//------------------------------// // 34 - Let's Do Lunch // Story: Oh to be Old Again // by Minalkra //------------------------------// Spring leafed through the papers by wing, the fountain pen held gently in her mouth. She furrowed a brow at one sheet, flipped to one further on in the stack and returned to the first. With a grimace and a gentle nudge of her pen, the mistake was corrected and the paper set aside to dry. A yawn caught her by surprise, the pen falling to the table and spilling ink across a few blank pages. A quick glance behind her drew out a groan - only noon and she was already tired of the endless reams of paperwork ... most of those being forms in quadruplicate for only fifty bits worth of an inn stay. She looked around her spartan office and frowned at the bare walls. Increases in productivity aside, blank white walls did not help her mood and she silently wished for some color to break up the monotony. If it got the paperwork done quicker ... A soft knocking pulled Spring away from her paperwork and musings. A distraction was just what she needed. She quickly trotted to the door, opening it with a bright smile that became a brittle grimace when she saw who was just on the other side. "Spring Meadows? My name is Sergent Quick Trot from the Royal Guard, Canterlot. Might I have a moment of your time?" "Welcome to my store, young sir." Willy waved a hoof towards the store around us with a huge smile on his face. A surprisingly real smile - like the smile of a father showing off his children. "We have toys from all over Equestria and beyond. Gryphon toys, minotaur toys, even the rare oddities from Saddle Arabia. Come, let us walk together through the-" "No singing." I had my priorities straight. "Pardon?" Willy and Rarity both blinked at me in surprise. Surprise and confusion. Surprise, confusion and fe- no, this isn't Monty Python - stop it. The pair shared a look as I let my mind wander a bit ... what were we talking about? Oh, right. "No singing." I gave them a glare. They responded with furrowed brows - furrowed in FEAR! Fear and confusion. Actually, mostly just confusion. Rarity cleared her throat and, with a side glance at Willy, tilted her head at me. "Uhm, Bruce? W-what are you talking about?" And now I feel stupid. Of course ponies don't burst into song at the drop of a hat. Who does that? Would I let logic and reason stop me though? Would I allow such base urges such as 'common sense' end a potential threat to my mental stability? Have you been following along? "He was going to start singing!" I pointed at Willy with an accusatory hoof. The poor stallion looked behind himself. He couldn't fool me. I was on to him. "Look at him, he was ramping up for a song! Don't song at me." "Okay ... I won't sing?" The nervous smile was telling - he was planning on singing at me, I knew it. I squinted at him, daring him to make a move. Mentally urging him to break so that- "Bruce, stop it." Rarity stomped a hoof, breaking my concentration. "You are acting like a foal." "You keep saying I am a foal." I turned my glare on her. "Far be it from me to ruin the fun little fantasy everyone seems to have." "Yes, well!" Willy interposed himself between us, all smiles and damp brow. "So Miss Rarity, what does the young sir enjoy?" Willy began to herd us along one of the many aisles, positioning me at the front. Most foals would be craning their necks to see each new thing and barely paying attention to the 'adult pony stuff' but ... okay, I was looking around in a detached sort of interest but my ears swiveled, attempting to pick up the conversation behind me. Mostly. I was not excited about toys, stop spreading such awful slander. "I'm afraid I don't quite know," Rarity spared me a glance as I looked over the shelves full of bits and bobs. I thought of them as bits and bobs because there's no way in hell I could name what half of them were. I recognized dolls - and there were a ton of dolls in a rainbow of colors - but what was the point of the hoop-stick thing? And about four different types of strange metal balls with pillows near them. Colorful bouncing balls and then something that looked like a miniature Tesla coil. Train sets next to some sort of twirly glass structure with colored fluids ... such oddities. I must have missed a part of the conversation because Willy's 'ah-ha' made me jump a bit. Thankfully, Rarity was there to grab the swirly-glass structure in her magic before it hit the ground. "Of course I have a full selection! Those are usually bought by the," Willy cleared his throat, "shall we say 'less social mares' of the world but I think I know what would spark young Bruce's interest. Follow me." And off he went. With nothing left for it - and Rarity seemingly as confused as I was - we followed Willy towards the back of the store. "That's ... a lot of actions figures." Willy, Rarity and I were in a particularly dark section of the labyrinthine store known only as Willy Wonka's Palace of Earthly Delights. There, in front of me, was a wall of humans. Well, sorta humans. Pony-humans. Racks stuffed to brimming with boxes, each showing some artistic rendition of what I assumed were the contents. And all labeled in unicorn script as well. However, at head height were slightly used examples and I stepped close to the shelves to investigate. They were taller than I had imagined - roughly a foot tall if I could guess at lengths. Wood and metal seemed to be the most common materials though the heads seemed made of porcelain or some similar ceramic. No plastics - well, very little plastic. Each one seemed to have their own particular type of accessories, from some sort of steampunk axe with a great number of extraneous gears and tubes to a fancy rapier that was ... way too idealized. In addition to the weapons, many had those strange lizard-mount things but I was enraptured by something very common. The face. It was nearly human. The ears were wrong and the mouth-nose area was a bit more 'muzzle-like' than normal but they were so close to human ... so close to human. "The book series is more popular with adult mares for some reason but I always stock the latest in toys, no matter the audience." Willy smiled down at me. Probably mistaking me shocked expression for one of wide-eyed wonder. "I'll let you two browse." And he was off, presumably to see if any more victims had entered his den. Rarity and I were alone. I reached a hoof out and tapped the strange near-human in front of me - it was hard. Stiff. Artificial. I couldn't read the script for the name but that didn't matter. Each second I looked at the figure in front of me gave me more of a feeling of dread. Each difference, more anger. I fought my own body to prevent a grimace and only partially succeeded. "So close to human, and yet so different." "Bruce?" Rarity's polite question seemed just as wrong as the figures in front of me for some reason. It was like everything that was wrong with the world. Polite, gentle, nice - but failing to understand the why of me. I gritted my teeth against the snap that tried to come out. "The faces are wrong, the hands are wrong, the ears are wrong. It's all wrong!" I almost smacked the parody of a human in front of me - almost. I held back - it wasn't mine to smack - but I did end up stomping. "Bruce, calm down." Rarity's voice held the warning edge of a scolding and I tried to calm myself - inhale, count to ten, exhale. Inhale, count, exhale. I felt her place a hoof on my back ... I don't know if it counted as rubbing or petting but it was calming just the same. It shouldn't have been, though. I was 32 and being patted on the back shouldn't be calming - and I had a right to be angry and bitter. I sat down, my ears sagging. "... I'm never going to get home, am I Rarity?" "I don't know." I glanced at her - her face was earnest. She gave me a weak smile. "I don't know, Bruce. Do you want to get home? From what you've related, 'home' wasn't a very kind place." "It's like any other place, Rarity. It had the ups, the downs and the sideways. But it was home. It was - is where I belong." "Are you sure Bruce?" Rarity was following me as I trotted with purpose. Around me, the sounds of overtly excitable foals had quieted but not disappeared. Racks of bits, bobs, Bobs and Ralphs passed us by in a blur of color. None of that concerned me, however. I just had to find the door out of this brightly colored hell. "Positive." "It's so strange not to have playthings." I remained silent as Rarity looked around in confusion. "Or want them ... for that matter. You're sure?" "Rarity, I would rather be dragged through a fire ant hive backwards by my bal-" "Bruce." Rarity Warning Tone registered. "I'm just saying. There is nothing in here I want or need and would much prefer to go ... home." "Well, if you're sure." "I'm sure." We passed by another aisle of happy foals in silence. Two fillies were magicking different sized and colored balls around the head of a laughing colt as a double set of pony parents watch. The parents glanced at us and their faces registered concern but a brisk trot and we were passed. Rarity broke the silence not two steps out of sight of the happy threesome plus three. "... are you quite cer-" "Rarity, please." "Well, I know that Willy is going to be awfully disappointed." I remained silent - again. "He might start to sin-" "That is it, I'm outta here! Where is the freakin' door?!" Rarity's shout for me to wait was ignored as I rounded a corner. "That was rather awkward." Rarity and I trotted down Mane Street (yes, really - the puns, they burn) with purpose. More because I had a purpose - to get 'home,' such as it was. Even trying to slip out of the toy store was a bit of a challenge as Willy seemed to be one of those storekeeps that love to ambush their patrons as soon as they set hoof in the front door. That no pony seemed to be complaining and some even seemed to enjoy the banter with the over-dressed fop was a poor way to discourage him. The very thought of that store of false faces and weird contraptions made my pace quicken and Rarity had to remind me to slow down every so often as the press of ponies began to get thicker. The sun was almost directly above us and the heat was fairly stifling. That toy store must have had central air or the pony equivalent of it because I had started to sweat just walking out of the door, never mind charging in a sprint as I had - with Rarity shouting at me from behind. I stopped after I was out and let her catch up. I wasn't running away from her, just that awkward place. Our path took us through the market area we had just visited and I knew that it was going to be a 'thing.' Despite the heat, outdoor cafes and such were rather normal for the period I figured Equestria was in - rapidly industrializing just before the giant crash as local resources were strained too thin. Maybe I was projecting. Regardless, the mostly empty cafes and restaurants were sure to be full of smiling ponies so happy and assured of their place and their species and - "Bruce, it's not at all normal - stay near me now - and I truly think you should get at least some small thing to pass the time." Rarity interrupted my downward spiral into depression. I felt a gentle pull on my tail - so weird - and caught the glow of Rarity's magic fading. As well as her sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, dear, you need to stay nearer to me." I looked around, my mind brought to bear on ... the slowly growing press of ponies ahead of us. The heat, the crowd, the fact that Rarity's ear was swiveling to catch what sounded like a very loud buzzing insect - growing louder. Okay, it was starting to freak me out. I turned away from the crowd. "Well let's hurry befo-" "Bruce!?" "Look out!" "Ahh!" Three familiar voices pulled my attention back towards the crowd and I caught a flash of color just prior to the impact - mostly red. A series of semi-soft impacts knocked me off of my hooves and onto my side rather painfully and I slid a foot or two before I came to a stop. Let me tell you - cobblestone is not a comfortable surface. And the saddlebags that I almost forgot I was wearing did nothing. The world went dark ... and then I opened my eyes to find three - no, four, no seven? Eight? Seven-eight concerned faces looking down at me. Two yellow, two orange and three-four-three white-ish faces. "Are you all right?" The two Raritys pushed passed the Cutie Mark Six-some and set me back on my hooves. Literally. She picked me up and set me down like some sort of puppy. I stared up at the slowly coalescing form of Rarity with a blank look. And then pain. White hot and lancing pain. "AH!" One of my back legs gave out and I toppled to the street with a screech. And cursing. Lots of cursing. "Really Bruce, carrying on like that." Rarity dabbed a damp cotton ball against the road rash that now adorned my flank. I took it like a man - or like a little boy. "Hush, this is your own fault for wandering away into a crowded herd of ponies." Rarity - her face adorned with a fierce blush - had dragged me over to a fountain and was currently tutting over my 'little scratch.' I swear, it felt like fire every time she so much as breathed near it. I refuse to admit I was crying like a child over a small scratch. It was big! At least as big as my hoof. The water was helping some though. Around us, a small bubble of privacy space had opened and the ponies wandering about seemingly at random hardly spared a glance at the pair of us - though a few stallions had stopped to 'aww' at the sight. I glared as hard as I could at them - and my pride took an even bigger dip when the majority of them giggled behind a hoof before trotting away. The ones that smiled gently at me with understanding stung worse, I think. "Hey Rarity - ah! - how big is Ponyville anywa-ow!" Despite the question's intended recipient, the peanut gallery was still with us and decided to chime in. "It's not that big." Scootaloo leaned over for the tenth time to try to see my gash but was pushed back for the tenth time by an irritated Rarity. I wondered what she was talking about but decided to believe she was answering the question. And for a moment, it seemed to distract her as she tapped hoof to chin in thought. "Maybe, like, one a-hundredth the size of Canterlot or something." "It's big!" And now Apple Bloom was joining the conversation from her perch next to me - really close next to me. Seriously, scoot over a bit. Since the farm filly wasn't telepathic, I scooted instead. "It's bigger than Trottin'ham." "Apple Bloom," Sweetie was next because everyone needs to have their turn at saying something I guess, "every town is bigger than Trottingham - even Hollow Shades." "Fahne, it's like half th' size of Canterlot." "Is not." "Is too!" "Is not!" Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were now both perched on the fountain with their noses pressed. And Apple Bloom's butt was pointed right at me, thanks for that. Didn't need to see that. Sweetie Belle was frowning at her friends and I could see the steam building in Rarity's face - and she wasn't so much cleaning my huge battle scar so much as jabbing it and that was getting painful. Time to be responsible! Somewhat. "Shut up or I'll push the pair of you into the fountain," I whined growled. "Ow! Not so rough Rarity!" And now Sweetie is on my other side. And Apple Bloom was up against me again. And Rarity turned her rageface to me. Is this my life? "Hey Bruce, once Rarity's done with that scratch, wanna come hang with us?" Scootaloo asked in a way-too-cheery voice. Here I was, bleeding my life away and- "I'm finished." Rarity kissed the scratch gash and set me on my hooves. With a quick flick of her magic, the saddlebags that did nothing to protect me from harm were whisked off my back and onto hers. "We've all had an exciting day but it's lunch time. What do you two say to joining the three of us for a quick bite?" "Three?" My question was answered by Sweetie Belle jabbing me in the side. "Ah. Three." "Yeah, I'm down." Scootaloo shrugged nonchalantly but her wings twitched in excitement. "Sure!" Applebloom was more honest and leapt to her hooves. "I don't get a say in this?" And now three elbows.