The Book of Friendship

by BillyColt

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Sawdust filled the air enough to choke a pony. The dull, grinding sound of the saw made the small shop feel like an oppressive mill more than anything else. Carpenter sawed through board after board with a seemingly single-minded focus: a mechanic working with precise efficiency. His workbench was coated in a fine film of sawdust, and larger piles of the stuff had accumulated at the floor around it.

Buzz walked up to him with slow, hesitant steps, a three-legged stool carried in his mouth. Carpenter paid him no heed.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” asked Carpenter, not stopping his sawing.

“I made something,” said Buzz, setting the stool down on the floor.

Carpenter grunted and placed the saw down. He turned to Buzz and picked up the stool, and then turned back to his bench. Holding the stool up to the light, he scrutinized his son’s woodwork, his gaze crawling along every inch of the seat.

“One of the legs is shorter than the others,” he said at length.

“I measured them,” said Buzz. “They’re the same.”

“You didn’t put them on right,” said Carpenter. “One of them’s on crooked.”

Carpenter placed the stool back on the ground and went back to his work. Buzz gulped and put a hoof to the stool and wobbled it a little. Sure enough, it wasn’t even. He sighed, took his stool, and walked away. However...

“You’ve still been hanging around the mission,” said Carpenter. Buzz froze in his tracks. The colt opened his mouth to speak, but Carpenter cut him off. “I’ve seen you there. Why?”

Buzz blinked. “I...” he stuttered. “I’ve been looking at Tap.”

“Tap?”

“Yeah,” he said, satisfied with his own answer. “I... I like to look at her.” He paused. “She’s hot.”

Carpenter turned around, looking at Buzz with his eyes narrowed. “She’s a whore,” he said. “She’s not worth your time.”

Buzz lowered his head. “I know...” he said.

___________

Brother White was talking about something. What it was he was talking about, one couldn’t be sure. Tap tried to concentrate...

“Well, flossing is important because there are spaces in between the teeth that a toothbrush just can’t reach...”

Nothing important, then, Tap thought.

She sat on a soft cushion at a round table. She, Scroll, and White sat around the table, teacups in front of them. A teapot and jars of milk and sugar were all arranged in the center. Clip and Barrel were at another table in the corner, engaged in an intense game of checkers. In the other corner of the room, a table was stacked with syrup-covered plates, the remains of that morning’s pancake breakfast.

So this is a tea party, she thought. It’s nice, sure. Guess they do this in Equestria instead of booze. She took a sip. Damn, these cups are small.

“King me!” shouted Clip, his little forelegs held above his head in triumph.

“Aww, nuts.”

Tap looked at White as he continued yammering on. Whether he was still talking about oral hygiene or not, she could not tell.

Damn, his mouth is huge. I swear, I could stick my hoof in there. It’s like a cavern, except it’s... did... did his teeth just sparkle? That’s just weird...

“King me again!”

“Uh... I don’t think it works that way...”

Tap chuckled a little. Cute kid, she thought. I kinda feel bad... I’d seen the little guy clearing garbage in the street before and never bothered to think about him. Well, guess I’m not the missionary.

“Milk?” asked Scroll.

“Hm?” Tap asked.

Scroll was smiling at her and holding out the small pitcher of milk for her, waiting for her to take it.

“Oh, sure,” said Tap, as Scroll poured some into her cup. “Thanks.”

Drinking milk like a little filly, she thought. Well, I guess it’s not that weird anymore. As she stirred the tea she looked at Scroll. His attention was divided between her and White, but Tap won the majority by ever so little.

He's smiling at me like he's so nervous. I swear, he's just one burst of confidence away from asking me to marry him. Totally. I wonder if he's paying attention to anything White's saying. Maybe I could signal him. Give him a wink. Give him a wink and, yep, he's trying not to giggle. Fidgeting with his glasses, too. She took a sip of her tea, and a small part of her wished she could have something as strong as the whiskey she had over in the other room. It really isn’t fair – ever since we got the water going, ponies have been complaining about me watering down the beer. Which is bullshit, because I haven’t. Well, more than usual, anyway. I probably could water down the beer and they’d never notice it. Actually, that’s what I’ll do. Fuck you, Duster, I’ll call your fucking bluff. If he doesn’t like it, he can fuck off and buy it somewhere else. I swear he’s just trying to rip me off... What are they talking about again?

“...enchanted so that the floss does all the work by itself. Though there’s still the problem of foals being antsy about things tugging at their teeth...”

I swear, he just really, really likes the sound of his voice. He just goes on and on and on and on... Hmm... She shot another look at Scroll. I should talk him into doing some cooking for us. I probably could. But that’d be hard to work into his door-knocking and stuff. Dinner. I’ll get him to cook dinner. That should work out.

She took another sip of the tea. The milk had sweetened the somewhat bitter taste.

No booze in Equestria, huh? Well, that sucks. If I didn’t have a bottle of whiskey on hoof I don’t know how I’d get through the week. Apart from tea all they have is sarsaparilla and Diet Brown and stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with sarsaparilla...

Scroll had turned his attentions back to Brother White, nodding along with the unicorn as he talked about his favorite kinds of mouthwash.

I wonder if I could talk him into a threesome with White. Probably could, but I dunno about White. If he’s totally gay then I’m out of luck... unless I... arrange it right. She ran the scenario through her mind. That might work, but he’s probably one of those “no-sex-until-a-week-after-marriage” types. Probably couldn’t get him to do anything unless he was drunk, and he hates booze so... I’m out of luck.

“So what do you think?”

“Huh?” asked Tap. Brother White was looking at her, wide-eyed and with a big grin on his face, as though pleased with something he’d just said. Something about teeth. “Right, right right. Sounds great. Keep the pearly whites pearly.”

“That’s my name alright,” said White, beaming.

“Hmm...” Tap took another sip of tea. “I was thinking of something,” she said.

“Oh?” asked White.

“Well, you know how you got all those barrels of water outside?” she asked. “Why not move them inside?”

White and Scroll exchanged glances.

“I mean, if you have them outside, ponies are just gonna take them and go,” she explained. “But if you move them inside, they have to come in, settle into the atmosphere. And who knows, some of ‘em might stay to hear what you have to say.”

The missionaries looked at each other, Scroll raising a hoof to rub his chin as White took a slow sip of tea. Over in the corner, Barrel fumed over the checkers rulebook while Clip leaned over the board with a wide-eyed, eager grin.

“Hmm...” White mulled.

“And, well, they might stop to grab a drink or a bite to eat,” Tap finished.

“You know...” said Scroll. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

“Thought so,” said Tap. “Well, this has been absolutely lovely, but I think Barrel and I should get ready for the customers. Barrel?”

“Huh?” asked Barrel, still fuming and paging through the rulebook while Clip sat at his end, a smug smile on his face and a king stacked with seven checkers on the board. “Sure, sure, coming.”

“Can I help?” asked Clip.

Tap giggled. “Alright, kid. I’ll teach you a few things about running a tavern.”

“Sweet!” he said, trotting after her.

White and Scroll remained at the table, smiling at each other.

“Well,” said White, “time to break out the ties.”

Scroll nodded. “I’ll head on up and get them.”

“Sure thing,” said White, levitating the tea set. “I’ll put these away.”

Scroll whistled a jaunty tune as he waltzed into the tavern, where a few ponies were just getting themselves seated. Tap had already taken her spot behind the counter and was cleaning a glass with a dishrag that, from its muddy color, was probably more dirty than the glass itself. Clip himself crawled on top of the counter, and Scroll couldn’t help but wonder what Clip would do with his climbing when he got older.

“So, out for another round of door-knocking?” asked Tap. “Say, before you go, I got a little idea for us?”

“Oh?” asked Scroll.

“Yeah,” said Tap. “You’re a pretty good cook, so I was thinking maybe you could whip up a few things for me to sell to customers.” She leaned forward and smiled. “I could give you a cut of the money.”

“What? No.” Scroll laughed and waved his hoof. “I mean, uh,” he stammered. “Well, yeah, I can cook, but I don’t need anything for it. I mean, practice is good by itself.”

“Oh, come on,” said Tap. She turned around and took a bottle from the shelf. “I don’t believe in taking something without giving something back.”

“You’ve already given us plenty,” said Scroll, looking around the tavern. “Gave us the idea of setting up here.”

“Well...” Tap paused. She rolled the bottle back and forth over the counter, mulling over that thought. “Well then...” She smirked. “I guess when you put it that way, you just plain owe me.”

“Hey, hey!” Scroll protested, lifting a hoof in feigned shock. “Don’t start... extorting me. That’s not cool.”

The door opened and two soldiers walked in. One of them was a tall, earth-red stallion, and the other was a shorter, slightly stouter sand-colored stallion. The red one threw some coins on the counter, prompting Tap to take a few tankards and head for the keg on the end of the room.

“Hey hey!” said the sand-colored one, spotting Scroll. “Got ya before ya left, huh?”

“Gunner and I,” said the red pony, “had a few questions.”

“Oh?” asked Scroll, straightening himself. “Well, you caught me just in time.”

“Well,” said Gunner, “I was just wondering, with Trixie?”

“Yes?” asked Scroll. “I think I might know what you’re going to ask. I asked this same question when I first read the–”

“So Trixie and Twilight totally hooked up, right?” asked Gunner.

“Story...” Scroll blinked, before slowly sinking into a chair. He stared at Gunner for a few seconds, his face completely blank, as though he were still waiting for Gunner’s question. It were as though he simply did not hear or understand the soldier’s question. “Wait, what?”

“Gunner here...” sighed the red pony, “Seems to think that it’s obvious that the two should’ve gotten together.”

“Hey, they have a ton in common,” said Gunner.

Tap, who had returned with two tankards full of foamy beer, gave a snort of laughter. “Seriously?” She shook her head, giving one of the tankards to the red pony.

“That’s what I said,” the red pony said, taking a drink.

“Shuddup, Mark,” said Gunner, also presented with a tankard.

“Now, Rainbow Dash and Applejack I can see having something going on,” said Tap, setting up a bottle on the counter. “Their entire relationship just reeks of repression.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not talk about this again,” he said. “Besides, if Rainbow Dash was attracted to anypony it would probably be one of the Wonderbolts.”

“Okay.” Tap raised a punctuating hoof. “That I can buy.”

“Um...” said Scroll, looking back and forth between the three arguing ponies. “Is that the... did you have another question, Trigger Mark?”

“Sorry, sorry...” Trigger Mark shook his head, flustered at the bizarre tangent the conversation had taken. “I got distracted. Anyway, I wanted to ask you... if Applejack didn’t learn anything from the ordeal with the Flim Flam Brothers, then, well...” His eyes shifted and he scratched his head with a hoof. “Why did they feel the need to include that story and letter?”

“Ah,” Scroll cleared his throat as loudly as he could, grateful for a slightly more intellectual topic of conversation. “Well, you see, it’s not really so much a matter of what she learned, but it’s about what we learn from her story. Does that make sense?”

Trigger Mark rubbed his chin. “I guess it does.”

“And one more thing,” added Scroll, with a little grin. “Consider how she acted when she tried to harvest all the apples by herself. Now consider how she accepted her friends’ help here.” He gave a thin smile and tapped his temple with his hoof. “She did learn.”

___________

As the missionaries headed down the road, Scroll stopped and looked at the “FREE WATER” sign on the tavern. Then he looked down at the mess of toppled barrels, their contents spilled into the street.

“Think it was Buzz?” asked White.

“Yeah,” said Scroll. “Tap’s got a good idea, moving the barrels inside.”

“Maybe...” White pawed the dirt nervously. “I dunno, it’s like... I feel more comfortable just having it out in the open. Like, an invitation that you can just have it with no strings attached. Moving it inside just feels, eh... like we expect something from them.”

“Yeah...” Scroll tilted his head from side to side. “But I don’t think we’re asking for a whole lot. Just a little time and consideration. Besides...” He bit his lip. “Move them inside and that means that this can’t happen. And imagine if he didn’t just tip them over. What if he, like, peed in them or something?”

“Oh...” The moment of realization White with a dawning look of disgust. “Oh. Eugh.”

“Yeah,” said Scroll. He took a deep breath. “Like, leaving them out and unattended, a pony could do all kinds of... stuff...” His last words were a hushed mumble, as though he were letting the thought get away from him.

The two walked up to their first door of the day, their backs laden with book-filled saddlebags, and knocked on the door.

“Ooh, they even have a little mail slot,” said White, admiring the door. “I wonder–”

“Who goes there?” asked a snarling voice as the barrel of a gun slammed through the opening.

“Nothing!” said Scroll a little too quickly.

“Scroll, don’t be alarmed,” said White, as one of the pamphlets floated out of the sack, rolled into a tube, and stuck itself in the barrel of the gun. “We’re sorry, sir, we’ll leave you be,” he said to the gun, and it went back into the house, pamphlet and all.

“Slick,” said Scroll.

“Why, thank you.”

The two missionaries promptly hurried away from the house and down the road. They made their way through the market square, which afforded them little opportunities to evangelize, but plenty of time to talk. In the square they passed two soldiers who were chattering to each other about guns and mares. White watched them with a slightly concerned look.

“Scroll,” said White. “I have a question for you about the soldiers.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think they actually take us seriously?” asked White, still watching the pair of soldiers. “Or are they just here because the general told them to?”

“Well...” Scroll searched for an answer. He thought about the situation earlier with Gunner and Trigger Mark. “I don’t really know. They come every week, and they do seem to like it... so I think that’s a success.”

“Yes,” White said, returning his gaze to Scroll. His face was drawn back in a scrunched, slightly irritated. “It’s a success, but is it enough?”

“Well... what do you mean?” asked Scroll.

“Well...” White made a few clicks to himself and pawed at the dirt with his hooves. “I don’t really know what I mean. It’s like, well, what’s our real goal here? What’s this mission about?”

“We’re here to teach the ponies about the magic of friendship.”

“Yeah, but...” White gave a grunt and clutched at his temple with a hoof. “What about the war?”

Scroll looked at him. The dull murmur of ponies in the marketplace continued as usual, though the missionaries seemed to have grown deaf to it. A few passing earth ponies shot them annoyed glances as the two blocked the road.

“It’s just...” White took a deep breath. His hooves seemed glued to the ground, like he was trying to anchor himself. “We’re in a warzone and we want to stop the war and the only members of our congregation are the darn soldiers and if they don’t take it seriously then what’s the point of it I mean we want to stop it but we want to convince them to stop it but what if they don’t want to or what if they can’t stop even if they do

A passing earth pony shoved him out of the way, cutting off his exasperated rant. White stumbled into Scroll, who was himself caught off-guard and stepped backwards. The two looked at the pony who had bumped into White, a big burly stallion who cast them one narrow-eyed glance and a cranky snort before going about his day.

Scroll looked back at White. The unicorn had by now caught his breath, but his now slightly unkempt mane hinted at his stress. “White...” Scroll whispered. White held his breath, as Scroll dipped his head and gently nuzzled his chest. The unicorn smiled and lifted his chin.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ll find a way.” He drew back, looking at White. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

___________

They stood atop a giant rock, overlooking the sea, far from the town. Scroll stood at the edge and beamed out over the water.

“Since the mission house got taken down, I realized that the library isn’t safe in the town.” He turned to face White. “So we can build it out here! Right on this rock, looking over the sea.”

White watched him. There was a serene smile on Scroll’s face – it was like the guy could practically see his library already.

“It’ll be out of the town,” he continued, looking back out over the water. “Out of the way. Those who want to can get away from all the, all the hustle and bustle and unpleasantness of the town and come here. It’ll be quiet, and they can read, or they can just sit out here and look out at the sea...”

White walked up next to him, sharing his gaze over the ocean. “I think that’s great.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

The two sat there for a minute. Then Scroll spoke up.

“Though there’s one problem...”

White looked at him, an uneasy, concerned expression on his face. “What’s that...?” he asked cautiously.

Scroll looked at him, took a deep breath, and said, “How are we going to actually get it built?”

White thought for a moment, and his face lit up. “I think...” His eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a sly grin as he lowered his voice. “I have an idea.”

___________

“Alright, everypony, put down your name right here. Everypony who works here gets twenty Party Points! Save up Party Points and get fabulous prizes!”

White and Scroll sat at a table, White enthusiastically encouraging the congregation to sign up. The band of soldiers was already at work constructing the building, enticed by the offer of fabulous prizes. Scroll, however, was a little less than stoked, as he leaned into his partner and asked in a tiny whisper: “Exactly what prizes are we offering?”

“I’ll get to that later...” White said through his teeth, still smiling. “Thank you!” he said to a soldier signing up.

Tap walked straight up to the table, looking over the list.

“Fabulous prizes, huh?” she asked.

Both of the missionaries smiled. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Tap tilted her head, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, I’d sign up, but I don’t really feel like doing any backbreaking physical work today. Besides, a girl has her other work already. Good luck on this deal.” She looked at the job the soldiers were doing, putting up supports for the walls. “Sounds fun. I think I like reading,” she finished with a wink at Scroll.

“Hey, guys!” shouted Barrel as he appeared over the edge of the rock. A small keg was on his back, and a stack of tankards hanging on the side. “I brought something!” He made his way to the table and hauled the keg onto the side, before loudly announcing, “Free beer!”

Almost immediately, the soldiers all but dropped what they were doing and made a beeline for the keg.

“Does this count as a fabulous prize?” Scroll asked.

“I’m not sure...” said White.

The soldiers, however, did not seem to care, and merely grabbed tankards and started filling them. Tap pulled Barrel aside.

“Barrel,” she said. “Exactly... what did you mean by ‘free beer’?”

“Well, I thought that since the soldiers were working so hard at it, they could use some...” His voice trailed off as he saw Tap’s flat, dull-eyed expression. He stood there, the wheels in his head quietly spinning for a good six seconds before Tap’s meaning began to sink in.

“Oh. Ohh...” he said sheepishly. He brought one hoof up to rub one of his forelegs. “Sorry. I...” he mumbled. “I should’ve asked, I guess.”

“Yes you should’ve.” Tap looked at Barrel, his head hanging a little lower out of embarrassment. She lifted a hoof to his chin. “Hey, hey, it’s just one keg.” Her eyes shifted. “How watered down is it?” she whispered.

“Very.”

“Good.”

Scroll looked at the soldiers, biting his lip and softly tapping his hoof against the table.

“Excuse me?” he asked. The soldiers didn’t answer. Spotting a spare tankard, Scroll grabbed it and whacked it on the table. Only a few soldiers seemed to take heed and looked at him. “Excuse me!” The rest of the soldiers fell silent and looked at him (save for Gunner, who insisted on finishing the sentence he was already engaged in). “Well, sorry to cut this a little short, but I don’t think it’s a very good idea if we work on this while...”

“No,” said White. “Definitely not.”

“So, why don’t we get something different, like sarsaparilla, or punch...”

“Not punch!” White exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than was actually appropriate. Everyone stared at him, the soldiers at a loss. “Sorry...” he said. “Just... bad things can happen with punch.”

“Good things too,” mumbled Tap.

White went back to thinking, and an idea hit him. “How about lemonade?”

Scroll grinned. “Yes, that sounds like...” He stopped. For a minute, the world seemed to stop, like a great, wonderful wheel had finally clicked into place.

“We can make lemonade?” Scroll asked, very slowly.

“I... think so.” White looked at him – it was his turn to be perplexed. “Can’t we? I mean, this island grows lemons, right?” He looked around, unsure. “I mean, you’ve got a forrest... it grows stuff... lemons included, right?”

“Yeah, we got some,” said Tap. “I’ve never bothered to use them with anything, though... Why?”

“Uhh, Brother Scroll?” asked one of the soldiers. “Are you, uh...”

“He gonna build a lemon machine now?” asked another.

Scroll sat there for a minute. His posture slouched and he blinked, as though he were being given an insultingly obvious explanation for something. Then, at long last, he said, “I’m a huge idiot.”

___________

Carpenter and his son Buzz sat on either end of a small wooden table, an oil lamp burning between them. They ate their dinner in silence, not looking at each other. It was always like this. Buzz never did have anything to say to his father, the old stallion seemingly lost in bitter thoughts. This time, however, the old stallion spoke.

"The horner came into my shop the other day," he said.

"Yeah?" asked Buzz.

"He said he wanted to buy a bookcase..." Carpenter grunted. "He's got a lot of gall showing his face around here. After what he did."

Buzz nodded, but he didn't look at his father.

"But the horner says he didn't do it."

Buzz continued eating.

"Buzz."

He stopped. Buzz, dreading what was to come, slowly looked up. His father’s face was blank, almost accusing in its stillness.

"Is there something you have to say?"

"No," said Buzz. "He's a lying faggot."

"That's what I thought..." said Carpenter, though the tone said clearly that he was not in agreement. "Somehow I find myself thinking: 'what if he didn't do it?' He says he didn't do it, and while I wouldn't trust that shit-eating grin as far as I could throw it, things seem not to add up..."

Buzz looked up at him. Carpenter stared impassively at him. The wheels in Buzz’s head stalled, unable to think of what he could do to deflect or distract his father. There was no way for him to avoid it. "Dad..."

"Yes?"

"Dad, look, it's nothing, he's lying, he–"

"I think I can tell for myself what is and isn't 'nothing,' Buzz." He leaned forward. “Buzz, I want you to tell me: did you lie?”

“What?” Buzz asked, his voice strained in incredulity. “No! I’d–”

“Buzz,” said Carpenter. “Did you lie?”

“I... I...” Buzz stared at his father. Carpenter’s stern, accusatory gaze would not go away. They each waited for the other to give in. And then Buzz ran.

“Buzz!”

Buzz burst out the door and tore down the road, as Carpenter scrambled after him. He stood by the door and shouted after him.

“Buzz! Get back here!”

___________

Tap unceremoniously shoved the last customer out the door with a thump on the backside and shut the door, before turning back inside.

“Okay...” She walked back inside. “So what’s this big deal you’ve got here with the lemons?”

Scroll was seated at a table with several things in front of him – a parchment, a quill, a lit lantern, and two bowls, one empty and the other full of lemons. White stood next to him, looking over his shoulder.

“Well...” Scroll adjusted his glasses. “General Quake has been screening our letters. We can only communicate what he lets us or wants us to. So, we, well...”

“We can’t talk about what’s really going on,” White continued. “We can’t tell them about Clip’s condition, we can’t tell them about how bad the race relations, or about the threats and violence...”

“But,” said Scroll, “I think we might have another way. If we have lemons, and if we have lemons, we have lemon juice, and if we have lemon juice, we have...”

He took one of the lemons and placed it in the bowl, softly squeezing it with his hoof. The lemon’s juices oozed out. Not satisfied with the result, Scroll repeated it with a second hoof. Then, once the bowl had enough juice in it, he dipped the quill into it. Tap watched as Scroll took the quill from the lemon juice and appeared to write something onto the paper, but nothing appeared. However, when Scroll, held the paper up to the lantern, the words ‘Secret Message’ spontaneously appeared.

“Invisible ink,” finished White.

“Bingo.”

“Damn...” Tap examined the paper, clearly impressed. “So, what are you going to write them?”

Scroll and White looked at each other, at a loss for words.

“I don’t know...” said Scroll.

“What?” Tap tilted her head incredulously. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“Well...” Scroll shrugged. “Okay, we write to the Fraternity, tell them what’s happening here, and... and then what?”

“Parents panic,” mused White. “The Fraternity could cancel the mission and pull us out.”

“Assuming General Quake doesn’t kill us...” Scroll mumbled. “And if we piss him off...”

The room fell silent. White and Tap stared at him. White opened his mouth, sputtering for a bit, trying to search for a reassuring thought.

“Well...” said White. “He... he wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“I...” Tap faltered. “I don’t know.”

“Quake puts up with us because he finds us useful,” said Scroll. “The first letter we sent wasn’t pre-approved, and he nearly killed me because of it.”

“But Quake isn’t stupid,” said Tap. “He doesn’t want to cause an ‘incident.’”

“That’s right.” White nodded reassuringly. “That’s what he said when he stopped the mob.”

“What incident?” Scroll asked. “The first letter we sent, we told them that the other two missionaries had disappeared. Nothing happened.”

“Well, we didn’t say that they’d disappeared,” reasoned White. “We just told them that they’d gone to work with the other towns.”

“Yes, but...” Scroll looked around the tavern. “What about this place? General Monarch flattened it in the last attack, and what happened?” He lowered his head. “Nothing. The Fraternity...” He crumpled up the paper. “The Fraternity can’t help us. We can still get supplies, but when the shit hits the fan...” White winced at the swear. “We’re on our own.”

Scroll sighed, staring at his discovery which might not have been as useful as it seemed. His eyes bored down at his lemon juice words, wishing that the Secret Message could provide some sort of clear solution. Then the silence was broken.

“We’re not on our own.” White walked from the table and towards the bar’s counter. “We’ve got each other. And that’s what the Fraternity’s really about.”

“And hey,” said Tap, putting a hoof on Scroll’s shoulder. “You’re smarter than Quake is. Just make sure you don’t piss him off and you’ll be fine.”

Scroll raised his chin and smiled at her. “Thanks.” He returned to the parchment and folded it up. “You’re probably right. It’s just scary, really.”

“I know.” White drew himself up into a tall, almost self-deprecatingly pompous stance. “After Earthquake Island, it will be impossible to be freaked out by pranks on Nightmare Night!” Scroll snickered.

The quiet moment of camaraderie, however, was interrupted when the door burst open. Tap groaned. “Hey, we’re closed!”

Buzz stood there in the doorway, panting, and his eyes frantically darted around the room until they fell on Brother White. “You!”

“Um...” White looked back at him. Then, with no warning, Buzz charged into the room at through himself at White’s front legs.

“I HATE YOU!” he screamed as he beat his hooves against White’s front legs. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU...”

White’s face pulled back into a grimace as he looked at Tap and Scroll, the former of whom rolled her eyes and the latter simply shrugged. While Buzz continued wailing on him, it was about as severe a beating as one could expect from an angry child on an adult. White just looked down as Buzz kept hitting him, and his blows became slower and weaker.

“I hate you... I hate you...” he moaned. “I... I hate you...” He stopped and sank to the floor, and began to sob uncontrollably. “It’s not fair... It’s n-not fucking fair...”

Brother White looked down at the broken colt and felt completely lost. Tap’s expression, however, was one of detached contempt.

“So you finally admitted it, huh kid?” she asked.

“Buzz!” shouted a voice from outside, before Carpenter appeared in the doorway. He looked at his son, crumpled at White’s hooves. Hoofsteps clattered from upstairs as Barrel and Clip burst from downstairs, roused from their sleep.

“What happened?” asked Barrel.

“We heard shouting,” said Clip.

The room was still, with no sounds save for Buzz’s intermittent sobs. He lifted his head, looking around, his eyes full of fear as though he were a wounded animal. Carpenter retained his composure as best as he could, though his face betrayed a look of confusion.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Am I the only one who knows what’s going on?” Tap stepped towards White, but Buzz whirled around at her.

“Shut the fuck up!” he snarled. “Shut the fuck up you–”

“Buzz.” Carpenter did not even need to raise his voice for his son to fall silent again. “I think I know what’s going on here.” Buzz raised his terrified face to look at his father. “We’re going home.” Carpenter simply turned and started out the doorway. Buzz feebly got to his feet, miserably trudging after him.

White marched forward. “Carpenter,” he said. The other ponies stopped, and Carpenter slowly turned around. “Just... take care of him. Please. He needs you.”

Carpenter snorted and continued out. Buzz looked back helplessly at the missionaries. He almost opened his mouth, but his head lowered, his energy spent from the outburst.

Scroll cleared his voice and finally spoke up. “The library will be opening tomorrow.” He gave a soft, reassuring smile to the colt. “You can come whenever you want.”

Buzz nodded silently and followed out the door.

Comments

[Konseiga]

Um. Did you watch the Book of Eli recently?

[CM12]

Your idea is original, I have never heard of a fic where the letters create a religion.
Totally reading this now!

[Happy Thoughts]

Each chapter of the BoF makes me scream with joy (when I see it) and then with sadness (when I finish reading it, knowing that I will have to wait).... M O A R !!!!!!!

ps. What's a forrest? Perhaps there are too many rs...

[BillyColt]

1631114
Nope!

[terrycloth]

1631680 It's like a box of chocolates?

[Happy Thoughts]

1633122 - nah, better! If you overdo the chocolates you will have tummy aches. I did not notice any such symptoms with the BoF .

[Krass McWriter]

I fracking love this fic. It is amazung.

You should stop by #tcb more often and also update this more.

[Your Antagonist]

Once again, another drop-whatever-I'm-doing-and-read-this-story worthy chapter of one of my favorite fanfictions! Keep it up!
Loathe,
Your Antagonist