The next day comes when the job is done.
Earth is such a strange place.
Arguably, that is, since I’ve only ever experienced living in the United States for the last five years, and visiting Canada with some friends some time before that, when this whole new world was such an alien environment. Curious ponies, gryphons, and other creatures were eager to explore the place.
And I was one of them.
Was, because working here on Earth wasn’t like back home in Equestria, or even where I grew up, Manehattan.
I traded the occasional smelly dumpster and rare rude pony for a place that was always tricking my senses. There would be nice people, nice places, and then like when I stepped through that portal for the first time, I was in a whole new world.
Only, I’d just crossed a street, and entered a new housing block that was run down, poor, and on the brink of collapse.
I waited outside my apartment as I always did, every night. It was a cold, snowy December thirty-first. Christmas, as the humans called it, went well enough. I worked, but as a newspaper delivery person; there were no such things as holidays, save for when the presses broke down and they couldn’t get them going before five am the next day.
Then again, until our route was done, it wasn’t the next day, not really. We could start at ten in the evening, and finish up around three in the morning, but it wasn’t the next day until we were done.
At least, that’s how Jack always explained it.
Jack was a nice man, human, grew up most of his life here in the shady parts of Flint, but knew the streets like the back of his hand. He was a good driver, although I’d never driven myself so who’s to really say from my judgement alone.
From down the street, I heard a rumbling, and saw Jack’s van, Gramps he called it, coming down the road. The left headlight was dim, as it always was, the right one shining off to the right. Jack said it was to help with spotting deer, but the bash in the front fender on that side told me another story.
As long as I’d been working with him, he’d never hit anything other than the dumb small animals who didn’t know better, or took the time to look both ways before crossing.
Gramps was an older van, from what I gathered watching the television, or hearing the radio advertise the new twenty-twenty vehicles out for sale, even though it was still 2019. Somehow vehicles were newer than the year. Jack said it was just a gimmick to sell stuff. I tended to believe most things he told me; he knew a lot about growing up on his own from a young age like myself.
“No sir, they don’t make them like this no more,” Jack would say, slapping the black dash of Gramps. “1986 wasn’t the best year, but at least it was still carbureted! Damn fuel injection, never could be bothered to fiddle with the stuff.”
I’d just nod my head in the passenger seat, looking out. Thankfully, being a pegasus, the coldness of the outside didn’t bother me, and Jack always wore extra layers. The heater didn’t work, or if it did, you couldn’t notice it when driving. He’d shove a piece of cardboard between the grill and radiator, said it helped.
I’m a pegasus, and I’ll tell you, it didn’t seem to ever make a difference. But Jack was Jack, and he’d just tap his forehead with a gloved hand, smile at me with a wink, and go about driving.
The Journal building was a strange place. We delivered The Flint Journal, which in of itself was a dying trend thanks to the internet, but apparently there were those who still refused the change.
I liked it myself, and Jack was always nice to let me take a paper home for myself. I’d offer to pay for it, but he would just laugh at me, pat my mane, and say I was such a silly pony. I’d call it demeaning, being a stallion, but I honestly think Jack just thought ponies were ponies, and there was no difference in any of us.
We were Truck 516, which put us in Bay 4, fourth in line. There were a total of eight bays, and I’d never been there long enough to see how many more vans were in line after us, besides the obvious two that were quick to park in the opening spots. So until it was our time to move, we’d find an open spot in the outer lot, and Jack would go off to mingle with the other delivery drivers.
There were all kinds of them, too. Big, small, old, young, different races, although other than skin colour I couldn’t tell the difference, and even then I’d been wrong about it. Humans were complicated, but as long as you were polite and didn’t blow around their paperwork with your wings, they tended to like ponies.
Once Jack was gone I disembark myself, making sure the door actually latched closed. We had to be careful of the rear side door, because sometimes it could pop open on us when delivering, and bundles of newspapers could go flying out. It was okay if it was dry, but when it was snowy, cold, and wet, well then Jack got complaints.
And when Jack got complaints, he’d be grumpy for the whole next night of delivery. I knew, because he wouldn’t turn the radio on. He liked to sing along to the “oldies” as they called it. I didn’t really see a point in calling a song new or old. To me, music was music, so who cared when it was from, so long as you enjoyed it.
The Journal had an inside lobby for us delivery people. It was small, cramped, the vending machine usually never worked, but I never cared for the place myself. Instead, I’d walk the other way down the hall, and find the biggest room of the whole building.
The presses, where the papers were printed, put together, and bundled. When I first started working with Jack, we had to stuff all the papers as two parts, making one, but a couple years ago they began stuffing the daily papers all together, and so we only needed to put the Sunday editions together.
They were also always much thicker, with lots of ads and coupons in them, so it made it all the more difficult to deliver.
I stopped at the main double doors, and stood on my hind legs, resting my hooves on the low glass, to look inside. All over, humans were busy about, checking on the presses, clearing jams before they caused a back up.
Shockingly, there is one other pony that works here at the Journal.
And there, walking with a tray of coffee floating in her magic, was Hot Brew. She was hired on to help with extra work, and eventually proved to be so efficient, that she started making a regular habit of bringing people coffee.
Inside, of course. Us delivery people, we didn’t get that kind of treatment.
Well, except me, sometimes.
I tapped on the glass, and Hot Brew’s ears twitched, and her beautiful brown eyes found mine. She smiled, and so did I. Dropping off a couple more drinks, she made her way to me, and raising her badge to a small box beside the door, I heard a beep, and the red light on the box on my side turned green, and she pressed her head through.
“Heya Rudy!”
“Hey Brew!”
We briefly nuzzled, and she gave me one of the coffees from the tray.
“Jack outside still?” she asked, and I nodded.
Another cup floated my way. “Make sure nopony sees them, okay?”
I nodded my head, and tucked the two cups under a partly stretched out wing.
“How’s it looking tonight?” I asked.
She smiled. “So far so good. No plates broken, the stringing machines are cooperating, and even Dale is in a good mood tonight. He thinks we might make it home to watch the ball drop.”
I nodded.
“Otherwise, somepony said we could just go into the lounge and watch it on the television in there.”
“Makes sense.”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I could care less, but spending time with friends is always nice. It’s just a silly ball of lights falling to the roof of a building.”
“I wouldn't know.”
She blinked. “Oh, right, because…”
“Someone’s gotta deliver them.”
She nodded. “You all work so hard. I really wish they’d let me bring drinks out to you all.”
“Then you’d never get your other, more important work done.”
She nodded, then briefly looked behind her. “Say, are you doing anything tomorrow?”
That was a first, but shook my head.
“Good. When do you and Jack normally finish up?”
I looked down to my watch. It was 9:25 now, so if things went on time…
“Around three or four in the morning. Why?”
“Wanna meet up for breakfast around nine?”
“Oh, well I mean, that leaves me with a few hours to…”
Her eyes had me again. I gulped.
“Yes, I s-sure can.”
She smiled. “Great. You know how to fly here, don’t you? Or will you need to have Jack drive you here?”
“I know how to get here by wing!”
She giggled. “Right, of course.”
The overhead speakers came on with a crackle just then. “Miss Brew, John needs you in his office ASAP. Brew, John’s office.”
It shut off with a click.
“Oh, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!”
Another nuzzle, although this one more affectionate on her end, and off she went.
Huh… that was… interesting.
I watched the presses for another few minutes, until I heard the first line of vans leaving the bays, and headed out for Gramps. It wasn’t hard to spot the dark grey van, with white rear doors and bent rear bumper. Jack was at one of them, open, organizing bags. I pulled out the two cups of coffee, and before I could say anything he was already turning around.
“I can smell Hot Brew’s coffee from miles away. She sure is sweet on ya, ain’t she?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess-”
“You better ask her out soon, boy, before another one of you ponies comes about and grabs her up.”
I just nodded my head, and got into the passenger seat while Jack finished up.
A few minutes later, Jack got in and we went to park on deck. They were running good tonight, because usually by now we’d be third in line. We sat quiet in Gramps for a good fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, the radio on and Gramps running smooth. The heater lever was shut off for obvious reasons.
Then, from behind us, someone smacked our rear doors. I looked back, then to the mirror, trying to see if I could tell who it was.
“Gettin’ close for us now, Rudy. That was Bill letting us know he’s about ready to go.”
I nodded, and finished the last few drops of my now cold coffee. Jack had polished his off before he even got back into Gramps earlier.
Backing into our bay, it always caught me funny how all of the vans around us leaned to the left. Jack called it “the curse of the papers,” because most vans had the back side door on the right, so everyone stacked them to the left. All the weight on that one side, because on the other side you needed to have room to place the ready papers, and then open the door.
“I’m smart though. I paid the extra money and put heavy suspension parts on the left side, so Gramps don’t tip none!”
It was logical, I guess.
Now was the waiting game. The bays unloaded in three groups. 1, 2, and 3. 4, 5, and 6. Then 7 and 8. Each group had its own press running. We would watch for when van 5 would leave, then as 6 would begin loading we’d scurry outside, open the back doors. I’d guide Jack in closer with Gramps, and then he’d grab the conveyer roller belt and pull it into the van so it was easier to unload.
Last week, bays 2 and 3 broke, so they had to throw them from the window into the van. That would have sucked, but at least it wasn’t us.
As was usual, no warning, I watched a piece of metal inside move, and the flowing bundles of papers began coming our way.
Jack would sit at the rear, closest to the conveyer on account it was hard on his knees to move around in the back of Gramps. I would be in the middle, taking the tossed bundles and stacking them. We had a specific manner in which we did this, otherwise it could throw things off.
And then there were the different routes. We were Truck 516, but each truck could have multiple different routes, which meant different ads and coupons for locations that had, or didn’t have, specific stores around them.
We had five different routes, so we had to make sure they were separated. Sunday was difficult, because using hooves, it was tricky to stuff them, and the dailies when we did them were even worse with how thin and small they were. I usually had to use my wings, but by the end of the night my primaries would be coated in a thin black layer of ink, and it made flying weird, like the tips of my wings were numb.
Half way through the third route, 0669, I noticed Jack curse, and that was never good. The bundles stopped coming out, and he crawled out of the van and shouted through the bay door.
“Hey, what gives!?”
I didn’t hear what the person inside said back, but people started honking their van horns. It was obvious to me then.
The presses broke down. My watch said it was almost 10. This was going to be a long night.
Someone got donuts for the delivery crew lobby, but Jack and I knew better and we walked down the street to the gas station. We knew we had at least a half hour before they’d be back up, so we wanted to grab snacks.
“I’m tellin ya, boy, that girl pony likes you.”
“Mare.”
“I know what I said.”
I rolled my eyes. I got a bag of Doritos, Nacho Cheese, and Jack got some regular Better Made BBQ chips. We were gone and back in fifteen minutes, and I was shocked to see Hot Brew standing outside Gramps, looking around questioningly.
I felt a boot to my flank, pushing me forward.
“Go on, get now!”
“Jack!” I barked, but he was already walking towards another driver’s van, probably to bum some smokes or trade stories.
I continued to the van, and Hot Brew met me with another nuzzle. It was times like this, I realized, humans tended to get mixed signals from how touchy we ponies could be. I was confused myself, at the current moment.
“Did you ask me out on a date?”
She blinked, smiled, and let out a loud laugh.
Then, she nodded her head. “Yes, you dingus.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“I came out to tell you the presses should be back up in another fifteen to twenty minutes. A plate broke, but the roads up north are not bad so the truck bringing it should be here soon.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Actually, I came out to ask you another favor.”
I quirked a brow, watching her play with her front hooves.
“Well, would you or Jack mind some company tonight? I’m getting off soon, and the time lines up with when you two should be getting ready to leave.”
“Oh! Uh… I’m not-”
“Of course! The more the merrier!”
“Jack!”
From nowhere, as usual for the man, Jack was standing behind me. It even seemed to take Hot Brew by surprise.
“So this is the famous Hotty I’ve heard so much about!”
“Jack!”
Surprisingly, instead of harsh words like I expected, Hot Brew began to giggle.
“I haven’t been called that in years. And you must be Jack. Nice to finally formally meet you.” She extended a hoof, and Jack kneeled down to shake it.
“Likewise, ma’am. And of course, you can come. Just you’ll be stuck in the van with me.”
“Is that a problem?” she asked.
“Only if Rudy here is the jealous type!” he barked a laugh.
My cheeks grew red, and that also set off Brew, who joined in on the laughter. I couldn’t help but join in.
Hot Brew agreed to meet us in the outer parking lot after she clocked out, which was 11. It was 10:50 when the presses started back up, and we continued our loading of the van. By the time we pulled away, she was already waiting in the lot, so I opened the back door and she jumped right in.
“Sorry, we’d offer you a seat up front, but we need to keep route 0339 seperate from the rest because-”
“They’re out towards Owasso, so they have an Aldi’s. Yeah, I understand.”
I blinked. Jack whistled. “Girl knows her routes.”
“I should. I help with the ad separation.”
It was a solid half hour drive before we started hitting the first part of the route. Stores first, then home delivery. We started with Vernon, then Corunna, Bancroft, and lastly Owasso. It was a little bit of back and forth driving, but it made sense with how many papers we had. Owasso had the most, so we saved it for last.
Jack also had a brother that lived out there, and he would park his smaller station wagon so we could split up and conquer the home delivery. Jack would drive out and deliver to the homes in Corunna and Perry, and I’d fly the Owasso papers with my satchel, and have the van to come back to restock.
I was genuinely surprised, but as we started to approach our stops, Brew stepped in to help. Both Jack and I insisted she didn’t need to, having her company was enough, but she insisted. So Jack turned on the radio, and we sang along to The Bee Gees, Bob Seger, and a few others I forget the names.
The stores went by quickly. As usual, we didn’t really look at the time. Gramps didn’t even have a clock, and I always remove my watch when in the van because it starts to itch.
We were leaving Corunna when Jack changed the radio. It was someone talking with another person about their plans for the new year. Odd, normally we didn’t bother changing the station, but I think Jack knew from a previous discussion with Brew, that she liked to watch it with her co-workers.
“So you don’t find it weird?”
I was stacking papers in bundles of twenty for the coming stores, but we were all still talking.
“No? Should we?” I asked.
“Well, everypony makes it out to be such a big deal. Parties, drinking, proposals, even sex.”
Jack snorted a laugh.
“But you’ve been on Earth now five years, and you’ve yet to see it.”
“Nope.”
“We will need to change that next year, then.”
“What for?”
“Well, I just listed it off. Parties, drinking, proposals…”
“Don’t forget the sex!”
“Jack!” both Brew and I shouted.
“What!? She said it first, aha ha ha! Oh hey, hang on you two, gonna pull over for the plow truck.”
Jack slowed Gramps down, and nudged us to the side of the road. A massive orange truck with flashing white and green lights went by slowly in the opposite direction of us, and tooted its horn in thanks as it continued to clear the roads.
They weren’t bad, but enough was coming down that someone needed to clear it.
“Wow, lots of ponies work on holidays, huh?”
“The world can’t stand still for a silly thing like a holiday, girly.”
“True words, Jack.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Well, shit, we missed it.”
I binked. “Missed what? Vernon Hardware isn’t open tomorrow.”
“No, not that! The radio! The ball drop!”
Jack turned up the radio, and it was already playing music. Crowds of people could be heard cheering, and singing along to Auld Lang Syne.
“Yeah, I guess we did.”
I turned to Hot Brew, and she was already looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Just like that. A moment lost, a moment forgotten, and it’s a new year.”
I shrugged. “It’s just another day.”
She looked at me for a while longer, and then to Jack, and finally nodded her head. “I suppose so.”
She then sat beside me in the back of Gramps, and helped tie up the bags. If she kept this kind of work up, Jack might have to hire her.
But then where would that leave me?
The stores were done by 1 am, which was pretty good. Most were closed, so we were just dropping off the bagged papers in front of their doors. Jack said that when it was himself, he wouldn’t be home till 6 or 7, and his departed wife would already be making him breakfast. After she passed away, he put up his help wanted ad, and I happened upon it.
I wish I’d met his wife. The stories he told about her were always so nice and sweet, which was a huge contrast to all his other stories about growing up in the city, being jumped, fighting off gang members, and having no cable.
We pulled into Jack’s brother’s driveway. I’d only ever met Jake a few times on and off, when we were running so late he was already going into work himself. They were brief, and the first time he thought I was a stray dog Jack had picked up, and then I talked.
His kids loved me though. I think they’d love Brew, too. Maybe we could meet them together some time.
“Alright, so this is where we part ways for the night,” Jack began explaining, parking beside Nana, the green Buick Century Wagon. “Rudy here delivers the denser residential area here, and part of Perry, while I go out to the ‘boons and the long driving.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster the other way around?” Brew asked.
“Jack’s girlfriend lives out there, so he goes to visit after he’s done,” I said.
“Ooooh, okay. That makes sense.”
We helped load up Nana with the remaining twenty bundles of papers, and off Jack went. My satchel bag was stuffed behind the spare tire in Gramps, and with help from Brew’s magic, we loaded it up.
I was about to tell her she could stay in Gramps, there was a spare quilt for the inevitable break down, when she carried with her two more bundles in her magic.
“What? I might as well help.”
“Well, I usually fly around.”
“So?”
“You can’t fly.”
“No, but I can carry these along and you can restock from me, instead of coming all the way back here.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then closed it, and shrugged. “I have a winter hat and scarf somewhere up front, would you like them?”
“Sure.”
They were burgundy with stripes of yellow, which nearly matched my dark red coat and golden mane. It was a bright difference from her baby blue coat and brown mane.
“Ready?”
She nodded, and off we went.
It threw me off a little, because instead of simply zipping around my usual ways, I decided to hang back with her as she walked down the street.
Out where Jack delivered, he put the papers into plastic tubes at the ends of driveways. But here, in the city, they had their mailboxes up on their porch, at the front door, or just somewhere near the house. So I’d have to throw them up on said porch, or at the front door, rolled up and placed into a thin plastic bag, held closed with a rubber band.
Normally I’d go out, empty my bag, and rush back to Gramps to restock. With Brew helping, I’d deliver to a dozen or so, then come back to restock my only half-empty bag. Before long, I was returning after delivering fewer and fewer papers, until I gave up and we both just walked along, leaning against each other for the shared warmth, her magic throwing a rolled up and bagged paper to where I pointed my wing on her back.
At one point, we returned to Gramps, and I flew out to deliver the Perry papers, and promised to be back shortly.
I think I broke my personal best time of an hour and a half, and managed to stuff the rest of the papers on my only return trip.
Then we returned to the streets of Owasso to finish up the Victorian district.
Realistically, the way we did it took us nearly double the time if I were by myself. Yet, strangely, with Brew it felt like only minutes when we noticed the sun beginning to come up.
“Wow, it’s early.”
“No, it’s late.”
She looked at me funny.
“It’s not the next day until we’re done.”
“Oh, I’ve heard a few other delivery drivers say that before.” She looked off towards the rising sun, then down to my empty satchel. “Never understood it until now.”
I also looked.
We were done. We still had a long ways to go back home to Flint, but like us, MTA would still be out patrolling, and we could take a bus back.
“Oh hey, lookit that.”
Suddenly, I felt warm lips to my own. I froze, locked in place, and my unoccupied wing shooting upward, stiff.
My other wing refused to let go of her back and barrel.
A passing car honked at us, and I watched the driver giving us a thumbs up as he continued on his slow pace.
Brew pulled away, but only had her eyes on me. “Now that we’re done, it’s officially January 1st. Happy New Year.”
I smiled. “Yeah, Happy New Year.”
Author's Note
Blog Post here! Happy New Year!
This story is dedicated to all those who work the hard jobs, the ones that require being away from home, family, and friends on those special holidays. I've been there, but I'll still say thank you for your hard work.
