and it was equally delicious. As their plates were taken away, and they sat there, letting the food sink down, the slippery manager walked towards their table. Lyra frowned when she noticed him coming, but figured it was inevitable. Alsesta produced her notebook, and Lyra saw how the stallion shot her an almost… resentful look. Lyra raised her eyebrows. Sure, Alsesta was harsh, but come on! You can’t be that thin-skinned to own a restaurant.

“Gentlemares… Have you enjoyed your meal?”

“It was delicious! I have never tasted anything better.” Lyra had no reason to lie, the food had indeed been great. The stallion smiled an oily smile, which got stiffer as he turned to Alsesta.

“I’m pleased to hear. So… Miss Grandeur?”

Alsesta didn’t correct him. “The addition of green chilis to the gazpacho was… interesting.”

“Interesting. I see. I am a bit surprised you could sense that.”

“It was only chopped, not cooked. Only a fool would miss it.”

“Dear me. Well, nopony else has complained.”

“I have not complained. I was just stating a fact.”

“Ah. I see. Any other sort of ‘facts’ you want to state?”

“Yes. The risotto was slightly overcooked.”

“Indeed. I tasted it myself. It was perfect.”

Alsesta consulted her notes. “No. It had cooked for almost 45 seconds too long. 25 seconds could have been forgiven, since that brings out the extra taste in the mushrooms, but 45 makes the rice sticky.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “Pardon me, Miss Grandeur…”

“Mrs.”

“...I may not have your reputation, but I know what ponies like. Risotto is supposed to be… sticky.”

“Yes, but only so much. The point of a risotto is not the sticky rice, is it?”

“Well, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Miss Grandeur.”

“It’s Mrs.”

“I doubt that. Let me tell you, Miss Grandeur, that while other establishments might lean on your opinion, ‘The DUDE’ is not like any other establishments. We are the prime of Equestrian cuisine, where ponies can come and enjoy their meals. The fact that some creatures can’t appreciate what we have is… unfortunate perhaps, but for those there’s always a hayburger joint down the road.”

“What kind of ‘other creatures’?” Lyra had spoken, with a slight edge in her voice.

The manager had used an almost fatherly tone, the one one would use to a child. “Ah, Mrs. Heartstrings… the more simple creatures, those who can’t appreciate pony society, those whose brains are not developed for civil life and those who think they can…”

“Just say it, Mr. Footlong.” Alsesta interrupted him. “I can see that you want to. Please, don’t let my daughter-in-law's presence hinder you.”

“It’s nothing I am ashamed to say. That a mule would ever consider itself knowledgable of EQUESTRIAN habits...hah! And your daughter-in-law? Her? What a joke.”

“Why would that be a joke?” Lyra was a living question mark.

“How could a MULE get a UNICORN as a daughter-in-law? How much does she pay you for this charade? Or did she tell you some sob-story for you to bring her here perhaps? Or…”

“Mr. Footlong.” Alsesta silenced him. “This is enough. I admit I urged you on, but this was my daughter-in-law’s reward for helping another pony and I will not have you destroy this for her any longer. I happen to know Mr. Stirfry, and I will persuade him to give her another reward as make up for this… unfortunate turn of events. As for you, and your establishment…”

Mr Footlong shook his head. “Please! I don’t care the slightest about a mule’s opinion! And even...”

“Four hooves.”

“Four...hooves?” Mr. Footlong had probably something else on his tongue, but that was drowned in his complete surprise at Alsesta’s words.

“The localities are in splendid shape and the atmosphere is rich. Your servers are quick and responsive. I especially enjoyed the slice of grape in my sparkling water. The appetizers, were as I said, interesting, and only a fool would fail to appreciate your imaginative approach to creating new dishes, yet so based in tradition. The salad was crisp, and the slight touch of honey on the beets surprised me in a very positive way. And the coffee was great. But I suggest you get rid of the stallion at the bar. He’s on horse.”

Alsesta rose, as Mr. Footlong stared at her in silence. “There is a difference between you and me, Mr. Footlong. I always do my job, even when confronted with people I don’t like. Have a good day; I will recommend this restaurant to all of my friends.”

And with that, she turned away, and walked out. Lyra had to run to catch up with her. But she hadn’t gone far. She stood there, two houses away, breathing heavily through her nose.
“Al...Alsesta?”

Alsesta turned her head. Her eyes were dark. “Coffee. With lots of milk and sugar. Now. You’re paying.”

***

And here they were, at Moonbutts, enjoying two hot bevereages.

“I’m still sorry…”

“Lyra.”

The unicorn looked up into Alsesta’s eyes. They were no longer angry, only sad. “It’s my life. It has always been like this. Baltimare was bad, New Baltimare is bad. Canterlot is even worse. Manehattan is… Manehattan is actually something of a safe zone for all of us. The non-ponies. Ponyville as well, to some extent.”

Lyra felt the tears in her eyes. “I… I am so sorry! I should have… known.”

“Lyra. Stop crying. Try to control yourself. There is no good in crying, and you being sorry won't help anypony.”

Alsesta’s harsh words stung, but Lyra managed to suppress her tears.

“Good. Now listen. I know who I am, and I know that some ponies will never accept it. Now, don’t you for a second think I approve of this or even ‘pony up and learn to live with it’, however... “ She was silent for a second. “No matter what we do, what we think and what we say... we can’t change their minds. Not the ones who are rotten to the core. Once idiots, always idiots. There is only one thing we can do. Two, to be honest.”

“Two? What can you do?”

“One. Never stoop down to their level. Always be better than them. Never giving them proof of their prejudice, but always be a good example of good behaviour. That makes them the savages they want to paint us as. And…” She put her own hand on Lyra’s and squeezed it slightly. Lyra looked at Alsesta in surprise. “And two. Find allies that will back you, no matter what.”

Lyra stared, then she blushed. But she didn’t move her hand.

“If you want, you may call me Allie.”

Lyra realized in that second that she had been reviewed the whole evening and been found sound. She smiled. “Thanks… Allie. You may call me… Lyra.” A slight snicker came over both mares. Then they sat in silence again for a while. Then Lyra spoke. “I am impressed, though. Foto would’ve probably thrown a tantrum. And I would… at least tried to give them some payback.”

Alsesta smirked. The grim smirk so many restaurateurs had learned to fear. “Oh, I will. Even if I never compromise with my reviews, I have my ways. I will talk to Fransie… and she will take my brother, his husband and Hoity and his little herd of lovers there… next Friday night would probably suit… “

Alsesta took a sip of her coffee and leaned back. “They might seem harmless, but I have seen them in action. They will make that restaurant look like a bugbear Riverdance revue. As I said, get some allies.”

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

(looks at picture)Why does Beerus have a horn and a tail?

[SomefrogMillionaire]

8425035
Beerus has a tail.