> Crayons and Catastrophes
>  by Peregrine Caged
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> Crayons and Catastrophes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Blue Collar yawned as he closed the front door with a hind leg.  Finally--home.  He had been forced to pull another swing shift at the factory.  Looking over to the old-fashioned clock hanging on the wall, he saw it read ten after five.  At least he was home at a decent hour this time.  Small benefits to getting up at three in the morning for work, he mused.
But regardless, he was excited.  It was nearly dinner time and he’d be able to eat with his family.  They hardly shared meals these days due to his increasingly busy schedule.  While they treasured each and every one they did share, it still saddened him they came so rarely.
His little filly was growing up so fast, after all.
Blue wandered down the hall to the kitchen, where his wife was hard at work preparing the evening meal.  She was surprised to see him home so early, but just as pleased as he.  They shared a long embrace followed by a deep kiss that promised later things to come that night.
Lightly tapping his lovely wife on her flank, they both laughed at one another.  It hadn’t been easy on her, his taking on more work.  But she understood that he did it for her and their darling daughter.  Raising a child took a lot of bits and it was his job to bring them in.  Though keeping the heat turned up in the bedroom hadn’t hurt their marriage’s health either.  
Despite the hardships they’d suffered, they loved each other as much--if not more--today than when they had shared their vows.  It was amazing that some couples split at the troubles such as they had known, but they had just grown closer and developed an even stronger bond.
Remarking how delicious supper was smelling and saying he’d be watching a little TV until it was ready, he passed on through the kitchen into the dining hall and then to the living room beyond.  The TV was already on, though the sound was set low.  His little filly didn’t often watch TV, but she had a bad habit of leaving it turned on after finishing whatever cartoon it was she had been enjoying.  Currently it looked to be playing a news channel.  That would do, he decided.
As he sat down, he looked over at his daughter--she was on the floor, surrounded by a mass of paper and crayons.  Several bore the tell-tale signs of beginnings and disappointing ends, if not outright being crumpled in disgust.  His daughter loved to draw and had very high standards for herself--had it not been for her odd cutie mark, Blue would have pegged her talent to be something in the visual arts.  She was very skilled with her crayons; the level of detail in any of her drawings was always somewhat astounding to Blue.
He and his wife had been discussing about sending her to a school especially for young and gifted artists.  As it stood, they were just too expensive.  Still, nothing was too good for his little Topsy.  They’d make it work, somehow.
He regarded that that’s how most of their life had been--making it work, despite the difficulties.  His parents had kicked him out at a young age, which Blue hadn’t really minded.  His mother was a beaten martyr, crushed under his drunken father’s tyranny.  He had never doubted that getting out of that Tartarian household was a Celestia-sent miracle.
Blue’s own talent had been a penchant for almost any form of labor one could imagine, so he hadn’t had any issue supporting himself.  He had done several things before ending up at his current job with the factory.  He had thatched and shingled roofs, cut down trees, done a little basic construction--even diddled with electrical installation for a while.  It was when he had been an interior painter that he had met Lily Blossom, who he would later fall in love with and ask to be his wife.
It was a cheap and small wedding with a short and even cheaper honeymoon, but they had both been thrilled to find one another.  The nights had been filled with the joy of their union, though at the time they were playing it safe.  A foal would have been too much responsibility for them at that stage.  Blue Collar had learned his parents’ lesson well: you didn’t rush into a responsibility like that without being ready.
Later, when they both decided they could support a growing foal, it had crushed both of them to learn that their caution had been for naught.  Lily turned out to be barren as a result from an illness she had suffered as a foal.  There were several rough months there where she had been practically dead to the world.  Blue had worried himself sick as result, trying everything he could to bring his wife back from the bleak place she had retreated to.
It had finally came to him in a dream one night.  The very next day he had awoken her and said they should go for a walk.  As if in a stupor, she followed him but showed no response.  Down the street they had walked, eventually coming to an old but well taken care of brick building.  A sign over the door read, “Happy Hope Children’s Home“.
The memory still brought tears to Blue’s eyes: he had walked his wife in and immediately they had been assaulted by a group of foals of various age and sex.  His wife’s eyes had grown large, filling with tears as she fell to her knees and gave the nearest child a strong hug.  Laughter and sniggers had passed among the group as the attendant welcomed the two and shooed the children off.
Lily had let go very reluctantly, a heartfelt and teary smile plastered to her muzzle.  Blue’s own heart had soared at the sight, the first emotional response he had seen out of his wife for what felt like an eternity.
The attendant had taken them to the orphanage’s main office to discuss the adoption process.  Blue had already taken care of the background check so all they had to do was choose a foal and finish the proper paperwork.  She then took the overjoyed couple for a tour of the premises, where they talked with nearly a dozen fillies and colts.
Blue had seen several young colts that he thought would make a fine addition to their family, but  pointed out one filly in particular: a pale purple earth pony who hadn’t shown them any attention.  In fact, nopony had showed her any attention either.  She simply sat at a desk in a corner of the room, crayons moving constantly as she poured over sheet after sheet of paper.
They had asked the attendant, whose smile had faded quickly on the mention.  She hastily explained that the filly’s name was Topsy Turvy--she had been with the orphanage for nearly her entire life.  While they kept a kind and open place, something was just different with the child.  Nopony could really explain it.  She wasn’t unfriendly--quite the opposite, actually--simply somewhat uninterested in making friends or playing games with the other foals.
When she explained that a few of the older fillies and colts had taken to calling her ‘Screwball’ when she had gotten her cutie mark--an unexplainable screw and a baseball--that settled it for the barren couple.  They asked if they could adopt Topsy as their own.
And so the three had become family: Blue and Lily had found a daughter to love and cherish as if she was their very own and Topsy had fit right in, as if she was meant to be there all along.
Now Blue was ‘Daddy’.  He couldn’t get enough of that.  In fact, Lily and he had been thinking about possibly adopting another foal, but so far the finances just wouldn’t support it.  It would be nice for Topsy to at least have a sibling, to make at least one friend.  So far her loner circumstances had followed her into public school.
But Topsy was not unhappy--far from it.  So both he and Lily weren’t too concerned.
What did concern him were such things as the TV was playing now.  It shook him from his thoughts and he clicked up the volume just a bit.  Topsy continued to draw, seemingly lost in her own world of creation and imagination.
“...and we’re getting scattered reports that this is the worst storm in over two hundred years--and it came out of nowhere just hours before.  Literally nopony living in Manehattan has ever seen such a thing, Flash,” spoke a handsome young stallion, but his speech was staticy and the picture fuzzy.
News Flash, the anchor he had been talking to, said in a very even and unaccented tone, “I understand you’ve managed to capture some footage of the tornado itself?”
“Yes,” responded the field reporter whose name escaped Blue. “It’s really quite tragic, the death and devastation we managed to catch on tape.  Our news team barely made it out alive.  Sensitive viewers may wish to turn away, as this is somewhat graphic footage.”
There was a pause in the sound as the screen went black.  It was soon replaced by one of the most terrible scenes Blue had ever seen.  Buildings had been completely demolished--and more were in the process of being destroyed by a massive swirling vortex of wind and debris.
It was huge.  One could barely make out dozens of pegasi--weather controllers, obviously--circling around it, trying to slow the terrible funnel.  All to no avail.  Blue watched in horror as one by one the pegasi were sucked up, thrown to the ground, or battered with debris.
News Flash’s voice came overtop the howl of wind and screaming of the recording, still that neutral tone droned out, “Have there been any leads into finding out how this happened?”
The field reporter responded simply, “Unfortunately, as the storm is still going on, the local weather team is impossibly busy trying to stop it...and increasingly losing the ponypower to stop such a terrible tragedy.”  His voice was weak and breaking; he was obviously crying and fighting his tears to do his job.
As Blue continued to watch the video play, the horror kept growing worse.  Not only were the unfortunate weather pegasi being slaughtered, but several ponies on the ground could be seen as well.  Whether sucked up into the sky or thrown amongst the debris and rubble flying around, Blue lost count of how many ponies he clearly saw die.
How could they play something like this?
A high pitched humming caught his ears and directed his attention away from the terrible scenes on the screen.  He had been so engrossed that he had completely forgotten about Turvy!  She was right there and could clearly see the carnage on the screen.
Flipping the TV off quickly, he got down on the floor beside his daughter and looked over what she was drawing.  He figured a little innocence from his daughter’s creations would help him to block out the images he had just seen.
His mind was completely stunned when he saw the page she was working on at the moment.  It matched the scene he had just watched a second ago.  The massive funnel, the destroyed buildings, and even the ponies who stood no chance against such a terrifying disaster could all easily be made out.  In a twisted way, it was almost more real than the staticy and shaky footage--a perfect still shot of a real life tragedy.
Topsy looked up at him expectantly, seemingly after her Daddy’s usual praise at her artistic skill.  He gave her a solid frown, which wiped the grin off her muzzle instantly.  Her eyes lightly teared up and she hung her head as he said, “Topsy, the drawing is really good...” Here she raised her head and some of the joy returned to her eyes. “...but you really shouldn’t be drawing stuff like this.  Just because it’s on the TV doesn’t mean you have to copy it!”
Her expression brightened immediately at that.  The pale violet filly giggled, throwing out a hoof playfully before saying, “Silly, Daddy.  The TV copied me!  I started this drawing yesterday!”