• Published 6th Oct 2017
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Spring Broke - kudzuhaiku



Copperquick is broke, flat broke, but he's got seven free days.

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Chapter 25

Buttermilk sat ready with an inkpen, a kind gesture to help Seville. Mighty Midge, home from work, was cuddling Esmeralda, who was sound asleep, secure in his embrace. Butter Fudge moved about the kitchen, fixing supper and making scrumptious treats. As for Copperquick, he sat at the kitchen table, his frogs sweaty, and a mug of steaming tea sat cooling before him. Seville’s battered black and white camera sat on the nearby counter, ready to take pictures when the time was right.

“Copperquick, I’d like to begin,” Seville said in a soft voice and Buttermilk was ready to begin dictation. “First off, what attracted you to Esmeralda’s mother? What motivated you and what were your intentions?”

By the stove, Butter Fudge let out a snort that made the drapes over the sink flap.

Reaching up, Copperquick rubbed the back his neck and blinked a few times. No punches pulled and these questions went right for the throat. Clearing his throat twice, he then responded, “I’d like to call it youthful indiscretion, but that would reflect poorly on me. Cielo del Este was a conquest, plain and simple. She was an exotic dancer, a mare way out of my league. I spent far too much money on food and drinks… I guess I spent enough for her to feel obligated to give up the goods, so to speak. We both got what we wanted and then went our separate ways.”

“And what about contraception?” Seville asked as Buttermilk’s pen travelled over the notebook, leaving behind a fluid script.

“We started out with protection, but, uh, well, Cielo didn’t like the taste of whatever condoms were made out of.” Copperquick could feel sweat beading up along his brow and his ears felt heavy. These were not things he wanted to say in front of Buttermilk and her parents. “She said she was on the pill, and she was, I guess, but, uh, well, Esmeralda happened anyway.”

“Earth pony stallions have a tendency to defeat the pill.” Seville leaned forwards, his brows furrowing, and he looked Copperquick right in the eye. “Did you know about this?”

Rubbing his neck once more, Copperquick squirmed in his seat and thought about his reply before saying it. What was Mighty Midge thinking right now? Butter Fudge? Was he burning his future relationship to the ground with the things he was saying? Now, his belly was sweaty, but even worse, it was itchy too.

“I thought it was superstitious nonsense… something to scare the rubes. My sexual education was minimal at best. To be honest, it was outright neglected and I didn’t start to learn about this stuff until after I came here, to Equestria. Look… I’m not excusing my behaviour, because I can’t. Esmeralda is going to grow up someday and I am going to have to hold myself accountable to her so that maybe I can teach her something.”

While one hoof rubbed the back of his neck, Copperquick’s other hoof scratched at his stomach. “There’s a lot of stories about earth ponies, you know, and I never really knew which of them were true and which of them were false. There are all these myths and urban legends and tall tales about what earth ponies are capable of, and I am aware that almost all of them are about our sexual prowess. I made a very, very stupid mistake and have since learned from it.”

“Mister Quick, I did not come to cast judgment, I only came to hear your—”

“I judge myself pretty hard!” Copperquick blurted out and he sat there trying to look as apologetic as possible. “I made a serious mistake and I acted out of ignorance and now there is another life in the world, one that I created, and all of these consequences have become very, very real to me. Every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month, I live with the consequences. I have a daughter now, and the world is full of ponies just like me. Now I have to hold myself to the fire and do right so I’ll set a good example for Esme. I’m terrified. For the past few weeks, I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown. My blood pressure has been too high and the doctor says I need medication to calm me down, but I can’t be doped up right now with everything going on and I am under a lot of strain…” His words trailed off with a faint squeak and then he sat there, his throat tight, trying to breathe.

“Have a sip of tea, Copper,” Mighty Midge whispered, “and try to be calm.”

“If anything”—Buttermilk paused in her writing while looking at Copperquick—“perhaps this story will help dispel some of those myths. Have some tea, Copper, you look awful.”

Hooves trembling, Copperquick lifted his mug of tea and almost sloshed some onto the table. Huddled in his chair, he could not help but feel miserable, and thought about the night that he had collapsed in class. Fatigue? Exhaustion? Stress? It had been one of the memorable low points during his eviction.

Seville waited, silent, his expression thoughtful, and no matter how hard Copperquick tried, he could not tell what his fellow earth pony was thinking. No judgment seemed to have been cast and with nopony around him appearing to be angry or hating him, he began to feel better. Sipping his tea, Copperquick did his best to compose himself while listening to the somehow soothing sounds of a metal spoon scraping the insides of a steel pot.

“Has there been a paternity test?” Seville asked, breaking the silence with a few gentle words.

“Of course,” Buttermilk replied while Copperquick tried to swallow his tea. “Copper had to see a doctor and while he was getting examined, Twilight Velvet put in an order. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but we had to make sure.”

“Yes, the coat colours are quite distinctive.” Seville’s gaze now lingered on Esmeralda, who fidgeted in her sleep, her stubby little legs kicking. “So, Mister Quick, you have chosen to raise Esmeralda and be a father. A single father. Would you mind sharing some of the challenges you face? What is it that you want the world to know about the difficulties that a single father faces?”

Lowering his mug of tea, Copperquick said two words: “Public restrooms.”

There was a clatter as something metallic landed upon the stove and there was much in the way of muttering from Butter Fudge, who swore under her breath about whatever it was that had just happened. Seville’s face remained neutral for at least ten whole seconds, and he broke, baffled.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Public restrooms are the bane of single fathers everywhere,” Copperquick replied as his voice leveled out and reclaimed some of his refined Grittish cucumber coolness. “No sanitation stations in the male restrooms. No means to change a foal. No little fold out table, no little sink and nozzle to scrub little poopy behinds, nothing. In just about every public restroom for females, you will find these conveniences. And if I try to go into the mare’s restroom…” Shaking his head as his nostrils flared, Copperquick began to gnaw on his lower lip.

“I hadn’t even considered this.” Seville leaned forwards and his eyes glanced over at whatever Buttermilk was writing.

“Even worse, there are the times when I take Esmeralda into the restroom with me, and panic breaks out—”

“Say again?” Now, Seville’s eyes were locked on Copperquick’s.

“When I take my daughter into a public restroom, panic tends to break out. Usually, what happens is, one busybody mare freaks out and then the resulting panic tends to spread through the herd. Sometimes, the police are summoned. Other times, I emerge to face an angry mob ready to take Esme and trample me. It’s so bad that Buttermilk and I have had to surrender to gender roles when we’re out and she has to take Esmeralda with her just to prevent headache and hassle.”

“Is this true?” Seville asked as he turned his inquisitive gaze upon Buttermilk. When she nodded, the corners of the earth pony’s mouth were pulled down into a concerned frown, and his ears pinned back against his head, disappearing beneath his light green mane.

“It has happened so many times that I am now well rehearsed in trying to explain myself,” Copperquick remarked, and then he took a sip of hot tea.

With perplexed expression, Seville began tapping his front hooves together while deep furrows formed in his brow. Behind him, Butter Fudge was still cursing and stood shaking her hoof in the direction of her stove. Esmeralda yawned, but did not wake up, and squirmed a great deal while she slipped back into the depths of slumber, secure and content in Mighty Midge’s forelegs.

“It is as if the world expects fathers to do their fathering at home.” Copperquick held his mug just a few inches below his mouth and his eyes focused on nothing in particular as he tried to collect his thoughts. “I have since become aware of how hard it is to find good fathers, it is a common sentiment shared by many. Equestria’s orphanages and orphanariums are overflowing with foals whose mothers couldn’t take the strain of trying to raise them alone. I have learned that this is a major crisis for our society. That said, as a parent, as a single father, my life has been made even more difficult, more stressful, the frustration has been greatly increased because it seems at times that the world is not ready to watch a father do his job out in public.”

“Huh.” Seville’s brows furrowed a little more.

“Then there are the various social services, none of which are available to single fathers. Welfare. The dole. Public assistance. None of it is available to me. Ponies wonder why more single fathers don’t step up to do their job, to do what is right, to do what is expected of them, and this is why. I can’t seem to get any help and society at large is quite uncomfortable with the idea of a stallion alone with a filly. When Buttermilk is with me, things are fine, but when I am alone, mares stop and stare. I get watched. Police officers follow me while giving me suspicious glances. It feels, at times, that I am not trusted to do the very job that society expects of me, and that is to be a father.”

“You seem to have a lot to say about the subject,” Seville remarked.

“Well, when I lay awake at night, these are the things I think about, and sometimes, I have conversations in my head—test scenarios, if you will, where I put myself into an awkward situation and then try to think about all of the things I can say to save myself and sort things out without being nasty or threatening.”

“You rehearse things?” Seville seemed to be surprised for a moment, but then his expression changed to one of curiousity.

“Of course I do,” Copperquick replied as he lowered his tea a bit and narrowed his eyes. “I roleplay each scenario a dozen times, and I fret, and I lose sleep, and just when I think I have all of the right things to say figured out, something new happens out in public that throws me off and leaves me at a disadvantage. To make things clear, Mister Orange, I am having to fight to keep my daughter. Her first doctor that we saw didn’t think I should be raising her alone, because she might grow up warped and maladjusted without a mare’s proper guidance. Nevermind the fact that it was her mother who abused her, hurt her, and neglected her, causing her developmental issues in the first place.”

Seville’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line and his ears angled forwards into a more aggressive position, reaching out over his eyes.

“My daughter is behind,” Copperquick continued, “and this is her mother’s doing. Her development was stunted and now she is rather slow to do certain things that she should already be doing at this age. She has been handicapped. Stunted. And when some mare or some social worker tells me that my little filly is going to suffer without her proper mother, and I should give her up, and then I tell them that it was her birth mother who left her stunted and developmentally disabled, these ponies, they get mad at me for daring to challenge their perceptions. Most of them can’t even make a cohesive argument, but just insist that a foal, especially a filly, is better left in her mother’s care, or in the care of a mare, and that I am doing more harm than good.”

“And you have to subject yourself to this frustration, because you keep asking for help, so you keep encountering these sorts of ponies.” Seville rubbed his hooves together and looked quite fretful as he spoke.

“Yes, yes I do.” Copperquick spat out the words and gave his head a hard shake. “I can’t avoid them. These are the sorts of ponies I keep having to confront when I go to apply for help. Everypony has a notion for how things should be, and if you challenge their narrow little worldview, you had better prepare for their ire. Buttermilk and I get it in spades, and it all started with a detestable fellow named Mister Blancmange.”

“You sound as though you have a lot of anger bottled up inside of—”

Oh, you have no idea.” The coldness of his own words shocked him and Copperquick realised that he was shaking hard enough to cause his tea to splash.

“—you.” As Seville said this word, he seemed to deflate and slumped down in his chair. “Oh cheese… I had no idea it was this bad. You’re not just challenging a broken, corrupt system, you’re bucking up against all of society’s preconceived notions and stepping on a lot of tender hooves in the process. What you’re doing is a twofold problem… forcing ponies to recognise a system they hold as sacrosanct is potentially broken, and you are forcing them to examine their own values as well.”

“Mister Orange, I am impressed by your grasp of the situation.” Buttermilk did not look up from her writing as she continued, “You have just summed up all of the frustrations that Copperquick and I have in one neat little paragraph.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Oddbody.”

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, my wing is getting cramped. Might we take a short break?”

Author's Note:

More is coming...