A birthday bungled
A quiet, fretful Sumac turned one worried eye upon the house and then just sat there, unmoving, almost unnaturally still. This might have been disconcerting for most ponies, but Pebble Pie was not most ponies, and she appreciated that Sumac could sit as still as a statue. She found it intriguing; many things about Sumac were intriguing. In fact, there were just as many things about him that were intriguing as there were gross. Of course, gross was subjective, based on opinions and feelings. Most colts were unbearably disgusting, but Sumac’s grossness was a gross she could live with.
“Pebble, what are you thinking?” Olive asked while nudging Pebble in the ribs to get her attention.
“I’m thinking about how gross Sumac is, of course,” the chocolate-brown filly replied to her friend.
“He’s kinda icky, isn’t he?” Silver Lining slipped one foreleg around Pebble’s neck and then the griffoness cub leaned in. “He needs brushing. Look at him. Gross.”
“I know.” Olive nodded and then added in a conspiratorial sidelong whisper, “Somepony should sort him out before the party.”
“My mother,” Silver Lining began, also whispering, “says that friends do for others what others can’t do for themselves. That’s what friendship is, she says.”
“Huh.” Pebble took this into consideration and tilting her head to one side, pondered how this applied to this situation. Her eyes lingered on Sumac’s matted hide, noting that minimal effort had been put into bathing, and no real effort at all had been put into brushing. He had dull hooves and his stubby horn had tangled mane clumped around it. Gross.
“Are you two thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Olive of her companions.
“That would depend,” Pebble replied, “just what is it that you are thinking? Because I’m thinking that the three of us—”
“Could sort Sumac out?” Silver Lining moved her beak closer to Pebble’s ear. “He’s wiley and now that he’s all healed up, he’ll be hard to catch.”
“Hey, that’s what I was thinking.” Olive’s eyes narrowed while her ears pricked up like spearpoints. “I’ll go left. Pebble, you go right. Silver, you take him from the air. If he reaches the back door, we’ve lost. Once we have him, Pebble, you sit on him and smoosh the fight out of him.”
“Is this because I’m fat?” Pebble demanded.
“There’s no nice way to say it, so yeah, kinda.”
Pebble gave Olive a deadpan stare, but acquiesced to her logic. “Fine.”
“We’re gonna need brushes…”
The somewhat small kitchen was crowded with ponies, a manticore spawn, and one dragon. On the table was quite a spread of delectable treats and the main attraction was the cake, which Trixie Lulamoon was just finishing up the enchantments upon. It seemed silly to so heavily enchant something that would soon be destroyed, but logic was readily tossed out of the window when it came to labours of love.
“You see, Megara, this is what civilisation is. Social ritual.” Twilight extended her wing and waved at the table. “We attach significance to certain days and then create ceremonies or traditions to celebrate them. Which is a sign of yet another foundation of civilisation, the calendar. Without a way to keep track of the dates, we wouldn’t be able to celebrate the rituals specific and significant to those dates—”
“Twilight, you’re a dork.”
“Wait, what? What? Twinkleshine?” Blinking, Twilight turned to examine her lifelong friend.
“Meg is here because she loves food, Twilight. She hasn’t heard a word you’ve said.”
“But… but…” Stammering, Twilight swiveled her head around to focus on Megara. “What have I been saying, Megara?”
In response, the manticore spawn shrugged and then her broad paws came to rest upon the table. “Head-hurty Twilight stuff?”
Boisterous laughter rebounded through the kitchen, coming from all except for Twilight. Clearly miffed, Twilight just stood there, alone in a crowd, and after spending several long seconds taking everything in, she heaved a resigned sigh. What she thought was a quiet, attentive student was really just a creature politely waiting to be fed.
Before Twilight could say anything else, a commotion could be heard from outside. Pinny Lane moved to the window over the sink, lowered her head so that she could see out, and surveyed the situation outside. After a moment, the tall mare was joined by Lemon Hearts, who had to crane her neck to see out the window.
“They got him,” Pinny Lane announced, speaking over the laughter in the kitchen.
“Oh, I need a picture of that.” With a burst of speed, Lemon Hearts took up her trusty camera and trotted for the back door, slipping between the bodies that blocked her way with quick, deft agility. “I’ll be right back… with pictures so we can remember this moment forever.”
As Lemon Hearts opened up the back door to step outside, Twilight Sparkle, always true to form, took a moment to say, “Communal grooming and compulsory hygiene habits are just more social ritual, the glue that holds civilisation together.”
Embarrassment was the worst, and nothing was more embarrassing than being stuck in a crowded room and being sung to. Sumac could not help but notice that his mothers were all acting weird with one another, and all of them were wearing buns, which only made the weirdness even weirder. At least the dreadful birthday song was over.
Six candles with flickering flames waited to be blown out and Sumac wanted to do so, but he was feeling overwhelmed. There were a lot of ponies—and not-ponies—in the kitchen. The kitchen was kind of small and with so many guests over, the house itself felt far too small. Glancing around the table, Sumac found it difficult to breathe; it took tremendous effort to draw breath and getting enough air to blow out the candles seemed almost impossible.
Even worse was the feeling that he was… different. Most ponies didn’t mind being packed together. The more the better. Being a herd species, it was comforting for most ponies to be gathered together in large numbers. His mothers all stood together, pressed up against one another, happy smiles on their faces, their eyes—reflecting candle flames—were bright and cheery.
Silver Lining wasn’t too happy about the crowd, and he found this comforting. She clung to her mother, Gloomy, and when their eyes met, there was a silent flash of understanding between them. Wormwood, her father, stood in the corner behind them, his hulking bulk only making the kitchen feel even smaller than it was.
Spike was sitting on Twilight’s back, because there were no more chairs left and Spike was small enough to be stepped on. He didn’t seem to mind the crowd either and his claws ran through Twilight’s mane, trying to comb out tangles that didn’t exist. Spike was having a good time and didn’t appear to have a care in the world.
Moondancer seemed a bit out of sorts, but happy. She stood back in the corner beside Wormwood, her brow furrowed, her expression one of thoughtful absentmindedness. Moondancer might be here in body, but Sumac wondered if she was here in mind. In secret, he envied her ability to tune everything out.
“Hey,” Rainbow Dash called out, “those candles aren’t going to blow themselves out!”
A squelchy gurgle could be heard coming from Sumac’s tummy and this made everything worse. Ponies were looking at him now—he had become the center of attention. The feeling of so many eyes upon him caused his mouth to go dry and his frogs turned sweaty. His tummy made another urgly-gurgly-gurgle and the insides of his cheeks felt as though they were pasted to his molars.
Throwing up at his birthday party—or worse, upon his cake—would be the worst.
“Oh, sod it all,” Octavia said as she shoved Vinyl aside. “I tried to tell you that this would happen, but nopony believed me.”
“But this is just a small gathering of friends and family—” Twinkleshine was about to say more, but was interrupted by Octavia body-checking her and knocking her aside.
“In too small a room!” Eyes narrowing, Octavia shoved her way to where Sumac was sitting and then stood beside him. “He won’t say a word of protest because he’s too afraid of causing a fuss! Poor dear is about to spew!”
Sumac was, indeed, about to spew and he could feel the room pressing in on him now. The sound of many voices all speaking at once assaulted his ears, which pinned back, and his stomach gurgled yet again. One of Octavia’s forelegs wrapped around him and before he could protest or react, he was flung, flipped, and placed upon the stout mare’s back.
The kitchen was so crowded that it was difficult for ponies to step aside and make a path for Octavia to exit. Maud opened the back door, stepped outside, and other ponies stampeded to follow her lead. Sumac clung to Octavia’s neck, fearing that he might spew at any second. His anxiety was such that he couldn’t even breathe, for fear of barfing, and he held his breath.
Octavia knew what to do; Octavia always knew just what to do.
Once more, as had been done in the past, Sumac was plopped down on the toilet by Octavia. This bathroom was a bit smaller, but the feeling of familiarity with the situation was the same. There was a squeak as Octavia turned the faucet handle and began running cold water in the sink. Sumac’s mouth went even drier when he smelled water and he longed for a drink, but all in due time.
It was important to observe the ritual.
“I’m sorry, Sumac… I tried.”
Rather than reply, he focused on his breathing and drew in a shuddering breath.
“I tried to tell them and they kept telling me I was overreacting. That everything would be fine. It was just a get together with friends and family. I was told I was being overly neurotic. First the girls got you, and I’m sure that left you shook up… and then you were trapped in a room packed full of ponies with no means of quick escape. I told Pebble not to do anything that might get you riled up. I told her… I told her and she didn’t listen. You were going to have a tough day and you didn’t need to be overstimulated.”
“Are you okay?” Somehow, Sumac croaked out these words, his voice cracking every syllable.
“Am I okay?” Octavia stood blinking, confused, her ears rising and falling. “Am I okay? It’s you we need to worry about.”
“But you’re like me,” Sumac managed to say between laboured breaths.
Octavia’s composure broke, shattering like glass, and her face was overcome with a multitude of twitches, tics, and quivers. Her nostrils flared open, then shrank, and went wide again, all while her eyelids fluttered like agitated butterflies left to dance upon flowers somehow searing-hot. The entirety of the bathroom trembled when her backside collided with the floor, which caused a container of shampoo to fall over and bounce around inside of the tub.
“It’s difficult being us,” Octavia said, her voice barren, devoid of its typical cultured warmth. “I get so fed up with it sometimes, Sumac. I’m sorry. You were having a moment and rather than taking care of you, now I’m having a moment and I feel like crying right now. I feel bloody awful.”
Sliding off of the toilet lid, Sumac flopped onto the floor beside Octavia and leaned up against her while listening to the water run in the sink. The ritual had been broken, but that was okay. After a moment, the much larger mare hugged the much smaller colt to her, and then together, as if some silent agreement had been reached, both of them began to cry.
After sorting everything out, the party had been moved into the back yard. When Sumac returned to his party, he was relieved to see everything had been spread out and that there was lots of space. Fresh candles had been put on the cake and nothing had been ruined by his meltdown. As he came out of the back door, the sun shining upon his freshly scrubbed face, nopony rushed to him or crowded him.
There were small approachable groups rather than one big herd, and only his friends sat around the table, which had been moved out-of-doors. Though still pretty distraught, this was much easier to cope with. As various emotions churned within Sumac, annoyance rose to the top of the heap and he wished that the party had been this way before he had his meltdown.
Standing between Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle wore an unmistakably guilty expression that made Sumac feel terrible for her. She was an introvert too, albeit a far more sociable one than he was. He wanted to go to her, to say something nice or comfort her, but that would mean accidentally engaging Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash, who did not understand these things in the slightest. No, they would only overwhelm him in an effort to make him feel better.
Casting a final glance at Twilight, Sumac allowed himself to be led to the table.
“Kiddo, I’m sorry.” Trixie stood a few feet away with an apologetic, sheepish expression.
Not quite ready for the sound of his own voice, Sumac nodded.
“It’s hard to reach you, sometimes,” Trixie continued, a faint tremour in her voice giving away her state of emotion. “When it was just us, it was easier. I think. At least, I remember it being that way. I could be wrong. But now, with all of us together, it gets a little confusing sometimes.” Her eyes went from Sumac to the cake, back to Sumac, and then to Octavia. After a moment, she sighed, her withers sagged, and she tore her gaze away from Octavia to look at her son once more. “Happy birthday, Sumac. I wanted this day to be perfect for you. This is our new life. Our family. For me, this is starting over and not… not… and not sabotaging myself. In a way, your birthdays are kind of like my birthdays, and each one you have means I’m doing something right. I was such a selfish pony for so long… caught up in my own narcissism.”
Sumac turned to look his mother in the eye.
“Kiddo, with your birthdays… I might not have given you life, but I want to give you a life.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Trixie smiled her best brave smile, but the corners of her mouth quivered. With a flick of magic, Twinkleshine lit the candles and Sumac turned his attention upon them. His friends leaned in, eager for things to go right this time, and Boomer scrambled over the table to stand beside where he sat.
“Make a wish, Sumac,” Pebble deadpanned.
“There’s nothing else I need,” was his hurried reply, and he blew out his candles before anypony had a chance to say anything else.
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Poor Sumac. I know the feeling all too well.
Good thing he and Octavia have each other. It's necessary to have a rock in these kinds of situations.
9197283
but Maud wasn't with them.
Seems strange that a Pinkie Pie party doesn’t take in consideration the actual illness of the birthday pony.
She bends the laws of physics to accommodate others and not trigger discomfort. That she didn’t think that Sumac would be overwhelmed by the mass of ponies, without a clear overriding reason like the Goof off, is a bit off character...
9198289
I'm not sure Pinkie even knows any other type of party, aside from "a loud shindig for 5 year olds". At least, at this point in time. In the show she sure doesn't.
9198289
So you see introversion as an illness?
He's dooooomed.
At least she's being polite, that's a lot to ask of a cat.
Wow, Sumac really was doomed.
But at least it got better after Octavia helped.
This makes me realize something: Twilight might have a slightly distorted view of how to talk to a child, and the need to keep the child's interest. Her main experience is raising Spike, who seems like he imprinted on her like a duckling, and probably patiently listened to even her most pedantic lectures.
9198892
And that is the point I was struggling to make. Showing, without telling.
Thanks. That observation made me feel better.
9198912 I liked the later point of Spike sitting on Twilight's back, grooming out non-existent tangles, it was cute and a great way to show how he tries to fit into the herd.
9198573
Well, as it makes Sumac literally ill I guess it qualify, doesn’t it?
9199269
This is a repeated theme. Pinkie is rather tone deaf.
9198373
Well the loud party doesn’t seems the issue, the issue is the crowding... as just moving the party outside spread out managed to solve the issue...
9199272
Hmm canonically she has a huge archive with likes and dislikes of practically every pony she meets... I would guess “hates crowds” would rank pretty high on Sumac dossier...
9199312
Oh, she has a list, and she's checking it twice, but that's not on there. Likes and dislikes, yes. Psychological profile... not yet. That comes later.
9199312
This is the very first birthday party she's thrown for him. She only has a very basic idea about stuff, and this a knowledge that builds up over time, with each and every birthday party. During this big bash that she's thrown, she's learned a few valuable things that will make the next party better. And during that party, she will learn more things to make the next party be the very bestest Pinkie Party that it can be.
But it is a process that takes time. Sumac did not grow up in Ponyville. His first few years were spent on the road, always on the move.
Lol, this part is really funny