Return to fake roots

After that meeting with the Mane 4, I felt both pranked by Fate and relieved. Yes, I wasn't any nearer to escape than before, but, at the same time, I knew it was surely only a matter of time before I found a pony capable of speaking Latin.

But, again, I needed to wait, and the fact that I wasn't aware of the passage of time anymore worsened the wait. Not only was I going to get bored soon, but I would have no way of knowing for how long I would be stuck doing nothing.  That was a terrible situation to be in.

While I was in my crib in Apple Bloom's room, waiting to sleep on the same night of the meeting, I thought about what to do while waiting to meet randomly somepony who could speak Latin. Part of my mind wanted to maintain the same behavior that I had for the past two days, even if it meant going absolutely crazy while enduring being treated as a foal as time passed at an imperceptible pace.

Why did I think that?

First was the matter of dignity. If someone at home were to find out that I acted like a baby, I would be a laughingstock.  That’s not a good result.

Second was the issue of pedophobia.  My worst fear, back home, was regressing to childhood, that time when the liberty of your actions is strongly limited, and when your knowledge and intelligence is near zero.  You are constantly told not to worry about the bad things that happen within your family or elsewhere; if they deign to tell you anything, it is said in a way to soften the blow.  Adults treat you like a pile of living trash.  You can’t tell when your parents are hiding something.  The list goes on and on.  And for me, I spent my childhood moving from one clinic to another, living with brothers who kept attacking me physically.  And that’s why I feared becoming a child again, especially with my adult awareness.  All the bad experiences I left behind would unite with my present problems, forming a recurring nightmare.

Finally, there was pride.  How could I feel proud of doing so many stupid things, all the while just doing things I had already done in the past?

The other part of my mind said that, if I needed to stay there for a while as a foal, it would be better to seize the day, “carpe diem”, and expand my knowledge. After all, even if it was a bit degrading, an experience was still an experience, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience!

What were the counterpoints?

About my dignity, no one, apart from some ponies that I would never see ever again, would ever know that I acted like a baby for some time.

Plus, nothing forbade me from taking one of the books in the house and reading it.  That way, I could make sure that I wasn't going to end up like the Lotus Eaters in The Odyssey: men that, once they tasted the lotus, forgot about their homeland and their families, and decided to stay there, forever eating the lotus.

As for pedophobia, I knew that if I was going to stay in Equestria, I would eventually grow up. But the lack of sensing the passage of time would cause an apparent slowdown in my aging.  Thinking about it, it wouldn’t be as bad as my actual childhood.  Some of childhood’s problems stemmed from only being alive for a few months or years, and my 16-year old mind could see through the lies.  The bad things that happened in my family weren’t going to follow me here.  So, only about 5% of my list of worries were going to kick in.  Free from my problems at home, staying here would be a magnificent holiday for my mind.

And so the decision was set. I no longer had problems doing those actions that, normally, only babies did.  I would do whatever I felt like doing, without restrictions or penalties, because I had a page in the “experience encyclopedia” in my brain to fill with this. I had the desire to loosen up a bit.

After that decision, I drifted to sleep, sucking my pacifier slowly....

After that night, for a long time, everything went quite smoothly. Applejack was cycling between taking care of me and growing other crops in the fields of the farm; Big Macintosh kept working in the fields all day; Apple Bloom, thanks to the passion typical of kids of that age, tried in every way possible to integrate me in her activities besides schoolwork and studying. All I can say about my time spent with Apple Bloom is that it was quite enjoyable.

Only Granny Smith kept seemed not to like me, but I guess that was normal; she was a mare near the end of her days, and not used to change.

During that unquantifiable time, many funny episodes involving me and the rest of the family happened, but I want to tell you my favorite one: the attempt, by the Cutie Mark Crusaders, to babysit me, and the side effect of calling people by their Latin names, especially when their name is on the border of decency....

In a small tree house near the fields of the Apple family, three fillies were sitting on the floor, and they were thinking about what to do that evening.

The white one, her name being Sweetie Belle, asked “Have we already tried to get a gardening cutie mark?”

The orange one, named Scootaloo, was circling her penknife so much that it made a hole in the table.  “We tried it,” she said, sticking the knife in the hole she whittled.

Apple Bloom removed her hooves from her temples, and said “Mmmm... woodcraft?”

“We did that to death,” Scootaloo said, dismissing the proposal.

The white filly unsurely asked “Have we already tried sewing?”

Scootaloo sniffed.  “And where are we going to get the supplies for it? From your sister?”

“Why not?”

“She is in a creative frenzy right now.  She is looking for inspiration and materials for a new dress, and Celestia save us if Rarity spots us.”

“What? What do you fear, getting skinned by her?”

“No, I simply hate standing still for that long.”

The three fillies snorted.  It seemed that they had nothing to do together that day.

Apple Bloom was ready to dismiss the meeting, when she recalled her new brother, and how Applejack and Big Macintosh were absent for a while.  Her brother gave her the task of taking care of Venicio.  Truth be told, she seriously didn't want to do it. While she loved him, the filly wanted to hang out that day, and so, after her siblings left, she left the house and went towards the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ tree house, where she hoped to do something other than dealing with a 7-month old foal.

She was wrong.  The filly had no choice but to babysit, but she didn’t have to do it alone.  She could have her friends join.  If she was going to suffer, she would distribute the suffering among three ponies.

After thinking that, Apple Bloom said triumphantly “I have an idea! You know my adopted brother, right?”

Both the other fillies nodded

“Well, guess what. Applejack and Big Macintosh have left town for a while, and they asked me to take care of him. Problem is, I don't like do it alone....”

Scootaloo, with a smirk on her face, interrupted Apple Bloom.  “And so you are asking us to do part of one of your chores? I don't think so.”

Sweetie Belle glared at the orange filly, and said “Scootaloo, that wasn't very kind on your part. And, for what I remember, we never tried to get a foalsitting cutie mark....”

“And, since Venicio doesn’t seem inclined to whine if something goes wrong, we can safely assume that he is the best foal to try sitting for.”

“Well, fine,” Scootaloo said. “At least we aren't trying to get a cutie mark for watching paint dry, counting the feathers of a bird, or something like that.”

Then the three fillies stood up, and screamed “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS FOALSITTERS YAY!”

At the moment when Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom arrived, I was playing with some cardboard boxes full of some kind of green Styrofoam, destroying said boxes with my hooves and head, and breaking the strange Styrofoam into small balls.  I was so absorbed by that activity that I didn't see nor hear the arrival of the three fillies in the house. I noticed their arrival only when Apple Bloom greeted me with “Ave, Venicius, wham tu doing ?”

It was a cute attempt to speak Latin without understanding a word of it.  She was still thinking that Latin was some kind of baby talk, but I appreciated the attempt, so I greeted them back.

“Ave, Malorum Tempus Florum,” ( "Greetings, Applebloom) I said and then noticed Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. I continued my greeting with “Ah, Dulcem Pulchritudinem et Fugam Ab Latrinam, vos vista gradita est.” (" Ah, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo ! Your presence is good ")

Basically, I said that I was glad to see them, and, since Sweetie Belle was the sister of Rarity, I hoped that she at least had a basic understanding of Latin and could be my translator.

To my surprise, only Scootaloo recognized her name in Latin. And she wasn't happy about that.

“Wait a minute, your brother just called me a name that Silver Spoon calls me from time to time, 'Fugam Ab Latrinam', and that's not a compliment!” she said.

“What's the problem with that, Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked, curious.

“'Fugam Ab Latrinam' means, in some kind of weird language, 'Running from the loo,'” the orange filly said with a nearly angry tone of voice.

“How could that be?  He has never met you, or Silver Spoon! How he could know your offensive nickname?  It must be a coincidence!” Apple Bloom said, genuinely shocked.

In light of this situation, I had no idea how to react. Laugh, because I accidentally messed up my first meeting with Scootaloo by calling her an embarrassing name in Latin, thinking that she was totally ignorant of its meaning? Scold myself because I said her self-deprecating name in Latin, even if I had no idea that she knew its meaning?  Or pretend that nothing happened, knowing that Apple Bloom was going to cover my ass?

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle, seemingly unaware about what was going on, went near me, and introduced herself and Scootaloo. Not that I needed the introduction, since I already knew them, but still....

While the white filly talked, I kept watching what Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were doing in front of my eyes, and it was interesting to see to say the least.

Scootaloo felt forsaken by her friends. In front of her, a 7-month old foal had just called her the insulting nickname given to her by a schoolyard bully. Silver Spoon used her education and great knowledge of culture in the service of wickedness when she came up with the name “Fugam Ab Latrinam”.

“Fugam Ab Latrinam”: In an ancient and weird language, that according to Silver Spoon was still used in some fields, it meant “Escaping From the Loo”; and, according to said bully, her destiny was to be “full of dung” and things like that.

That teasing was one of the few things that could make her aggressive towards another pony. The problem was, Silver Spoon could take a lot of verbal punishment without flinching or complaining, but if she escalated by making it physical, then she could say that Scootaloo started the fight in the first place.  And that would redirect the punishment to one innocent orange pegasus....

Hearing the name would ruin her week, and quite a few past weeks were ruined just like that.  And now she was hearing it again, coming out of a foal's mouth, a foal that should not know it.

He would not know it, unless her friends just taught the foal to say the name. Then they invited her into the house with said foal, just to pull a prank on her.

Unfortunately, she hated that kind of prank, and she reacted angrily. “Wait a minute, your brother just called me a name that Silver Spoon calls me from time to time, 'Fugam Ab Latrinam', and that's not a compliment!” she said.

Apple Bloom asked what the problem with that was, and the orange pegasus filly answered, with an annoyed voice, that the name meant something offensive in an ancient language.

“How could that be?  He has never met you, or Silver Spoon! How he could know your offensive nickname?  It must be a coincidence!” Apple Bloom said, obviously showcasing her great acting skills.

Scootaloo answered sarcastically.  “Oooh, right. Silver Spoon, the filly that is very proud of her knowledge, and the haughtiest filly in Ponyville, if not all Equestria, insults me with the same language that a farmer foal uses to talk with his family. Please.”

Apple Bloom placed her muzzle against Scootaloo's. “Say what? Watch what you’re saying, please. I would never do that to you.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you that this wasn’t a prank. But that still doesn’t explain HOW he can speak an ancient language, when he can’t speak Equestrian!”

“Maybe his made-up speech is very similar to that language, Scootaloo. Surely he doesn’t know a word of it!”

“Or... he isn't truly a foal! He is a shape shifting alien from another dimension, an eldritch abomination, a....”

Apple Bloom interrupted Scootaloo’s rant dead in its tracks. “You read too many horror stories,” she said. “And I thought that after the round of nightmares you had while camping, you started to hate the horror genre....”

Scootaloo facehoofed. “All right, as you wish, if that’s what you want to think about him,” she said. “It's your 'brother', after all. Anyway, I'd prefer to get out of here. Thanks for inviting us over.”  With that, Scootaloo exited the house, an indignant emotion evident on her face.

The discussion indeed seemed impressive to my eyes. seeing Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, until few minutes before close friends, arguing if what a 7-month old foal (namely, me) said was intentional or not, and, if the latter was true, why Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle did this kind of “prank” to her.

After that argument, Scootaloo left, saying something about how she wanted to leave her friends for that day.

Briefly, before she turned to head towards the door, I read in her eyes the desire to know how it could be possible that I knew Latin, especially as I was a foal in a family of farmers, and, particularly, how I knew her name. Soon her questions would be answered by the foal in question.

Anyway, after a little wave of sadness passed through Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, the two fillies started to get to work with me, and, I must say, they were quite competent, for being pony equivalents of 8-year old girls. They actually watched my movements fairly carefully, to stop me from getting hurt (again, that would be the concern in a normal foalsitting scenario). They weren't very fussy when it came time to change me.  The two fillies, especially Sweetie Belle, were kind to me, willing to play with me even though I was, as far as they knew, an infant.

When they decided that it was time for Sweetie Belle to leave and for both of them to put me to sleep, I heard a disappointed sigh coming from the door; no cutie mark had appeared. I guess that Fate was a lot kinder to them, since a foalsitting cutie mark, after so many years of trying, would not be so nice....