The Gruff Griffon

by Dreams of Ponies

The Pregame

The light was still on. Of course it was still on. The sun had set hours ago, and I’d groggily found my way home with an odd smile plastered across my face.

“Honey, I’m home!” I half-kicked, half shoved the door open, vaguely remembering to knock the snow off my hooves onto the mat.

“Don’t call me that, Berry.”

The voice came from the kitchen, where there was also a lovely draft of something orgasmic. I blinked, and I was suddenly seated at the table, chair slightly sideways beneath me. “What’s for grubbin’?”

A pink hoof pushed a bowl forward. Mmmm, soup. I reached forward with a spoon that had appeared in my hoof, but found my target suddenly missing.

“Soup?”

“Where have you been?” Turquoise eyes glared at me, then the rest of her came into focus. Bubblegum over razzmatazz, my sister always managed to be adorable, even when she was trying to set me on fire with her eyes.

“Stare...” She bent in close, getting near enough that our snoots booped together. “No soup for you.”

“But it smells so good,” I whined. Mmm, raspberry flavored. “And Berry did good today!”

“You’ve been drinking too much… Again!” She stuck her lip out for a moment before resuming her glare. “Talking in the third person, ugh. Did you even apply to any job today?”

“No, but--”

“Did you drink way too much and stumble around town?”

“Yes, but--”

“Did you get stuck drinking out of a stallion’s private collection and then let him take you home?”

“Well, technically it was a gryphon, but--”

“Oh, well that’s exotic.”

I snorted, hard. “See here, little missy,” I started to berate her, but when she was no longer in front of me, I blinked. After a moment, I spotted her bubblegum tail disappearing into the kitchen with…“My soup!”

I elegantly extracted myself from my chair into a perfect face-plant into the carpet. Lovely alcohol dulled the rug burn as I stumbled through the swinging wooden door and watched as the little pink demon held the soup above the kitchen sink.

“Nooooooo!” I held my hoof out, taking a step forward. “The soup isn’t to blame! It’s innocent!”

The scorn on my sister’s face made me stop. “Give me one reason.” The bowl was dangerously tipped toward the drain.

“I got a job.”

Only the gentle hum of the refrigerator prevented absolute silence.

“What?” She didn’t move, eyeing me with well deserved suspicion. “Where?”

“At this new place that’s just opening up.”

Pina pulled the bowl back from the brink. “So that’s why you’re so plastered? Just celebrating?”

The beginning of a smile that crossed her face immediately waned at my next words.

“No, it was part of the interview.”

---

Images of gruff feathers, good grog, and a pair of flailing hooves that kept pounding me and kicking me… not a good dream after all.

“Wake. Up.”

Something kept smacking me on my side. “Nooooo.”

“Wake! Up!”

It wasn’t going away. “Leave me alone…”

“Wake up, you fruity loon.”

I gave the only logical response. “Pancakes.”

“Yes, yes… I know.” A plate of hot fluffies were laid across my lap.

Hot… hot hot hot hot. I bolted up, lifting the cakes and glaring at my sister from across the white down. “You are the nicest, evil little twerp in Ponyville, you know that?”

She snorted, turning on the lamp next to the bed with a click. The sun’s rays were just starting to hit the top of my window shades.

“Oh, crap! Sunrise!” I took the plate and rushed around like a madmare. It was probably quite the sight, the hangover making everything feel like it was moving at either double time, or half-speed. After three minutes, a personal best mind you, I had showered, dried, brushed and sprinsed a little perfume and was on my way out the door.

Pancakes still in hoof, I started out into the snow.

“Good luck!” she called after me. “And don’t forget to bring back that dang plate!”

I snorted and waved before rushing out towards my fate, good or ill.

---

Smash! The moment I stepped inside, my blood was chilled even colder than the weather outside. A plate had crashed against the wall a few hands from my face, little bits scattering all over the floor.

“Hey!” I looked down at the poor, innocent china before the scraping of claws against wood drew my attention. Stern black eyes bore into my soul as the gruff griffin himself stepped out from what I presumed to be the kitchen.

“Late. Next time, you clean grease tray with pony tongue.” Even as I gagged, he stepped towards me and the plate of half-eaten pancakes that was still balanced on my back. “You brought fried dough disks. Good tastes, but too many fatten berry pony up.” With a flick of his beak and a fork that came from… somewhere, he stabbed a piece with gusto.

“Hey, my sister made…” I half-held my hoof up as he mowed down on my sister’s fluffy cakes. Pieces of perfect pancakes practically plastered everywhere but the plate. “Nevermind, anyway… sorry I’m late, Mr--” I raised a hoof.

With a thick swallow, and a mighty belch, he gave me a flat look. “Chopped Liver.” He looked down at the empty plate like he’d lost an old friend. “Your sister, she need job?”

“I…” Looking across the strangely rustic bar, I furrowed my brows. “Maybe? Not sure she’s ready, or that a bar is the best place for her; she’s still young.”

“In Homeland, life is work, and work is life. Break shell, chew food, flap wings. Life is work.” He bared down on me with hardened truth.

I sighed as I waved my hooves. “I’ll ask if she’s interested, now…” Looking around, I almost didn’t want to ask. “Where do I start?”

A glass slid across the bar and out of reflex, I caught it. “Uhhh…”

“Drink, pony. At least one an hour.” He drew his claw through his thick, grey plumage. “Pony is more fun that way.” He waved around at the bar. “Fun is essential, Mother's wisdom.”

Somewhere in the distance was a gasp of pink air. “And by the way, it’s Berry.” He said nothing. With a shrug, I gave the golden liquid a swirl, then down the hatch it went. Fire and fruit, with a tang of honey. I shivered, then smirked. “Emberosia? That’s a pretty new drink for such an ol--”

A claw gently clicked on another glass as we exchanged looks. “Go head. Finish sentence, pony.”

I pointedly looked away, sliding the glass over for a refill. A shake, a clink of ice cubes and a grunt later, I indulged once more. With a second, stronger shiver, I turned and clopped my hoof on the counter. “Aight, Boss. I’m ready for whatever you got.”

The long grimace across his face rocked me far more than any liqueur. “Pony thinks so; we shall see.”

---

So. Much. Cleaning.

“This used to be a Neighponese place; did they even know what soap was?” Down on my knees, scrub brush and soap bucket at one with my being, I polished that floor until I could see a Berry-flavored pony giving me a goofy smile.

“Don’t know, but found old bags of noodles in back. If pony is fast, might make soup before open time.” I gagged, giving him a glare. My tied mane whacked me in the face, and he chuckled. “What? No pony joke in Equestria?”
I rolled my eyes so hard it gave me a headache, or maybe that was booze. “Anyway, when do we open?” The floor was looking fantastic, and everything had been dusted, polished and cleansed of all the dirt demons that had moved in during the vacancy.

“Ten minutes.” He didn’t even look up from the glasses he was scrubbing out--not even once.

“You’re not joking?” I stared down the top of his feathery head. “Right?” Grumbling, I emptied the bucket and tossed the rag in a hamper. Climbing over to the bar, I looked over the many, many liquor bottles and flavors, breathing deep the elixir of life. “Look, Griff, you gotta price list for this stuff or am I just gonna charge customers based on their looks?”

After a moment of silence, I glanced over to see his beak stuck in the countertop, a loud snoring seeping out into the restaurant. Trotting over, I gave him a small shake, then a bigger one. Then I just screamed at him, for like ten minutes. Eventually, he flopped over and gave me the stink eye.

“Too loud. Prep work since moon princess painted sky.” He turned and reached behind the bottles to extract a little green pouch; opening it, he extracted some sort of dried herbs, then proceeded to mix it with a swig of Winnisiegh. Swallowing, he shook his head and gave a little flap of his wings. “Sky Mother, we needed that.”

There was a tap at the front door: It was time.

“Is pony ready?” He swirled his tongue around his beak, pulling out a long cutting board and broad knife.

With a grin, I reached back with my tail, grabbed a bottle, and then spun it through the air. Turning towards him, I caught it with a hoof, never looking away from him and his piercing eyes.

“Whenever you are.”

Author's Note:

Heya, pones, back from the last Bronycon and back to work. Looking forward to writing at least one chapter a week if I can manage it. These are pretty short, so that should happen. Anyway, the first few chapters are mostly setup, so you can look forward to kind of a slice of life vignette style, perhaps. Comments and critiques are always appreciated.

With love and dedication, Dreams of Ponies