You ever wondered what it would be like if you made it to Ponyville?
I don't really want to say much about it, since almost any information at all would ruin the effect. What I am willing to give you is this simple question: Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to live in Ponyville?
Click, the hammer falls. Spinning, spinning I go until I stop three rotations down. I can feel rushing water in my thoughts as I stare at that mucky cobbled ground.
…Tap, Tap, Tap…♫One plus twenty, equals, twenty oo-onnne♫...Tap, Tap, Tap…♫This thing is one lucky, son-of-a-guu-uunnn♫…
…Tap, Tap, Tap...♫And all I really need’s a Smile, Smile, Smile♫…Tap, Tap, Tap…♫From these happy friends of miii-iiine♫…Tap, Tap, Tap…
…Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…
I heard…humming…yes, that was it. She was humming, tapping incessantly…
… Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…
I felt soft bandages being wrapped around my head…
… Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…
The tapping was starting to get on my nerves, but I could only melt in that humming. It felt so…warm…
… Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…
I open my eyes…
There, right above me, a pony jumps away in fright.
“Yeeek! The thing is awake!” she yells to nothing in particular.
“Urck,” I struggle out. My head nearly throttles me into blindness.
She walks back up, curious. I feel something soft prod my hand, and, at the corner of my vision, the green pony sits to my left. “These aren’t claws,” she notes.
I try to enquire what the hell is going on, but all I get out is an embarrassing squeak.
She instantly looks at my mouth…and prods it with her hoof. “Mmmmph!” I protest as a stab of electricity courses through my brain. She jerks her hoof back, startled.
Thirty seconds pass.
She tentatively pokes my cheek.
I say nothing, for I know it would hurt if I tried to speak.
After a few more quick pokes, she goes about investigating my body again, me being too weak to protest.
I feel pressure on my stomach and my breathing fluctuates.
“Ehehe, squishy! It moves too!”
She pushes three more times at my stomach as I lay there, feeling violated. My clothes are all matted with sweat, the sun shining brightly and all, but the pony doesn’t seem to care.
She moves on to my leg, my other leg, then to…
“Hey!” I yell out and sit up.
She jumps back.
“Don’t—Argh!!!” I groan as I lay back down. I start to convulse a little.
“Uh oh, I should probably stay away from there.” She tries to pet my chest to get me to calm down.
It helps, a little.
After finishing her investigation, she sits off to my side, tsk-tsking as she thinks of what to do next. “What am I supposed to do with a wounded…thing that I found?” she asks herself while absentmindedly hoofing at my hand.
“Lyyyyrrrrrra!” A voice obnoxiously buts in, giving me a new round of headaches. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“I-I just found this…thing and healed it, but now I don’t know what to do with it!” she nervously explains. “I didn’t hurt it, honest!”
A white pony with a pink and blue mane reaches the corner of my vision. “What in the hay?! Where’d you find this? We need to put it back immediately!” Her voice cuts into my head with surgical precision.
“Aggghhhh!” I groan.
The white pony panics, “I’m gonna go get some help. Don’t do anymore damage to it!” With that, she disappears.
Lyra remains.
“Can it talk?” she asks herself.
“Can you talk?” she asks me.
I offer a thumbs-up, but she just raises an eyebrow. “Do I touch it? Is that how you say hi?” She reaches out to touch my thumb.
Fuzzy... I twitch a little at the contact.
“Well…hi!” she says cheerily. “I guess you’re too hurt to do much of anything really, so I’ll just tell you stories. If I’m hurting your head, just wave your arm or something.”
Lyra begins, “Hrmmm, let’s see. You’re probably wondering why the hay Bon Bon thought I hurt you. Just to get this clear, I haven’t hurt a thing in my life, it was just a misunderstanding. There was this chicken, a Timberwolf had killed it, and when I picked it up, I saw quite a few bite wounds. Poor thing. I decided to wrap and bury it before Fluttershy could find out. Let me tell you, she can’t handle an ounce of suffering. But! On with my story. While I was wrapping it up, Bon Bon saw what I was doing. With a knife, for cutting the bandages, in my hand and stab holes in the chicken, she assumed the worst and still thinks I’ve got issues with animal cruelty.”
I laugh a little at this, trying to keep from straining myself, but my head gets started up all over again.
“Oh? You comprehend?” Lyra tilts her head towards me curiously.
I say nothing, trying to recover.
“You look like you’re in some pain right now, so I’ll tell you a happy sto—“
“Hum,” I weakly squeak out.
“Huh? You can speak?” Lyra asks.
“Hum please,” I respond.
“You can speak!...Eeeeeee!”
She winces, seeing my eyes squint in pain. “Ehrm. I mean, I’ll hum.”
And with that, I'm bathed in her golden, voiceless tones. A little way through my wash, I noticed something furry contact my hand again. Lyra has he foreleg outstretched. Why does this pony keep touching my hand? I think, but soon find myself drifting off to her melodic voice.
I wake up in the dark, curled up in a bed quite a bit too short for me. After moving a few of my appendages around, I find that the pain has about halved since that fateful morning.
Something funny smelling sits atop my forehead.
I lift it off and see that it’s a damp washcloth, full of a peculiar scent. After considering its usefulness, I throw it to the side, not about to have some alien remedy poison my forehead. Step 2, I think as I try to sit up. My head throbs, but it is bearable. I know that Step 3 will take a while to build up to, so I just content myself with looking around.
Up on a shelf to my left, I see a golden harp resting, its features mirroring my ugly disheveled face. I can’t help but think of my inferiority in this place. All ponies I’d seen so far lacked acne or any other particular oddities that served to tarnish beauty. My broken body, with its broken soul has no right to dirty up the lives of this pony folk. In fact, when I think about it, none of these “ponies” look anything remotely like an equine. Their faces are too round, their bodies too petite, their legs too thick. This has to be a dream...but where have I seen things like this? Ponies that look nothing like ponies, yet so pleasing to the eye. The answer comes to me.
“The Bronies,” I groan. Their obsessions looked oddly familiar to the ponies I’d recently met. What the heck am I doing here? I don’t even like My Little Pony! My masculinity does not permit this sort of daydreaming! I shake my head to get out of this infectious world, for fear that I’d lost my sanity.
It remained.
'Cause of you-know-who.
“What are you doing?” she buts in.
“Nothing."
“You’re just hurting yourself. Don't shake your head like that.”
“I knowww...but you’re a daydream, I need to get out.”
She cracks up, “Yeah right. And I’ve been imagining you all day long too."
Stupid…stupid pony. I didn’t need her help anyways…
“Alright, so, seeing as you’re my temporary pet,” Lyra’s eyes glint with delight at “pet,” “I’m gonna have to feed you and water you and—“
“I can handle myself!” I respond, losing my temper. My head throbs in response. I will not be subject to these idiotic…cute…things.
“Now why are you angry at me? I just saved you. The pet thing was just a joke in case you couldn't get it through your thick skull.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
Lyra trots out, slamming the door behind her.
I sit back and stew for a bit. However, I immediately start to regret blowing up on her. Why was I even angry at her? She saved me. She was willing to save a wretched looking thing like me.
I hear pots and pans clang together as one of the housemates does dishes. Are they really that different from us? Apart from their perfect complexions? And…well…their pony forms?
The door opens and Lyra brings in a tray of breakfast foods.
Lettuce, and tomatoes...
Lyra sees my disappointment and asks, “You don’t like this?”
“Bacon and eggs suit me better,” I respond.
“What’s bacon? And wouldn't eating eggs be silly? First of all, eggs are chickens about to be grown. You'd be a monster if you stopped that from happening. Second, well, I don’t see how eggs shells wouldn't cut your throat on the way down.”
“My mistake,” I grumble. I forgot, they’re herbivores. I roll my eyes.
“Well, here you go. We don’t have much else, so you’ll have to make do with this. Bon Bon buys all the groceries, so if you want something, you'll have to let her know.” Lyra sets the tray down on my stomach.
“Thanks.”
A pause.
“Can I pet you?” she asks.
“No.”
She sits down, her eyes gleaming with vitality.
I just—I just want—no. That’s not right.
I'm about to tell her to buzz-off, but something stops me. I’m lonely…in a world where everything is frighteningly different. Beds too small, doorways too low, rooms claustrophobic. Oompa Loompas could offer better hospitality.
I lay there, actually enjoying Lyra's gaze. It makes me feel…accounted for, worthwhile. It’s been forever since I’ve felt that. Her attention makes me happy...yet my brutish self refuses to apologize to her for being so abrupt.
“You haven’t eaten yet. You're not hungry?”
“Oh, I—just—uh,” I stumble over my words. “I was thinking. That’s all.” I start eating my food.
She eagerly watches as I take a grimacing bite of lettuce.
I feel very self conscious. “Could you stop that?” I say, a little exasperated.
“Stop what?” She looks from the lettuce to my mouth, as if watching a tennis match.
“You’re staring at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
Lyra looks down. “Ok."
I go back to eating that damned lettuce leaf. After finishing, I look up to see her staring at me again. “For crying out loud,” I clench my hands on the tray in my lap and look at her. “Why do you keep doing that?!”
Her two large pupils, surrounded by golden irises, contract in response to my harsh words.
“Sorry, I just…can’t help it.” She walks up to the side of the bed, where she can get a close-up view of me. “You fascinate me.”
“Just great, now how am I going to eat in peace?” Once again, I start to regret my harsh words.
“You're making a big deal about it. I wouldn't mind it in the least. I mean, how hard is it to chew while somepony's looking at you...don't tell me you're actually allergic to my stares.” A smile faintly surfaces as she ducks her head to hide it.
I take a deep, deep breath. I’d come to the end of my patience and was afraid that I’d say something emotionally scarring. “Could you just leave…please?” I ask.
“Ok." Glumly, she leaves, the immaculate white stripe running down her green mane swishing with her footsteps.
Slowly, hesitantly, she closes the door; I already regret telling her to leave. The room infects me with its dark, depressing atmosphere. At least I get to eat in peace now.
That blasted pony’s face is right over me, peering into my gaping mouth. I shut it and look up at her angrily.
Her face reddens a little. “Ooop! Sorry.” She takes her forehooves off of my bed and returns to a sitting position next to me. “But did you know that you have little ridges in your mouth? And your tongue is sooo tiny! It’s kinda cute really—“
This makes me furious. “When I say leave me be, I mean it Lyra! When I say leave me be, I mean for you to stay gone until I ask you to come back! When I say—“
“You’re in my room,” Lyra remarks.
That shut me up.
I look around the room to do something other than realize I’d just been put in my place by a pony.
Apart from the lyre resting on a wall-shelf to my left, I see a dresser in front of me, pressed against the wall beyond my bed’s foot board. On it, are a handful of trophies that read, “Best Beginning Musician,” “Louie Williestrong Award,” “Student Musician of Choice,” along with at least three or four others. To my right, I see a few posters, stuck on the wall with intentional off-kilter orientations. Octavia, playing the cello, has light gleaming off of her eyes in one poster. The other is a depiction of mare in a suit of armor, standing up and aiming a blaster attached to her right hoof. The last poster reminds me of something, but my memory chooses to remain spotty.
Below these posters, I see piles and piles of music books shoved up against the walls. Many of the larger tomes remain against the wall, unopened. The thinner ones however, are strewn about in a clump near the large tomes, displaying a chaotic mess of staff lines and rapid-fire music notes. I look to my left again.
Lyra’s face slides into view, a few inches away from my nose. My body hitches up, but I quickly regain my composure. I start to say something sardonic, but stop myself. Instead, I say, “Lyra…I understand that this is your room, but it really does drive me crazy when you look at me so intently.”
She blinks.
I continue, “So, while I suppose you can go into your room whenever you want, please…please try your best not to look at me like I’ve come from another planet.”
She pauses for a little, tilts her head to the side, finally says, “I’ll try.”
That’ll do, I think.
I find myself surprised by how I handled that situation. From what I’ve seen of myself in this world so far, I’ve wanted nothing but to be angry. I can’t help but feel prideful of my new-found self control.
“You’ve calmed down,” Lyra remarks.
I just look at her.
“Why…why does it make you uncomfortable when I stare at you like that? Shouldn’t you be happy to display what you have to offer, to others?” she asks.
“I’ve never looked at it like that.”
“Why not?”
“I just—I just haven’t.”
“What goes through your mind when I look at you?”
“Well, um…I—“ my brain struggles. “Gimme a sec.”
Why does it bother me? I mean, all Lyra’s staring shouldn't mean much at all. Maybe I’m afraid that she’ll find out what’s inside me...yeah that’s it. I kinda just feel…wrong in this place. I don’t fit. And if she finds that out, she won’t admire me anymore. If she finds out that I’m broken, that all that drives me is fear, worry, and selfishness, she’s gonna look at me different. She’ll look down on me as if I’m a disgrace. I don’t want to feel small while she sits tall in her self-righteous throne, yelling out empty strings of sympathy. I can’t give her leverage, or she’ll no longer try to feel for me, understand me. I want her to help me, but that can only be done if I hide.
“Uhhh, yeah. I’m not sure if I can explain it in words…”
“Give it your best shot,” Lyra encourages.
“Even if I could, I don’t think I want to. For a reasons undisclosed, it would reveal way too much.”
“What is this problem with revealing too much?”
“I think I’m done with this conversation now.”
“But wait! Your ‘not wanting to reveal too much’ has something to do with my staring at you doesn’t it?”
I don’t respond. A small part inside of me wants her to figure it out.
“You’re trying to hide something, and if I look too deeply into you, you’re afraid I’ll find out.”
“Whatever,” I coolly remark, trying to close the conversation.
“Are you a murderer?” she asks.
“What?! No!” I laugh and turn back to her. “Why would you think that?”
“Are you sure?” Lyra drawls. She walks up to me and stares at me full force. “You may want to admit it before I find out!”
I’m laughing hysterically now. I pick up the pillow I'd been resting on and throw it at her.
It impales itself on her horn and she blinks dazedly.
“Ehehehehe!” I giggle. Naturally, I would be embarrassed about my laughing, but not right now. Not in this world. I’m all curled up and my chest heaves with merriment.
Lyra sits on the floor, a little too hard, and starts to laugh herself, leaving the pillow on her horn, all of the strength sapped from her limbs at the moment.
It doesn’t stop. Tears start to sprinkle the bed below me as Lyra slowly sprawls across the floor, guffawing with endless bouts of uncontrollable giggles.
Bon Bon comes in, a little worried about the commotion. I imagine her first impression was that we were both weeping over a big fight that we’d had. It would explain the pillow still stuck on Lyra’s horn. “Look at you children!” Bon Bon scolds. “Just two days living together and you've already caused collateral damage!” She trots up and yanks the pillow from Lyra’s horn. “Wait…” It dawns on her that we’re not sobbing.
“What in the hay is so funny here?!”
Lyra tries to explain. “Well—heehee—y’see—heehee—I-I thought it,” she points to me. “I thought it was a murderer…and…and…—heehee—I’m all starting at it intently, y’see? And…and—it throws the pillow—hahahahaha! It…it throws the pillow…and…a-and it—,” Lyra bursts into another fit of laughter.
“It got impaled on your horn,” Bon Bon finishes the sentence. She looks at the ponies and shakes her head confusedly. “I’m gonna make some dinner. Lyra, when you’re done doing…doing whatever, I’d love some help.”
We watch her leave through our tear-clouded vision.
Eventually, gradually, we pull ourselves together, flipping tears off of our cheeks and recovering from countless chest spasms.
I’m out of breath, but I manage to squeak out, “Rain check?”
“Yep,” Lyra responds as she brushes her coat back out. She leaves, but not without saying, “as if you had a choice!”
Lyra walks back into the room, her eyes excited. “Come on to the table! You should be feeling well enough to walk around, lazy fish!” I raise my finger to make a comment on how fish are actually sleek and muscle packed, but she’d already left.
I shift around and sit at the side of the bed, preparing for Step 3. My legs don’t take any of my weight at first and I’m forced to crouch there on the floor. I use my hands to drag myself up into a standing position, but once again plop back down. I try again. And again. The fourth time I get it and I shakily attempt to take a step forward. My leg holds.
Slowly, carefully, I make my way to the main living quarters, stumbling every now and then when my legs choose not to cooperate.
Lyra looks at me from the kitchen bar, where three salads are arrayed next to three chairs. “Whoah, you’re tall,” she comments.
I keep going, too focused on my legs to say anything.
“Do you always have trouble like that when you walk?” Lyra butts in again.
“I do no—“ My legs crumple and I plop to the ground three feet from the open chair. I sigh. “No, I don’t. But right now, I’d really appreciate your help,” I respond, a bit edgy.
“I’ll help. I just wasn't sure if you were going to get angry at me for it.”
“Oh,” I say. It hurts me a little that I’d left that impression.
Using my hands to boost myself off of Lyra, I manage to drag myself into my chair and immediately start shoving lettuce leaves into my mouth. Sleeping through lunch had made me ravenous.
Both Lyra and Bon Bon look at me with utter fascination. I see them and freeze, choking down lettuce leaves to free up my throat. “What?” I ask them.
Bon Bon reddens. “Oh, nothing," she goes back to picking at her lettuce with a fork.
Lyra painstakingly tears her gaze away from me, saying nothing. Every now and then, I see her stealing peaks at me to see if I’d begun eating again.
A fork. There had been a fork next to me all along. I redden a bit as I pick it up this time and spear some lettuce. I hesitate before eating. “Do you have any salad dressing?”
Lyra snickers. “How in the world would you dress a piece of lettuce?”
I sigh and explain, “I mean salad dressing as in, sauce, for lettuce.”
“I guess that makes a little bit of sense, but typically you need cloth to dress something up, not sauce.”
“Just…just. Could you please get me some?” I’m exasperated.
“Ok, ok,” Lyra goes to her fridge. I hear a whoosh as the suction pulls off. “We have…uh…tomato, banana, mang-go,” she says the “mang” in mango with some emphasis, “and cider n’ oil.”
I choose the dressing that sounds the most like Italian dressing, cider n’ oil. Glad to just have some flavor, I pile it onto my meal. To my surprise, the cider n’ oil tastes just like Italian dressing, excluding its distinct apple aftertaste. I lean back and savor the lettuce for a bit, glad to be enjoying the meals here for once.
I go back to eating and finish pretty quickly. “Do you have seconds?” I ask.
“I count at least more than two million in my life time,” Lyra remarks.
“No! I—“
“Haha, don’t worry. I understood you there,” Lyra winks. “I’ll go get some more.” She takes my bowl and walks over the next counter top, where I can see an oven is embedded into the woodwork. It strikes me that the dials don’t have their normal shape. Rather than a single ridge down the center, there is just a hoof shaped hole.
Clunk! Lyra drops the bowl in front of me and I snap back to attention. Food, is all I can think about until I finish. When I’m done, I feel my neck prickle and know both ponies are watching me. I choose to ignore it and try to get out of my chair. It doesn’t work out so well. My chest hits my knees and I’m forced to huff as the breath is shoved out of my lungs.
Lyra rushes up. “You all right?”
“Yes, but I’m going to need help back.”
“That’s fine.” Lyra calls Bon Bon over to help. With one hand on each pony to support myself, I struggle to make it to bed and drag myself in.
Lyra and Bon Bon leave, intent on finishing their meals. As they leave, I hear Bon Bon remark, “It didn’t even say thank you.”
Lyra replies, her voice getting quieter, “Give it rest Bon Bon, how do we even know…” After that, their voices drop out of earshot. It makes me happy that Lyra chose to defend me.
I lay in bed and think about what’d happened today. My angry rants towards Lyra, her ridiculous displays of patience, not to mention interest in me, and that heartwarming moment with the pillow all come to mind. My eyes water a little. This place…this place has done so much to care for me, nurture me. In just one day, my broken heart has already started to mend…how far will this all go? When will it happen? How will Lyra go about betraying me?
I wake up again and see the sun rising from the horizon outside my window. Well, her window. The pony that isn’t staring straight into my face this time. I lift my hands up to rub the sleep out of my eyes and feel my left hand brush against something soft. “Oop!” Lyra squeaks.
I continue rubbing my eyes and just sigh. It’s no use trying to beat sense into her.
“What’s up Lyra?” I look over the side of my bed.
She hesitates. “Not much.”
“Besides looking at my hand that is?”
“Well…yeah,” she admits. I can hear the bashfulness in her tone.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get angry this time.”
“You aren’t?”
“No…I guess you could say I had a very confusing day yesterday. I wasn’t exactly in my best state of mind.”
“Does that mean I can look at your hand some more?”
“I’d prefer you resist.”
Slowly, Lyra slides into view above the side of my bed, her gaze locked on my hand for an instant before she averts it. She looks at me. “I just…want to touch it. So bad.” Her gaze rapidly shifts from my face to my hand, over and over again. “Can I? Can I touch it?” Her gaze locks on my hand.
“Lyra, I think you might have an obsession.”
“Ah no! If you let me touch it…I-I’m sure I’ll stop wanting to,” she doesn’t sound convincing at all.
“Yeah, you’ve got an issue here. I’m not gonna feed it.” I hide my hands underneath my covers.
“Nono! Wait. Just once…pleeeeaaaase?” Somehow, through some sort of pony magic no doubt, Lyra gives me a pair of the most disarming Bambii eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Uh, sure,” I agree. “Just once though.” I stretch out my hand and prepare for the worst.
So much for touching my hand once.
The second it gets within range of her, she quickly hugs my wrist, hoofing my hand manically. What started as pokes quickly shifted to squishing, and then kneading. Just about when I’d had enough, Lyra stops. “Can I-can I…lick it?”
“Ew! No!” I exclaim as I try to yank my hand back. Her grip is too strong. “Lyra, I need you to give me my hand back now.”
She hesitates for a bit, squishing my hand a few times. Finally, she releases.
I pull my hand back and immediately hide it beneath my covers. “I’m not doing that again.”
“Aw come on! It wasn’t so bad! Please don’t let this be the last time.” She looks up at me with those same adorable eyes.
“Not working this time,” I say in a sing-song voice as I stay away from her gaze. “By the way, when is breakfast ready?”
“Not for another thirty minutes. I could tell you a story for those thirty minutes…while I touch you hand.”
“Not happening,” I remark. Something that’d been nagging at me for some time finally makes it way into my brain. “What’s that smell?”
“If you let me touch your hands I’ll tell you.”
“Lyraaaa,” I warn, glaring at her.
“Ok ok. It’s your hands—I mean not just your hands! It’s pretty much all of you. You smelled when I first saw you.”
“Oh, sorry about that.”
“Honestly, I don’t mind at all,” she looks at me dreamily. “You’ve been driving Bon Bon through the roof though.”
“That must be fixed immediately!” I propose. “Do you have showers here?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. Where are they?”
“If you—”
“Just tell me where the shower is, Lyra.”
She rolls her eyes. “Jeez. When you leave this room, it’s on the doorway just to the right.”
“Thanks,” I grumble.
I get up onto my feet and Lyra is forced to shuffle to the foot of my bed, grumbling as she goes. I catch her glancing longingly at my hands, a bit of drool pooling in her open mouth.
I duck through the doorway to find an opening on my right. I go through it to find, really, just what I expected.
There rested a sink, about half normal height, and a bathtub up against the end of the room. It was just a normal looking bathtub, but the water controls had circles in them, no doubt for hooves.
I close the door behind me, looking for a lock mechanism. Seeing none, I give up, thinking, Lyra'll tell Bon Bon that I'm taking a shower.
I get the water running with a little bit of difficulty, then strip down. After a few minutes of just standing there, waiting for the tub to fill up, I finally sink into the steaming hot water. It feels delightful as I imagine the sweat disintegrating off of my skin.
I drift off.
In my deep slumber, I register a little Clip, clop…Clip, clop. The sound intensifies, but eventually stops. I don’t let it wake me up; I’m too tired to really care about what might be transpiring.
“It’s got a dong!”
I jerk awake and see Lyra galloping away for the bathroom door, on a hurry to meet Bon Bon, repeating, “It’s got a dong!”
“Wha? Wha?” I struggle to grasp why my body feels weird. I lift a hand up and feel it hit cold air. I look down and see that I’m in water. It comes back to me that I’d decided to take a bath.
Then, Why was Lyra in…
….ohhh, that little shit…
I get out of the bathtub, enraged that Lyra would invade my privacy. “Lyrrraaa!” I yell.
I run for the main living room, bumping my head on the doorframe. “Ow!” My mood darkens by two degrees.
I continue on and rant, “When I get my hands on you Lyra! You’re gonna regret what—”
“You’re right, it does have a dong.” I hear Bon Bon remark. I look down to see that I’m still naked. “I told you!” Lyra exclaims. They don’t seem to be phased by my lack of clothes, but my face still reddens. I dash back to the bathroom.
I quickly dry myself off with a towel folded up near the bathtub, thank goodness there’s a towel, and get dressed in my sweaty clothes again. Both Lyra and Bon Bon peer through the bathroom door, “You okay hun?” Bon Bon asks.
My face is glowing a bright red as I seethe, “Yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t look very good…and what are you doing wearing those soiled rags? Here, let me get those washed up for you!” Bon Bon proceeds to tug at my clothes.
I pull back. “N-no ma’am. I assure you I’m doing fine.” I really don’t sound like I’m doing ‘fine’.
“I know you’ve got an issue with being stared at, but I don’t see why you have to overreact about it,” Lyra remarks.
“I-I was naked!” I squeak.
“So?”
“You—I can’t—just—no!”
“What?”
“Oh that’s right! I forgot! You’re all ponies! You don’t wear clothes! Nobody in this forsaken place wears clothes! I’m in a land with a bunch of freaks!” My voice goes shrill.
Bon Bon glares at Lyra, then says, “Hey…hon. How about I take you back to Lyra’s room? You can strip down there and slip the clothes past the door. That way I can wash them. Ok?”
I acquiesce and stumble over to Lyra’s room.
Through the closed door, I hear Lyra arguing with Bon Bon.
“What did I do?!” Lyra asks.
“Can’t you see it’s stressed out?!”
“But what’s wrong with being naked! It’s making a big deal out of nothing!”
Bon Bon takes a breath. “Lyra, we have no clue where it’s come from. Some things we don’t care about must really affect it. Fear of nakedness isn’t very real to us, but it’s a very scary thing for this poor soul.”
“But…how was I supposed to know that?”
“I guess there really is no way to know. I’m sorry I glared at you. I just had to do something before it—he got a heart attack of some sort.”
“Ok,” Lyra grumbles.
I hear a knocking on the door. “Are those clothes ready, hon?”
“Yes,” I respond, feeling a little awkward that I had to hear that conversation. I open the door and shove my clothes out, careful to shut the door as soon as possible.
I hear a clop, clop from my door as a pony knocks on it. “Is it Bon Bon?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Will...will you forgive me? I-I didn't mean to stress you out. Honest.”
I sit there for a little, trying to find it within me to forgive her. That damn pony...
I don’t respond.
Finally, just when I start to hear her hooves clip, clop away, I yell out, “Lyra!”
The clip, clopping stops.
“It’s good,” I say.
“Thanks.”
Clop, clop.
I open the door for Bon Bon to shove the clothes through. “I did my best to wring them out, but everything is still a little damp. A few paces in the sun should do the trick though.”
“Thanks Bon Bon.” I quickly put my clothes on, eager to be out and about for the first time in two days. Already, I can feel the sun soothing my tense body through the window.
Yet, I’m too shy to go out that door to meet those ponies who had seen me naked, just an hour before. I hear Bon Bon yell out to me, “Honey, if you want to walk in the sun, we’re leaving for the marketplace soon. You’re only going to get this opportunity once! After all, we can’t have you walking around Ponyville on your own.”
Finally, meekly, I build up the courage to open that door. I avert my gaze from both ponies and sit next to where they have their bags piled. “Hey.” I feel a hoof hit my shoulder and look up to see Lyra trotting off. Did she just? Did she punch me? I look at her incredulously.
I duck my head back down again, preoccupied by why might happen in the Ponyville marketplace. No doubt they’re going to look at me weird, but would they actually go so far as dissecting me? No, they wouldn’t. These two ponies have already been kind enough to me, but there ARE those bad apples. Maybe Lyra actually has a black belt in Karate to protect me, haha.
“Ready, hon?”
“I think so. Did you want me to bring something?”
“Just your legs, hon.”
I’m nervous.
My hands sweat as I think about countless ponies gawking at me, shouting insults, crowding—
“I can see it in your eyes,” Lyra says.
“See what?” I’m unable to keep my voice from quavering.
“The fear.”
“I’m not scared.” It's obvious that I am.
“Hey, don’t worry. If I see a pony insult you I’ll make sure to knock off his block.”
“Thanks,” I calm down a little.
The three of us continue walking toward the marketplace, the sun warming our backs.
Ponies. Ponies everywhere.
At booths lining streets, yelling out indiscriminate products, or haggling for better prices, the marketplace is packed. I feel self-conscious as all get-out, but every now and then, Lyra bumps into me to remind me that she’s there.
I look around and see pet booths. Animals crowd around their temporary owners, creating a powerful cacophony of sounds to draw attention from customers. They’re not caged, I note. All of the animals appear to be happy with their situation, ready to be sold off to the next kind-hearted pony to walk by. I see a pegasus walk over to one of these booths. Her colors strike me somewhat, with her light-yellow coat and flowing pink mane, but I think nothing of it.
Pet booths are just the minority in the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. Lotions, foal toys, magic sets, sun-moon pendants, soaps, scents, dinner-ware, blankets, and so many more varieties of objects thrive in this free-market setting. Ponies everywhere walk, holding newly bought accessories in large bags, delighted in their finds.
I don’t have time to stand and appreciate it though, as I see Lyra and Bon Bon pull away.
I catch up to them and, as expected, some ponies look my way in confusion.
“What the hay is that thing?” I hear a pony shout. “Are they planning on selling it to an animal vendor?” others say. “Well, he would fetch a fine price…”
I bump into Lyra ahead of me, who’d stopped at a food vendor with Bon Bon. “Ooop! Sorry,” I apologize. She waves her hoof up at me nonchalantly, as if to say, ‘Whatevs.’
I find myself astonished as to how fierce the bartering gets for one head of lettuce in Ponyville. Bon Bon, that devilishy tricky mare, had herself red-faced, yelling like a hawk screeches when it spots its prey. When, after an intense two minutes of bartering had progressed, the vendor finally gave up a head of lettuce for half price. I look at the two, expecting the vendor to show resentment, but they both just laugh the occurrence off as a normal part of life. Don’t arguments almost always get personal?
We continue on, stopping among various booths, buying other groceries, some soaps for the bathtub, and even a trinket that Lyra managed to irritate Bon Bon into buying. It had a little “X” on it.
“It looks a little like you,” Lyra admires. “If you stretched your limbs out, that is.”
After getting the trinket, we hurriedly make our way out of the marketplace, trying our best to avoid the loud voices of vendors trying to catch our attention.
Funny, I think. Shouldn’t there be something I need to worry about? I look behind me and see a little crowd of ponies following the three of us.
“Are you Discord?” A pink pony with a cotton candy mane asks.
“No,” I say while ducking my gaze back forward.
I hear a few more questions, but continue to walk ahead.
One bold pony goes up and taps my leg. “Wha?” I ask, startled.
“Apologies sir,” the stallion announces. “Just a bit of scientific curiosity here.”
“Please don’t touch me,” I say, trying my best to sound polite, but failing because of how difficult it is to say that without sounding rude.
“As you wish,” the stallion curtly responds and drops away from the group.
Only about a quarter of the ponies following me get the hint that I don’t want to be followed.
I turn back around, but suddenly feel something latch onto my stomach and neck. I’m thown off balance and the hit ground, my ribs jarring off of a particularly nasty pebble. “Ow!” I yell.
“Sorry!” the pink pony apologizes. “I just thought tackling you would make you smile…somehow.”
“It didn’t help,” I growl in her direction. “This is gonna sound weird, but it does exactly the opposite when strangers do that to me. Y’get me?”
“I get you!” She sproings up to a considerable height while saying this.
I see Lyra walk up to the pink pony and push her away. “Don’t worry Pinkie, we have everything under control here. He’s happy where he lives right now.”
“You live with it? What is it like? You said ‘he’! So that means it has a dong right? Do you know why it wears so many clothes? I mean what are these things?” Pinkie zooms from Lyra’s grip and inspects one of my socks. “They’re like little cloth things for hooves! I want some! I’ll have to go talk to Rarity! Yeah, I’ll do just that! Bye!” Instantly, she disappears, leaving a little afterimage in my eyes from where she had been just a second ago. I look behind me to see her running off toward the middle of Ponyville.
“What is that thing on, Aderol?!” I exclaim, startled by the events that had just flitted past me at rapid-fire speed.
“What’s Aderol?” I pony in the crowd asks. “I don’t know either,” others murmer.
I look at Lyra, as if to say ‘let’s run,’ and we both dash back home, forcing Bon Bon to lag behind a little with all of the items to carry.
Lyra is the first to make it in. I follow shortly after and shut the door. We collapse onto the floor, both of us being very out of shape.
“Whew!” I breathe. “Glad I got away from them!”
“And I’m glad I could keep your hands—I-I mean you company!”
I feel a little discomforted by that. Is she only my bud because of my hands?
Bon Bon stumbles in and a few of the bags in her grasp spill out on the floor as she tries to squeeze herself in without letting any eager ponies in with her. Lyra and I quickly scoop everything up into the bags and place them on the kitchen counter.
All of us plop into our three respective kitchen chairs to have a bit of small talk.
“Lyra, next time, when you run off like that, make sure to take some of the bags with you. It was a pain to lug everything around so quickly.” Bon Bon scolds.
“Ok. I just wanted to make sure he,” Lyra gestures in my direction, “stayed safe from all those crazy ponies.”
“Honey, he isn't in terrible shape anymore,” Bon Bon says. “But…I suppose that excuse will work this time.”
I can’t help but feel uncomfortable that they’re talking about me when I’m right next to them.
“Hey,” I try to but in. I pause for a second and both ponies look at me expectantly. “…ahhh, nevermind, I forgot what I was going to say.” In truth I didn’t have anything to say in the first place. I just want to be acknowledged.
“Sooo, hun,” Bon Bon continues. “Where exactly did you come from? Do you remember?”
I tilt my head, trying my best to think of times from before I had met Lyra. All that come up are feelings, sounds, and a few blurry images.
“I can’t really remember anything,” I say. “I mean a few blurry things come up, but apart from that, nothing important.”
“Could you describe one of these blurry memories to us?” Lyra asks.
“Sure, I guess.”
I portray to the ponies an image of comfort, warmth, and love.
“Gootchie-gootchie-goo!” I hear someone say. My belly feels funny and I laugh in a strangled sounding voice. What is it about her voice that’s so humorous? It goes off again, “Gootchie-gootchie-goo!” I can’t help it. I’m laughing again. I can’t recognize who’s speaking, but her voice fills me with so much bubbling joy. I hope this lasts forever.
“That’s it?” Lyra asks, incredulous.
“Well, yeah. I told you it was blurry. That’s all I can remember.”
“It seems nice where you live,” Bon Bon offers, her eyes full of wonder. “So simple.”
“I wouldn’t say that so soon,” I say, still remembering the state I’d been in on that first day. “When Lyra first found me, I think it was my world that’d caused those wounds. I went into Ponyville broken.”
“How could such a nice memory come from a world like that?” Bon Bon asks.
“I’m…honestly not too sure. I guess you could say it has its nice pockets.”
“Pockets?” they both ask at the same time.
“Urgh. Just think regions. Nice regions.”
We go some time without saying anything, relishing in silence to spark our own creative thoughts. I wonder what caused me to hurt as bad as I did on that first day. Perhaps a Timberwolf? It had hurt that chicken pretty bad. I wonder if they exist in my world?
“You think maybe a Timberwolf hurt you there?” Lyra asks.
I swear, this pony has a duplicate of my mind. I actually start to worry about this, irrationally afraid that she’d done something to clone my brain. I respond, “That’s just what I was thinking, but I’m sure there are a bunch of other things that could’ve done it.”
I hesitate before saying, “Strange how you thought of the same thing I did. You didn’t make any copies of my brain did you?” I say it jokingly, but knowing this pony, I need an honest answer.
“Pshaw! Haha! We don’t have those spells in Equestria! Those books have been burned centuries ago. If anything, I’ve been cloning your personality by staring at you so much,” she laughs a little at her own joke.
That makes me feel a little bit better, but while Lyra remains my best friend, I can’t help but feel suspicious of her. I smile to show that I’d gotten her humor.
I don’t respond, though, and the conversation drops off. Eventually we head off to our respective rooms, eager to entertain ourselves.
I sit down next to Lyra’s bed, cross-legged and leaning against the wall. I’m bored, so very bored. Now that the marketplace visit is over, everything seems dull by comparison.
I look over to see Lyra perusing over her music books. “You wanna go somewhere?” I ask her.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea. I’m sure word has spread about your appearance all across Ponyville. Going out would cause an uproar.”
“I can’t just stay trapped in here for the rest of my life. I’d go crazy!”
“Don’t worry,” Lyra responds. “We’ll find some way to get you out tomorrow…but! How about I play you some music? Bon Bon’s not really a fan of it so it’s exciting whenever I have friends come over to play for.”
“Sure,” I say.
Her horn glows green and something gold whizzes past my face. I track it and notice that it’s the golden harp I’d seen earlier, with a green aura surrounding it.
“Y-y-y-you can use telekinesis?!”
“Well, I’ve got a horn don’t I?”
“W-w-wha? That doesn’t explain anything! I thought it was just there for show!”
“It isn’t,” Lyra explains. “When you’re a unicorn, you can cast magic with leylines that stem through your horn.”
I stick my palm out to her. “Y’know what? I’m just not gonna question it. Carry on.”
She starts to play a bumpy, raucous tune when I quickly interrupt her again.
“Wait. Lyra?”
She stops playing, “Yes?”
“I’ve actually heard of your kind in my world.”
“I thought you didn’t remember much from then.”
“Well, I don’t, but for some reason this sticks with me. It had to do with a bunch of people like me. Well, biologically. They had this weird infatuation with you ponies and I hated them for that. I still kinda loathe them, but I have no clue why anymore.”
“Your kind know about us?!” Lyra’s face gleams with excitement.
“Kind of. You ponies were a part of a TV show.”
“You realize I have no clue what you mean by TV, right?”
“Oh. It’s not a secret viewing screen into this world. Heck, I don’t know why I’m remembering just this, but all of its showings are pre-planned and shown through moving pictures in a box, at least all of your episodes are.”
“Episodes…as in displays of our lives?”
“Yeah. That’s why I thought this world wasn’t real in the first place. I thought I was just imagining things. How could a TV-show actually be real, when events have to be planned out by…uh…others?”
“I think I understand.” Lyra’s eyes light up. “Haha, for irony’s sake, I should totally get an episode started up on the lives of, what are you again?”
“I honestly don’t know. I remember saying ‘people’ some time ago. It kinda just slipped from my mouth, but that’s only my kind’s plural address.”
“The Lives of People. That’s what I’ll call it.”
“That sounds like a terrible title.”
She frowns, “Well exuuuuse me Princess!”
I recognize that phrase from somewhere deep within my blurry experiences.
“How about…guuuh…‘Giants, Wierdos, the Life of People!’” she smiles at this, confident she’s come up with something clever.
“Sounds good,” I acquiesce, eager to finish the conversation and listen to her musical talent.
Lyra focuses on her sheet music again. “Here goes,” she says and launches me into the rapid river ride of Jazz Bebop.
I’m particularly stunned by her ability to warp her harp to produce such errant sounds that fit the genre so well. Notes whizz this way and that at lighting-fast speed, every now and then growling in a very un-harp-like fashion.
All of this is done with her hooves. I sit there, amazed at how fast her hooves pluck each string individually to keep up with the incredible pace of this music. In fact, I can hardly register which strings she plucks before moving on to continue her riff.
After dizzying amounts of notes pass by, I finally manage to regain my senses as Lyra plays the last chord of the song. Her horn activates and strums four of the harp’s strings at once while her two hooves impact two others.
The final note hums in glorious dissonance as I sit there trying to convert everything to memory.
“You like it?” Lyra asks.
“How? H-how? With hooves?!”
“I know, you’re lucky you have hands,” she makes a guilty glance at them. “Imagine what I could do with ten appendages rather than two!”
“The notes would be going so fast nobody could register them.”
“It’d be awesome wouldn't it?!”
I ignore that question and ask about something more important, “Why aren’t you performing in professional industry right now? You have ridiculous talent.”
Her eyes scrunch up with happiness, “Thanks, but to be honest, I’ve tried before. I can’t handle all those stiff necks that want to make everything you do perfect. I left and chose to live the comfortable life of a street performer.”
“You can live a comfortable life as a street performer? I’ve always had the impression that people are too stingy.”
“We’re talking about ponies here, silly,” she smiles. “They appreciate music a lot more than you might think.”
“I guess…”
“Bon Bon hasn’t kicked me out yet! So I’d say that’s evidence enough.”
“She’s right you know,” I hear Bon Bon yell from the main living room.
I facepalm. “She’s been eavesdropping on us this entire time, hasn’t she?”
“Yep!” Lyra says. “Don’t know why you’d make so much of a fuss about it though.”
“Don’t you ponies care about privacy?”
“Well, I like time to myself, but who cares if somebody is listening to what I say?”
I shake my head. “I’ll never understand your kind.” I think of what she said about ‘having time to herself’ and feel a little self conscious. “Y’know, I can sleep in the living room if it bothers you that I stay here.”
“Oh no!” she says a little too loudly. “You’re good. It makes me happy when you stay here.”
My heart feels a warm tinge. “Alright,” I answer, not sure how to respond, especially with Bon Bon eavesdropping.
The conversation dies for a bit, and we sit where we are quietly, not particularly thinking of anything.
Finally, Lyra asks, “You want me to play more music?”
“Sure,” I say and my ears are immediately teased by the sound of rising and falling notes, seemingly engineered to deaden my senses. Slowly, I drift off into a mid-afternoon nap, the sun warming my scalp as it peeks above the windowsill.
Clip, clops make their way to my ears and Bon Bon asks, “Yes?” after pulling the door open.
“I hear you’ve found an odd creature as of late. Can I investigate this specimen?” The pony’s voice sounds accomplished, intellectual.
“Well, that’s for our specimen to decide. Let me go ask him really quick.”
I hear Bon Bon trot up to my door, which I open before she can knock.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“I want none of it.”
“Well, go up to her and tell her that. I’m not going to walk around like a messenger.”
I sigh, extremely reluctant to deal with yet another curious pony, but, eventually, I get up and talk to our visitor.
When I get there, a unicorn looks up at me. Her body and horn are a light purple. Her mane and tail appear to be a dark blue. Purple and pink highlights accentuating her flat-cut dark hair.
“And you are?” I ask.
“Twilight Sparkle.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Is there any way I could perform a few measurements on you for scientific purposes?”
“Sorry, but I don’t consider myself a ‘specimen’.” I shut the door on her.
She pounds on it pleading, “Please! I couldn’t forgive myself if I missed out on an opportunity like this!”
I open the door again so I can tell her off.
She walks inside before I can protest.
“Please! This would be a great thing to tell Princess Celestia about!”
“Princess who?!” I continue, “But who cares about that! So far, you’ve only addressed me as ‘specimen’ and ‘opportunity’. Maybe if you’d actually asked me my name, your opportunity,” I do finger quotes for ‘opportunity’, “wouldn’t have shut the door on you!”
The unicorn sits down. “Oh, so that’s what’s been bugging you.” She stops for a moment, composing herself. “What is your name then?”
I feel really stupid. “I-I don’t know.”
“Wait, if you don’t know your name, then why’d you ask me to ask you for it?”
“I just…don’t want to be treated like a little bug, held up for inspection and tossed away when not needed. I have the same feelings and thoughts that you ponies do.”
“I see. But measurements require me to hold you up for inspection. While I’m not going to toss you away like you’re expendable, you can’t expect me not to look at you. Regardless, when you came to the door and talked to me, I was forced to come to the conclusion that you were sentient. I never thought of you as a bug, nor will I when I investigate you. Are you happy with that?”
“What exactly are you going to do?”
“Well, first, I’m going to talk to you and see how advanced your communication skills are, as well as gain impersonal information on your race. Then I’m going to make a few measurements of your limbs and head, so that the scientific community can get a visualization of your species.”
I think about what the rest of my day would entail without this nonsense and realize, well, that there would be nothing, apart from dinner. This is gonna be embarrassing, but I need SOMETHING to do.
“I’ll do it.”
Twilight squees. “Perfect! Now find a seat in this room and we can get started!”
I look around the living room and see a sofa facing away from the door. It is surprisingly long, especially for just two inhabitants, but I choose to sit in it anyways. Two sofa-chairs face me; Twilight takes the one on the right.
“Are we all comfortable and ready?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Twilight immediately scribbles into a notepad, mumbling, “While in comfortable situations, does not utilize full vocabulary.”
“Hey Twilight,” I try to get her attention. “Could you not mumble what you write down?” Already, this pony has me offended.
“Why?” she looks at me, genuinely confused.
“Just…could you not?”
“I can do that.” She immediately scribbles something into her notebook and asks me, “What is your view on Existentialism?”
I pause. “While that word rings a bell, I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
More scribbles. “Are you of this world?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why would you say that?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “Well, my memories remain clear up until the point at which I wake up in Ponyville for the first time. Beyond that are only brief instances of feeling, emotion, and blurred images.”
Twilight mumbles, “Suffers from—”. She looks at me. “Sorry.”
I wave it off.
“Create a rhyme for meeeeee—go.” She clicks a little stopwatch.
My brain shuts down and I start to sweat a little. Eventually, I manage to think about Lyra’s harp and grapple onto its image, forming a coherent descriptive sentence. “Lyra’s harp is golden.” I pause. “It really is something to behold—” I realize I’d screwed-up. “—en,” I taper off. My chest spasms as I crack up at how bad my rhyme is. I look up to see Twilight scribbling furiously into her notes. This all would be less embarrassing if she had laughed with me, I think as my cheeks start to go a little pink.
“Describe to me in one word what you think of Ponyville.”
“Infectious.” I take it back, things would have been a lot better just hanging out with Lyra.
“What is your favorite food?”
I stop myself before answering. “I…don’t think I should answer that question.”
“Please, this is vital to my investigation.”
I glance over at Lyra’s door. It’s shut, but there’s a large chance she’s eavesdropping. I’d have to tell everypony eventually. Might as well get it out of the way. “Roast beef,” I reply.
Twilight looks up, “What do you mean by saying, ‘beef’?”
“I like cooked cow,” I simply respond.
Her eyes widen. “You mean to tell me that you’re a carnivore?”
“No,” I say. “I can manage eating lettuce too, even though I don’t like it as much.”
Furious scribbles. Finally, Twilight sets her pencil down. “Alright, let’s get those measurements done.”
“Could you stand up for me?”
I reluctantly comply. “Don’t take any of my clothes off,” I warn her, since that had been an issue yesterday.
“I wouldn’t imagine it,” Twilight says. Her face droops in disappointment.
After measuring my face, arms, and legs with measuring tape, she asks me a very embarrassing question, “I heard Bon Bon say, ‘him’. Does this imply that you have male genitals?”
I choke on my own spit.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” my voice cracks.
“I presume this conversation is making you uncomfortable. But don’t worry. I assure you that I’m only viewing this scientifically.”
I sigh. “Yes, I’m a guy and that is as far as I’m willing to go to answer your questions.”
She sighs. “I can’t force you to do anything, but let it be known that you are setting back the scientific community with your…inability to acquiesce.” The mood on her face darkens a little.
“I can live with that.”
Grumpily, Twilight gathers her belongings. As she leaves, she yells out, “Thanks for your cooperation!” in a high-pitched sarcastic voice. “You’re welcome!” I yell back, not to be outdone. Her purple form gallops away and I look at her with hatred.
I shut the door that she had left open.
Finally! She’s gone!
Creak…
I look at the source of the noise to see Lyra peeking out from her room. “I probably should have warned you about her,” her voice is flat, emotionless.
I smile, “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t think of it,” she drones on.
We both pause. I start to feel a little worried. Is she mad at me?
“Is it true? Is it true that you like cooked cow?” her voice remains monotonous, but little quavers betray her feelings.
Shit…
“Lyra—” I try to explain that it was all I’d known then. That it was ok to eat animals where I came from. That we made sure their deaths were quick. That it didn’t make us any worse for doing that. That I'm not really the monster she thinks I am. Instead, she shuts the door in my face.
I walk up to her door, pleading, on my knees. “Lyra! Lyra please! I’m asking you to forgive me here. Back where I came from, it was ok! It was accepted! Please don’t look down on me for that. I bet you would’ve done the same thing too! How can you blame someone for fitting into society! I’m not a monster! I promise!”
I feel like I want to throw up, so I sit down and rest my back on her door.
My breaths come in shuddering gasps as I try to calm myself down. My body seizes up, but instead of vomit, tears of sadness that had been kept bottled up for years on end finally burst forward, making my mind an inferno of swirling emotion. I try to speak, but it only comes out as disconnected infant-speak. I feel shame, hearing myself, babbling on like a newborn. It accentuates the hurting of my heart as tightly-packaged emotions finally start to leave, torturously yanking themselves from my heartstrings.
I shake violently, righteously against the cruelty that is life, finally done with holding everything in, pretending that things are ok, living in un-justified optimism. I listen in on Lyra as she weeps a song of betrayal, matching that of mine, right now. We produce a duet of pain and existence, expressing, in disgraceful glory, our discontent to whatever, whoever had a part in the creation of the world’s twisted remnants we call life.
I wake up, still leaning on Lyra's door. My face is an absolute mess, but the pain inside has subsided considerably.
I look over to the kitchen counter, just past the living-room couch and see a bowl of lettuce waiting for me. It's nice to know they're still willing to feed me. I wouldn't put it past them if they just let me die.
While BonBon seems willing to care for me, I no longer feel welcome in the house. Both ponies have their doors shut on me, and I can hardly hear any sounds of delight coming from behind them. It's obvious that they don't want me here, with their muted and discrete personal lives.
So, I leave. I have no idea where to go, but I shut the front door behind me anyways, resolute in my efforts to move on. Looking towards the sun, I see a forest and get the idea that I'd be most welcome there. After all, there are no rules in nature.
It seems to me like a normal forest, or at least what I deem to be a “normal forest”, back where I come from. Trees are untrimmed and scraggely while bushes choke out the weak plant life on the ground. I note, with a strange sense of satisfaction, how these plants' fight for survival fits me so well. My thoughts are nothing but suspicion, ready to jump away at the slightest sign of harm or evil intent.
So, feeling more comfortable, I decide to rest on an oak tree. The rough bark tears at my back a little, but after my ordeal with Lyra, I can't help but feel proud of my independence. So long as I'm not restricted by do-gooder ponies to live the way I want to live, life is worth its small scrapes.
However, as I sit at that tree, it dawns on me that I have no clue how to survive in the forest, and any amount of predators could be stalking the bushes right now, sizing me up as prey. Forest noises pop in around me, playing with my imagination to the extent at which warning bells toll in my head, warning me of imminent death. I hurriedly run back to the safety of the city, already afraid of the forest's potential dangers.
I still have nowhere to go.
Upon arriving back in the city, I see Lyra's house again and already feel pangs of nostalgia. Still, I know that I can't go back. They don't want me anymore.
So, I move past their house, wandering aimlessly through Ponyville, but still careful to draw only small amounts of attention. The pink pony follows me and it's obvious that my efforts to remain inconspicuous were in vain.
“Hey!” she calls out.
I attempt to ignore her and keep moving forward.
“Hey listen!” she yells, in that bouncy voice of hers.
I don't listen, and continue to ignore her, so she jumps in front of me, blocking my path.
“What is it?!” I growl, on the edge of my nerves.
A cupcake hits me in the face, leaving a smear of frosting as it ricochets into the wall beside me.
“Eat!” she says. “I want you to try my super special ingredient that I made for odd ponies like you who feel bad for being different!”
“Wait, what?! I'm not feeling bad--” I try to protest, but Pinkie interrupts me.
“Yeah, sure. Now try this--” she tilts my lower jaw down so that my mouth is gaping and shoves a cupcake into it, “and feel better!”
I start choking and manage to cough out the hastily placed cupcake while Pinkie looks up at me expectantly. “Soooo?” she inquires.
I glare at her.
She frowns, what's wrong with it then? “Too sweet, too salty, too spicy, too tangy, too zesty, too sour, or too overly rambunctious? I NEED to KNOW!” She pauses, awaiting an answer.
I stutter for a bit, realizing that I wasn't going to get drowned out by more of her dialogue. “It-it's not any of those. It's just that you almost killed me!”
“Ohhh, interesting. I don't remember putting arsenic in these cupcakes. I mean, I did once, for a party, but it was just a smidge, y'know, just to get that almond flavor in...but I learned from my mistakes! Unless...” Pinkie gasps. “What if there is still another me running around? What if she's trying to hurt pony folk by poisoning my confections?! I've got to find her immediately!”
“Wait!” I yell out, just as Pinkie gets ready to spring. “You're food wasn't poisoned, don't worry about that, but when you shove foods into peoples' faces when they're not expecting it, that's going to cause them to choke.”
“But I warned you! You were ready!”
“Nononono, I wasn't. Where I come from, I know for a fact that random vendors don't shove food into the buyer's mouth.”
“I just wanted to cheer you up! I only sell stuff when in Surgarcube Corner, silly!”
“Alright, alright, whatever. Could you just leave me be? You've already caused me harm as it--”
“Let me make it up to you!”
I hit my forehead with my palm. This pony is so hyperactive she doesn't even let me finish my sentences. “And how could you do that?!” I ask sardonically, still bitter over what happened back home.
“Well, what makes your face droop like so?” she pokes my cheek.
I bat her hoof away, my irritation reaching critical mass. “First, I want you to calm down and keep yourself from touching me, alright?”
“Okey dokey lokey!” Miraculously, she sits down and maintains a relatively calm posture, well, except for her twitching left forehoof.
I try to ignore it and continue, “Ok, sooo...” I try to phrase my dilemma in a way so that I don't have to reveal that I'm a carnivore. “Recently, one of my best friends found out that for most of my life, I've done something horrible. Still, I didn't even know that what I was doing was horrific at the time, but now she's left me, and I don't know what to do without her.” I wait for Pinkie to respond.
“Well...that's easy! All you've got to do is tell me what you did, and I'll try my best to explain it away to your loved one!”
“I-I...can't tell you.”
“Why?”
I come up with an answer besides 'it would make you look differently at me', “I don't feel comfortable talking with you.”
Her face droops a little at that, but she continues, “Who would you feel comfortable talking to about this?”
I think for a little and the answer does come to me, but it sounds so ludicrous and ironic to me that I refuse to answer.
“I see your mind churning!” She dashes up to me and stares me straight in the eyes. “Who is it?!?!”
I shove her away and say, “What did I say about being calm?!”
“Yeah, oops! It's hard for me.” She smiles bashfully.
“Alright,” I take a deep breath. “I think it's Twilight Sparkle. Of all ponies, Twilight friggin' Sparkle.”
But it makes so much sense! She can get too invasive, but her thoughts are less emotional than the average pony. When I mentioned I was a carnivore, she looked at me with surprise, not disgust. As much as I hate to say it, Twilight Sparkle would be the best at helping me out here.
Pinkie strokes her chin with her hoof. “Hmmm...odd choice, I must say, but let's get you to Twilight Sparkle!” With that, I find myself being dragged over to a tree-house in the distance, struggling to keep my balance at the insane pace Pinkie had me going in.
Pinkie knocks on Twilight's door. Almost instantly, a purple aura surrounds the door and it swings open. I see Twilight trot briskly up.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Hey! You're here to give me the final piece to my measurements, aren't you?” She glances at my pants and I try to change the subject.
“No,” I respond, a little too quickly. “I actually need some help from you.”
“That would involve a give and take factor,” Twilight stonily responds.
I don't know what to say and just stand there, gawking. Thankfully, Pinkie comes to my rescue. She dashes up to Twilight and puts a hoof around her shoulder. Twilight does not look happy about this, but Pinkie starts speaking anyways, “Shame on you Twilight! Remember what I said—or rather, sang about a while ago?”
“No, I don't,” she responds.
“It was about sharing! Hello!” Pinkie yells at Twilight's cranium specifically, “I know you've got that information in there somewhere! How about you give Twilight a hand!” She knocks on Twilight's head a few times. “That should fix it,” she adds with a smile of satisfaction.
“Pinkie!” Twilight shoves Pinkie off of her. While Twilight remains angry, Pinkie's morals do kick in. With a sigh Twilight says, “Sure, that's fine. Come in.” She trots back into her household and I follow.
While walking through the door, I see that Twilight's household is actually more of a library. Built in shelves dominate the walls, holding big, dusty books, all of which were no doubt as informatically dry as the amount of dust that had collected on them. However, I can't help but find myself astonished by the architecture. The tree had been completely hollowed out, offering a lot more space than normal buildings could offer. Her book must be tedious to read, but at least she has a lot of room to read them in.
Twilight gestures for me to take a seat on the floor next to her, but first I ask Pinkie to wait outside. “No problem!” she exclaims and zooms out, smashing into the door in the process.
After shutting the flailing door, I head over to talk to Twilight.
“Alright, so what do you need?” Twilight asks, not bothering to hide her resentment.
I look at her for a bit and say, “Please, could you take this seriously? I really need help, and I think you're the only one who can understand.”
Twilight softens, realizing that I'd come to her with my tail in-between my legs, accepting help from the pony that I despised the most. Something was clearly bothering me. “Yes, sorry. Do continue.”
I gaze at her and she looks intent enough, so I spill all of what happened.
“Back when you got information from me, at Lyra's house. You asked me what my favorite food was. When I said 'cooked cow', you were surprised, right?”
“Well yeah. You didn't seem to be a carnivore, with your lack of claws, sharp teeth, and tough hide. If anything, a cow could easily take you in a fight...no offense.”
I frown a little at this, but continue, “But you didn't look down on me for my habits did you? You weren't...weirded out?”
“Well...no. While it's hard for me to grasp carnivores eating other living creatures, as I'm a herbivore, I still try my best to understand it. There is nothing more valuable to science than an open mind.”
“Well, the two ponies I had been living with can't see that. Now that they've heard I like cooked cow, they don't want me to live with them anymore, and...well...it kinda hurts...”
Twilight's eyes widen and anxiety creases her forehead. “I'm so sorry. It's my fault isn't it? I shouldn't have asked that question! I should've known what it could entail! There's got to be something I can do! Do you--”
I interrupt her, “No, you're okay. I realized that it was risky answering that question, I just didn't want to hide my...past lifestyle. Still, I really want your help.” I pause for a moment, thinking.
“Do you know the pink pony with the cotton candy mane?” I ask.
Twilight perks up and says, “She's my friend.”
“Well, Pinkie suggested that you help me explain away my previous lifestyle, make it sound less like I'm a monster.”
I look at her, concerned that she wouldn't be able to do this. Her face remains emotionless for some time, but after a few moments, the edges of her mouth creep up into a grin.
“You've definitely come to the right pony.”
I stand about fifteen feet from Lyra's house as Twilight knocks on the door.
According to Twilight, I needed to keep my distance from Lyra, or else I'd appear overbearing and intimidating. So long as I kept my distance, Lyra would see me as shy and looking for forgiveness.
Bon Bon comes to the door. A little bit of sweat beads down on my forehead, due mainly to the sun, but partially for other reasons.
She whispers with Twilight a little, glancing in my direction every now and then. I can't help but feel like an animal because of it.
Eventually, Bon Bon goes back inside. Is she leaving us? Twilight turns around and winks at me. Ah, so she's going to get Lyra.
Lyra walks up and I can't help but feel a little bit of anxiety. Thoughts fly through my head, all relating to my worth in her presence. Will she forgive me? Does she even view me as an equal anymore? Does she just want to forget this ever happened?
Twilight gestures a few times with her hoof while speaking and Lyra nods in response. During this though, Lyra refuses to glance at me throughout the entire conversation, and while that's usually a bad sign, I can't help but feel a slight amount of relief. What will I see in those eyes?
Finally Twilight gestures for me to enter the household, Lyra walks back inside.
On entering the house, I see Lyra and Bon Bon reclined on the sofa in the living room, I take one of the one-pony chairs to rest on and Twilight takes the other.
No matter how much will I try to resolve, I cannot bring myself to look at the other ponies just a few feet away, so Twilight covers for me.
She says, “From what he's told me,” Twilight gestures to me, “you two have an issue with him being a carnivore.”
Bon Bon speaks up, “Yes, a--.”
Lyra interrupts her before she can continue, “I...I think I've figured it out though. Why I felt so hurt. Why you don't think it's okay to eat meat, Bon Bon.” She pauses. “Have you met Spike before?” Lyra asks.
“You mean that purple dragon Twilight owns?” Bon Bon responds.
“Yeah.”
“I've seen him a few times. He's a friendly little dragon.”
“You know he's an omnivore right?”
“Well, yeah, but he's never actually eaten a living, breathing animal.”
“If he had grown up in a dragon colony, he wouldn't have known better. He would've eaten phoenixes without the slightest trace of guilt.”
“It's a good thing we found him at birth then.”
Lyra protests, “Nononono, you're looking at it wrong. You can't view someone as evil just because of their actions. I've realized that as long as you think you are doing something okay, you are exempt from guilt. After all, what if I suddenly told you that eating plants was inhumane?”
Bon Bon looks at Lyra with shock. “That's preposterous, they don't have minds to think with!”
“And that makes it right?! Maybe they don't have minds, but they still live. It's all a matter of perspective, and a different perspective is what made it okay to eat animals wherever he lived.” Lyra gestures toward me.
Do they HAVE to talk about me in third person?!
“I had trouble realizing that there was no such thing as definite evil. It's so easy to stay stuck in your own mindset, in fact, it's comfortable! But it's not a good way to think! It causes disharmony, war, anger, and sadness. Luna went all batty because of her inability to understand her sister's predicament.”
The room hushes at the informal words used against their highly esteemed princess. The sound of Twilight scribbling in her notepad can be heard in the background.
“I learned this after you,” Lyra looks directly at me now, her voice quavering, “tried to explain everything to me. I'm sorry...I just couldn't see past myself. All those days of living here and you never told me. I was angry, and it clouded my understanding.” Lyra sucks in a breath as she puts a hoof up to her mouth. “I'm...I-I'm...” A single tear falls down Lyra's mint-green cheek. “I'm such a jerk.” She rests her face in her hoof.
I don't know what to say to her, so I remain silent, hoping that my lack of a response doesn't hurt her. Still, my persona starts to quiver with a new, strange feeling...
Twilight breaks the silence and protests, “You know, I had a whole monologue planned out--”
I interrupt her, “No, I think we're good.” Shivers of joy start to creep up my spine.
Lyra looks up. “So, you understand why I did that then?”
I reply, my voice shaking with disbelief and happiness, “I...I honestly don't care.” I suck in a deep breath, fully aware that I had immediately started falling apart at the seams. “As long as I'm here...” I drift off but try again, “As long as I'm here, and you're here...that's all that matters.” My face contorts into a wrinkled mess, but I manage to hold back my tears.
She doesn't look at me, but lets out a long breath. We're both relieved. I look over to Bon Bon to see her stunned face. “Are you okay Bon Bon?” I ask her in a shaky voice.
Curtly, she responds, “Yes, but I'm going to need some time to myself.” Her brow furrows as she gazes at me. “Don't mind me leaving,” she says and trots off.
Minutes pass and, strangely enough, Lyra and I still avoid eye contact. While we were both happy to be accepting of each other, there remained some internal pains that we had to overcome.
Twilight tries to talk again, “Yeah, about my monologue, do you mind if I say it anyways, even though you two have figured things out?”
“I don't think that's necessary,” I say to Twilight. “As long as I'm welcome here, you don't need to do much else. You really helped me build the courage to see Lyra and Bon Bon, though, thanks.” I smile at her.
“Well screw these then!” Twilight yells as she throws her notecards everywhere. I laugh a little at first, but soon realize how serious she is.
“Hey, Twilight?” I try to calm her down.
“No, it's okay. I'm going now! I ALWAYS over-prepare for everything so don't worry about me!” Her voice goes shrill.
“Twilight, wait! You can do the monologue! We'll listen!” Already, I feel my status with yet another pony slipping as she fumbles around on the ground for her notecards. I walk over to her and help pick them up. “Seriously, if you want to, I wouldn't mind listening to your monologue,” I say, noticing that she had something around twenty notecards lying on the ground.
Twilight's shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. She seems to have calmed herself down a bit, and I can't help but feel relieved. She explains, “Sorry about that. I just...don't take it too well when things don't go my way. I worked really hard on this monologue thingy, expecting an hour and a half of explanation to help Lyra understand your position, just to find that you two already had it all figured out! I had the whole event planned before me and it kinda just spiraled into the ground. It's not your fault, only mine. I need to work on playing things by ear.”
I open my mouth to say something, but find myself unsure of how to make her feel better.
She walks out the door briskly, the door swinging shut behind her. When did I start caring about how others feel?
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Lyra looking at me and feel a tinge of awkward anxiety. I've gotta break the the newly-formed ice somehow.
I turn around. “Now that we're, like, best buddies, you want to walk around Ponyville for a bit?” I say while looking at her.
It's only midday, and already it's like I've started a new daily cycle.
Feelings typical of the morning come forth as the sun shines brightly on my features, transferring its uplifting warmth into my soul. The ponies around me seem to be enjoying it too as they smile and prance around, energetically going about their daily lives. The day presents to me its resplendent glory, but that isn't the reason my face gleams with happiness.
I'm walking next to my buddy, Lyra. She smiles at me when I look at her, so I'm sure she feels just as happy as I do. Together, we share in the atmosphere of Ponyville as newly-formed friends, ready to take on the challenges we might face within ourselves, inside Ponyville, or just at home, when dealing with Bon Bon. She can be a little fussy sometimes.
Unlike magnets, happiness draws ponies together. It's no surprise that Pinkie Pie, the paragon of happiness, comes bouncing into view, wearing a tool-belt.
“What'cha up to, fella?!” She yells at me just five feet away, startling a few ponies right next to her. Lyra looks up with surprise.
“Hey Pinkie!” she calls out.
“Hello!” Pinkie responds, but quickly diverts her gaze back to me.
“Did things go alright with your friend? Because you seem happy enough.” She pulls out her smile-o-meter, essentially a bent ruler, and puts it up to my face. She rubs her chin for a few moments as I wait patiently for her to finish, trying my best to retain a rapidly fading smile.
“Hrmmm, in-ter-rest-ting.” Pinkie ponders for a bit. “Your smile started off the charts, but it rapidly went down to twenty-five percent...I think I'm going to need another mind to help me decipher this information. Stay right here! I'm going to find Twi-”
I quickly brush the “smile-o-meter,” and consequently, Pinkie's hoof, from my face. “Wait,” I say. “I was just a little irritated by your smile-o-meter. I don't like it when ponies touch my face.”
Pinkie frowns in response. “I guess the smile-o-meter is a bit too intense for this town's newcomers. I'll need to keep that gadget in the reserves.” She puts the smile-o-meter back into her belt, except this time, with a bold 'R' marking the spot. I see that about seventy five percent of her gadgets have an 'R' marking their positions.
I shudder a bit, thinking about what other devices she may have to torture other ponies with.
“So, did everything work out? I can't seem to figure out if it did,” Pinkie continues.
I smile. “Well...yes, thanks for asking. In fact, she's hanging out with me right now.” I gesture to Lyra, who seems to be a little irritated by her exclusion from the conversation. Every now and then, I'd notice her tap her hoof on the ground with impatience. She looks up at me, trying to hide the fact that she was getting antsy.
Before she can say anything, Pinkie gets all up in her face. “You!” Pinkie says in an accusatory tone, staring Lyra straight in the eyes. “You'd better treat this...this thing right! I don't know what he did, but you should've seen him about five hours ago! His shoulders were all slouched, and even one of my specially made cupcakes couldn't cheer him up! He cares about you, so you'd better treat him right, or so help me, I'll--” Pinkie puts a hoof to her chin as she tries to think of a punishment on the spot. “Hmmm. Ah! Yeah!” She pulls another gadget from her tool belt, this one's spot was marked with an 'X'. “I'll get you with my feather! Nopony I know, no matter how grumpy, can withstand the debilitating effects of this otherworldy weapon! To those unlucky few that I do wield the feather on...the story is too horrible to tell,” her voice goes gravelly at the end. Thoughout this monologue, Pinkie wields and waves a feather at Lyra's face.
I'm forced to sit down and clutch my stomach as bouts of laughter assault me. Lyra, while at first gritting her teeth with guilt, soon found herself falling over to Pinkie's infectious antics. We both laugh out loud a little, but soon realize that a crowd of ponies had gathered around us, staring with bewilderment at the pink pony waving a feather at two incapacitated creatures, one being of an odd body type.
While Lyra seems to enjoy the attention, I immediately get nervous and make to leave the ring of ponies. They let me pass as I push through the crowd and go for a nearby alleyway.
A few seconds later, Lyra materializes next to me and says, “We've really got to make you comfortable around ponies. There were no negative feelings there, and you just tucked tail and ran.”
“I know, I know,” I protest. “It's just for some reason, I can't help but feel paranoid that some pony is judging me. You've told me over and over again that ponies don't do that and yet I can't get out of that mindset.”
“Don't worry,” Lyra says and smiles at me. “As long as I know you, I'm going to help you chill out.”
“Ok.”
We walk down the alleyway for a bit until we get to a four way intersection. To my right, I see a brightly colored shop. A small sign hanging under the entrance's overhang reads Sugarcube Corner. I look at the shop, then at Lyra, then the shop again.
“You want to eat there?” I ask while pointing to my right, down the alleyway.
“Sugarcube Corner?” she asks with surprise. “They don't serve lunch there, it's a sweets shop.”
“Pshaw,” I say. “That's what I consider a good lunch.”
We start heading toward's Sugarcube Corner regardless, but when we finally make it out of the alleyway, Lyra points to a store right next to it. “How about we stop by the Hearthfire Cafe first, and then stop by Sugarcube Corner?”
“As long as they serve good food...” I mumble to Lyra as we head to the Cafe.
We walk in and the door bell clinks behind us. I nearly run into an orange pony with a light-yellow mane. She has a brown hat on her head, cocked at an angle so as to make it easy for her to see.
“Oop!” she exclaims. “Don't mind me sugarcube, I'm just on my way out.” She walks past me, but I feel like something significant just happened. Much like my encounters with the pink pon—eherm—Pinkie Pie, Twilight, and that yellow-furred pony. While I immediately found most of them irritating, I couldn't help but sense a certain special quality about them.
I guess they're just more vibrant, or something like that. All of them have so much life.
I ask Lyra who she is.
“Applejack,” she says. “I can't count how many times she's helped me out while in need. That pony is trustworthy.”
I ponder this while we make our way to a window seat, with two cushiony booths facing each other. Four sets of menus rest on the counter and Lyra and I take the ones closest to the large window on the side of the shop.
I look at the menu, and find that I have no clue what half the items are. Elderberry wine? What's an elderberry? Candied Chestnuts? What in the world are those?! Coltsfoot tea?!?! Are these ponies really vegetarian?!
Lyra notices my eyes bugging out at the Coltsfoot tea, option. She quickly explains. “That's a type of plant. We don't actually take colt's feet and simmer them in water.” She facehoofs. “We're not barbari--” she cuts herself off mid sentence, realizing the unsteady ground she had tread on. “We're complete herbivores, I assure you.”
I give a sigh of relief. “Whew. I wasn't exactly sure what you meant by not eating meat. 'Juices' don't exactly qualify as meat you know.” I raise an eyebrow at her.
Lyra punches my shoulder. “Hey!” she exclaims. “You're a sicko. You know that?”
“Back where I lived, I probably got that a lot. Heheh--” A voice cuts into our conversation. It's the waiter.
“Have you all decided what to order yet?”
Shit.
I quickly scramble through the menu looking for something that I can recognize, to no avail. I look at Lyra, my face begging for help. “I don't even know what half of these things are.” I whisper nervously. “Helllppp.”
She laughs and asks the waiter for just five more minutes. The waiter leaves and Lyra admits, with wide eyes that... “I totally forgot to decide what to order too...”
I laugh, a bit too loudly, gathering some stares from the ponies around us. I try to ignore them and continue, “Seriously though, I need some help, could you help me once you're done with deciding?”
Quickly, overdramitically, Lyra scans the menu, much like hackers look at their computers during a particularly hairy infiltration operation. She puts a hoof on the table and presses on it with fake anxiety, until, fifteen seconds later she slams the menu on the table. “I got it!” she yells, too loudly. This time, a few of the ponies around us mumble with irritation. I chuckle a little and Lyra gives me a dead-serious face. “Pick up that menu boy,” she says in her best drill sergeant impersonation, stretching her mouth into a frown. “We don't have all day.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying my best not to laugh. “Whas thad?” I manage to get out from my covered mouth, while pointing to something on the menu.
Lyra looks stonily at me. “Son, get yer hand outta your face.” She brushes my hand away, her eyes widening a little as she does so. However, she quickly gets back into character. “Right there son, is what we like to call candied chestnuts—wait...what the buck are you doing in the dessert section? Do you even have half a brain?!”
I giggle, but quickly clench up, feeling a little immature because of it. She continues as she flips the menu over in front of me. “What you want...hrmm...yer gonna want this almond toast right here. It's good for the tummy and heck! It'll make your flimsy arms a whole lot stronger!” Lyra hoofs at my 'flimsy' arms.
I hug my arms to my chest, feeling a little stab at my pride. “My arms aren't flimsy—“ Lyra interrupts me.
“You talkin' back to me son?! I'm the only reason you're going to survive this restaurant encounter, so listen up buddo! The only other thing in this cafe worth buyin' is the scallion sandwich, which kinda tastes like onions, if you know what they are. Do you?” I nod. “Good! So pick! Scallion sandwich or almond toast?”
Terrified of what an onion sandwich might taste like, I point to the almond toast. “Nice choice for a small feller like you. It ought to serve yer arms mighty well. See to it that you eat every last crumb!” I look at Lyra with an 'are you serious?' face, not enjoying the fun poked at my normal-sized arms. Completely ignoring my plight, Lyra bursts into a fit of laughter, unable to hold her character any longer. It doesn't take too long for me to join in, because, after all, that was pretty funny.
After a few seconds of laughing though, we're interrupted by the waiter again. “Soo, I've been getting some noise complaints from your neighbors here. If you don't quiet down, we're going to have to ask you to leave.”
Lyra cringes. “Sorry about that, it wont happen again.”
Surprisingly, the waiter appears to completely forgive us and asks, “Have we all decided what we want to order?” Both Lyra and I nod.
“What did you want then?” the waiter addresses Lyra. “I'd like the scallion sandwich please,” she responds.
“...and what would you like to drink?”
Crap.
I scramble though the menu again, trying my best to act casual in front of the waiter. There is no way I'm going to make her wait another 5 minutes.
I scroll down the list, feeling disheartened by the sheer number of discrete drinks I had no idea even existed. Eventually though, lo and behold, I come across two simple words that immediately become familiar to my mind, 'Apple Juice'. With a sigh, I sit back and wait for my turn to order.
Both Lyra and the waiter look at me like I've just escaped from the circus. “You guys, were probably waiting for me while I was going through the menu...” I say, feeling embarrassed.
“No worries,” the waiter says. “Are you ready to order now?”
“Yes.”
“What would you like?”
“I'd like the almond toast please.”
“And what would you like to drink?”
“Ah, the apple juice please.”
Both the waiter and Lyra look at me with raised eyebrows. I look back and forth between them until finally saying, “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” the waiter looks down for a moment, composing herself. After about a second she asks for the menus and leaves.
Lyra continues to look at me with raised eyebrows. “What?!” I ask again, a little bit irritated. “Can't I guy just order a normal glass of apple juice here?”
Lyra remains silent for about another minute, and I'm left to stew over what I'd done. Finally, when I look back up to her for the fifth time, she says, “Classy,” her eyebrows still raised.
Turns out apple juice is a very high-class drink, not to mention costly.
“I am so sorry,” I apologize to Lyra, begging for forgiveness. Surprisingly enough, she seems nonchalant that I just ordered a drink ten times more costly than her own.
“Don't worry too much about it,” she says while inspecting her hoof for dirt. “You forgot to compare the prices is all.”
I sigh with relief, but still feel pretty ashamed.
“But...” Lyra starts up.
Uh oh.
“...you still owe me.” She looks at me expectantly.
Ready to redeem myself I say, “Whatever you want, I'll do. I was such an idiot for spending that much of your money.” I clench my teeth, still angry at myself.
She grins and I immediately know I've made a mistake. Evilly twiddling her hooves, Lyra explains her proposition. “I want you to give me permission. Permanent permission to touch your hands whenever I want. This includes tapping, petting, squeezing, cuddling, hugging, licking, and all possible forms of master—“ I interrupt her.
“Wait, what? Licking?! And don't tell me you were actually going to say master—“ Lyra interrupts me.
“First of all, licking your hand isn't exactly that big of a deal after what you pulled with the apple juice. Also, I was going to say masterfully handling if you hadn't so rudely interrupted me. Now that I've got that covered, we have a deal now, right?” Lyra looks at me matter of factly, as if this were going to happen.
“Somehow, masterfully handling doesn't make me feel any better than if you had said master—“ Lyra interrupts me again.
She practically hisses at me, “What do you think I am, some kinda sicko?”
“You are pretty obsessed with my—“
“I'm not that obsessed! Geez! I hope this makes you feel better, because I'm going to address it right now. My genitalia will have nothing to do with what I've got planned for your hands.” While Lyra had tried her best to keep her voice down while hissing at me, the word genitalia floated in the air all to well, as well as the rest of the sentence involved due to their neighbors' strange selective hearing abilities. I look up to see three tables of ponies staring at us.
We leave.
Both of us burn bright red all the way into Sugarcube Corner and Pinkie Pie makes sure to keep it that way.
Taking just one step, one step into Sugarcube Corner, I find that Pinkie is immediately right between us, commenting on how our faces resemble that of ripe tomatoes.
“Yeah, we know Pinkie, and you aren't helping out too much,” I try to tell her.
She ignores me and continues on in her long stream of dialogue. “Ooh! I bet your faces are red because you're embarrassed. Unless it's a disease!” Pinkie jumps a few feet away and yells out, “Are you infectious?!?!” We get more stares from strangers. “Nah, you're clean actually.” She zooms up to us and smiles. “My Pinkie sense usually tells me when ponies are sick. You two are clearly embarrassed. I wonder what could've caused it? Ah!” Pinkie looks at us slyly. “Are you two in loooovvveee?” More stares from strangers, even a bit of applause rings out. “Strange though, could you two even produce colts together? I mean, we have you...” Pinkie puts a hoof up to my chest. “...a human, and you...” Pinkie extends her other foreleg two feet from her body to reach Lyra's chest. I choose not question how that is even physically possible. “...a pony....ok, I'm being too much of a skeptic here. It's possible.” Pinkie looks at me and smiles. “You've got a dong after all...” She looks at Lyra “...and you've got your lady parts.” She addresses us both, “Make sure to show me how the colt loo—“ A hoof gets shoved into Pinkie Pie's mouth.
It turns out her boss, Ms. Cake, comes to save the day.
The blue furred mare with her pink, licorice styled mane drags Pinkie Pie away kicking and screaming, apologizing profusely to us. “I am so sorry, you two. This one can get out of hand every now and then. I'll make sure to talk to her so this doesn't happen again.” She walks into a back room with Pinkie Pie in tow, shutting the door behind her.
Both of us stand where we are for a bit, in a daze as to how to act now, after nearly passing out from embarrassment. Thankfully, Mr. Cake, a yellow furred pony with a short, orange mane gives us an option.
“How about you two have a few treats on the house? I can't imagine what our pink fiasco must've put you through.”
“Yeah,” Lyra weakly responds. “That. I'll do that.” She follows Mr. Cake to the counter, and like a zombie, I mindlessly do the same.
Our embarrassment soon dissipates as we enjoy some mint-frosted chocolate cupcakes offered by Mr. Cake.
The fresh aftertaste makes my tongue tingle as I digest the tasty cupcake. Lyra had already finished her cupcake long ago, gulping it in one bite. I would've beaten her too, if I'd had a larger mouth.
I grumble to myself, feeling a little emasculated that a female pony managed to beat me in a cupcake eating contest, especially when she didn't even know about this personal competition I always held for myself. Stupid...stupid...
I hear Lyra laughing beside me. I turn around to see she's pointing at my face. “What?” I say, a bit grumpily.
“You have the sourest look on your face right now. Ehehe. I mean, mint cupcakes aren't exactly sour. Ahahaha. What's gotten into you?” Her smile improves my mood a bit.
I open my mouth, but decide against trying to explain myself. I come up with a lame excuse instead. “I'm...just not a fan of mint's aftertaste.”
“Reeeaaaaly?” Lyra asks, clearly skeptical, but Mr. Cake buts in.
“I'm so sorry about that. I wouldn't have gotten you mint if I had kno--” I interrupt, trying to reassure him.
“Oh no, the cupcake was delicious. I knew what I was getting into, so you have no reason to feel bad.”
“Alright then, if you want any more free samples though, let me know.” Mr. Cake heads back to his duties behind the counter.
I handled that well. I smile to myself smugly, proud of my shirking a difficult explanation. “B.S.” Lyra cuts in. She grins a little, due mainly to the fact that that was the first time she'd used the phrase 'B.S.'. I taught her that didn't I?
“There is no way the taste of that cupcake had to do with your facial expression,” Lyra accuses.
I look at her quizzically, as if I'd done nothing.
“Alright. Ok. You win. We should probably get out of Sugarcube corner though. There's no telling when Pinkie Pie will get back.” My face already stretches in concern. Ms. Cake could be done with lecturing Pinkie any minute now.
Lyra gets up. “Let's go! Let's go!”
We both speed walk/trot out of Sugarcube Corner.
“So are you ready for my hour long explanation?” I try to make it clear that this explanation will be boring.
“Yep,” Lyra responds, chipper.
I take a moment to stare across the field we sit in, the grass rippling with the warm, autumn wind. No pokey thorns, buzzing insects, or even leaves mar the countryside. I shake my head in disbelief, amazed at the perfection of it all. Even the grass reflects the sunlight, sparkling with cascading glitters, blown about by the whispers of nat—yeah, I'm getting carried away here.
I take a deep breath and gather my thoughts. How do you explain social roles to these ponies? They clearly lack them...I say that as if it's a bad thing...heck, I wouldn't be surprised if Lyra were lesbian, feeling completely at ease among a society of understanding ponies. Y'know what? She probably is a lesbian isn't she? After all, she is living with Bon Bon...
“You're a lesbian aren't you?” I ask Lyra, completely forgetting that I was supposed to explain my feelings from Sugarcube Corner.
“What?” Lyra exclaims. “Where in the world did that come from? Weren't you supposed to be explaining yourself to me? Even then, how did you even come to that conclusion?”
“Well, you and Bon Bon live in the same house and I thought th—“
“We're roommates, ...” Lyra pauses, unsure of my name, but continues on with her thought. “...just because we live in the same house together doesn't mean we love each other or anything. While I'm unsure as to what gender pony I might end up falling in love with, I assure you, Bon Bon is out of the question. There is no way in this wide world I'd end up falling in love with that snooty, self-dependent, prideful, insolent—“
“Alright,” I interrupt Lyra, smiling. “I think I get the message.” I can't help but giggle a little bit. “Do you want me to continue with my explanation then?”
“Yeah,” Lyra replies, a bit grumpily.
I turn away, trying to actually get this explanation over with. So, social roles, social roles. As long as I tell her about heterosexual norms and what they mean to me as a man, everything should be explained well enough. Strange how these are some of the things I've got left inside my brain.
“Sooo,” I start up. “There's something about my world that's different from yours. Pretty much, people where I used to live would judge you, hard-core. If you acted really differently than them, you were automatically their worst enemy, which kinda explains why I wanted to run away when a lot of ponies looked at me for doing something weird. Naturally, this applies to how a man is supposed to react to situations compared to females, and vice versa. Does that kinda make sense?”
Lyra nods.
“I think we called them gender roles. My gender role, as a man, was to be the most successful person I could be, not to mention strong enough to eventually protect my female partner.”
“Partner as in...”
“Sorry, I meant something like...romantic partner. Pretty much, society where I came from, dictates that I'm supposed to love a female, who I have to protect with large muscles and a just-as-large paycheck.”
“That...sounds really...constricting. Who has the right to tell you what you want to do?”
I grimace at her. “Yeah...”
I never thought about it like that...
I start back up, “So! About the cupcake. As a male, I felt like I had to beat you, a female, in my own little private cupcake eating contest because that's what society tells me I should be better at...in a more general way.”
“But how did that make you feel angry?”
“Well, if you don't follow this male stereotype, other males will look at you like a wuss. Eventually, it gets ingrained into you that you are a wuss if you can't follow the male gender role, regardless of whether other males are there to mock you...lets just say I got angry at you because you made me feel like a wuss.” It felt kinda silly, admitting that out loud.
I hear Lyra snort next to me. I turn to see her bursting at the seams, barely able to keep her laughter in. I can't help but chuckle myself. Gender roles really are stupid aren't they?
“Go ahead, let it out,” I groan, feeling sheepish. However, an obnoxious laugh bursts forth that is very uncharacteristic for Lyra. I look over at her, startled...
Just to find her staring wide-eyed at me. My hackles rise as I feel a soft tap-tap-tapping on my left arm. Slowly, dreading what I'd see, I turn to see Pinkie Pie poking my arm.
Petrified, I try to stay as still as possible, hoping she'd get bored and walk away. It didn't work of course.
“Yoohoo, spindly fella! I wanted to say something to you!” I don't move, react, or blink, in the hopes that my plan will still work. She tips me over and I'm forced to catch myself. I groan. “What do you want, Pinkie?”
“Whew! I thought you were dead for a second. That would've sucked! We're good though, at least it looks like it, so I just wanted to say sorry! I can get a little excited sometimes, and it gets very hard to stop myself. Heheh, I probably almost killed you two with embarrassment now that I think about it...but yeah! I am sosososososo sorry and it wont happen again! Could you guys forgive me?”
I look at Pinkie, a little stunned by her apology. Lyra comes in, “Don't worry about it Pinkie Pie. I'm sure we both can forgive you. I think you just frightened him is all.” Lyra giggles, pointing at me with a hoof.
“I...yeah...that,” I say, still trying to regain my composure.
Pinkie giggles too, but does so while pulling out a smoke bomb. She throws it on the ground, blowing it up and enshrouding us all in smoke. After coughing and waving the smoke away, we find that the pink pony is nowhere to be seen.
“Okaaaaay,” I say to Lyra, weirded out by Pinkie's antics.
“She's a different pony alright,” Lyra says, chuckling. “I can't tell you how many times she's cheered me up when I've gotten into a rut.”
“You?! Sad?!” I say incredulously.
“Everything's not sunshine and rainbows for me either you know,” Lyra says. “I admit I get paid pretty well for my street performing, but getting paid isn't why I chose to do music. I do it to connect, to express myself. I don't mean to be mean here, but I can't get that from ponies here in Ponyville, well, except for Octavia. She's usually too busy doing her own professional music concerts though.” Lyra looks down, obviously sad.
“You could teach me how,” I say, trying to find a solution.
“Sorry, but I don't think that'll work. To understand music's little nuances, you need years of experience. Only Octavia has that.” Lyra continues to look gloomy.
“Yeah, ok. I'll make sure to keep on the lookout for other ponies then,” I respond. The gloominess starts to infect me, but I suddenly think of something important that Pinkie had said, ...'I mean, we have you...a human'...
“Hey Lyra?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember when Pinkie was bothering us in Sugarcube corner?” My cheeks flush a little upon recalling it.
“Ahh, yeah.” Lyra averts her gaze from me, her cheeks flushing a little too.
“I think she called me a 'human' while getting us all embarrassed.”
“A human? What's a human?”
“I think that's what my kind is called. I have no clue how she found out about it, but if it were anypony, it would be her.”
“Didn't you say you couldn't remember anything about what your kind is called? How do you know Pinkie's right?”
“It...it just really rings a bell. It feels right, and it'd be nice to actually have a label for once.”
“Alright, human,” Lyra smirks. “I'll oblige. I actually like the sound of that. Can I call you 'human' from now on?”
“Sure,” I chuckle. “It sounds kinda funny.”
The sun finally dips below the horizon and I suddenly realize how long we'd been talking out here. All of the grass before me has lost its sheen and I'm left staring at a bleak, dark landscape. The wind still graces my cheeks as it softy blows by, stirring the grass at my feet.
“We should probably go,” I say, not sure if Lyra has to wake up for something tomorrow.
“Yeah,” Lyra says and gets up. “I'm about ready to hit the hay.” She yawns.
While I'd suggested leaving in the first place, I choose not to move.
“Human?...Heehee. Are you ready to go? What're you waiting for, Hearthswarming?”
I wait for a bit, thinking about whether I should ask a question I had burning in the back of my mind. I go for it. “Could I try playing that harp of yours? I think it'd be fun.”
“Uuuh, sure, but we should probably get sleep first, I've got a long day of performing to do tomorrow.”
Turns out I'm actually pretty good at music in general...how about we backtrack a bit?
I wake up.
With slitted vision, I gaze at Lyra rushing to and fro, trying to gather the items needed for her performance. She's the reason I woke up in the first place.
“You oversleep or something?” I ask her, a little bit of disdain in my voice.
“How about you just go to sleep and keep your comments to yourself?” Lyra immediately while she rushes about in an irritated frenzy.
Quickly, I try to rise, but am forced to lay back down and get my bearings first. After about ten seconds I sit up, refreshed and ready to help. “You want me to get something?”
“Yeah, could you toss me my lyre?”
I grab it on the shelf to the left of me, but hesitate before throwing it. “Are you sure you want me to throw--”
“Thanks.” Lyra plucks the lyre from my hands. “Just chill until I get back.”
“Wait!” I yell at her as she leaves. “Let me come with you!”
“You'd just slow me down!” she yells back, already out the door.
I chase after her, not about to be left behind with Bon Bon.
“Wait! Pleasepleasepleazzeee,” I beg, half-running behind her, clearly in a state of desperation. “You can't leave me here!”
“Keep up with me,” Lyra responds curtly, continuing her rushed trot to the center of Ponyville, breaching the house's main door.
“What?” I ask, not hearing her.
“Keep up!” She picks up her pace.
“Oh! Ok!” I try my best keep Lyra in sight as she rushes to her destination.
I lean on an alleyway wall, gasping for breath, completely lost, and actually a little scared.
Damn, that pony can run! Quadrupeds are inherently faster I guess. Haha, using words like these makes me feel intellectual!
I quickly sober up, though, and take in my dire situation. I've never enjoyed being lost, much less in an alien world full of talking ponies.
To my relief, Pinkie Pie swings into vision, upside down. Multiple times actually.
She continues to swing.
“Uuuh, Pinkie?”
“Yep?” Swish...swish...
“Is this how you normally communicate?”
“Nope! Just on Thursdays!” Her face remains as radiant as ever as she continues to swing about in an awkward fashion. Swish...swish...
I facepalm.
And sigh.
Look up.
Look down.
Sigh again.
Finally, I look up and ask her, “Do you know where I could find--”
“You wanna hear one of my stories?!” Pinkie Pie interrupts.
It's like that pony waswaiting for me to talk. I suck in my breath, trying to keep myself under control.
“Pinkie Pie...” I sigh, once again. “I really don't want to hear any of your stories right now. I just want to know where Lyra is. Could you do that much for m--”
“Sure!” Pinkie unholsters herself from the balcony support above us landing with supreme ease. She bounces off and I'm forced to follow, my mind a thick haze of anger. She does this on purpose, I swear.
Finally, after going through two torturous minutes of listening to Pinkie Pie's story about 'how she got her cutie mark,' I see Lyra strumming her lyre in the distance. Golden notes ring out in slow, soft patterns, forming a mournful elegy.
She does all of this while sitting on a bench, blissfully unaware of the pink furball about to release untold decibels of sound into her ears.
“Watcha doin'?!?!” Pinkie Pie screams.
Lyra whips around to face her, startled out of her wits. One of the strings of her lyre pings as it breaks under the force of Lyra's frightened hoof. “WHA-oh.” Lyra instantly calms down after seeing that it was just Pinkie Pie. “Dangit Pinkie! You made me break it!” She says, fondling the bottom piece of the split string.
“Sorry about that! Here--” Pinke Pie throws a bag of bits next to Lyra. “These should cover it!”
Lyra's eyes light up, seeing stacks of bits inside the bag. “Thanks Pinkie! This...seems like a lot though. I only needed like, ten bits to repair my harp.”
“No problem!” She winks at Lyra and bounces away, ignoring her inquisition.
Lyra looks at me when Pinkie Pie hops out of earshot. “She does it on purpose, I swear.”
Knowingly I nod. “Hehehe, that ran through my mind just a few minutes ago.”
Lyra giggles, but soon goes back to fondling the frayed string. “I'll need to get this fixed today, but thanks to Pinkie, there's no more performing to do. I've got the rest of the day to myself.”
“Cool!” I offer a high five to her. She gladly hoof-bumps it. “Where do you want to go?” I ask.
Lyra shrugs, completely out of ideas. “I had my whole day planned out, don't ask me.”
Hmmm... I scratch my chin and think. ...the harp. I wanted to play it. “How about we just hang out somewhere, and you teach me how to play the harp?”
Lyra scrunches her face a bit, obviously reluctant to teach a newbie the essentials of music. Finally, she agrees, not minding the opportunity to socialize.
“Don't be too hasty though. To actually play the harp, we need a working one first,” she points to the broken string. “Let's get Johnny repaired first.”
“You named your harp Johnny?” I ask, smirking.
“Just...shut up,” Lyra says, rolling her eyes. She opens the door to Ponyville's local music shop, entitled, “Musical Fetish,” pushing it open wide enough for me to walk inside.
She ignores my persisting grin and slaps her lyre on the store counter, a little bit too hard.
“Oh!” The cashier exclaims, surprised by the clatter. “Lyra! You’re enthusiastic today!” Her brown fur stands on end as she brushes a ruffled magenta mane out of her face. It's clear she's been at work organizing her shop all day.
“Sorry!” Lyra apologizes. “Don't mind me. This little runt is just pissing me off is all.” She gestures at me with a hoof.
I look at her, giving my best 'shocked and hurt' expression, even gasping to add to the effect.
I manage to get a look of pity from the cashier, but Lyra continues with her business, distracting her.
“I'd like this string repaired please. Could you do that?” She looks earnestly at the cashier.
The cashier furrows her eyebrows and harrumphs. “Not until you apologize to you poor friend over there, who's feelings you have sorely hurt,” she points a hoof in my direction.
Lyra turns to see my face resemble that of Bambii, with tearful eyes and a puffed out lip, begging for an apology.
Lyra sighs and facehoofs in response. “Really?” she asks, clearly skeptical of my plight, her eyes seething with anger.
I nod, accentuating my pitiful features even more.
Suddenly, she smiles, and in a plastic-sounding voice says, “Y'know what hun? I didn't mean to make you feel so sad. How about, as an apology, I hold your hand all the way home? That would make you feel better wouldn't it?”
Uh oh.
I immediately break the act. “Wh-wh-wh-whoah there. Who said I ever felt sad? Eheheh. Nope! I'm as happy as can be!” I jauntily swing my arm for emphasis, smiling as far as my cheekbones allow.
It's now my turn to get glared at by the cashier, my deception revealed. Thankfully, I watch as Lyra continues with her order and the cashier is forced to look down at the harp.
“I can get this done in ten minutes,” the cashier informs Lyra. “Try your best to deal with that runt while I get everything fixed up, ok?” One side of her mouth moves up into smirk.
“No problem,” Lyra replies, mirroring the pony's expression.
She walks up to me and starts pushing me forward by the small of my back. “C'mon runt. We've got ten minutes.” Oh no she didn't.
I suck up my pride and walk outside, trying my best to move faster than Lyra's pushing hoof.
We find a bench right outside the store, and I plop down.
Lyra sits next to me, folding her legs beneath herself.
“The name's 'human',” I remark wryly.
She giggles. “Oh, I know. That was payback for making fun of Johnny.”
“Yeah okay,” I say, still harboring angry feelings.
While I stew, Lyra looks curiously at my sitting style. “How in the heck is that comfortable?”
“What?” I ask, looking at my sitting position. I don't understand. Slouching may be bad for my back, but it's still comfortable.
“You're sitting weird. You don’t curl your legs underneath you.”
“This is how I normally sit. It's comfortable for my type.”
“I...guess...I wonder if it'd work well for a pony too.”
“Why don't you try it?”
“Heck no.”
I ruffle my eyebrows at this reaction. “Why the strong reaction?”
“You're kidding me right?” Lyra looks at me like I'm an idiot.
“No...” It still doesn't click.
“Am I really gonna have to describe this to you?” Lyra asks, exasperated.
“Wait wait wait. Gimme a sec.” I take a moment to think. The reason finally hits me. I blush and look down. “Sorry, I get it now.” I can't help but chuckle a little.
“You had me scared for a second,” she remarks.
I mumble something to myself, too quiet for Lyra to hear.
“What's that?” Lyra asks.
Again, I mumble, afraid of how Lyra would react.
“You've got something on your mind human, speak up.”
It takes all of my strength to utter these words. “It didn't phase you when you were gawking at my dong.”
Lyra laughs a big, throaty laugh. “I wasn't—haha—I wasn't going to judge you just one day into Ponyville. I thought that was normal for you. For me to sit like you are would just be open display.”
I sigh, having trouble getting over my resentment. “Yeah, you're right.”
Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, the store owner comes out of her shop. “Lyra! I've got your harp!”
“Thanks Lolita!” Lyra says, taking it. After looking at the newly replaced string, we make to leave, but we're interrupted by some grumbling.
It's Lolita. “You’re going to pay for that aren't you?”
“Ooh!” Lyra puts a hoof to her mouth. “Sorry about that!” Quickly she hoofs out a few bits from the bag Pinkie gave her and smiles an apology.
“No problem friend!” Lolita responds. “Ponies would be asking for discounts if I suddenly gave things away for free is all!”
We head home.
Lyra looks at me jealously as I try out a few of her lyre's strings. Each of them resonate with different pitches of sound, pitches that eventually become familiar to me. I continue to pluck strings at random, getting a feel for the odd shape of the instrument and its musical abilities.
Slowly, the notes I pluck start to develop a pattern. I say, “Heh, I'm startin' to get the hang of this!”
“Beginner's luck,” Lyra explains, waving my statement off.
I continue with my pattern for some time, increasing the tempo to warm up my fingers. Wait, you need to warm up your fingers before playing instruments?
The notes practically whiz by as I expertly strum off my pattern, now at a very fast tempo. Lyra looks at me with a raised eyebrow, surprised at my dexterity.
I slow the tempo down again, gradually, until I'm left playing each individual note, letting each sound have its own space to resonate.
Carefully, cautiously, I change it up.
I develop a variation to my pattern, adding in notes between my established mainframe, even shifting a few of my original notes around the beat. I speed this variation up and interchange it with my original pattern, growing more excited the faster my fingers whiz by.
Lyra looks at me, stunned and a little excited herself.
Eventually, I play my two patterns so fast that the notes start to blend together, moving so fast that I have trouble keeping track of my position in the music. I stay at this speed, challenging myself, prepping for an even more arduous feat, changing the pitch of my patterns' notes.
I start to tap my foot with the beat so that my subconscious can take over my patterns, maintaining my musical performance. I devote the rest of my mind to the changes I'd make.
Swelling my chest, I try to play my first changed note, to find that it sounds awfully wrong. My fingers stop strumming and that dissonant note rings out into the silence between me and Lyra.
I see that Lyra has her eyebrows raised and I laugh. “Haha, well, that didn't work out as planned.”
“I was gonna say! What an interesting ending!” she responds, breaking down into cute-sounding chuckles.
My heart spasms a little bit in response, but I manage to get through it alive.
“Y'okay?” Lyra asks, noticing my face go a little pale.
“Yeah, I'm good,” I say, not wanting to admit that what she had just done there was heart-wrenchingly cute. “Honestly, what I just did is as much a shock to me as it is to you. I'm thinking I was a musician back where I came from.”
“I wouldn't be surprised.” She looks down at the ground thoughtfully. “Maybe you would make a good audience for my music. I mean, even though you can't remember any of your experiences as a musician, it's obvious you have an understanding of the core. You know what makes music sound good and how to apply it while improvising, of all things.”
“I told you,” I say to Lyra, squinting my eyes at her. “I know my stuff.”
“I'm sure you did at the time,” Lyra says, her voice dripping of sarcasm.
“My subconscious is on track I tell you!” I say, trying to recover from her remark.
“Sure,” she smirks, “and I'm the--”
“Yes,” I respond, interrupting her. “You are whatever you were about to say.”
“Really?!” Lyra exclaims.
“Uhhh...yeah,” I say, a little bit unsure at what she was getting at.
“I was gonna say, 'the pony who gets to touch your hands whenever she wants.'”
I freeze.
“So, that means we're all good with the hand touching thing right? Y'know, that deal we made earlier? Don't think I forgot about that.”
My face goes pale. “Uh, n-n-no. I d-didn't mea--”
“Too late!” Lyra interjects, gleeful. “You've agreed! There's no turning back now! Now give it over!” She jumps up to her hooves and ominously walks forward.
“I-I, n-no. Stay back!” I try to keep her back with an outstretched palm.
Big mistake.
*Two Hours Later*
I groan, my back getting tired of leaning against the side of Lyra's bed. “Could you stop anytime soon? My back's going to break at this rate.”
Lyra looks up at me from her position on my right. Her foreleg entraps my right arm as she strokes my hand with a hoof. “Give it a rest human. We've only been here for a few minutes.”
“You're kidding right? Look outside. It's dark.”
Lyra looks to her window above the bed. “It is dark. We must've come back a bit later then.”
I groan louder. “Lyyyrrrraaaa. I promise you, we've been here for hours. Please let my hand go before I have to amputate it due to lack of circulation.” Lyra's foreleg had cut off the blood flow to my hand for some time now, and it was actually starting to worry me.
“Now that's a thought. Amputation huh?” An evil grin forms on her lips.
I look at Lyra in horror. “You wouldn't.”
She gives that disarming chuckle of hers and I instantly calm down. “Comon, imagine how happy that would make me. I could have it as a stuffed animal!”
My tone goes playful as I say, “Eugh. Lyyyyrrrraaaaa. This is my hand we're talking about here, so I get to make the decisions about whether or not I want to amputate.”
“But what about that deal we made? I technically have full ownership of your hands don't I?”
“Noooo, you didn't specify who had ownership. You only said that you would be allowed to touch my hands whenever you wanted to. My hands are still mine.”
“Hehe, dangit! You saw right through my ploy.”
“Yeah, I've got to be careful when talking about hands with you.”
We let the conversation drop off and I let Lyra stroke my hand for a bit longer. There's still the matter of blood-circulation though, so it doesn't take long for me to break the silence again.
“How about I let you pet my hand some more and you release your foreleg? I need to keep my hand alive.”
Lyra looks at me skeptically. “You'll just snatch it away.”
“I promise.”
“You promise you'll what?”
“I promise I wont snatch my hand away immediately.”
Slowly, cautiously, Lyra releases her foreleg from my arm. Blood rushes forward, giving my hand the sensation of being pricked by dozens of serrated needles at once.
I wince. “Gimme a sec Lyra. I've got to shake it a bit.” I shake my hand as best as I can to restore the blood to its natural levels. It takes about a minute, but the needles finally stop. I rest my hand in front of Lyra again, who immediately goes back to her petting.
I sit back, actually glad of Lyra's company. Words just won't do in some conversations. Sometimes, all we need is the company of somepony else.
It's incredibly late, and Lyra's still at it. Upon looking at her alarm clock on the bedside table, I see that it's 2:00 AM.
“Hey, Lyra. It's two in the morning. We should probably get some sleep for tomorrow.” I poke her with my other hand for emphasis.
She waves it off. “Yeah, yeah. I'll stop eventually.”
“Lyra. We need to go to sleep now. It's two in the morning.”
She finally stops petting my hand. “Yeah...that'd probably be a good idea wouldn't it?”
I stand up, pulling my hand from Lyra. “Let's go. I'll sleep on the floor this time so you can sleep on the bed. Tomorrow's going to be a pain if you don't go to sleep immediately.”
Lyra scoffs, “I was gonna kick you off anyways. As if I was really going to let you take my bed for the rest of time.”
I frown at her, saying sarcastically, “You're welcome.”
She smiles and punches me in the arm. “You've got the floor from now on okay?”
“Yeah,” I respond, resentful of her smart remark. “Maybe you could help me buy a bed in the future?”
“Sure, but you'd need to get a job. I'm not going to pay for everything.”
I try to guilt trip her and puff out my bottom lip. “You wouldn't be willing to help a poor friend who's still lost in a world full of ponies?”
“You aren't lost,” Lyra says while giving me the ‘don’t you try that’ look. “I know exactly what you're trying to do.”
I break the act, frowning a little. “I figured it wouldn't work.”
“You get a job related to your interests, you get a bed,” Lyra continues. “I'll help you whenever I can.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Lyra moves to her dresser and grabs a few blankets. She throws them at me. “Make sure to put everything back in the dresser once you're done with them, Bon Bon likes to check my room every now and then to make sure it's clean. Don't ask me why, because I'm as confused as you are there.”
I chuckle. “Sure.” Bon Bon has serious control issues doesn't she?
We both lay down and try to fall asleep. I start to drift off, but a thought suddenly holds me captive. Why, how are they so different? What makes all these ponies so cheerful? Well...most of the time.
“Hey Lyra?”
“Yeah?”
“How are you guys so cheerful and accepting? Back where I came from, if somebody were odd or acting weird, they'd get serious flak for it.”
“I think it all comes down to the core of us. Yeah, I've got a bit of anger that I want to release every now and then, but for the most part, I want to keep everything calm, help other ponies, make friends happy...that kind of stuff. You however, you've got enough anger to go around.”
“That's bad isn't it? How can I change that? I feel kinda bad bringing all you ponies down with my temper.”
“Eh, don't worry about us. You probably make things better for ponies holding things in. Bon Bon for instance.”
I chuckle. “Well, I guess I do have some use here. Still, I feel like all of my anger just makes things worse for me. I have trouble opening up to stranger ponies. I need to chill out.” I sit up, kinda getting into the conversation.
“Ehehe, you do, but not in the way you think.” Lyra gets up out of bed and sits right next to me. I avoid her gaze as she looks at me with a sincere expression, saying, “You're just being too hard on yourself. Think about it. Who has the right to tell you that you're incompetent, useless, or stupid besides yourself?”
Lyra places a hoof on my chest and I'm forced to look at her in the eyes. She continues, “You can be whatever you want to be regardless of what others say. There is no need to fix you. Your extra anger? It defines you,”- Lyra says while pressing her hoof into my chest for emphasis -“You are you. You are the best as you. When you try to run from you, that only makes things worse for you. Do you understand?”
Something inside me breaks, no...melts, no...something inside me disintegrates under her words and touch. I'm suddenly left with my unguarded emotions, nothing left to keep them at bay. My brain sends lightning bolts of emotion through my body and I shiver and heave.
I hold Lyra's hoof in both of my hands, leaning my forehead towards it, crying without restraint, without shame. Tear droplets hit the fur on her hoof, but Lyra remains motionless, a smile gracing her face.
Eventually, I let go of Lyra's hoof and bawl into my own hands, keeling over from what I'd held in for way too long, what I hadn't known I'd been holding in.
Patiently, Lyra waits. Amidst my turmoil, seeing me completely broken, her face remains cheery, accepting.
And just like that, I'm done. There's no more to cry about, and while the emptiness inside me is frightening, I know that now, at this moment, I have truly been set free.
I look at Lyra, my eyes glittering with tears.
She understands.
We go our separate ways for the night.
Her on the bed, me on the floor.
Some say that to cry is to admit defeat, to lose your masculinity, to let your emotions control you.
I sit up and groggily wipe the grime out of my eyes. Once I get my vision clear, I see that Lyra is rushing around, once again, to get ready for her street performing job. Wait...
“Lyra?”
“Yeah?” she says, exasperated and out of breath, stomping about the room.
“Why are you rushing about for a street performance? You'll only miss a few donations if you get to your spot late.”
“Chocolate Truffle,” she says, matter of factly.
“What do you mean Chocolate Truffle? You could buy one at any time of the day.”
“The pony, Chocolate Truffle, is my biggest contributor. She's got a daily pattern set up for herself, walking down the streets of Ponyville at the same time every day. If I miss her, I miss at least a quarter of my daily earnings. Grab my lyre for me will you?”
“Sure.” I get up out of my blankets and lean over Lyra's un-made bed. Just barely, I manage to pluck it off the shelf and hand it off.
“Did you want to come with me today?” Lyra asks.
“Eh...let me get some more sleep first. I know how to get to your spot now.” I plop back down into my blankets, exhausted. Over on Lyra's bedside table, I can see that it's seven in the morning. 5 hours of sleep is hardly enough...
“Cya,” she calls out while leaving the room.
“Bye.”
After a few moments I sigh, relax my body, and go to sleep.
“How's he doing?”
Mumbles
“He's still alive. That's got to mean something.”
Mumbles
A sigh
“Mommy?”
“Yes, honey?” she asks, her blue eyes gleaming with kindness.
“I'm not going.”
“Of course you are.” She looks at me with pity-filled eyes. Every now and then, her brown hair swishes over her eyes and she's forced to blow it out of her face. “How're you going to grow into an intelligent young man?”
“Homeschooling.”
She laughs at this and it feels as if I'm being embraced by a comfortable blanket. “Hon. There's more than just knowledge to be gained at school. You'll thank me later for forcing you to go through this.”
I turn around to head out, but am immediately overcome, once again, by my fear of the unknown. “Mommy! Mommy!” I run up to her and hug her, clutching at her waist. “I can't do it.” I start to cry into her stomach.
She pushes me away at arm's length, brushing the hair off of my forehead. After finishing, she grips my shoulders, addressing me in a serious tone. “I understand, ok? But we have to do this today. You'll never--” A bus stops a few feet from where we are conversing on the sidewalk.
“Be brave for me ok?” she says, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
Weakly, I smile back, not ready to leave, and yet, not about to disappoint my mother.
She pushes me forward. “Go on now. I'll see you later today.”
I look at her, grasping for some reassurance.
She smiles at me.
Slowly, I turn, tearing myself away from her comfort.
I'm so scared.
So terribly scared.
“Yoohoo!”
I groan, readjusting the pillow underneath me, in the hopes that I could regain my unconsciousness.
“Yoooooooohoo!” the voice persists.
“Gahh!” I protest. “What the f-f-frig do you want from me?!”
“Yeep!” Bon Bon screeches in response to my outburst. “S-sorry, could you just...c-could you just--”
Quickly, I wave my hands in front of me as a sign of non-aggression. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that, honest.”
Bon Bon looks at me for a second, not sure what to say. Eventually, she comes up with, “Oh...ok.”
I try my best to smile past this awkward situation. “So, you wanted something?”
She hoofs at the ground nervously. “This'll sound weird...and quite frankly, it's going to make no sense, but...I really need you to put up those blankets you're sleeping on.”
“Like...right now?”
She nods, bashful. “I-I won't be able to think clearly.”
“Er, ok...I guess.”
Bon Bon sighs with relief. “Thank you so much. You don't know how much pressure this takes off of me.”
I pause, not really sure what to say, my mouth agape.
“So, I-I'll just, y'know, leave, I guess,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say, still at a loss for words.
“You can't say I didn't warn you,” Lyra says derisively, setting next to me on a bench by the main street.
“I know, I know. It's just...” I trail off, not sure how to say it without being mean. “I think Bon Bon might need to see a psychologist.”
“Don't fix what ain't broke, human.” Lyra punches my arm. “How could she keep the house so clean without being so fussy?”
“I know, but how does she feel about all this? I'd go crazy if I went as far as regulating other ponys' rooms.”
“Why don't you ask her?”
I put a hand on my chest. “Y'mean me? You know her better.”
“Yeah, but I think she's doing just fine. If you're worried about it, ask her.”
I sigh. “These things aren't easy for me. Y'remember?”
“What I said last night meant nothing to you then?”
My face goes red as I remember what transpired last night. “You think we could forget about that?”
Lyra looks at me, astounded. “You're seriously embarrassed about all that?”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
She doesn't respond.
I look up to see a two-story apartment building in front of me. The sky above it is a perfect light blue with small puffy clouds dotting it like blotches on canvas. I see a blue pegasus lounging on a cloud a little in distance. Her rainbow colored mane lazily drifts in tune to the wind. Another pony that strikes me. I chuckle a little as a grey mare with a yellow mane crashes into her. The blue mare waves and waggles her hooves at her, scared out of her wits.
“Who're those ponies,” I ask while pointing to the two pegasi on the cloud.
Lyra giggles, seeing their antics. “Those two are Rainbow Dash and Derpy Hooves. They're polar opposites when it comes down to it. Still, against all odds, they’ve managed to stay friends for as long as I can remember.”
I see the gray pony hunch her head with sadness at Rainbow Dash's scolding. Quickly, the blue pony grabs her into a hug, petting her yellow mane. After some time, Derpy lifts her head back up and makes some wry remark, made apparent by Rainbow's reaction. The blue pony waves her arms in the air, chest heaving with laughter. Looking closely I can see tears of mirth fly in all directions as she pulls Derpy into a tighter hug, who tries to struggle out of it.
They're so...
A tear slides down my cheek before I can catch it. I try to wipe it away before Lyra notices, but my rapid hand motion attracts her attention.
She looks at me, grinning. “Caught that.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I mumble, avoiding her gaze.
“Seriously.” Lyra punches me in the arm. “You can be so uptight sometimes. How about you chill out? You know me better than anypony.”
“Yeah...”
Lyra punches me again. “You're stubborn, you know that human?”
“Could you stop punching me?” I say, a little irritated. “It doesn't hurt, but anything after the first time just gets frustrating.”
Lyra smiles. “It's just...you're so punch-able. I dunno, sometimes I can't help it. Something tells me you're just trying to avoid the topic at hand though.” She looks at me expectantly.
“About me being stubborn?”
“About your inability to chill out.”
“I really do try, you know that right?”
“Yeah...”
I look at Lyra incredulously. “Now you're the one to drop from the conversation?”
“Just thinking.”
I let her think and look out to my surroundings once more. Both Rainbow and Derpy are gone now, most likely hanging out on a different cloud or visiting some friends. I gaze at the apartment building in front of me again. All of the windows are closed, shutters drawn; there is nothing to catch my attention, nor stimulate my brain. I let out a sigh, feeling restless.
“What is your status with Twilight?” Lyra asks.
“Ehhh, I guess you could call us acquaintances.”
“She's got some psychology knowledge, I bet she could help.”
“Eurgh. I'm not sure I want to consider that an option.”
“Comon. Don't be a wuss.”
I look at her, grinning. “Don't you use my weakness against me.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “Quite frankly, it's too late, and even if I could, I wouldn't take it back.”
“Well.” I stand up. “I guess we're off to Twilight's house.”
I hit myself in the face with my hand. “Why am I regretting this already? Nothing but trouble comes with Twilight involved, even with her on my side.” I can see Twilight's house pulling up in front of me as I walk forward with shaky limbs.
Lyra looks at me, frowning. “Really? Have you thought about how Twilight might be feeling? Who knows what emotions she's got stoked up from that whole monologue fiasco? It's our job to make sure we didn't cause any harm.” Lyra pushes me forward a bit with her shoulder. “Get a move on.”
I jam my feet into the cobblestone pathway, trying my best to hunker in place. “Y'know, this idea never felt good from the start, I think I'm just gonna--”
“Move!” Lyra yells, shoving me forward. “I had to listen to you whine and complain all the way up here! This is going to happen!”
Stunned, I managed to stutter out, “J-jeez, t-tone it down a bit. I was just testing your resolve.”
Lyra continues to herd me forward until we reach Twilight's door.
“Now knock,” Lyra growls.
“S-sure.” I lift my hand and knock on Twilight's door. Just seconds later a pink aura surrounds it and swings it open.
“Hello! My name is--” Halfway through her pre-planned introduction, Twilight notices that it's me. “Come in.”
I inspect her face, afraid of the mood I might find. To my surprise, it’s neutral.
I follow her in.
Lyra follows me, but not without whispering menacingly in my ear, “Now tell her why you're here.”
“I...I...uh...” I trail off.
Twilight looks up at me expectantly.
Lyra gives me a nudge in the back with her elbow.
“Could you?...uhhhh...What I wanted was...uuuhhhhhhhh...I...okay.” I take a deep breath. “Psychology. You do psychology right?”
Twilight crinkles her face with confusion. “Err, what do you mean I do psychology? I've studied it before, sure, but what exactly are you asking?”
I scratch my head, embarrassed. “Ahhhh, I need...I need help. I have a lot of trouble loosening up around ponies, and I want you to help.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Loosening up as innnnn...”
“It's just...I have a lot of trouble expressing emotion around others without feeling scared, much less embarrassed.” I rub my arm.
“Social distress huh?” Twilight says, rubbing her chin. “I can help, but it'll take some time. Let's say...about a month of visits every three days?”
“Ahhh,” I say, my voice dry with doubt. “You're saying that something I've had to live with for who knows how long can be fixed in the space of a month?”
“Who said anything about fixing?”
I walk out of Twilight's house, my head throbbing from the amount of introspection I had been forced to do. While it was a large amount of mental effort on my part to keep up with Twilight's questions, something about this visit’s cleansed me. “Well, that was fun,” I say to Lyra, who trots on my right. “You think you want to attend the next meet-up?”
“Nah. This whole meeting wasn't exactly meant for me and it isn't going to be in the future.”
“Yeah...” I trail off, but quickly come up with an idea. “Since this whole meeting thing's over, how about you teach my how to play the harp?”
“Sorry human, I still have some street performing to do. This whole meeting with Twilight has already delayed me three hours.”
I frown. “You wouldn't mind if I just stuck by and listened would you?”
“Of course not.”- Lyra says while punching me in the arm -”I'd be glad to have you as company.” She grins for a moment as a thought strikes her. “After all, as a human, you've certainly been this pony's best friend.”
For the rest of the day, I listen to Lyra play her harp.
It’s fascinating really, how those hooves can produce such melodious sounds, moving passionately across taut strings. Beautiful notes make their way into my brain, coding it with peace and joy.
I watch as the sun sets before me, the blue sky turning into a powerful dark orange.
I watch cheerful ponies walk past me, so full of life, abundant with love.
I watch as the sky turns black, stars shining brightly in it’s peaceful, comforting embrace.
I watch the cheerful ponies settle down, saying their goodnights, and eagerly awaiting the dawn of a new day.
I watch as I myself change in accordance to Lyra’s soul melting tones, the beauty of the sky, and the lives of countless pony folk unmarred by the fears of Darwinist life.
I wake up to the prodding of Lyra's hoof. It isn't on any practical spots either, like my arm, or shoulder...even my head for that matter.
She's prodding my hand.
I snatch it away before any licking can commence. “Can a human let his guard down without getting violated in this place?”
Lyra just glares at me. “You remember our deal don't you? Hand it over.”
I pause for a moment not sure how to respond to the pun.
“What?” she asks.
“You just, you just...” I point at her, still not sure whether that pun she'd uttered was intentional.
“Are you gonna give your hand over or what?” she says, completely oblivious to what had transpired. “I'm willing to use force if necessary.” Her eyes take on a dangerous ferocity.
I sigh. “Whatever, but I actually want go somewhere today. I'm sure you enjoy touching my hand immensely, but for me, it can get really boring.” A thought strikes me. “Aren't you supposed to be street performing today?”
“Nah, today is my day off.”
I look at her skeptically. “You took like three days off when I first got here.”
Lyra avoids my gaze. “Jeez, let a pony live for once.”
I grin. “Can you really say that? I mean, you're kind of holding me as a slave here, forcing me to offer up my hand in return for a place to live. Let a human live for once.”
Lyra bats at my face, I dodge. She says, “I water and feed you. Not to mention take you on very long walks. You've got it better than Fluttershy's pets!”
I'm reminded of the yellow pegasus I'd seen in the marketplace quite some time ago, tending to her pets. “Does this Fluttershy have a pink mane and yellow fur?”
“Yeah, how'd you know?”
“I remember seeing her in the marketplace my first time out and about.”
“She stuck out to you didn't she?”
“Yeah.”
She nods knowingly. “All six of them do.”
I list them off, “Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Twilight, and Pinkie.” Ahahaha, how could I forget about Pinkie. “Who’s the last one?
“Rarity.”
“Aaaand, what's she like? What sticks out about her?”
“She's definitely a stick in the eye.” Lyra sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, she gives all of the ponies in Ponyville a bunch of free stuff...it’s just, something about her seems...so insincere.”
“I can see why that would be irritating.”
A pause.
“If you want to see for yourself, I could take you to Carousel Boutique.”
I grin. “A trip there sounds better than what you've got planned for my hands.” I can already feel my fingers going numb due to my blood circulation being cut off. While Lyra knows full well that I’m not going to snatch my hand from her, she likes to pin my arm down regardless, preventing blood flow to my hand. Little needles prick my fingers, but I'm too amused at her catlike antics to really do anything.
Lyra protests. “Ah shut up. Once they go dead and cold I'll let you recover.”
“Sure you will.”
After another hour of hand-prodding and petting we finally make it to Carousel Boutique. A pony's voice chimes in from the counter at the back as we enter through an ornate purple door. “Hello! Welcome to Carousel Boutique! Feel free to browse, chat, or simply sleep!”
I hear the voice whisper to itself a few seconds later, “Oh dear, let’s not use that catchphrase again.”
“Is that her?” I ask, looking at the white coated, purple maned pony, sewing a dress behind the counter. I could see she did well hiding it in her voice, but one look at her furrowed brow told me she was stressed out. I wonder where her workers are?
“Yeah,” Lyra responds, a great amount of disdain in her voice. “She looks busy, we shouldn't bother her.”
I walk up to the counter, unfazed. On the way, I can't help but admire the simple swirls designs on the carpet below me. They fit this atmosphere so well.
I make it to the counter and clear my throat.
The fashionable pony looks up at me, her eyes a little bloodshot. She doesn't seem very surprised by my odd form, no doubt because of the countless rumors that had spread throughout Ponyville.
“Could make some gloves for me?”
She looks at me, confused. “Gloves?” Without waiting for me to respond, she continues. “Whatever these gloves are, I'm sure I could make them for you, but I've got such a backlog of orders on me, I doubt I could get them to you any sooner than next week. Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, a little dissapointed.
“Alrighty then,” she plops down the dress she had been working on. “What are these gloves supposed to look like?”
I hold out my hand. “It's pretty much cloth that covers all of my digits,”- I wiggle my fingers -”as well as up to my wrist.”
Rarity levitates some tape measure up to her.
I can't help but rub my eyes at the sight of it. “What do you want me to do?”
“Oh, just hold your hand up to me dear.”
I lift my hand towards Rarity. “Like this?”
“Perfect.” She gives me a brilliant smile and proceeds to measure my hand.
I feel a small irritating sensation on the back of my neck and turn around. I can see Lyra staring at me with unabashed jealousy in her eyes. Slowly, I turn back around, hoping to keep the situation at a low simmer.
While doing the measurements, Rarity says, “I've never seen your type in Ponyville before. I’ve heard rumors, of course, but to actually meet you in person is nothing short of exciting! How exactly did you get to Ponyville? I'm dying to know.”
I scratch my head with my other hand. “I'm not really sure, to be honest.”
“Surely you must remember something.”
“I don't mean to dissapoint you, but all I remember is that I woke up in this strange place with a serious head wound.” I pause for a moment. “It was painful.”
“Ohhh my,” Rarity fawns over me. “You're better now I hope? I just couldn't have a new visitor in so much pain under Ponyville's regal hospitality. It'd be such a shame! Still, you look like you’re fine.”
“I am.” I smile at her. “But, I admit, those first few days were agonizing. So much so that I had to keep my body still, or else my head would cause me nauseating pain. I even contemplated ending it all, right then and there!”
“Oh my, you don't mean to tell me--”
I nod in response. “They were some difficult times.”
“Goodness gracious! You're definitely one tough creature!” Rarity taps her chin in thought for a second. “Y'know, how about I make you these gloves for free? If it could do anything to sate the scars you might have left after your encounter, I'd be glad to help.”
My eyes widen. “Oh nonono. I'm perfectly fine now. Stronger even.”
Rarity shushes me. “Dear, don't make excuses. I'll have these gloves made for you in no time, and what's better? All for free!”
“Ehehehe.” I scuff my foot on the floor. “If you wouldn't have it any other way...”
“Nonsense darling, run along now. I've got work to do if I'm going to get your gloves done any time soon!” Rarity waves me off.
Slowly, abashedly, I walk out with Lyra, who had been waiting by the doorway with an ugly frown on her face.
I notice, however, a smirk take the place of her foul disposition.
She remarks, “You're a tricky little devil.”
Guiltily, I shove my hands into my pockets and glance away. “I didn't mean to get the gloves for free, honest.”
“Yeah?”
“If you must know, I was just trying to get some sympathy from that mare. With the faces you've been making in my direction, it should be no surprise.”
Lyra snorts. “You sound so regal, saying phrases like 'if you must know' and 'it should be no surprise'. What are you trying to do? Justify your devilish actions by speaking about them in fancy words?”
I shove her. “Nooo. But that doesn't matter. It's okay to lay it on thick to get some sympathy from others isn't it? I mean, it makes me feel happy.”
“You've got to watch out for the other pony too though. You don't want poor Rarity staying up at night, worrying about something that didn't really happen to you do you?”
“I did go through a lot of pain that first day.”
“I know, but I seriously doubt you actually considered,”- Lyra puts her hooves up as quotations -”ending it all, right then and there.”
I kick at the ground. “You're right.”
“Lies can serve their purposes but--”
“Lyra,” I interrupt her. “Please stop with the lecturing, I get your point.”
“Okay.”
It was on the fourth day of Yesteryear that Lyra Heartstrings and I, The Human, ventured forth boldly into what may be known as the land that holds all evil, renown for its corruption due solely to its one, despicable, deplorable, indescribable inhabitant. Knowing full well of the horrors that awaited them in such a terrifying place, both creatures looked to each other with synonymous looks of courage, their eyes glinting with the resolve to finally confront the demon that had plagued their homeland, just three days earlier.
Both Lyra and I walk into Sugarcube corner, watching as, right on cue, Pinkie Pie comes bouncing up to us, hyped on sugar, and ready to quickly overwhelm us with countless words of expertly misplaced themes.
With a surgeon's precision, I manage to blurt out, “How's it going Pinkie?” before she so much as gets a chance to embarrass us.
She freezes. The concept that she doesn't need to be the start of every conversation almost shuts her down completely. Unfortunately for us, she recovers. “Great! Thanks for asking!” She gasps, figuring out what she was going to say earlier. “You wanna know about something great that happened to me today?!”
“That depends,” Lyra remarks dryly. “Does it involve human and pony foal hybrids?”
“Nope.”
“Okay then, be my guest.” Quickly, Lyra adds, “But please be gentle.” Her eyes waver with fear. No doubt, my expression mirrors hers at that crucial moment.
“I got socks!”
“Cool?” I say, not sure how to react.
“Yep. Totally cool. I'm going to wear them every Wednesday and start up a whole new fashion trend! Once everypony sees me kickin' it with hooves all padded up, they're sure to be jealous, just you wait and see!”
I smirk. “I like this idea.” A thought strikes me. “But...I want you to do something for me.”
“What's that?”
“If this fashion trend picks up, I want to make sure you keep in mind that--” I pause for dramatic effect. “--I wore socks before it was cool. I mean seriously, look.” I pull up my pant leg to show Pinkie that I'm still wearing socks.
“Oooh, I see. I'll definitely make sure to keep that in mind.” Pinkie suddenly gets distracted by something at the back of the store. “Cya! I've got to go check out something indiscriminate at the back of the store that neither you nor the reader care about!” She bounces off.
(Oh. My. Gosh. So that's what she meant at the time.)
“Who's this reader she's talking about?” I ask Lyra.
“Beat's me.” A pause. “What are we doing just standing here?! There are cupcakes to enjoy!”
We eat cupcakes.
Both of us leave Sugarcube Corner, our stomachs' full of unhealthy treats, no doubt bound to give us stomachaches hours later. In just half a minute, the afternoon sun warms us to the point of nausea, already offering us premonitions of our soon-to-be consequences.
My stomach gurgles. “Uh oh.”
Lyra's echoes in response. I look over to see that her face has gone from pale mint green to a slightly paler mint green. She turns toward me, her expression desperate. “Let's hurry, I'm not feeling too good.”
“Yeah,” I barely respond, holding in the bile fated to come out.
Practically breaking down the door, I barrel through the entrance to Lyra's house and make a dive for the bathroom sink.
Bon Bon jumps in fright as I rush past her a fall just inches short of the sink, emptying my stomach's contents on the floor. “Sorry,” I moan.
Right after I say that, Lyra barrels in, frightening Bon Bon for a second time. The green pony makes a dive for the sink, just like me, but at the last second, trips over my prone body and slides face first into the bathtub. A dull thunk resounds throughout the house, followed by disgusting vomiting sounds. “Dangit human,” she growls, out of breath. “I would've made it if you weren't laying there.”
“Sorry,” I say again, too weak to try and defend myself. Though the corner of my eye, I see Bon Bon rushing off to get a mop, her hooves skimpering rapidly to match the speed of the situation.
Seconds later, she comes back, a mop, bucket, and pair of towels resting on her back.
She tosses the pair of towels towards us. “Get up,” she says, her voice snappy.
We both get up slowly, trying to keep our footing, towels in hand, or in Lyra's case, her mouth.
On my way to Lyra's room, I see Bon Bon slip on a bit of my vomit. With a sickening squelch, her face hits my main bile puddle.
I want to laugh, but restrain myself, finally walking into the room after Lyra, shutting the door behind me. There's nothing to do but look at the floor with glazed eyes, hoping for my body to recover. “I swear. You ponies should've learned of some instant remedies while figuring out levitation.”
“I do know a pon-errr-zebra that could do that, but she lives in Everfree Forest.”
I look at Lyra, my eyes widening. “Your kind really does have a solution to everything. Why can’t we meet her though, it can’t be that far away.”
“Weeeelll. The Everfree Forest does have its Timber-wolves...and cockatrices...and--”
“Wait, cockatrices? What're those?”
“Dragon chicken hybrids,” Lyra says, matter of factly.
“That doesn't sound so--”
“The thing is--”
“They breath fire?”
Lyra's eyes bulge with anger. “No! Let me speak. They turn you to stone if you look them in the eyes. Like, seriously.”
“Like, instantly?”
“Yep.”
“You just don't have to look at them right?” I say, acting as if this creature wasn't all that bad.
“Yeah, but when you're in a dark forest with a bunch of scary sounds, you're going to be looking at everything.”
“And there's no way you could make glasses for these creatures huh?”
“Nope, anything you can see out of won't protect you.”
“That's overpowered.”
“...I guess you could say that.”
I scratch my head in thought. “How does Zecora survive then?”
“She's got her ways.”
I frown at Lyra. “Seriously. Are you trying to crush my hopes and dreams of meeting a zebra with instant curing abilities?”
She looks at me as if I'd gone crazy. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Before our argument can escalate, I hear a tap tap tapping on Lyra's window. A pink hoof is beating at the glass, somewhat fervently.
Lyra opens her window just as Pinkie Pie lifts her head up. A bonk resonates throughout the room as the window and the pink pony’s skull connects.
I look over in to see Pinkie Pie's eyes cross right before she collapses to the ground. Once again, I suppress the urge to laugh.
Lyra looks at me, barely restrained mirth etched on her face. “Oops,” she squeaks out before breaking out into uncontrolled laughter.
I try to keep the situation serious. “C'mon Lyra, you could've given her a concussion.” At that, the right side of my lip twitches before finally giving in to laughter.
We come to our senses about ten seconds later.
“We should probably make sure she's okay,” I say.
“Yeah yeah.”
We peek over the window to see her waking up. “Strange really,” Pinkie yawns. “I swear I just got hit by a window.”
Lyra gives a short, sharp snort. “Ehehe, that was probably your imagination.”
“I am prone to taking naps in random places. Very unexpectedly too. It's always right in front of hard metal objects though. Funny...” she trails off in thought.
Lyra's face stretches down in horror. “Pinkie I--”
“No matter!” she squeals. “I just came to tell you that I might've, could've, should'nt've, done something to those cupcakes you ate.” She hoofs at the ground, embarrassed.
I glare at her, my tone of voice suddenly going deadly. “You didn't.”
She smiles at me nervously. “I might've dabbled a bit of...a bit of...”
“Go on...”
“Well, you know...you know...a bit of...arsenic.”
“Arsenic huh?”
“Yeah...arsenic.”
I look at Lyra to see her mouth agape. Clearly she hadn't seen this one coming. “And you didn't realize after your first experience in feeding customers arsenic that doing so was a bad thing?”
“Well, you see. It was just a smidge. Smaller than last time actually. All I wanted was to give that extra nutty--”
I sigh. “Could you make me a promise?”
“That depends,” she says cautiously. “If you want to have my soul, send me to a place called Earth, tell me to sign the terms and agreements, have me wage war against the Zorgons, or get me to protest with a picket sign at an old mare's convention the answer to you is get in line.”
“Wha?”
“It's one of my shorter stories actually. You see--”
“Nonono,” I protest. “Please don't tell me any stories right now. All I want you to do is stop putting arsenic in your cupcakes. For my sake, as well as all of the ponies in Ponyville's sake.”
“No problem!” She starts to bounce away, but stops. “So all's forgiven then?”
“Yeah, as long as you don't break your promise.”
“Kay!” With that, she goes for a roadrunner exit.
We sit in silence for a few seconds.
“You smell like vomit,” Lyra remarks.
I chuckle. “Let’s get washed up.”
Alas, as quickly as this day's adventures had started, the end came rushing in.
I had but the chance to give Lyra's hoof a simple poke before passing out on my hastily arranged blankets, drowsiness getting the better of me.
Quick! Get over here! We've got a response!
Really? So soon?
Turns out the brain...much more responsive to...than expected.
That so huh?
Yes sir. He can hear us too.
Really? Hello? Are you there?
He can't respond. It won't last for long ei
“You stood up to them, huh?” Mom says, brushing the bruise on my cheek. “Very brave of my son.”
“Well. I kinda stood up to them. Enough for him to run. The bully punched me after that, so I ran too.”
She chuckles. “You should still be proud. Not many get as far as you do.”
“I kinda wish I was still that 'not many.' What am I going to do now? The bully will pick on me for sure now.”
“Don't worry hon, I'll get the school to handle it.”
“Pinkie Pie.” I wailed, the world around me revolving in a skittles tornado whispering sweet nothings into my ear.
I looked down to see myself standing in icing. Minty-thick, succulent, and fressshhhhhhhh...
Once again, I cried out in agony. “Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pieeeeeee...I need to taste-”
Gumdrops started to thud into the frosting around me, quickly scattering the skittle tornado. I saw, from the tiny particulates on each individual gumdrop, that they were the sour kind.
I looked at them suspiciously, not at all aware of the danger around me. “Don't you look at me like that. Sour is not the right kind to trust and you know it.” The gumdrop I'd focused my attention on melted into the minty frosting. Over the period of fifteen seconds the gumdrop hail stopped, of which the aftermath quickly melted into the ground.
The sun moved higher in the sky, a large popsicle stick clearly stuck to one end. I felt as if I were beholden to a god, looking at this heavenly body, so I immediately went prostrate into the soft, relaxing, fresshhhh, mint-frosting. However, in the middle of my humble procedure of making a face down frosting-angel, my ears were struck by the powerful vibrations of the TRUE god of Partland.
I lifted my shaking head to behold a sight of wonder. There before me, stood a throne of candied chestnuts, large enough to hold an army of even the most vicious candy clans. Supporting this creation of divine wonder stood a fifty layer cake, each layer reinforced with the Fondant of Ages, known throughout for its steel-like resilience in the presence of honey, our nation's most feared weapon of mass destruction.
Upon this fifty-layered cake and candied chestnut throne sat the most confectionery of all creations that there were to exist. Our ruler, Pinkie Pie. The clothes she bore on that fateful day consisted of nothing but mousse, known in all the land as the most unstable, least usable, but tastiest treat known to the chocolate specimen.
Her voice, resounding with the sound of five hundred gumdrop storms all meeting together in a glorious conglomeration of frightening chaos stated thus. “YOU BOW TO THE WRONG CONFECTION. WHAT SAY YOU, OH CITIZEN?”
Stunned and humbled beyond all words, my mere mortal self managed to utter, “All that I ask, O great one, is that you allow me just one bite of that cotton candy mane you hold so dear.” My eyes watered at the prospect of tasting the very personage of all that Candytopia held dear. Clearly, having just the chance to ask her this question was a great honor.
“FOOL!” she bellowed. “DO YOU KNOW MY ELEVATION IN COMPARISON TO YOUR MERE MORTAL STATUS?! TO OFFER EVEN A PIECE OF MY CLOTHING WOULD BE UNSPEAKABLE.” Just as these words were uttered, the Pink Pony disappeared from her candied throne, just to appear right in front of me, her royal mousse clothing nowhere to be seen.
“Buuuut,” she said in a much calmer voice. “I'm feelin' it today, so have a try.”
It was then that my jaw dropped eons wide as Pinkie sidled closer to me, thrusting out her mane for me to have a sampling of her glorious candy-hair.
Full of anticipation and excitement, I opened my mouth wide and leaned towards her as the seconds ticked sluggishly by.
There it was, right there.
It was filling my vision.
Delicious cotton candy.
Nom.
I find out very quickly that what I'm nomming on isn't cotton candy. After all cotton candy tastes like sugar...sweet stuff. What I taste is fur...and flesh.
My eyes pop open. I'd been eating Lyra's hoof.
I pull her hoof away from my mouth and embarrassingly enough, it makes a short sucking noise before I let it drop to the ground in front of me.
My whole body goes tense as I squeak out, “Sorry.” Naturally, my ears and forehead turn a deep shade of red.
Lyra looks at me for a moment, emotionless, then looks down at her hoof with disgust. “Ewww. You definitely slobber a lot more than most ponies.”
I don't respond, practically dying from embarrassment.
She giggles a bit, dispelling a bit of the awkward tension. “I probably shouldn't have let you do that.”
“Y-you mean you let me do that?”
“Yeah.”
I sigh. “Why would you let me do that?”
“I kinda...wanted to see what it felt like.”
“That's really weird, disturbing actually.”
Lyra remains unashamed. “I'm not a normal pony...aaaaand...well...I kinda let you do that because you would have to let me lick your hand in response as an apology.” At this, she hoofs at the ground abashedly.
I'm not about to let my hand get Shanghai'd to Lyra of all ponies. “Hahaha no.” My face goes expressionless. “Not going to happen.”
“Mmhmmm. You owe me.”
“I owe you for doing something that I had no control over? How about I also mention how you could've stopped that from happening by yourself?”
Lyra shrugs. “What can I say? Your grip was too strong. I tried to escape, but two hoofs are nothing compared to ten digits.”
I cock my eyebrows at her. “That's not what I heard just a few seconds ago. You told me yourself that you let it happen.”
“I don't remember that.” She looks at me coolly.
I try to respond, but am quickly interrupted.
“What were you even dreaming about anyways? You were moaning 'Pinkie' over and over again.”
I blush, again. “I-it's not what you think. I swear.”
Lyra grins. “You were trying to get a taste of that cotton candy mane huh?” she says, winking. “...you're blushing.”
“Could you stop?” I say, a bit too loudly. “If you're that curious, I was trying to get a literal bite out of her cotton candy mane, which in my dream, was actually made out of cotton candy. Nothing sensual.”
Both of us stop talking to hear Bon Bon laughing it up in the room right next to us.
Lyra looks at me.
I look at Lyra.
She smirks.
“Don't you start,” I say, my voice trying its best to sound serious.
“Uuugh, I'm so bored,” I complain.
Lyra stops strumming her harp. “Go do something.”
“I've got nothing to do. I don't know Ponyville enough to go wandering around.” Exasperated, I sink lower into the bench we're resting on, to the delight of the ring of ponies that had gathered around my side.
“What an odd way to sit,” one whispers. “I wonder if it's comfortable.” Another one adds, “It'd definitely do to air out my gen-”
I choose to block out the rest of the conversation.
Lyra says, “It's okay. I'll find you, well, maybe, but Pinkie's pretty good at helping out townsfolk, so you should be fine. If you want to stay, stay. I could use the extra attention.” She gestures to the group of ponies that had started to emulate my sitting style, revealing to all the world their gender.
“Yeahhhh, I'll be leaving now.”
After about ten minutes of wandering aimlessly through Ponyville, I could genuinely say I was lost. But not the scary kind of lost that you feel when separated from your parents at Disneyland. I was simply...lost.
At least I'd shaken my followers.
I walk down yet another one of Ponyville's beaten cobblestone paths, hoping against all odds that something strange and exciting would happen to me. Truly, with Pinkie Pie on the prowl, something would happen.
Beautiful gardens begin to flank the path I walk on, full of vibrant flowers. Chrysanthemums, lilies, and hydrangeas dot the landscape to my left and right, striking me with their immaculate hues of yellow, pink, and blue.
Further out to my right, I see a nice shaded spot in a green meadow, where a tree stands on its own.
It strikes me that taking a nap there would be heavenly, with the scent of the flowers intoxicating my nostrils, so, I walk over to the tree, being careful not to trample any flowers.
Just as I'm about to lay down, however, I see a bush rustle along the treeline bordering the meadow. A long pink tail pokes out from the back of it, and every now and then, I see a light yellow face peek out from the other end.
...the heck? Did I intrude on a picnic spot or something? Wait...it's Fluttershy!
“Hi,” I say, feeling a little awkward. “You don't need to hide from me you know.”
No response.
“I'm harmless. I promise.”
Still nothing.
I won't be able to take a nap if she keeps peeking at me like that.
I go for the pity approach. “Why is it ponies never want to talk to me?” I wail, in a terrible acting voice. “Is it because I'm ugly?” I try to squeeze tears out, but it doesn't work. Instead, I just make loud sniffing noises.
No response.
“It's like I'm the plague or something...nopony will ever love me will they?” I look at my feet miserably.
Fluttershy speaks up in that quiet voice of hers. “Hey! That's not true!”
I look up at her.
She squeaks and hides behind the bush again.
I sigh. “That's what everypony told me when I was a foal. They always made fun of my looks. Why can't two legged creatures and four legged creatures just get along?” I pull off a very fake sob.
I hear a pattering of footsteps and soon, Fluttershy is by my side. “Who made fun of you?! I'll teach them a lesson right away!” she says, her voice stern, but ever so soft.
“Oh, it's nothing to worry about.” I take a moment to sniff. “I just want company is all.”
She pats my hip with her hoof. “That's perfectly fine. As long as it makes you feel better.”
I sit down and she curls up next to me.
Well, at least I have something to do now, even if it isn't napping.
“Why were you hiding from me?” I ask.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I just get so nervous when meeting strangers. Please don't think it's because you look weird.”
“I won't, don't worry.” Why was she here in the first place? “Still, why did you come here?”
“Oh.” Fluttershy blushes a little bit. “This is my favorite picnic spot. After I'm done tending to Angel and all the other animals, it's nice to relax under this tree.”
Who's Angel...probably just some pet dog. “Wait, you said this is your favorite picnic spot. Where'd you leave the food?”
“Oh sh-” she cuts herself off. “Gimme just a second,” she says, scurrying off for the bush she had been hiding in.
A few seconds later, she comes back with a picnic basket in her mouth. A cliché red and white checkered-board blanket covers the food. “I'm really sorry I didn't make any food for you. Once I'm finished, I'd be glad to make something for you though.”
“I'm okay,” I quickly respond. I'd just eaten well at the Hearthfire Cafe with Lyra, making sure to order something other than apple juice to drink.
“Move for a second please,” she says.
I scoot out of the way as she unfurls the red and white blanket and spreads it under the tree cover. She sits on it and motions for me to follow.
I plop down, the warm afternoon sun sapping the strength from me. Cute munching noises ensue from the corner of my vision and I try my best to keep my heart from dissolving. As preventative measures, I take a deep breath and sigh.
Something about hanging out with Fluttershy feels so reverent, calm. It's kinda ironic considering she gets really nervous around strangers.
I lay down on the blanket, passively absorbing the sun while letting myself drift off into the comforting embrace of Fluttershy's company.
*poke*
Something is poking my face very very softly. I don't move at first, waiting a few seconds to get my bearings. Eventually though, I open my eyes, expecting to see Fluttershy.
Turns out it's just a small bunny. It continues to poke my face in an effort to get me up.
I sit up and look around. Fluttershy is nowhere to be seen, but right behind me I notice a basket of cheese, bread, and carrots.
The bunny tugs on my pants leg, motioning with its other paw to get moving.
I oblige, but not without my own groans of protest.
After I step off the checkered blanket the bunny starts to fold it up.
I look at the basket again, not sure if it's a gift, or if the bunny itself had set up its own picnic. After walking away for a few seconds, I feel a little tug on my pants again.
The bunny gestures to the gift basket and makes an eating motion with his paws, then points to me.
“Ohhhhh,” I say, finally understanding. “You want me to take it?”
It nods, then goes about folding the blanket again.
I take the basket and make to leave, but at the last second, add, “Make sure to thank Fluttershy for me.” You idiot, bunnies can't talk. How's he going to pass on that message?
I ignore my thoughts and walk back in the direction of the city, hoping that Pinkie will somehow find me and guide the way back to Lyra.
It didn't take her very long to poof into existence right next to me, but I admit, she was a few minutes later than usual.
“What's up?” exclaims the pink pony that had suddenly materialized next to me.
“Hey Pinkie. Could you tell me how to get back to Lyra?”
She scratches her chin shrewdly, taking a moment to stop walking. “That depends.”
I jerk to a halt. “Why's that?”
“I think I'm gonna have to ask you a favor.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of favor exactly?”
“It's nothing too big really...”
“Why, exactly am I holding a picket sign at an old mare's convention?” I ask, holding a picket sign at an old mare's convention.
Before me, the meeting hall consists of one large table meant to seat around twenty ponies. About half of the participants are seated, and already, I’m getting the occasional death stare from them.
“You're helping me fulfill a promise!” she exclaims.
I look down at the picket sign I'd been given a few seconds ago. It reads, 'Why grow old, when you can get bold!'
“What does it even mean?”
“Oh, the picket sign? Not much really, its just I lost a bet with a friend, and this was my punishment.”
“...isn't making someone else do the punishment breaking your promise?”
She thinks about it for a moment. “Nah, I think we're good. It wasn't a Pinkie Promise so I don't have to get all technical.”
“How long do I have to stand here? The death stares are already making me quiver,” I say gesturing to the few elderly folks that had decided laser beam vision would indeed work on me.
“'Till I get back.”
“Wai-” I start to say, but somehow, in that split second of time, she'd managed to leave through the only door on the opposite side of the room.
The first few minutes of waiting go by seamlessly, the elderly only choosing to glance angrily at me from time to time.
At about five minutes though, multiple loud conversations spring up among the hearing-deficient ponies about how I'm being 'most definitely rude.'
“...truly. I'd think a draconeques would learn to be more polite after taking six elements of harmony to the face...”
I can't help but fidget a little at their complaints, but I have to do this, lest Pinkie leave me in Ponyville, completely lost.
Ten minutes later, the meeting starts, making me feel awkward as all get out. The head of the committee announces that two new seniors would be joining the monthly meetings shortly due to their recent shift into the Apple Acres Establishment. Even with this distraction, about half the board seems to be more focused on me than these two potential members.
A total of thirty minutes later, I stand shivering as all of the ponies of the board meeting swarm around me.
“What is the meaning of this?” the leader of the committee asks, having not seen me until a few seconds ago.
What could pass for the elderly as seething is what they were doing to me now.
“Ummmmm, I'm not sure...”
This offends the committee leader. “Chap. Are you making fun of our loosey goosey memories?!”
“I, no! I'm sorry. I'll go if you want me to.” Already, I can feel my ears going red as I bashfully look at the floor.
He thinks for a moment. “Ehhhhh. To be honest, I'm just not sure what the sign means. Why grow old, when you can get bold? Is that meant to be a euphemism? I dearly hope not.”
“Oh, of course not. I'm just helping a friend settle a bet. I doubt the message is meant to mean anything at all.”
I look up to see the elderly brown pony scratching his long, scraggly beard. “It definitely doesn't seem that way...”
I start to panic. “I'm really sorry sir. I'll be going now.”
“Oh no!” he protests. “I'm actually intrigued by this message. There's something profound about it. Would you mind sitting at the table with us?”
“Sure, I guess.”
And just like that, I find myself in the middle of a debate among elderly ponies at an old mare's convention.
“Ludicrous,” I say. “The answer is most definitely not forty two. It's not even a prime number for goodness sake. I'm telling you, the message is about...”
“Young colt! You say you have all this experience, yet we out-age you five to one. I'm telling you, the answer is forty-two. I read it in a book!”
I've just about had it with this pony. “Just because you read it in a book doesn't mean it's true! Who was the author?! Are they even trustable?! Beyond that, the answer to forty-two doesn't even make sense! What does 'why grow old, when you can be bold' mean?” I say this next part sarcastically. “Forty-two.”
The old, pale-green pony looks at me dejectedly, then slouches back into his seat. “Harrumph.”
The leader of the committee butts in. “Now, I don't mean to interrupt, but I believe human speaks the truth. The answer 'forty-two' just doesn't make sense. We can come to a consensus on that right?”
Slowly, the stubborn old pony nods. “I suppose. Still, what is the message supposed to mean then?” The pony nods aggressively in my direction. “Since you seem to know it all, why don't you tell us?”
I'm a little taken aback, but recover quickly. “I think this message is telling us that we should never give up on what we want to do, no matter how old we get. Age, disabilities, even hum--er...pony limitations mean nothing when you move forward, fearless of what might go wrong.”
No pony speaks up for some time, and I get excited that my opinion has finally been taken into account.
“I still think forty-two is the answer,” the old green pony grumbles.
I sigh. “Oh, for goodness sakes. Something tells me I'm never going to convince you guys.”
“Don't worry. You've convinced me a great deal!” I hear a different pony say.
“Good!” I look for the pony that'd said that. Finding nopony, I continue. “At least one pony understands me.”
“You ready to go human?” the same pony asks.
“Who's saying that?” I look frantically around.
“Me!”
I jump back in fright, accidentally hitting Pinkie Pie with my chair, where she'd been standing behind me.
“Ow!”
“Oh! Sorry Pinkie.” I rub my face into my hands. “Just having an argument with these old folks. I might've been a little high-strung.”
“No problem!”
I look at her and notice that she's wearing socks again. They'd turned from white to brown, and a few holes were starting to form near her hoof-heels. “Today's a Wednesday isn't it?” I say, expecting her to understand.
“Uhhhh, I'm not sure. Is it? Why'd you even ask me in the first place?”
“But...didn't you say that you'd only wear s-”
She interrupts me. “Socks? Ohhhhh, the socks. Yeah...they're comfy! Wearing them one day a week isn't nearly enough!”
“You need to treat them better though. Do you see how quickly they're wearing out? Something tells me socks in the shape of Swiss cheese aren't comfortable.”
She smiles. “I bet it would taste yummy!”
I give her a horrified look. “You really mean that?! They're all dirty...and sweat infused...”
“Ahahaha! The hoof cheese would spice it up!”
I look at her, not in the mood to continue this conversation. “Uhuh.”
“You ready to go?”
“Sure,” I say, but look back at all the old folks. “Would you guys mind if I left?” I ask them.
“Please leave,” the old green pony mumbles.
I seethe a little at that, but wait for the leader pony to dismiss me.
“Go on, young one,” he says.
I nod to the wise old leader. “Thanks for having me.”
With that, I let Pinkie Pie lead me out the building.
“So? How'd it go?” she asks, her mane bouncing from side to side as she trots in front of me. We're on our way to Lyra's house now.
My adventures had taken up the entire day.
“Better than expected,” I say. “It was bad at first, but we ended up having a pretty deep discussion.”
“Thanks!”
“What?” I say, my brow furrowing. “I didn't mean to compliment you or anything.”
“I still put you in that situation!” she says. “Seriously, I'd expect someone like you to keep better track of my mental processes.”
I sigh.
“What'd you talk about?” she asks.
“We were talking about that sign you asked us to carry. You said it meant nothing...is that true?”
Without blinking, she says, “Depends on what you think.”
I scratch my head. “Ok...”
“Sooooo, am I gonna have to keep asking questions to keep this conversation going? I mean, I don't mind it at all. I enjoy it a lot actually, but from what I've gathered with talking to other ponies, conversations usually involve two sides. And this isn't two sides. It's like one and a half, no...hmmmm...two-thirds...no! Too small. Something around one and three quarters. Yeah, that sounds about right. Two-thirds...”
I try to clear my brain of Pinkie's incessant chattering, clenching my eyes shut in the process. There was something she'd said earlier. It was disturbing... It comes to me.
“Hey...Pinkie?”
“Yeah?”
“About what you said earlier, with the falling asleep in front of hard metal objects...”
“Yeah?” she says, her ears perking up a bit.
“Is that true? You might need to see a doctor.”
She giggles. “Oh no silly! I just do that to catch ponies off guard. I don't let folks have their guard up around me, no sirree. It wouldn't do.” Her brow furrows in contemplation. “If it means anything though, you were the first pony to ask me about that. I can't tell you how many others I've told that line to, just to have them go about their business again.” A hint of sadness seeps into her eyes.
I try to make her feel better. “I'm sure I've got a better memory than them is all.”
“No. Well, sorry. I just...don't think that's it...” Her eyes display a little bit of hurt before she clears them up.
I see Lyra's house looming up from the side of the street.
“Hey look!” she says. “You're home! Hope you enjoyed hangin' out with me!”
Before I can so much as call her name, get her to come back, she's gone, leaving a few pink hairs spiraling in the air next to me.
I'm not in the mood to argue with Lyra about the possession of my hands tonight.
I go straight to bed.
Throwing down my blankets, sheets.
I rest.
Twirling a thin pink strand between my fingers.
He's responding again...somewhat.
The serotonin’s having an effect?
Hard to believe huh?
Seems so, but let's not jump to conclusions, it could be any number of causes...I hope you've been recording these readings.
Yes
“School sucks mom, are you sure I've still got to go?” I ask.
“Yes, honey. Bear the pain for me, okay?” Her gaze is temperate, but understanding.
A familiar pain wells up inside me. I try to ignore it, pretend it's not there. “What about homeschooling? You're smart enough, I believe in you.”
“You're right, I could home school you.”
“You'll do it?” I can't help but feel a little hopeful.
“No. Sorry, but public schools help you in other ways than just education.”
The all-too-familiar pain comes back, stronger. I start to lose control of myself. “Like what? How to keep you head down so people don't get up in your business? How to take insults about how ugly you are while maintaining shreds of dignity? How to cope with getting ostracized by people you want to be friends with? School is screwed-up mom.”
I wake up to someone shoving a box into my face. It's Lyra, and it looks like she's seen Santa Claus.
“Whyyyy?” I groan, weakly trying to defend myself from her box-assault.
“It's the gloves! They're here!”
“And?! Couldn't you have waited 'till later?” Grumbling, I sit up, finally snatching the box out of her hooves.
“Open it, open it, open it,” she says while hoofing at the box.
I notice the box is sealed with tape. “Uhhh, do you have scissors or something?”
“You mean a tape cutter?”
“Yeah, that.”
Lyra dashes off, eager to get the box opened as soon as possible.
If she wanted me to open it so bad, she should've brought a tape cutter with her in the first place. I look down at the box. It definitely looks like it's meant to hold gloves. I smile at the bow stuck haphazardly on the side. It has a note latched onto it.
I read:
Dear, I apologize for the early delivery, but I had to ensure that Ponyville's newest resident received nothing but the best of service!
-Rarity
I can't help but feel a pang of guilt from what I'd said the last time we met.
Before I can dwell on it further, Lyra dashes into the room, balancing the tape cutter on her hoof. “Can I open it?”
“Sure,” I say, not in the mood to figure out yet another pony contraption. The tape cutter was clearly meant to be stuck on one hoof where a blade protruded from the other end. I give her the box.
She rips open the box like a coyote would a pigeon in times of scarcity.
Before I can react a pair of gloves hit me in the face.
“Put them on,” she says.
Of course, I try to resist the situation spinning quickly out of my control. “I'll put them on when I see fit.”
“Come on, come on, come oooooooon.” She says this next part with wide-open, innocent eyes. “Please?”
I sigh and put the gloves on my lap. “No.”
She scowls at me, then walks to her door. Plopping down, she says, “I've got all day.”
I look at her skeptically. “Don't you have street performing to do?”
“Nope, I'll just end up penniless. Starving, without a place to go, all because you didn't put on those gloves.”
I sit there, glaring at her for a few minutes. She eagerly returns it all the while.
Finally, I give up. “Sure, I wanted to try these things on anyway.” I slip on the gloves.
While I didn't know it at the time, I look like a marching band conductor with those gloves on.
Lyra dashes up to me. “Oooooh, that's so cool! It's like clothes...except for hands! Wiggle your fingers.”
I wiggle them.
She giggles. “That's so funny! Do it again.”
I wiggle them again.
Squealing with delight, she falls back onto her haunches. She covers her mouth with a hoof, suppressing more giggles. “Could you...could...could you do it one more time?”
I do it again.
She starts to crack up, but stops herself. I can see the pressure building up inside of her.
I wiggle my fingers again, saying, “Swiggity swooty,” with my best creepy face.
“Bwahahahaa!” Whatever restraint she had put herself on earlier is clearly broken now.
I chuckle, watching Lyra guffaw while sprawled out on the ground.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” she says, tapping her hoof on the ground as if she were tapping out in MMA.
I boop her nose in response.
The laughing stops and she sneezes, splattering me with light coat of pony snot. “Oops...”
It takes me a few moments to realize what'd just happened.
I try to wipe the snot off my face with my shirt. “Who knew you had a trigger?” I say, grimacing, but somehow chuckling at the same time.
“Ehehe. I didn't expect to touch me with you hand.” Her cheeks blush a little. “Sorry...”
“Haha, no, you're good.” I look at the millions of little droplets on my arm with a little bit of disgust. “You did ask me to stop. Just didn't think you'd sneeze. I bet it's good moisturizer anyways.”
“I take it you'll want to take a bath now,” she says, sounding sheepish.
“Yeah.” I say. “I needed one anyways.”
“Well, I'm not stopping you.”
I can't help but feel a little pang of sadness at how quickly that moment had gone sour. Maybe I can make up for it.
I head for the restroom, but not without adding, “You saw me naked; this is nothing.”
Just before closing the bathroom door behind me, I notice Bon Bon peeking out of her room, a horrified expression on her face.
I leave the bathroom, my damp clothes still clinging to me from the bathwater I'd roasted myself in. I can't help but sigh as the cold air in the house hits me, kinda like someone would sigh over a cold glass of water without a day of drinking anything.
I hear Lyra’s harp filtering through her door, and another door down, Bon Bon opens her’s to confront me.
Her facial is expression is apologetic, but resolute.
I try to avoid the inevitable conversation and look down at the floor while I sidle to Lyra's room. Just as I get my hand on her doorknob, Bon Bon stops me.
“I think we need to talk.”
Oh really?! “Ok, what's up?” I look at her, a little exasperated.
Oblivious to my stress, she continues. “About you and Lyra. Are you...you know...”
“No,” I say.
“Are you sure? 'Cause I heard what you were talking about.”
I pause for a moment, trying to keep this misunderstanding to a minimum. “I touched Lyra on the nose with my hand. She sneezed. Nothing more.”
“It's just the way you guys said it. Hon, there is no need to keep secrets from me. You know that right?”
“I do, and there is no secret here.”
Bon Bon sighs. “Well, seeing as you aren't willing to give in, I'll ask Lyra myself.”
“Nononono--”
“Hon, I'm going to find out the truth here.”
I take a few moments to keep myself from irrationally tearing my hair out. “Bon Bon, please. Just take my word for it. Things'll get really awkward if you ask her.”
“Hon, I'm not sure if that's even truth. Maybe you just don't want Lyra to squeal about what really happened in there.”
I watch in horror as Bon Bon snakes up to Lyra's door.
Laughter echoes in my ears as it rings out from Lyra's room.
“Bahahahaha! I what?!”
“Well, yeah. That's what I thought was going on.”
“Ehehe, poor human is probably blushing like a tomato wherever he is right now.”
“I didn't mean to pain him...”
“You know how he gets with nosy ponies Bon Bon.”
“Yeah...”
“You should be ashamed.”
“Now don't you go telling me I did something wrong. It was just natural curiosity!”
“You naughty pony you. Eavesdropping on us all the time. You might as well have had sex with human at the rate your interest is going.”
“Hey! Do you hear yourself right now?! Why would you even think that?!”
“Why did you think human and I were having sex?”
I hear Bon Bon stomp her hoof, or what I figured was Bon Bon stomping her hoof, and seconds later she comes bursting out of the door, beet-red angry.
She averts her gaze from me and makes a beeline for her room, some of the redness in her face no doubt due to embarrassment.
I choose to sit on the couch in the living room for a while, let the situation simmer out.
It doesn't take very long for Lyra to come stumbling out of her room, bored after relishing over the frustration she'd caused Bon Bon. She sneaks up to the bathroom and peeks in the door. “Human? You there?”
I comment from the couch. “I swear, you ponies will never understand the concept of privacy.”
“Eeep!” She jumps and whirls around to face me. “I-I, uh, I knew you weren't there.”
I grin. “Uh huh.”
“And I peeked in because, if you were still there, you might've passed out and started drowning yourself.”
“B-S.”
“Uh uh,” she says, while looking at me right in the eyes.
“It's nice to know you care for me,” I say, giving her the cheesiest smile I can muster.
“No problem.”
I sigh. “You always get your way with me, you know that?”
Here, she avoids my gaze. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You cheeky bastard.”
“No, you're my cheeky bastard.”
“Soooo, you're completely fine with ditching your job for the fifth time this week?” I ask, very skeptical, and actually a little worried that I've been a bad influence on her.
“What's it mean to you?” Lyra asks.
“Well, I don't want to make you go broke.” I deftly avoid a few ponies crowded around a marketplace animal vendor.
Lyra gives me a radiant smile, accentuated by the brightly shining sun today. “Y'know about that thing with Pinkie?”
“What thing with Pinkie? We did lots of things with Pinkie.”
“You mean you did lots of things with Pinkie. Eating that cotton candy hair...”
“Hey!” I protest, shoving her to the side.
She bumps into a few ponies and they grumble in protest.
Lyra is unfazed. “Ahahaha. Besides that, I'm talking about the time she broke my harp string.”
I choose to give her a hard time now. “You mean you.”
“What do you mean me?”
“You broke your harp string.”
“No, Pinkie did.”
“It was your hoof that broke it. If you can't handle a little sudden excitement every now and then, can you really call yourself an experienced musician?”
“Hey! Sudden excitement doesn't compare to what Pinkie did. It was a deliberate attempt to frighten me. You know it too.”
I scratch my head knowingly. “I know...but a real musician would've been prepared for anything.”
“Says who? You?”
“No, only Octavia of course.”
Lyra looks at me as if I'd just eaten a raw goldfish. “Yeah right.”
“Where do you think I was all last night?”
“Anywhere but with Octavia.”
I look at her as if I'd just won the argument. “With Pinkie Pie, you can do anything.”
Lyra opens her mouth for a second, then decides against her retort. “Ok.”
Just as I'm about to gloat in my victory, Pinkie bounces her way in-between us, forcing us a few more inches apart. “He's lying!”
“No, don't you remember?” I say to her, trying to tip her off that I want her to play along.
“Liar,” she says, either completely missing my signals, or ignoring them. I can never tell with her.
I try to avoid Lyra's smirk from on the other side of Pinkie.
“How are you always in just the right place at the right time?” I ask her.
“It's a long story, but I can explain it if you want.”
I realize what her short stories entail, just before I'm about to say yes. “Y-no.”
“That sounded like both a yes and a no to me. Guess I'm just gonna have to split reality.”
“Wai--” I start.
“Too late!” she smiles at me. “You wont notice at least.”
“Oh...okay.”
“Luckily for you, you're in the dimension where I don't explain the story.”
“What happens to me in the other dimension?”
“Wai--” I start.
“Too late!” she smiles at me. “You wont notice at least.”
“Oh...okay.”
“Luckily for you, you're in the dimension where I explain the story.”
“What happens to me in the other dimension?”
“That doesn't matter now, I've got to explain what happened!”
“Uhhh, please spare me.”
“Nope! You see, a long time ago, as a filly, I wondered about what my special talent was. I grew up on a rock farm, and it wasn't exactly cutting it for me. I wanted to do something grand! Like win the Nostril Peace Prize or something. It didn't take me very long to find a cave where a bunch of abandoned zebra relics had been buried ages past. Funny thing is, I found it while doing my rock farming. Who knew that I'd find out about my secret talent while doing the boringest thing ever!”
“Who knew,” I remark sarcastically.
“Well, the first relic I dug up. I repeat, the first one, looked exactly like me! It was like I was destined to find that cave from the very beginning! You won't believe what I found when I turned the artifact over.”
“What was it?” I'm starting to get irritable.
“In ancient text, what appeared to be a two digit number. I figured out what it meant too. After talking to Twilight years later about this ancient writing, she said she recognized it. It took us a few hours, but we finally found a tome on these ancient writings. The number was as follows...” She pauses.
“Soooo, what was it?”
“You aren't going to guess?”
I roll my eyes. “Is it forty-two?”
“Nope! It was sixty-nine. It was then that I learned that that number had nothing to do with my special talent at all. I'd already gotten my cutie mark after throwing a party for my family at the rock farm ages ago!”
“I don't see how this applies to your ability to always be in the right place at the right time.”
“Of course it doesn't silly!”
I scrunch my forehead. “But...wait, weren't you just going to explain to me how you could do that?”
“Yes~, but you didn't let me finish! What I'm getting at here is that coincidences do happen, and while many of them involve me almost daily, that has nothing to do with an innate ability of mine to be in the right place at the right time. Let's just say that a side effect of mine involves a series of uncommon coincidences.”
It takes me a full thirty seconds to figure out what she just said. “Aaaaand, why do you have this side effect?”
“I had a fresh cup of really hot tea.”
My world goes dark.
“Ohhhhh, it doesn't matter. I don't expect it to last long anyways.”
I give her a look of concern. “So in the other dimension, I'll just stop existing?”
“Yeah, I wouldn't sweat it.”
“But I'm going to freak out in the other dimension! How do you think I'm going to feel when I realize that everything I know is about to stop?!”
“Oh you will not, did not, am not realizing it. I will, made, am making sure of that.”
I feel like Pinkie has suddenly taken to speaking another language. “What did you just say?”
“I...it'd probably be better if I didn't repeat that.”
I pause for a moment, but decide to let it go. If Pinkie has these alternate dimension powers like she says she has, she probably knows what she's doing.
She continues. “Where were you all headed?”
Lyra chooses to respond to her. “We were headed to the apple farm. They're holding a pie eating contest and we figured we could get some free food.”
“Oooh! Cool! I'm the two-time pie eating champion in case you didn't know. Big Mac's got nothing on me.”
I scrunch my eyebrows. “Big Mac?” Something about those two words rings a bell.
“Yeah, Big Macintosh. He's Applejack's sister. The biggest hunk of a stallion I've ever seen,” Pinkie responds. “There's a reason he can eat so many pies.”
“Can I meet him? He sounds awesome.”
“You're bound to if you go to the pie eating contest! Follow me!”
It's obvious that Lyra knew where we were going, but we decide to follow Pinkie anyways.
A few alleys and back roads later, we make it to the pie eating contest, where mobs of ponies run around making last minute preparations.
A cute little red maned, yellow coated pony bumps into my leg. She says in an adorable southern drawl, “Sorry stranger. 'm just in a rush is all.” She runs off to help another pony with a tablecloth, a little dazed after running into my leg.
I ask Pinkie, “You’re coming back to reclaim your title right?”
“Title for what?”
“The pie eating contest, why do you think you led us here?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
I scratch my head. “Weren't you the one that decided to lead us here in the first place?”
“No...yes...maybe.” She pauses for a moment, trying to reorganize her thoughts. “But yes, I've come back to reclaim my pie eating title.”
I look at Pinkie for a moment, noting how she really is the size of any other pony, not obese at all. “How do you even eat all those pies?”
“After eating rocks throughout your childhood, pies go down pretty easy.”
For once, Pinkie's logic makes sense to me. “That would work.”
We're interrupted by an old green pony speaking into a speakerphone. It isn't the one I argued with at the convention though. This one is female and has a white, springy mane. Her voice sounds a little strangled, as if her vocal chords twist around each other every time she speaks. “Now're y'all ready to eat pies or what? It's time for all you young-uns to stuff your ungrateful faces with pies until you vomit. Are. Yew. Ready?!”
“Yeah!!” A group of rowdy ponies look up to her with excited eyes.
“Well that's too bad, 'cause the pie eating contest ain't scheduled for another hour! Ahahahaha!”
I can't help but smile at her cackling.
Lyra notices, “What're you laughing about?”
“That old mare up there. She sounds like she'd be fun to hang out with.” I point to the pony yelling into the speakerphone.
“Oh, Granny Smith?” Lyra smiles too. “She's definitely somepony. Helped create this city and everything. You would've been lying dead in the fields by Everfree forest if she hadn't existed.”
“Weren't you the one that helped me though?”
“I wouldn't have been here if she hadn't founded this town. Ponyville is so far out in the middle of nowhere, it's a miracle she got it established.”
“Funny how things work like that.”
“Yeah.”
I see the yellow colt trotting back up to us.
“Hey mister,” she says, addressing me.
“Whats up?”
Her small brow furrows. “That's the dag blame weirdest thing I've heard somepony say. Still, I'd reckon the sky is up.”
There really is no getting angry at this colt with her cute accent. “I'm sorry. It's just a saying where I come from. It's kinda like asking why you just approached me.”
“I approached you to ask you a question.”
“What is it?”
“Would you be willin' to join the Apple family at their table right yonder? You seem new around here and we wanted to give you some extra hospitality.” She points to a table not ten feet from us. The tablecloth has the same checker-board pattern as the blanket Fluttershy and I had had a picnic on. On top of the red and white squares is perched a sign reading, 'Reserved'.
“You sure you guys wouldn't mind?”
“It'd be mah pleasure.”
“Sure...I guess. Would you mind I sat there right now?” I look up to see her already toddling to the table.
“Come on over!” she yells at us.
I take a seat and Lyra plops down next to me.
“Careful there, you might break them bench,” I remark. “These things are only made of wood you know.”
“Shut up,” she says, not even taking the effort to look at me.
The yellow mare buts in. “Well, y'all enjoy yourselves until we get back!”
“Thanks!” I say. After she walks out of earshot, I ask Lyra, “What's her name?”
“Applebloom. To spare you more questions, she's a sister of Applejack's. They both live at Sweet Apple Acres with Granny Smith and their brother Big Macintosh.” Lyra gazes lovingly at Applebloom, who's now working at the cider stand. “I don't know what happened to their parents, but they've been getting along really well on their own.”
“Applejack, Applebloom and Big Macintosh have to run the whole farm?!”
“Yeah. I hardly ever see her or her brother in the city, except when they're selling their apples or some other apple related substance.”
We let our conversation die out, more interested in the goings on around us.
The working ponies are now moving slower, happy with the knowledge that everything's going to be set up in time. There aren't many other events going on besides the main Apple Pie Eating Contest. The apple cider stand, an apple taffy stand, and a caramel apple making booth were all that served to split up the flow of pedestrians coming in from the main attraction.
It's clear where the pie eating contest is about to be held. Three long tables have been set up at the very center of the fiasco, meant for the main event about to be held in five minutes, made all too clear by Granny Smith.
“Are you hooligans ready?! I put my fake teeth on today for a reason! This is gonna be a hell of a doozy! Five minutes!”
I smile. Granny Smith’s definitely the pony to hang out with. Unlike that committee of elderly ponies...
At long last, Ms. Smith announces the start of the annual Pie Eating Contest. The contestants quickly stumble into a haphazard line, most with large stomachs due to the 'practicing' they'd done all year. I can see Pinkie Pie bouncing somewhere at the back, which is surprising, because I'd expect her eager self to be at the front of the line on the dot.
The hairs of my neck stand up. I can't help but get excited as the cheers of the spectating ponies rings in my ears.
“Are yew ready?!” Granny Smith cackles in the background.
“Yeah!” we all cheer.
Lyra looks at me, surprised.
I ignore her.
The ponies file to their chairs, some of them straining the wooden chairs underneath them.
I hear Granny Smith again.
“Alright you fat lards. Here's how these rules are gonna go. There is no time limit, so take your time. The only thing we're going to count is the number of empty pie pans near your nauseous faces. The pony with the most empty pie tins wins! I'll start from ten. Once I say go, you go!”
“Ten!”
Ponies dash around the contestants, laying one pie down for each.
“Nine!”
I can see Pinkie Pie quivering in her seat, eager to get started.
“Eight!”
All of the ponies sniff the wonderful aroma coming from the pies.
“Seven!”
A few start to drool.
“Six!”
I can see the resolve in some of the contestants breaking down. Some of them are making chewing motions in the air a few inches above the pies set in front of them.
“Five!”
Pinkie's quivering intensifies.
“Four!”
Most every contestant has his eyes shut, trying to zone out the smell of the pies, and the sounds of the ponies cheering.
“Three!”
Some ponies are clearly failing at this.
“Two!”
One pony loses his resolve and buries his face in the pie.
“Disqualification!” Granny smith yells right before, “One!”
The worker ponies usher the unfortunate soul out of the competition as the other ponies gulp under the strain of the pies' smells.
“Go!”
Everypony except for Pinkie dives in. Getting as much pie into their stomachs as fast as possible.
Pinkie, on the other hand, takes it at a quick, but regulated pace, which once again, surprises me. I'd never known her to be patient, especially with sweets involved.
*eight total pies later*
Half the ponies, already green in the face from the previous pies they'd eaten, attempt to dive into their ninth pie. One of them loses it, and vomits into the pie, creating a disgusting concoction of cooked apple and steaming apple 'sauce'. The other nauseous ponies give up immediately after seeing this, disheartened.
*sixteen total pies later*
Just two ponies remain. Big Macintosh and Pinkie Pie, and both seem to keep going strong. The last pony had dropped out at fifteen pies.
*twenty four total pies later*
I can hardly understand how this is physically possible. Stomachs aren't supposed to be able hold that much, and contestants aren't allowed to go for bathroom breaks. Still, both Big Macintosh and Pinkie Pie stay at it.
*twenty eight total pies later*
Big Macintosh is clearly under pressure. He is sweating floods, but doesn't appear to be nauseous like the other ponies were at eight pies. Pinkie Pie's slowing down too, but doesn't appear to be sweating, or showing any signs of discomfort.
*twenty nine total pies later*
Pinkie Pie's continues at an even slower pace, but show no signs of stopping. However, Big Macintosh quivers with each bite. Eventually, he gets to the end of his thirtieth pie. Before he can take the last bite, he promptly says “Nope” and passes out on the nearly-empty pie tin he'd been eating from. The worker ponies take him out on a stretcher, clearly practiced at this from other pie eating contests involving Big Macintosh.
All eyes turn to Pinkie as she takes the last few bites of her thirtieth pie, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. She does it.
All of the ponies watching cheer in exultation, astounded that Pinkie was able to keep up with a stallion as large as Big Macintosh.
Eventually, after the cheering dies away, Pinkie holds up a hoof, signaling a worker pony to come to her aid.
“You alright?”
She smiles at him. “Of course! I just wanted another pie!”
The crowd hushes and she continues.
“Comon already, I've just gotten started! The only reason I was eating slow is because I didn't want to make poor Macky feel embarrassed.”
The crowd laughs a nervous laugh, as if to say 'she can't be serious right?'
The worker obliges anyways, bringing Pinkie another pie.
Everybody watches as she dives into it, like a starving lion who'd just caught a gazelle, and they roar in approval, a pony here and there chuckling at the absolute absurdity of it all.
“That's Pinkie for ya,” one pony says, cuffing me on the shoulder.
“She's my friend,” I say.
“Hahaharrrr, your friend you say? Really?! Ahahaha, it's a wonder you've managed to make friends with her. Seriously, only being friends with every pony in Ponyville makes her difficult to approach.”
I frown at his sarcasm. “I guess I should've thought of that.” Wait, a pony that's sarcastic? I thought that was only Lyra.
A gray and brown misshapen beast sits next to me, either oblivious to the reserved sign, or purposely ignoring it.
I'm guessing the latter. “Hey, I don't mean to offend you, but this table is reserved for the Apple Family and friends.” I take a moment to look at the oddity next to me, who seems to be a messy amalgamation of something like a chicken, lion, dragon, ox, bat, and bird. Thinking about it now, it's impossible for me to match up the limbs and legs to the animals they were associated to. Lyra grins from next to me.
“Oh goody, that means I can stay! I'm a friend of the Apple Family.” The draconequus claps his hand and hoof together excitedly. “You know, I have to say, I haven't seen Applejack in quite some time. I hope she hasn't gotten lonely without me.” He snaps his hand and summons a kerchief, drying an eye dramatically. This doesn't surprise me in the least, considering I've already been exposed to levitation.
I see Applejack approaching from a distance, her facial expression anything but happy. In fact, she seems almost furious.
“I swear, Discord, if you're up to something, I'll buck to you so hard in the backside my hoof'll come outta yer mouth!”
He blushes, “Ooooh, at least buy me dinner first.”
I don't know what to make of Applejack's sudden hostility and Discord's playful attitude, so I just look down at the table, trying not to get involved.
“I promise ya, it won't be pleasant.”
“It's okay, I'm a masochist.”
She stomps the ground, but takes a moment to calm down. “Discord, I'm tryin' ta look good here in front of my guests and you're makin’ it very hard for me. Could you at least be nice to me for the time being?”
“Sure thing. I just want you to know that you were the one that started it, acting all hostile...”
“Yep.” Applejack turns to me. “So howd'ya enjoy the pie eating contest?”
“It was pretty cool,” I say. “Didn't know a pony could actually ingest that much food.”
She laughs. “Ahaha, that's Pinkie Pie for ya. She's still going at it now I think.”
We both look over to see Pinkie Pie continue in her pie eating, showing no restraint now.
Applejack's the first to find words again. “Dag blamed craziest thing I've ever seen. I swear, her pie eatin' skills exponentiate every year.”
“Yeah...” I trail off.
Discord speaks up from behind me. “Eh, that pony could still take a lesson or two from me.”
I look at him. “You're better at eating pies than her?”
He waves his hands furiously. “Oh nonono. I'll give that one to Pinkie. It's just she's got so much potential that she isn't using. Like as a partner in crime.”
It's Applejack's turn to stare at him. “Isn't Fluttershy that pony?”
“Yes, she is, but I want a pony that's willing to do things I want to do for once. Sure she goes on picnics with me, helps me brush my fur, and brushes her teeth with me, but that isn't chaotic at all. I want a pony I can cause trouble with.” He rubs his paw and hand together, while smiling mischievously.
Applejack grimaces. “Well, I'm glad you haven't met a pony like that yet. Regardless,” she looks at me. “I hope you enjoyed your stay. Applebloom told you earlier that we were gonna visit ya at this table during the contest, but we all got caught up with things to do. Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” I respond.
“Feel free to visit Sweet Apple Acres for a good time though. My family takes kindly to visitors, but as much as I would like to talk about my family, I've got to go help with clean up. Cy'all!” She trots away.
Discord turns to me. “Strange, you don't look like a pony at all. I thought I was the only monstrosity in this town.”
I look him up and down again. “Me too.”
“I say...how about you be my partner in crime? We'd be the dastardly duo.” He snaps his fingers and suddenly his neck is craned around my head, looking straight into my eyes. “What do you say?”
“I don't know...I don't think I'd be cut out for that kind of a job.”
He snaps his fingers, suddenly sitting right next to me again. “Who ever said this was a job? You'd be having oh-so-much fun.”
“Nah.”
Discord frowns. “Tsk, tsk, such a shame. You'd be a good contestant for it too. I can practically taste the chaos coming from you.” He takes a moment to look at Lyra. “Wait, is it because of your girlfriend here? You don't want to leave her huh?”
“She's not-” I start.
“He's not my boyfriend,” Lyra interjects.
Discord's yellow eyes glint with glee. “Oooh! Such quick responses. A bit touchy on this subject aren't we?”
Lyra answers. “No, I just want to make that clear.”
I can't help but feel a little hurt by that.
He leans over me toward Lyra. “It sure doesn't seem like it. You're just scared to admit the truth aren't you?”
Her face blushes a little. “Of course not. We're just friends.” She winces a little as Discord pinches one of her cheeks.
“Oooh, you're turning into a tomato~”
“Just like anybody else would if you asked them if they were boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“When I see a pony in love, I know a pony's in love. Just spill it already. You're head over heels in love with this human, with his...” Discord looks over me again. “Now that I think about it, he doesn't really have any remarkable features.”
It takes a lot of effort for me to keep from flipping him off. I look at Lyra, waiting for the 'let's go' signal.
She looks at me.
We simultaneously get up and leave Discord sitting at the table.
“Now hey guys,” he says from behind us while we walk away. “That's a little rude. I just wanted to be friends.”
We don't respond, but instead, pick up our pace.
He poofs into existence right next to us and kneels down. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease. I didn't mean to pick fun on you guys honest. I'm just a poor draconequus that doesn't know how to interact with the world yet.”
“He isn't,” Lyra says to me as we continue walking.
Discord teleports next to us again and pouts. “Fine then, I'll go tell Fluttershy on you.”
“Feel free,” Lyra remarks nonchalantly.
We leave him in the distance.
We get to the house, and lounge around in the living room for a bit, not really sure what to do now that the pie eating excitement had gone away.
“It's too early to go to sleep,” I remark dryly from the couch.
“Yeah,” she responds, sitting in one of the armchairs across from me. “I could try to teach you the harp...” She stops for a moment. “Nah.”
I slouch down a little bit, disappointed. “You wanna go do something?”
“Like what?”
“I don't care.”
A pause.
She looks at me and says nothing. Eventually, “Let's walk.”
The moon looks down at me, nestled in among its dark, speckled-white blankets. I feel like I am the moon, the night reverberating off my skin, so softly. Whether it's Lyra's company, or the wind, I can't tell, nor hardly care. Both of them are looking out for me this evening, altruistic forces steady by my side, even competing to comfort me. There is no sadness here.
I hear the clip-clop of her hooves, pounding the cobblestone beneath us, in tune to my own steady pat-pat. The idyllic night changes me, soothes my brain, makes walking almost laborious. I feel lazy, and yet don't wish to stop the urge to keep moving. The pattern needs to continue. Pat-pat. Clip-clop.
The hollow, no...the breathing wind speaks to me, whispering to me the struggles, livelihoods, and joys of ponies long gone, echoes of a long lost time, made more powerful by the instrument that had made those memories decay. Emotions run through me, reminiscing these deep, but intangible memories. I know full well that soon I'll be one too. Nothing but a whisper of wind, to be felt by the few ponies who walk at night...
Lyra shatters my whole line of thinking. “I know we both agreed to go walking, but I kinda figured talking was a part of the plan too. Stop with the glazed eyes and pay attention to me.”
I whisper under my breath, “Dammit.”
Her eyes narrow. “What?”
“You ruined my whole train of thought, I had myself all sentimental.”
“Sentiment's for the dead. I'd prefer to make my own stories now, and save the reminiscing for later.”
I look at her, still angry. “I, for one, find depth to sentiment. It makes me feel like my actions have weight. That's much better than blithely wandering through life without a care in the world.”
“Depth is a dangerous thing. Do too much wandering and you might lose yourself.”
I grin at this. “I like to live on the dangerous side.”
She waves it off, “Yeah, yeah. Try doing that when talking to ponies, maybe you'd get yourself to open up more.”
“Hey!”
“You have been getting better, I'll give you that.”
I try to regain my dignity, “Yes, yes I have.” I tilt my face up in a snobbish manner.
“Bahahaha! That look doesn't fit you at all.”
I exaggerate my snobbish demeanor. “How about now?” I say, sounding constricted.
She snorts, then punches me. “Stop it, there are ponies sleeping. I get loud when I'm out of control.”
“Would you call this out of control?” I ask, taking up the same snobbish look, except scrunching up my face even more.
She hisses and punches me again, harder. “I swear...” I can see the look of glee she's trying to repress in her eyes.
I start to push it further.
“NO,” she says, her voice quivering. The corners of her mouth are twitching. “I swear, if you do that again...”
I do it again, but really quickly before going back to looking normal again.
“Kkknpt,” she snorts. “S-sto-haha. STOP.”
I just look at her this time, triumphant. I know I've gotten under her skin, and she knows it too. Once again, I take up the form of the snob, this time saying, “I swear. Ponies these days just don't know how to act in society,” with the full regalia that some upper-class pony would adopt into their dialect.
“Gahaha! Screw you-ahahaha! I'm so sorry-ahaha! Shut me up human, just shut me up. I don't care what you do, but I can't be doing this right now.”
I see another wave of laughter coming up from her. Figuring that I've had my fun, I say something sobering. “I love you.”
“What?!” she exclaims.
I start to redden. Probably should've thought that through genius. “Sorry, I mean like a friend. You told me to stop the laughing and that's what I was trying to do.”
“Oh.”
I swear I see a little disappointment in her eyes.
We walk in silence some more.
Don't you get any ideas. It is not cool to have a horse as a girlfriend. Seriously, why would you even think you have feelings for her?
The wind dies down. I can no longer feel the voices.
Lyra starts the conversation back up, “You say that you like to reminisce; it gives you depth. How does that work? Ever since I was a filly, I would shy away from those thoughts, afraid of the idea that I'd stop existing. How is not existing a good thing?”
“I don't look at it like that. When you stop existing, you don't know about it. Why care? Yeah, it's a fantastic thing to live, to have fun, but wouldn't that be so much less valuable if we were all immortal? I feel like, to really have anything precious, it needs to come in a limited supply, otherwise we'll take it for-granted. Life wouldn't be special anymore, and walks like these wouldn't matter.”
She doesn't respond, and I can't blame her. It took me a long time to come to terms with that.
Eventually, we get to the outskirts of Ponyville, and I see the Everfree forest loom up in front of us. It's time to turn back.
I look at her and we turn around.
Lyra sits next to me as I slouch next to her scattered music pile in her room.
I pet her, running my hand through her mane. It's actually a lot softer than I'd imagined it would be. I feel my own hair in comparison. Nope, still scruffy.
It's soothing to pet her, and I don't plan on stopping. My hand rises and falls over her mint-green and white hair, over and over. In time with my breathing.
I wake up, sprawled all over Lyra's music sheets. A pool of drool gathers below my face on a particularly large tome of music. Quickly, I push myself off the book pile, scattering and ripping yet more music sheets.
“Crap,” I whisper to myself, unsure of what to tell Lyra when she finds out.
Turns out there's no need, as Lyra's looking at me from on top of her bed. “Don't worry about it.”
I look at the torn music sheets. “You don't care about this stuff?”
“I do, but I don't need to read those anymore.”
My eyes widen, and I look at her incredulously. “You mean you've got a photographic memory?”
“No, I just play my harp so freakin' much.” She hops down from her bed. “I'm not in the mood for work today. Do you wanna go somewhere?”
I stand up.
I wake up.
Lyra's ceiling comes into view as I open my eyes. A hoof prods at my chest.
“Human. Human! You alright?”
I manage to sit up, but without realizing it, fall back down, hitting my head on the wooden, paneled floor.
“Yeah, don't move. I'll be right back.” Clip-clop.
A commotion filters in through the open door as I hear Bon Bon and Lyra arguing in the living room.
“What do you mean he just passed out? Ponies don't just do that!”
“He's a human, and he's already gotten a head injury before. I feel like it's related to that.”
“Okay, okay.” Bon Bon takes a moment to catch her breath. “Let me get a doctor, and do what you can do to help human.”
“Okay.”
I hear the pattering of Lyra's hooves as she rushes back to me and turn my head to look at her. “What...what did I do?”
She puts her hoof to her face. “I don't know. I don't know. You just stood up and fell right back down.”
I sit up again, this time keeping control of myself. “Back where I come from, that's kinda normal. I stood up too quickly, and passed out because of it.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It has to do with blood flow or something. I wouldn't worry about it.”
She looks at the ground. “Well, I already got Bon Bon to get a doctor, so you'll have to explain that again.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
The doctor pulls off her latex, hoof-gloves. “As long as you're sure this is normal, I'll let you go. If it happens again, call me right away.”
“Yep,” I respond.
The doctor leaves, her hoof steps fading in the distance from outside of the door.
Lyra sits down next to me. “You still up for doing something today?”
“Of course.”
Just like that, we're wandering around Ponyville, not really sure where to go, or what to do. The sun is strong in my face and the air stagnant.
I sigh. “Lyra, I've already told you three times now. I've only been here for what, a week and a half? There's no way I'd know what to do in this city.”
“I don't care, think of something creative.”
“Alright then, how about we visit Zecora?”
She looks at me like I'm stupid. “That's the worst idea I've ever heard.”
“You told me to think of something creative!”
“I already told you that was too dangerous, and repeating something you'd mentioned a week ago isn't creative.”
I punch her in the shoulder. “It's pretty obvious you aren't that creative either.”
“I've made the decisions from day one here, it's time you actually contributed.”
I scrunch my brow, trying to think of anything so that Lyra would stop harassing me. “How about you try actually teaching me that harp of yours? You've been avoiding it ever since I suggested it.”
“Nah, I'm not really feeling it.”
I look at her, acting hurt. “You're never feeling it.”
“Sorry, but you're probably going to want to learn it on your own. I don't mind you playing my harp, it's just I don't think teaching you would be fun.”
“What about if I just asked questions every now and then?”
“A few questions are fine, but a lot of playing music is you figuring things out for yourself. All I'm supposed to do is guide you in the right direction.”
I shrug. “Well, I want to play your harp, what you do is your business.”
It's Lyra's turn to look hurt. “But I don't want you to do your own thing.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“I've been asking you that question for the past half-hour!” She falls sideways, as well as the buildings right behind her...somehow.
I wake up, again, to see Lyra peering at me, her face expressing a large amount of guilt.
“What’s wrong?” I say, my speech slurring a bit. I'm having trouble controlling my mouth.
“You need a doctor.”
I'm sitting on a hospital bed, still in my normal clothes, trying my best not to hyperventilate. “What's wrong with me?”
“I wish I could tell you, but until I can get more information on your symptoms, you might just be a little loose-minded.” The doctor walks out of the room, but not without saying, “Be right back.”
No pony else is to be seen, so I just wait, looking at the terrifying machinery next me. A heart monitor rests to the right of me, turned-off. On my left, I see a tray of food on a small mobile table. More lettuce.
Thankfully, no needles were stuck into me during the visit, so I'm able to keep my calm until the doctor returns.
The doctor comes back through the door and looks at me thoughtfully. “Are you feeling fine now?”
“Yeah,” my voice quavers a bit. I can't remember the last time I wasn't with Lyra.
“And you remember everything that happened to you, before and after your incidents?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs. “I've got no reason to keep you here. I doesn't even seem like you've gone through a concussion.”
As if nothing had happened, I'm walking next to Lyra in the streets of Ponyville again, but this time worried that I'm going to take another fall. I feel an incredible sense of foreboding that I wont wake up next time. I'm probably going to slip into a coma.
“You were waiting for me in the lobby huh?” I say, a little hurt.
“Yeah, what did you expect me to do?”
“It's just...you're always there for me, what happened?”
“What happened was I didn't want my presence to hurt you. There's a reason the doctor didn't let me into that room with you. I know that doctor personally.”
I look at her skeptically. “You really know him personally?”
“If it makes you feel better,” she says, chuckling.
“You can't blame me for being moody! I just passed out twice today!”
“That's because you're a wuss.”
“And you aren't a very credible source of information are you?” I say, my voice full of snark.
“That's your opinion.”
“It isn't an opinion if it's a fact.”
“Show me your theorems and conjectures and I'll believe you,” Lyra snaps.
“My theory is that you've shown a history of stupidity since I've met you.”
She yells at me. “That isn't a theorem!”
“It is the way you've been acting recently! Seriously! I'm scared Lyra! This has happened twice in one day! What if I don't wake up next time! I don't want to lose you and you're just being an asshole about it!”
She stiffens. “Hey...”
“What.”
“I...I need to tell you something.”
“Get out with it.”
She wipes at her eyes. “When you passed out on the streets...I-I didn't catch you.”
“What's so bad about that?”
“Your head hit the ground so hard. I didn't realize you'd fallen until I heard that ugly clunk from right next to me. I was so...so scared. It would've been my fault. I-I'm...”
I try to put on an authoritative voice, but it shakes regardless, “Stop.”
“What?”
“Is this what you were so riled up about?” I feel like familiar vomit feeling coming up from inside me. It builds and builds and builds.
“Well, yeah. You're my friend! It's my responsibility to keep you safe! I'd be a wor-”
“You just make this so hard you know that?” My body starts shaking.
Slowly, I sit door on the cobblestone below me. A few light tears fall, but I keep a hold of myself.
I try to speak, but my voice chokes up, “I-”
I try again, “I-”
Again, “I woke up in that patch of grass like I was betrayed, I was hurting so bad. You could've just ignored me, got on with your happy go-lucky life, but no. You decided to help me.”
I sniffle a little, feeling ashamed that I've gone through three emotional breakdowns since visiting Ponyville.
I continue, “You decided to risk your own safety on someone who cared nothing about you, even himself. I...I...fuck!”
“I don't fucking deserve that. I'm so twisted and broken and heartless. Everything about my existence is wrong. Why? Why did you fucking help me? Why did you think it was a good idea to get involved with this piece of shit?” I say pointing to myself.
“This piece of shit cared nothing about you, he was wired to destroy, corrupt, hurt, and take advantage of things like you. In fact, he probably has already corrupted you. I don't see you hang out with your pony friends at all! It’s because you're so far removed from your friends now, isn’t it?”
“I'm a scourge, a cancer, I'm bad to everything that's good. You should have run from me, let me die. And to think. That you would feel bad for not being able to help me?! Do you know how messed up that makes me feel?!”
My pent up breath filters through my lips. “Yeah, I did enjoy myself hanging out with you, it was fun, but deep down, I couldn't help but feel perverted because of my willingness to accept kindness from you.”
I take a deep breath, “All this time I've been using you. Just like a parasite would latch onto a frail, elegant flower...It's obvious isn't it?”
Lyra laughs, more loudly, forcefully, powerfully, than I've ever heard her laugh. “Even if what all you said were true, that you were poisoning me, feeding off me, killing me...I'd most definitely go down with that ship.”
“Why would you want that?”
She smiles. “I don't want that, but it's for my own sake that I’d do it.”
"What?!"
Black.
Now, I'm probably going to have to break this to you quickly, no use drawing it out after all.
That was the last time I saw Lyra.
It was immediately after that I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by a team of human scientists, all clapping, cheering in exultation at some kind of success.
I thought it was my birthday at first, but well, that wasn't the case either, as much as I would've liked it to be.
Turns out they'd recently gotten a breakthrough in the understanding of human consciousness, by testing on, you guessed it...me.
It was a miracle I didn't die on my journey with Lyra. I'd been comatose for two years, a dying, rotting vegetable of a man with no other use than that of a lab rat.
You might think I took my separation from Lyra well upon waking up, especially by the tone of voice I'm using now, but that was definitely not the case.
The scientists standing around me quickly got serious as I threw a tantrum the size of Mount Saint Helens at my sudden revival to 'reality'. I did not want to go back. It was much too sudden and took me days to cope. Those nights I spent alone were hard; I wouldn't want to live them again.
At least now, I guess, you could say I've calmed down quite a bit. After all, how do you think I wrote this book?
I want to mention something of extreme importance, however. It can't be stressed enough how Lyra was indeed real to me, and, I suppose, to you too. We all have our different realities that interact with each other in the human world, all of them ever changing and conflicting in beautiful ways.
Just because some of our realities don't exist in the 'real world' doesn't mean they are any less valid. What I experienced on that day was real. As real as the time I tried eating the bran muffin the nurse served me for lunch, which was not fun.
Now I'm not saying you should go about creating your own realities right now. You'd fail. We don't have the technology for that right now. There's a reason I have intense interest in VR.
What I want to say is that every time you dream, you're experiencing something as real as world is to your awoken self. It doesn't matter if it involves angels, demons, skeletons, unicorns, pixies, or anything else you could fathom. They are very real if you dream them.
You could indeed fill your heads with ponies every night before going to bed, just to experience what I experienced, with definite success I'm sure, but this message is also a cry for help.
Too many of us are broken, sad, twisted, poisonous, and messed up in the reality I see right now. I want to make their realities better. I want you guys to make their realities better.
Yeah, I know the human condition is to be selfish, to work on our own realities, to make them shine. But think about how much easier it would be to shine, if you helped others shine first, if we all helped each other shine. It would be so hard to be broken, to be sad. We wouldn't even need other realities in the first place!
I'm going to end with one last sentence, as sensual as it may sound.
