Goats of Summer

by SparklingTwilight

It Ends With Goat Pies

Streaking through the sky.

Falling...Descending at a cantilevered angle.

Down.

Swooping past.

My campers clambered for cover, hooves pounding. Heads of most, save those of... was it... four gawkers--yep, four, tightly turned down. Not-so-tightly-stuffed hats flew into contrail updrafts, their brown and green ephemerally painting color against our oppressively cloudless blue sky.

"Woo-hoo!" called the perpetrator, preparing another pass.

I waved my ten-gallon hat at the menace. She dived for its white blur.

Good.

I tossed it away. 'Course the bird-brained menace followed it. Delightful. She snatched the tall hat out of the sky and tossed it back to me with a quick look over her shoulder, then buzzed the grass and ascended again.

On her next descent, I tossed my hat again. My campers, gawkers included, had made it into their tents... at least the tents that had been well-secured. A couple shelters were flyin' toward the lake. Tarnation. I glared at the white-teeth-baring beast that flew and chomped tight on my chapeau's brim again. A shimmy over her shoulder and she tossed it back. 'Course I caught it--Buckball forwards're good like that. Just cause I never played professional didn't mean I couldn't show hotshot cousin Brae a thing or two when he came a swaggerin'. And If I could show-up Brae then this wouldn't be--

The beast ascended again.

Would she go for the hat a third time?

I threw it. Go, she did. An' she snatched it clean before it or she hit the hay bale. A couple pieces fluttered up, but no big deal. Then, she tossed it back t' me, flashin' a crap-eatin' grin.

While she ascended, although there wasn't much time, I considered my surroundin's. Knew 'em well I did. I'd counseled here at the camp for two years previous an' I'd been goin' to it for years before then. We had the tents, the fire pit, the lake, the goat pasture an' the poop pits. Well, ya' get a stinker, ya' treat 'em as one, my family often said--ma' had a lotta enemies.

I tossed my hat again and the beast responded with a constipated laugh. "Yo' not so awosome." She barely sounded like she was speaking Equuish. She didn't retrieve the hat and, due to updrafts from her repositioning, it fluttered short of its goal. "It's nawt like I'm a dawg."

I must've looked pretty perplexed 'cause she laughed again and gawked: "You're so funny looking. Maybe youse a dawg? Hare. Fetch this." Breathing hard, she whipped around, grabbed one of the campers' denuded hats and tossed it toward the lake. I didn't move. "Gawt a problem?" She flicked a hoof on the underside of her jaw and pouted--an insult.

I rolled my eyes.

"Goat gawt yer tongue?"

I grinned, though I wanted ta' cuss. "Not exactly." The goats wouldn't let this beast--this pegasus--get away with harassing them. And unlike us, they weren't here for friendship and they could stack. This pegasus would regret that. But first, I had to approach things the polite way. The friendly way. The friendship summer camp way. Keep the heat and the windigoes away from coverin' Equestria in eternal cold by embracing in hot summer hugs, or somethin' along those lines. B'sides, I had ta' think a bit about the effects of the diversion on our hosts. They could deal with it, shore, but it'd be better if I didn't threaten the treaty.

I reminded the pegasus of the purpose of our joint camp.

"Yeah, friendship," she laughed. "Nice to meet yoo, friend." She spat on a hoof and offered it to me.

Filthy pegasi. ... To be fair, us earth ponies walked in the dirt and the mud and the muck--what was a little more contamination? Only unicorns stereotypically had a 'thing' about keeping their hooves sanitary--although I avoided spit when I could, unless it was wit' a friend--an' my friends knew better.

I didn't take her hoof.

"Gotta problem?" She sneered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Maybe we'll be friends and maybe not," I said. "The best way to ah-mity is ta' stop harassin' my campers."

"What?"

"Don't scare 'em into their tents."

"I'm nawt scary," she puffed out her chest. "Come on out!"

"Stay behind flaps!" I raised my voice. A couple heads poked out of a couple tents. "Now!" The flaps fluttered back flat.

"Youse gotta problem, Madam."

"That problem is you. Just who are you and what are you doing?" While reasonin' with her, I kept squintin' ta' see if any goats were around. But they weren't. Probably enjoyin' the lake before campers took it over. But somethin' else was in the goat lane, covered with a little hay. From up close a pony could smell and probably see what was hidden, but from afar....

"I'm the best pegasus counselor!"

Cow pies, or rather goat paddies, I s'ppose they were, given our hosts. An' in that instant, I knew how ta' deal with this posturin' mustang.

"Great. I'm the head earth pony counselor," I retorted.

"Nuh-uh," she gawked and shook her head.

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Nope," she said.

"Yup," I replied.

She chewed something over, then smiled. "'K. Watch this." She did an aerial trick. I forced my face to remain unmoving, although it was a pretty impressive twirl and roll.

"Cool, huh?" she posed. "I'm gonna make the Wonderbolts."

"The who?" 'Course I knew the Wonderbolts were the premier pegasi aerial performing troupe, but I wanted ta' keep this mustang off-center, make her think like an uncertain greenhorn. A risk though, since one couldn't control greenhorns or mustangs but at least greenhorns were usually too confused to be maliciously destructive.

"Youse earth ponies don't know about the Wonderbolts. Whoo!" She shook her head. "Backwater mud ponies."

I rolled my eyes.

"The Wonderbolts are the fastest, the most daring, and the best pegasi that ever lived--"

I cut her off since I could tell where this was going. "That's why you're not one?"

She scrunched up her nose. "That's why I'm gonna be one. They don't let students join."

"Oh," I shrugged. "Okay."

Silence.

"You going back to your campers now?" I asked.

Pegasi this year. It was supposed to be unicorns but sometimes plans shifted. Last year was solo camp, just earth ponies and goats. Two years ago: pegasi. An' now they were back again. Which meant... blushing simpering Snowflake--oh no. But. Was he aged out? I shook my head out of contemplation. Even if he wasn't--it was just embarassin' an' my own fault. He wasn't a pain. He was awkward and weird and I shouldn't have kissed him and I didn't think I'd have ta' see him again but-nope-nope-nope. The other pegasi, though, they were true pains, like this mustang.

She looked at the sun, stubbornly slowly drifting past the apex. "In a bit..." She grinned. "Ya' wanna train ya' campers to set up their tents real strong. I'll give them a good buzz before I sets off."

We already had some tents to restore. Supplies scattered around our camp. Would there be s'mores? Would we have time to set the fire before dark? "No," I told this pegasus: "Don't."

"It's fine--" she started.

"Would the Wonderbolts do that?" I was desperate.

"Sure," she smiled. "It's fast."

"They do tricks too, right?" I looked at a target. "Maybe blast a few haybales?"

She considered the goats' hay--their neatly stacked meals. "I could do that. Get your campers out to applaud."

I'd rather not have, but I called them.

The pegasus drew herself up, puffing out her chest. "H'llo mud ponies!"

The campers grumbled.

She laughed. "Sorry--don't youse call yourselves that when youse farmers don't have pegasi to protect youse from the rain?"

"No," I frowned. "It's always an insult. You must be thinking of 'dirt ponies'--which still can be a bit obnoxious. And not all of us are from farms. Earth ponies are tradespeople, merchants--we do most anything. Many hail from Canterlot an' other big cities."

"Yeah, that was it," she chuckled. "So, dirt ponies, prepare to see the opening show from your co-campers, the pegasi! Presented by your greatest pegasus--Lightning Dust!" She propelled herself into the sky, wings beating hard, going up until she was just a speck.

She came down and blasted past one, then two hay bales. Then there was the third... which wasn't really a hay bale at all.

Ponies dug latrines for waste. We had dug ours earlier in the day. Goats did not do that. Goats stacked theirs. Shovel and stack and cover with a thin bit of hay to sorta' mask the smell. Repeat campers knew that. Earth ponies came here almost every year, outside of occasional sojourns to wherever the unicorn camp was temporarily placed. We couldn't walk on clouds so the pegasi always came to us. But this pegasus hadn't been here two years ago. And she hadn't been oriented, or hadn't remembered that detail.

She sputtered the leavings from her unsanitary encounter and ascended, then veered toward the lake.

A great "baaa"-ing carried over the wind. Ponies weren't expected at the lake today. For the pegasus, her crash into goat-ridden water was a smelly ba-ad end.

"Fiddlesticks--Fiddlesticks! Should we get a shovel?" A lime green pony with a reddish mane asked me, with big eyes.

"I suppose the goats will prefer for their pile t' be aesthetically restored..." I sighed. Nopony understood goat art but we had been encouraged to politely not complain and to tell our proud host goats that it looked good or, if that could not come out believably, then at least it was "very goat".

Looking back at the lake, I glimpsed a rapidly-ascending water-shaking Lightning Dust angrily retreat from the bleating goats to the clouds. My purpose was accomplished. A bit distasteful, but nevertheless a success. Very goat. Very goat indeed.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

- Chapter 5 covers some dark issues.

Shouldn't you add the required red tags, then?

[SparklingTwilight]

11301059
The plan is to do so when we reach the required chapters.

Today, we only have chapter 1 published, which requires no tags and can be read stand-alone. I included the note about chapter 5 early as a courtesy for pre-planning purposes.

Tomorrow, with chapter 2 will come the first warning tags, as was noted on the story's cover page beneath the "hr" jump line. (Depending on screen size, the full "content note" discussion may require a click of the "More" button).

* Changed "covers some" to "touches on some", which perhaps better represents their presence in that chapter.

[ItsYaBoiSatan]

Saved for goats,

only

[SparklingTwilight]

11301121
If you're a goat-fic-ionado, you may also like:

EExciting Words and Phrases Regarding Four-Legged Equine Mammals, and Your Future Business Ventures Therein!

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Invest in magic! Conquer Equestria! All this can be yours*! (*for a fee, payable to goat.)

• Other

Silent Whisper · 1000 words  ·  38  2 · 429 views

Meanwhile, for more from goats closer at hoof: Stay tuned.

Surprised we don't have a really goat group.

[ItsYaBoiSatan]

11301170
It's already red, read, faved and in my secret but not so secret collection.

[PresentPerfect]

This is a narrative whirlwind! :O

[Bicyclette]

My campers clambered for cover, hooves pounding. Heads of most, save those of... was it... four gawkers--yep, four, tightly turned down. Not-so-tightly-stuffed hats flew into contrail updrafts, their brown and green ephemerally painting color against our oppressively cloudless blue sky.

gorgeous paragraph to start off with

'Course I caught it--Buckball forwards're good like that.

really feeling the character voice in this paragraph

I tossed my hat again and the beast responded with a constipated laugh. "Yo' not so awosome." She barely sounded like she was speaking Equuish. She didn't retrieve the hat and, due to updrafts from her repositioning, it fluttered short of its goal. "It's nawt like I'm a dawg."

somehow, yes, this dialect is as pegasus as Fiddlesticks' is earthpony. between this and the "bird-brained" from earlier, the view from Fiddlesticks's perspective is really well-expressed

I must've looked pretty perplexed 'cause she laughed again and gawked: "You're so funny looking. Maybe youse a dawg? Hare. Fetch this." Breathing hard, she whipped around, grabbed one of the campers denuded hats and tossed it toward the lake. I didn't move. "Gawt a problem?" She flicked a hoof on the underside of her jaw and pouted--an insult.

classic pegasus flirting

Filthy pegasi. ... To be fair, us earth ponies walked in the dirt and the mud and the muck--what was a little more contamination? Only unicorns stereotypically had a 'thing' about keeping their hooves sanitary--although I avoided spit when I could, unless it was wit' a friend--an' my friends knew better.

aww at least there's some self-awareness there!

She chewed something over, then smiled. "'K. Watch this." She did an aerial trick. I forced my face to remain unmoving, although it was a pretty impressive twirl and roll.

hehe love how Fiddlesticks can't force herself not to be impressed

Even if he wasn't--it was just embarassin' an' my own fault. He wasn't a pain. He was awkward and weird and I shouldn't have kissed him and I didn't think I'd have ta' see him again but-nope-nope-nope.

ooh now that's a story

She laughed. "Sorry--don't youse call yourselves that when youse farmers don't have pegasi to protect youse from the rain?"

"No," I frowned. "It's always an insult. You must be thinking of 'dirt ponies'--which still can be a bit obnoxious. And not all of us are from farms. Earth ponies are tradespeople, merchants--we do most anything. Many hail from Canterlot an' other big cities."

aww that is how i imagine intra-pony racism to be! glad Fiddlesticks stood up for herself and her campers

Ponies dug latrines for waste. We had dug ours earlier in the day. Goats did not do that. Goats stacked theirs.

hehehe so that is what the "they could stack" meant from earlier

Nopony understood goat art but we had been encouraged to politely not complain and to tell our proud host goats that it looked good or, if that could not come out believably, then at least it was "very goat".

ahaha love this! if i were a pony i would totally become a goat art connaisseuse because art is supposed to be challenging

Very goat. Very goat indeed.

very goat so true