My Date With Ms. Harshwhinny

by CrazyChickenLady

Chapter Two: Failing Action

Chapter Two: Failing Action

The cheerful summer weather was a stark contrast to the mood of a certain blonde and earth-coated mare. Her dour exterior surrounded her in a veil of gloom that all but summoned her own personal rain cloud. While she had been looking forward to the upcoming show taking place at the Canterlot Theater, the source of her disposition stemmed from the eventual arrival of her date. Instead of dressing up, she opted for her favored purple jacket and the set that came with it.

Stationed outside of Canterlot Theater, Ms. Harshwhinny surveyed the river of colorful equines, all dressed to the nines, waiting behind a red rope. If this date was going to be a repeat of the last one, then her stallion companion for the day was going to stick out like a pickle in a bushel of apples. Last week, she and Comet Burst both agreed to meet at their destination before they parted. In her perspective, cutting out a walk with him to the theater was an improvement to the date.

Casting her icy gaze into the direction she came from, she espied a familiar azure and cyan figure. Just as she predicted, he had chosen not to dress up. He approached in a prancing trot, his sanguine countenance brightening up the already blithesome day.

“Hey, Ms. Harshwhinny! How ya doin’?” he addressed, his tone as lively as his appearance.

“I’ve been better,” she replied, her cold demeanor standing strong against his warmth. “On multiple occasions.”

Comet Burst was unaffected by the verbal jab. He felt there was nothing she could say that would bring down his high spirits. His wide grin was trained on her as he directed himself towards the line. “Aw, well, maybe the show will put ya in a better mood.”

The mare wasn’t the least bit convinced her day would improve. She made every effort to ignore the unicorn throughout the duration of their time in line. The river of ponies flowed into the theater and assembled into one iridescent body. Ms. Harshwhinny and Comet Burst were situated on the right and near the center. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but Comet Burst stated that they could have ended up in the back rows.

From beneath the curtains emerged a beige and brown pegasus stallion, clothed in a black Victorian Era vest and a crimped collar with a clashing pair of baggy jeans sagging at his flanks and a backwards baseball cap. The grace and dignity of a professional actor became lost in an explosion of teenage angst.

“WAZZAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!” he bellowed, throwing the entire audience into a state of stunned confusion. “Love sucks! It messes with yo’ head, like…like middle school math! Ya try to figure it out, but ya can’t! It waits fo’ ya in a dark alley and punches yo’ heart in the face! And when ya try to escape, it drags ya back and takes yo’ money!”

The stallion stepped aback, slipping into the curtains. A befuddled hush was shared among the crowd. It was the opening that rendered the audience baffled and uncomfortable that popped Comet Burst’s cheerful bubble. Ears folding back and eyes never leaving the stage, he leaned into Ms. Harshwhinny’s direction.

“What was the premise of this play?” he inquired, the volume of his voice at a whisper.

Ms. Harshwhinny’s typical scowl replaced by a mixture of bewilderment and regret, filed through her memory for the premise that had been relayed to her by a source she now deemed questionable. She should have anticipated the word of a D grade theatrical producer wouldn’t be reliable when it came to quality content. “A mare and stallion from opposing families fall in love. Quite cliche, but I was assured it is a guaranteed hit.”

“Uh…huh.”

---

Despite the title of the play being Germane, it was set in Fetlockhead of Trotland. Yet, none of the actors spoke in a Trotish accent. Accents changed and blended with dialects of other regions. Along with intermingled accents, each character had no set personality, often undergoing drastic personality changes. In addition, the actors put no effort into their craft for this piece. Their lines left their lips and drifted on hallow notes vaguely resembling emotions.

“Yer very pretty and soft loik butter,” the male lead halfheartedly declared to the leading female in a barely recognizable Hockney accent. “Therefore, I love ye.”

The mare let out an unenthusiastic giggle and responded in a terrible Prench accent. “And you are moderately handsome and don’t smell like ze dead feesh. I love you.”

---

“My lady, you know Sir Troutbottoms has forbidden you to see that passably alluring son of Lord Herpaderp,” declared a unicorn mare donned in a modern Prench maid uniform.

The leading lady sighed, throwing a hoof to her forehead in a partially dramatic fashion. “Oh, Prench Maid. Father would nevar undarstand.”

“But…he fell in love with your mom and married her,” Prench Maid assured.

“Nevar undarstand.”

---

“Yo, dawg, no way am I lettin’ ya date mah sistah!” a burly earth pony growled, focusing a glare on the leading stallion.

“Good sir, I challenge you to hooficuffs!”

As hooves were thrown, failing to connect with their targets, Comet Burst found himself in the process of comforting a stallion nearly twice his size. A white-coated unicorn, with a black mane styled into a mohawk and tail cropped short, was slumped over the blue stallion’s shoulder, his cheeks streaked with eyeliner. Piercings lined his ears, the edges of his eyebrows, the outsides of his nostrils, and the middle of his bottom lip. The pony he dwarfed adjusted himself on his rump, finding the spikes adorning the large stallion’s leather vest sharp.

“S’okay, bro. It’ll be over soon,” Comet Burst consoled, one foreleg around the hulking unicorn and the other hoof patting his shoulder.

---

“Prench Maid! So you are the villain,” the Troutbottoms daughter gasped in mock shock.

“Yes, I am!” the Prench maid affirmed, appearing to becoming acquainted with madness.

“But why?”

“Because I’m evil! And evil ponies do villain things!”

---

A series of uninteresting events accumulated into a poorly choreographed and anti-climatic battle. The parties of Sir Troutbottom and Lord Herpaderp were aided by knights, vikings, gladiators, pirates, ninjas, and ponies depicting the Japonese mafia. The aggressive shoving, gentle stick-poking, and helpless flailing ended in a struggling pile of equines.

As the play came to a close, the actors were completely dispirited; color drained from their coats and eyes dulled like a dying candle, as if performing this theatrical creation had sapped their souls. More than half of the audience was absent, the absentees unable to withstand viewing the entire program. The majority of them possibly required long-term therapy.

Stunned and flummoxed, Ms. Harshwhinny numbly attempted to comprehend the levels of inanity she just witnessed. Outrage settled in, rattling every fiber within her being. So many questions summarily raced through her mind. Why would anyone write such an atrocity? Why would anyone work on it? Why?

“Man, that sucked.” Comet Burst’s voice pulled Ms. Harshwhinny’s mind back to reality. Ears flopped back, the stallion’s face was contorted to display his displeasure. The white unicorn he had been comforting earlier was long gone with the other absentees. “I seen a lot of bombs, but this tops the list.”

“Indeed! I have never seen a more horrid piece of rubbish!” the mare snorted. “Why, it’s a travesty to theatrical art!”

“It’s a travesty to all art, Comet Burst followed. “Sometimes I wonder if things like this are made deliberately.”

“Ponies are just incompetent,” she huffed, whirling into the direction of the exit where multiple ponies were making a hasty retreat.

Comet Burst followed suit, the baffling effects of the performance lingering in heavy currents. “Some time ago, I had an idea for a story set in Trotland that focused on a budding friendship between a simple farm mare and a kelpie.”

“At least that sounds more promising than this hogwash.”

The blue unicorn quickened his pace until he was at the mare’s side, throwing her a smirk. “So my work is just slightly better hogwash.”

She shifted her sapphire orbs to him, quirking a brow. The playful quality of his smile and tonality told her he was jesting. “I would hope so. The world doesn’t need more hogwash.”

“Well…we kinda need the hogwash so we can appreciate the good stuff,” Comet Burst stated, he and Ms. Harshwhinny coming to a stop behind a blockage of ponies struggling to squeeze through the exit.

“I’m content with spending my time only on quality entertainment,” she informed, her patience beginning to wane as she watched the wall of equines attempt to wiggle free.

“That’s fair. I know I never wanna see this play again. Even if the actors put all they had into it, that wouldn’t have saved it.”

“The acting was dreadfully wooden,” Ms. Harshwhinny scoffed. “Such performers should never be permitted on stage.”

“Hey, now, they’re probably really good,” Comet Burst interjected. “They might have just thought this play wasn’t worth putting the energy in it. And they gotta put on more shows of that thing. They got it rough.”

The mare turned her attention back to the stallion. “You do make a fair point, but that show absolutely should have never been produced.”

“That, I can agree with!” Comet Burst let out a huff of a chuckle. “What was the writer thinking? The story was inconsistent and had more holes than Swiss cheese!”

“It was a trite attempt at a plot with an utterly nonsensical outcome,” the earth-pelted mare said, finding relief when the equine barricade budged.

“The plot wasn’t the only thing that was nonsensical,” Comet Burst agreed, witnessing the ponies in front of them collapse the instant a few mares freed themselves from the bunch. Several more of them followed. “The characters were one-dimensional with no actual personalities. If any of ‘em traded lines, I wouldn’t know who was who.”

“The dialogue couldn’t have been worse if a foal had written it,” the earth pony tacked on.

“It was more awkward than I was in high school!”

The unicorn’s gibe received no verbal response. What he did receive completely blew him away. The tiniest hint of a smirk tipped Ms. Harshwhinny’s lips. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to communicate to him that she felt some form of amusement. He broke into a wide grin over his victory, as small as it was. As they exited, he turned to her, his pep rekindled. “Wanna get donuts?”

---

Magic enveloping a fresh batch of chocolate glazed donuts, Joe neatly arranged them in the display counter. He took a step back to admire the rows of delectable treats enjoyed by both nobility and common ponies. The arrival of a new customer tore him away from the donuts. His smile broadened at the sight the beaming unicorn stallion, but all traces of cheer were promptly replaced by nervousness the instant his eyes laid on the sharp-tongued mare.

“It’s all good, Joe! She’s with me. We’re just here for donuts,” Comet Burst assured, but it did nothing to soothe the confectioner’s anxiety. He allowed the door to swing shut once his date stepped in. “Anything specific ya want?”

“I’m partial to Broncston cream and eclairs,” she said, scanning the selection as she approached the display.

“Oh, I love those!” he chimed, prancing up to the counter. “Can we get a couple of each, please?”

“Sure. Coming right up,” Joe responded, voice betraying his nervousness.

Comet Burst and Ms. Harshwhinny had every intention on footing the bill. In unison, their hooves slapped enough bits for all four donuts onto the counter. Both equines faced each other.

“We split down the middle?” the unicorn offered.

“Hm.” The earth pony nodded and removed half of of her bits as Comet Burst did the same.

Donuts wrapped in dry wax paper, the pair seated themselves across from each other. Ms. Harshwhinny chomped down on her Broncston cream donut, the force of the bite squeezing out the filling and firing it straight into Comet Burst’s face.

“MY EYES!” he shrieked, falling from his chair. He laid helplessly on the floor, his hooves vigorously rubbing at his eyes to be rid of the vanilla pudding.

Ms. Harshwhinny dropped her donut, eyes springing open wide. She launched herself from her seat to retrieve a stack of napkins. Planting herself at his side, she swatted aside his hooves to wipe the pudding from his face. He blearily gazed up at her, tears spilling from his irritated eyes. She shoved the remaining clean napkins into his hooves to allow him to finish the job himself.

“Thanks.” His eyesight gradually cleared, recognizing the look of concern with a twinge of guilt upon her features. He already made the assumption that a heart laid beneath that gruff exterior of hers. Now, he had the privilege of catching a glimpse of it. He was quiet for a few moments while he cleaned up the remaining traces of filling. The soiled napkins were collected into a pile. “Want to…be friends?”

It was a sudden request that caught Ms. Harshwhinny off guard. So much for being rid of him after this evening was over. She wasn’t much of a social butterfly outside of work. Her intimidating appearance and demeanor prevented other ponies from venturing too close. The fact that this stallion was actually interested in staying in contact with her because he actually wanted to took her by surprise. She couldn’t bring herself to refuse him. There was something about that dorky grin that failed to charm countless females.

“I…I suppose we can keep in contact as associates,” she caved, tearing away from his burgundy gaze.

”Awesome!” Comet Burst pulled himself to his hooves, scooping up the napkins to dispose of them.

Ms. Harshwhinny picked up her partially eaten donut, watching him drop napkins on his way to the garbage bin. She was unsure how to feel about this development. Spending time with someone on a consistent basis would be a drastic change. She had to remind herself that a change to her lifestyle of solitude was the reason she decided to participate in the blind dating event. Maybe she would grow to tolerate the eccentric stallion and the changes that came with him.

Comments

[Bookworm]

He... sounds pretty manipulative in this one, always saying the good thing at the right time.
Is is planned or sheer excentricity ?
I'll see.

[CrazyChickenLady]

9670022
Does he? Didn't mean for him to come across as that. He's definitely not the manipulative type. XD