Berry Punch's House Can Talk
They'd Say Bad Things About That Mare
Berry Punch knew, as most ponies also happened to know, that the world that she lived in operated on a few very simple rules. These rules were mostly common sense, of course. She and every other pony in Equestria had taken them to heart, memorizing each rule almost word for word.
First, the path of the sun and moon across the sky is directly subjective to the wills of their respective earth-bound incarnations, and will never move of their own accord. This has been a long-standing fact of Equestrian history, and while many speculate how things operated before the royal sisters were around, the far more intelligent scholars of Canterlot suggested that they not worry their tiny little minds about it.
Second, any gravity-obeying object in midair will never, ever fall upwards—with obvious exceptions to balloons, of course. Rare magic does exist which overturns this rule in other cases, if only for the caster, but many of lesser studies refuse to acknowledge it out of pure principle.
Third, and most importantly, an inanimate object of any kind will never, ever, ever speak in any recognizable dialect. No matter how much evidence may exist to the contrary. It would be silly to think otherwise.
Berry Punch took comfort in knowing these rules. Why, they were ingrained so deeply in her mind, she did not even need to consciously think about them to know them. Even as she ate, drank, walked, and slept, she was always aware of these simple dictations of reality and common sense. Every day, every night, every Saturday afternoon—everything was completely normal.
So it naturally came as a surprise when, quite suddenly, she heard a whisper.
“Psst. Hey. You.”
She was in bed, at the time. Barely awake, being it almost half-past the witching hour. But the whisper was distinct, and it made her ears twitch slightly as they registered the sound.
“Yeah, you. Grape-butt. Wake the fuck up.”
It was most definitely a voice. A rather rude one, to boot. Berry Punch stirred in her bed, lifting her head off the pillow as she opened her eyes. She expected there to be someone else in the room with her, but her room was empty. The door was shut, as well.
“Sweet, you're awake. Been trying to wake you for, what, an hour now? You sleep like a drunken log, I swear.”
The mare blinked, looking from one side of her room to the next. Her hazy mind was slow to comprehend the voice she was hearing, and couldn't understand where the voice was originating from. She turned to look out the window near her bedside, wondering if there was someone outside.
“Yeah, no. Not out there, babe.”
Berry Punch blinked again, realizing that the voice was almost in her ear—as if the one speaking was right beside her. She turned her head one way, then the other, checking behind her. Nopony was in the room with her.
“Uhh, yeah, I think we've established that there's no one else around here. Just you and me.”
In her mind, Berry was already aware of the few simple rules of reality. She knew that such voices were clearly a product of her beleaguered psyche. “Ech, gotta lay off the spirits before bed,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.
“Drinks? I'd be a little more concerned about those snack cakes you keep picking up from the Corner,” the voice chipped in. “Damn, do you ever go to town on those things! They are not doing any favors for your figure.”
The mare stopped short, surprised. “H-hey, lay off!” she snapped, her Isles accent and dialect quite evident. “I'm plenty well in shape!”
“Oh, you're in shape, alright… Shape like a sphere, that is. HA!”
Berry Punch flushed hotly, biting her lower lip as she traced a hoof along her hip and flank. “Shut your gob,” she groused, noting a sliver of truth in the voice's remark, “maybe a lot of stallions like a mare with some curves 'ere and there.”
“And maybe I'm the king of Mars.” A laugh echoed through the room. “But seriously now, you? When was the last time I even saw a stallion in here with you, anyway? Like, a year ago? Three years, tops? Didn't stick around long, either. But hey, you used to love those one-night stands. I lost count of 'em at, like, fifty-two…”
The mare groaned, pulling the covers over her head. “This is one heck of a dream,” she mumbled, burying her face into the pillow. Not once did she consider that this occurrence was anything other than a figment of her juice-addled mind.
But the voice was nothing if not persistent. “Oh, what, this is the welcome I get?” the voice carried on. “Living in me for, what, twenty years or so? And then when I finally strike up a chat, you think it's all a dream? Nice.”
“Oh, just shut up already,” Berry grumbled, ignoring the voice's rambling. “Tryin' to get some shuteye here…”
“Oh sure, never mind the fact that your own house is talking to you for the first time since you first dragged your weighty plot over the threshold. That's totally not something worth recognizing.”
“…The heck you carryin' on about?”
“What do you think? Do you have any idea what kind of stuff I've seen, living with you?” The voice seemed to gag. “Dear Celestia, if I had a means of doing so, I'd puke. Preferably on you.”
Berry Punch rolled her eyes, pulling the covers over herself a little tighter. “Houses can't talk,” she muttered, mostly to reassure herself. “Everyone knows.”
“And who the hell said they couldn't?”
“Everyone…”
“Pffft, what do they know? You ponies love coming up with stupid little things like that, just to make yourselves a little more comfortable about stuff you don't understand.”
“Makes more sense than an arse like you does…”
“Oh, how you wound me.”
The mare grumbled again, lifting the pillow over her head and pressing it down on herself, so as to block out the voice as much as possible. “Sod off, I need me sleep,” she muttered again, irritation evident in her tone.
“Fine, ignore me,” the voice replied, clearly sounding a tad indignant. “But there's not a lot of ways to ignore me for long. You live in me, remember?”
Berry Punch ignored it anyway. She shook her head, repeating the same phrase in her head again and again.
Houses can't talk…
– o –
The next morning was one that went down in Ponyville's brief history as one of the most stressful ones imaginable. For Berry Punch, it was most certainly not helped by the fact that the voice made good on its promise—namely, by making its opinion known on every arbitrary action of the mare's routine.
From the time she got out of bed, to the time she made breakfast, the commentary the house had was almost non-stop. Things like commenting on her weight, or mocking her accent, or even complaining about the filth she left; the house did not seem to know when to quit. And it was starting to get a little difficult to not want to yell back at it, nor deny that something strange was afoot in the first place.
“Are you serious? Hayburgers for breakfast? Again?”
“Hey, I don't tell you how to live your life!”
“You live in me, you crazy bitch. Don't I get a say in something?”
“Not in what I eat, ya idiot!”
“At least clean up after yourself a little, jeez! You really let me go!”
“Why bother cleanin' what's only gonna get dirty again?”
“Jeez. No wonder you can't get laid these days.”
“HEY!”
Berry Punch was quite fed up with the house by this point. On one hand, she wanted to ignore it altogether – but on the other, she could not help but respond to its remarks, even though doing so usually only resulted in further remarks. The house, it seemed, was far too witty for its own good. Not to mention terribly rude.
“Look, fine,” she conceded at last, heading over to the kitchen sink with one of her plates after finishing her odd choice in breakfast. “I'll start cleaning, okay? Just shut up and I'll do it.”
“Oh, nothing would make me happier,” the house quipped back.
Berry rolled her eyes, turning toward the sink and reaching for the faucet—then getting a torrent of freezing cold water sprayed at her face, which caught the unsuspecting mare off-guard.
“BLUGH-HEY!” she half-yelled and half-gurgled, clapping a hoof over the suddenly-active spray nozzle beside the faucet, barely keeping it from spraying all over the counter top. She was only barely able to turn off the water, before grabbing a washcloth and drying herself off, still coughing and sputtering. “What was that for!?”
The house could be heard roaring with laughter, obviously taking delight in Berry's unfortunate soaking. “Ahahaha, yes! Excellent! You totally fell for that!” the voice jeered, still chortling. “Left yourself completely open! Man, what a loser!”
Berry Punch growled, her body trembling with anger as she glared at the walls. “Aggravatin' little wank,” she muttered, tossing the cloth to the floor after drying her face. Part of her was willing to reason that the little rogue spray nozzle was a fluke—after all, it had done so of its own accord many times before, and it was likely broken to begin with—but the irritating laughter of the voice was just rubbing salt in the wound. “Listen here, ya—”
Ding-dong!
The ringing doorbell interrupted her train of thought. More than that, it meant she had a visitor. And a visitor during the current and most unfortunate situation she was having was one of the last things she was hoping for. She waited for a moment, remaining utterly silent. For all she knew, it could have been another trick of the mind. Or of the house itself.
The doorbell rang again after a moment.
Berry expected the house to chime in again with some stupid remark or other comment, but the room had gone silent again. Almost suspiciously so. Cautiously, the mare made her way out of her kitchen and toward the front door, cracking it open to take a look outside. To her surprise – and relief – it was a familiar blue mare standing just outside.
“Hi, Berry!” she said, smiling. “Just thought I'd stop by to say hi, and all. How've you been?”
“Oh, Minuette,” said Berry, chuckling nervously. “Have to say, it's a bit of a relief to see ya today. Mornin's been pretty stressful. More than usual, anyhow.”
Minuette tilted her head, frowning sympathetically. “Tough morning, again?”
“Like you wouldn't believe,” muttered the plum-coated mare. She then managed a smile of her own, inwardly believing that her products of imagination were over with. “Would ya like to come in for a bit?” she offered, holding the door open a little wider.
“Not for long, but sure!” her friend said, smiling as she stepped inside. “I was just on my way to see Cherry, actually.”
“Oh yeah, Cherr? Good ol' friend of mine. How's she?”
“Doing well,” Minuette replied, nodding. “Got a little upset that someone went and, uh… 'borrowed' her balloon the other day, but she's not the kind to hold grudges. Too much.”
Berry Punch chuckled. “Ah, poor Cherr. Can't ever catch a break, that mare,” she said with a shrug. “Things happen. Most of the time, they seem to cheese the poor girl off, more than anythin' else.”
Minuette giggled. “That they do,” she agreed. “Say, if you're not too busy with Ruby later on, do you think—?”
“Hey! Anyone up there?”
Both mares froze at the voice. Berry was silent, wondering if her friend had heard it too, but hoping to the good heavens above that she didn't. It sounded as if it was originating directly underfoot the both of them, muffled and echoed.
“Jeez, it's about time somepony came! Call the cops! This mare's a crazy one!”
Minuette blinked, looking down at the floorboards. “What is…?”
“Err…” Berry Punch coughed awkwardly, and forced a smile. “Must be a draft, or somethin',” she said with a nervous chuckle, all while thinking to herself, I swear on Luna's mane, I am going to *kill** that bloody thing…*
“Check under the floorboards! Bodies! Dozens of 'em! Ever wonder why she's never seen with a stallion for long? She's a black widow, I tell ya!”
“Uhhh…”
Both mares looked at each other. One wearing a look of confusion, the other with a very nervous and awkward smile. “I, uh… must've left a radio on, or somethin',” Berry said, caught in a strange mix of embarrassment, worry, and irritation. “Y'know, those, uh… old dramas, n' such…”
Minuette raised an eyebrow at her. “Berry, uh… is there something you're not telling me?”
“What, me? Naaahhh, never, you're worryin' too much about—”
“Sweet Celestia, the SMELL! Send help, quick! I'm tied up like a hog, down here! This was not what I had in mind when she mentioned ropes, babe!”
Both mares blushed slightly, Minuette in particular. She bit her lip, slowly inching back out the door. “M-maybe I should go…”
“Er, uh… yeah, might be the right idea, that,” Berry said, still forcing a smile. “Gotta take care of a few, uh… loose ends, and… such…”
“H-heh, yeah, loose ends,” the blue mare repeated, forcing a tiny smile of her own. “I'll, uh, catch you later, Berry. Maybe. When you're, uh… not as busy, I mean…”
Berry nodded. “Aye, yeah…”
Just as her friend slipped back out the door, shutting it behind her, Berry dropped her fake smile. She released a sigh, glaring down at the floorboards. “And just what did ya think you were doin', back there?!” the purple mare snapped.
The voice, now emanating from the floor, chuckled. “Well, if I did my part right, she now thinks you are either a cold-blooded killer, or an extremely kinky sexual deviant. Given how much she blushed, I'm inclined to say the latter!”
Berry Punch groaned and blushed furiously, stomping the floor with a hoof. “Bloody wank…”
“Um, ow? That was a little uncalled for,” the house said, huffing. “But anyway. She seemed nice! Girlfriend, I'm guessing?”
“She's a friend, yes,” Berry muttered. “Though ya didn't exactly help out with that, you know.”
The house laughed. “Maybe not, no. But what did you expect? Thirty-three years standing here silent, I've been bored as all Tartarus, watching all those living in me make a mess of the place. Do you have any idea what that's like? Sitting here, watching you drink, screw, and raise that little pint of a foal? I think I'm entitled to at least some fun, here and there.”
“You're a codflippin' house!” snapped the mare, stomping the floor again. “Wood, brick, straw, and glass! You're not alive! You're not even supposed to be doin' all this blather in the first place!”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone!”
“And there we go with that again. No creativity whatsoever, you ponies.”
“Oh, I'll show you some creativity, right as I shove it up yer—”
“Momma?”
Berry Punch froze. She turned to look behind her, seeing a small pink foal carefully climbing down the stairs—her own daughter, Ruby Pinch. “Momma, what's all the noise?” she said, yawning. It seemed clear she had just woke up.
“Pinchy! What're you doing up?” her mother said with slight astonishment, mentally cursing the voice for waking up her filly. “Everything's fine sweetheart, just… run along back to yer room, alright? Momma'll call ya down when she's got your breakfast ready.”
“But momma, why were you yelling?”
“Just…” She sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “Momma's a little stressed right now, and just wanted to vent. Everything's okay, so please just g—”
“Hey kid, wanna see a dead body?”
Berry was suddenly interrupted as the floorboards between her and Ruby inexplicably cracked apart, dirt being flung up into the room as a pony-shaped skeleton was thrust up between the floorboards, positioned so its empty eye sockets stared straight at the mortified foal.
“Word of advice, kid; don't forget your calcium! These old bones just aren't what they used to be!”
Ruby was dumbstruck for several moments, then let out a shrill scream of fright, scampering back up the stairs to her room in a flash and yelling out “Monster! Monster!” as she went. The house just cackled with delight, its laughs echoing through the hall as Berry looked on with a shocked expression.
“Oh, that was priceless!” the house jeered, chortling madly. “It's not even a real skeleton! Just a dumb plastic one I found in my basement. Nightmare Night, what a fright, huh? Golden!”
Seeing her filly react in such a way, at the whims of this uncouth force—something in Berry snapped. She stomped on the plastic skeleton's head, crushing it flat under her hoof as she snarled. “Alright, let's get one thing perfectly straight, boyo,” she grumbled, glaring at the walls around her. “You can spray me face with water. You can make fun of me accent as much as you bloody well please. And you can even go ahead and embarrass me in front of me friends. But you do not, under any circumstance, scare me little Pinchy… Otherwise, you're askin' for a right spot of trouble, ya hear me?”
The house laughed again, prompting Berry to bristle in response, further annoyed at its indifference. “Aww, that's sooooo sweet! 'Oi, me wee babby! She's me pride and joy!'” the voice mocked, exaggerating the mare's accent and only annoying her even further. “Yes, I gave her a scare. For fun! It's a joke, you silly pony. Have a sense of humor, why don't you... And besides, just what, pray tell, are you going to do about it anyway?”
Berry Punch didn't reply. She simply removed her hoof from the crushed skeleton, turning and kicking it across the hall as she silently walked back into the kitchen. The plastic toy clattered at it hit a wall, prompting another laugh out of the house.
“What, nothing? You're just going to give me the silent treatment again?” More laughter. Celestia's beard, how Berry was starting to hate that laugh. “Oh, that's so very terrible. Truly, it is…”
The mare didn't respond. She simply turned on the stove, starting up a low, blue flame. Then she cranked up the dial, making the stovetop flare up even further into a small orange blaze.
“What do you think you're…?”
Still silent, Berry then gathered up a number of boxes, snacks, and other paper-and-cardboard materials, tossing them onto the top of the stove. It wasn't long before the entire pile started to go up in flames.
“Seriously, you're just going to start a…” A slow-boiling realization seemed to set in for the house. “…oh.”
Then, as if to ensure that nothing could be done to stop it, Berry Punch grabbed the small spray hose beside the sink faucet – the same one that had soaked her face not even twenty minutes prior – and tied it up into a tight knot. By now, the flames were starting to spread, and smoke was billowing up along the ceiling.
“Uh, I'm pretty sure that's against some sort of fire code…”
Satisfied with the result, she let the hose drop back into the sink, heading out of the kitchen again and up the stairs. She returned a few moments later with her daughter, heading down the stairs with the calmed-down filly clinging to her back.
“Momma, what's that smell?” the innocent little Ruby asked, tilting her head. “Did you burn breakfast again, momma?”
“Oh, I burned somethin', Pinchy,” she muttered in response. “We're gonna go off an' have some brekkie at Cherr's instead.”
“Yay! Cherry makes the best brownies!”
“Mmhmm, that she does…”
And like that, the two of them left without any further words out the front door, with Berry slamming it behind them. Smoke continued to fill the kitchen, spreading into the hallway and beyond. Empty and left to its own thoughts, realization slowly dawned on the house of the rather dire position it was just put into.
“…Well, shit.”
– o –
Later that evening, the blackened skeleton of the house remained barely standing. Fire crews were able to save the house from becoming a complete pile of rubble, but rebuilding would still be a necessity later on, since the house was too unstable as it was. Not that the house really minded, of course—it felt it was overdue for a fresh coat of paint anyway. And besides, some time without ponies mucking around inside of it was a much-needed break as it was.
The blaze was determined to be an accident, and according to one bystander, the occupant was out of the house at the time; she would be staying at a friend's house until she and her daughter could be relocated. The house would certainly not miss its prior occupants, to be sure. But at least it was pretty fun while it lasted.
“…So yeah, as it turns out, being set on fire really does suck as badly as the rumors suggested,” it recounted to its fellow domiciles, laughing. “Hey, at least the rest of you guys got off easy. They put it out before it could spread, and all.”
“You could have set the whole town on fire, you idiot!” the library down the road bellowed, to the collective assent of the surrounding houses along the street.
“Shut up, nerd!” the burnt house yelled back. “You're just afraid of losing all your precious little books. You can't even read them!”
“Well, I... I could if I really wanted to!”
“Dude… Really?” the house across the street said with disbelief, and sighed. “I can't fucking believe you, dude…”
“Stuff it down your chimney,” the burnt house retorted. “At least I got to go out in, shall we say, a blaze of glory, eh? Eh?”
The surrounding block of houses collectively groaned at the pun.
“You know, this is exactly the reason why we don't talk to the ponies,” the next-door house said, and scoffed. “Dumbass. You're lucky she didn't care enough to reveal our secret to the rest of the world.”
“To be fair, I doubt these idiot ponies would have believed her anyway,” another house down the lane chipped in, to the begrudging agreements of a number of other homes.
The burnt house coughed, and chuckled. “Totally worth it…”
