Live A Life, or Forge It

And that's how I learnt to speak Equestrian, and get understood by a wider audience, who now included pretty much every pony in Equestria.

Another thing that I want to tell you, it's an anecdote about when I met for the first time the Cake twins, a meeting that was filled with...  few problems of understanding, we could say.

Now, you can guess that the Apples, sometimes, didn't had time for watching me, for a reason or another, and so, they needed a baby sitter for me.

And so the Apples chose the closest offer available: their friend Pinkie Pie.

Oh God.

Pinkie Pie as a baby sitter: I saw how she fared with the Cake Twins, and how she reacted when I presented myself around a month before, and... well, it seemed a pretty good for me, all thing considered: I wasn't annoying and I enjoyed her company, so no breakdowns by her; and she was likely to understand my weirdness, and satisfy it: a perfect mix.

Well, that, until I clashed with the fact that I had no idea about how much effective time passed in Equestria between what we call the “Cake Twins episode”, and my arrival: it could have passed three years, or four months.

Either way, I was bound to met the Cake Twins, who were, clearly, true foal, so, not the best company for a “young man in disguise”  like me, but I needed to make the best of things, since I was out of any other choice.

Anyway, the first day where I was left in the hooves of Pinkie, it was a dull day of September: the weather was scheduled as light rain, and, overall, the day seemed the classic dull and boring day of Autumn, but, I must say, that was my kind of day, since it represented my whole life, before I arrived in Apple Family.

Now the most fitting weather was the overcast sky, with few holes for the light, and no rain.

Anyway, I was reading a stolen book from Applebloom's library, in order to help her later on, when I felt a little tap on my back: since it was not expected, I did a jump scare, and did the military greet saying: “Impera ?”

When the scare ran out, I saw in front of me a giggling Applebloom saying:

“Oh, oh, oh, Venicio, you are so funny when you are scared. Come on, today, you are going to meet  two new friends ! Yes, I know that staying with the Cake twins MIGHT not be very pleasuring for you, since you are stallion in mind, but you need to do it, since you want to keep your true identity hidden”

I nodded, and said:

“Alright then, bring this on !”

Applebloom smiled, and did the gesture of follow her downstairs, where my means of transport that awaited me.

When finally I and Applebloom arrived to our destination, namely, the service door of the Sugarcube Corner, when the door was opened, I was welcomed by the smell of burned wood  and  freshly-made roman mola: said smells made me cawing a bit, especially the last one, since it wasn't, in my book, a sweet thing, something with a good taste... or a pony dish either !

After all, a mixture of toasted oat and barley; salt; red wine and burned wheat wasn't properly made for begin eat by humans, but made for begin ate by the sacrificial cows in the Monarchist an Early Republican Rome.

How I knew the smell and the taste ? Don't ask, just know that once I ate it, and it wasn't in a pleasuring situation.

My disturbed reaction was blissfully ignored by Pinkie, who said still bouncing:

“Hi, Venicio ! How are you ? Oh, right, you can't answer since you are incapable of talking, but I still ask, since it's polite. Oh, you will love my way to do...”

And so Pinkie started one of her usual verbal streams that you can't stop: I hopped down , and did the gesture of go away  to Applebloom to go home, since she had fulfilled her role there for the moment.

When finally Pinkie stopped, and entered in the house, I understood what was that smell: it was, indeed, a can of  wineless mola... overturned on the floor, and raided by Pound and Pumpkin Cake.

I thought that the twins were eating something that should not eat, since it wasn't edible.

But it seemed that it was, indeed, edible: otherwise, why Pinkie would leave me over a table, telling me that she was going to return very soon; went near the two baby ponies, scold them, saying that was the TENTH TIME that they raided the “mola” can; and put said can in the sink

The sight left me bewilded:

Two babies, let's say... almost toddlers

Going into the kitchen.

Looking for a can of the worst food ever conceived by a sane mind, namely, the mola.

And actually eating it with pleasure.

Eating mola.

With pleasure.

That ten times in a row.

It sounded very wrong to me.

Again, THAT was very weird to see for me: alright, they are horse. Understood.

But... I think there is a reason, for why the farmers that needed to sacrifice said animals needed to SHOVE the mola into the animal's throat !

Clearly, the ponies actually enjoyed that, and I wasn't unaware.

Good to know, but still very weird to see, at a first glance.

When Pinkie finished to deal with the twins, she come back to me, and said to jump down, so she could carry me in the playroom.

I obeyed, and followed her upstairs.

The room was, to say briefly, something that hurt my eyes for the brightness, since the room was , for some reasons, the ceiling covered in prisms that created games of lights that, supposedly, changed during the course of day, and, to say at least, said games of light were annoying as fuck.

When I finally I got used to the game of light created by the odd presence of prisms, I sat on my bottom, and greeted them.

For some demented reasons, still in Latin:

“Ave, iuvenes Magna Baca et Tusa !” (Greetings, young Pumpkin and Pound !)

They looked at me weird, and blabbered something, something that I was still, somehow, capable of understanding: they said a phrase along lines

“And who are you ? And what are you just said ?”

Well, obvious my brain went on holiday, when I thought to talk in Latin, and, when I realized the obvious, decided to still keep talking in Latin:

“Venicio sum, quomodo vobis vita gerent ?” (I am Venicio: how your life is going ?)

Pound grinned madly, and blabbered again: this time, my brain registered it as:

“Buck off, you bleedin' idiot”

I don't know why I understood that series of unattached syllables as the above phrase, but maybe it was because I was charged by him:if it wasn't for my improved dodging ability, I was going to be hit, with nefarious consequences.

Meanwhile, Pumpkin Cake just looked me disappointed, only for then giggling when saw the fight between me and Pound.

Not that she was wrong: first of all, I was quite slow in my moves, like a turtle, and, yet, the faster pegasus foal never hit me, and almost crashed several times on the floor, but, defying the basic rule about pain in foals, namely “Every hit will cause a exaggerated reaction of pain”, and kept chasing me ruthlessly, and almost made me panting.

This went on, until Pound soiled his diaper  while flying: maybe even him disturbed by the sensation, stopped, landed, and started to cry. As expected.

Only then Pinkie noticed something.

Well, at least the pink pony kept her reputation of airhead, instead of worsen it.

Yes, not great, I know, but, as I said, I didn't asked your appreciation, only your ears.

Anyway, another thing that I want to tell you, is when finally Applebloom got her cutie mark along with her friends...

Well, do you remember when I told you that Applebloom wanted to involve me in every way possible in the activities that she did, back when she didn't knew that I was a human  ?

Guess what:  since Applebloom knew that I liked stay around her and her friends, she decided to abuse a loophole in the rules of the Cutie Mark Crusaders: the CMC had the objective of getting a cutie mark, and, since there wasn't any restriction for who entered and who not different from pure discretion of the already-present members...

Yes, you got it: even if I wasn't supposed to get, as a pony, a cutie mark the age of ten months or so, they still let me join the club.

Thanks to the experience given by 16 years of life, and my knowledge about what the three fillies already tried, failed and clearly could not do anything related to it, I was capable of restricting the choices, and see if something was doable in terms of danger, and likeness of producing something.

My suggestion were, mostly, more relaxed things, but still got their attention: Barber/Hairdresser (ended with three mares bald, and the refund of nine bits for each mare); Writers (didn't went much far, since Scootaloo got bored halfway through, and flushed the whole production down the toilet); Hospital Volunteers (I must say it, that time, they were doing it right, without any damage or annoyance for the others... but it seemed that the  toddler Fate didn't felt in mood for gave them a destiny related to that)

But, even with my help, we achived nothing, but at least we had fun.

The lucky day for every member of the club composed by fillies seeking their destiny came in a warm day of incumbent Spring...

It was a nice day of late winter:  three fillies and the one colt were reunited in a tree house on the borders of the Apple Fields where the four usually reunited.

Applebloom was watching the wooden ceiling of the building, looking for ideas about what to do  that seemed not coming.

Scootaloo was, again, circling the penknife into the table, creating the nth hole in the only table of the building: by now, the piece of furniture seemed a strainer.

Sweetie Belle was reading carefully a newspaper stolen from a near bar, looking for interesting things going on in the town.

Venicio was checking the list of the things already tried, created a month before for keep track of their attempts of get a cutie mark.

Finally, the silence was interrupted by a jumping Sweetie Belle who said:

“Girls, maybe we have maybe something to do !”

Scootaloo stopped to circling the knife, and said bored:

“What's the deal ?”

Sweetie Belle put down the newspaper, took a crayon, and underlined an announcement about an art contest for young ponies: the contest said that included  “Musical; Painting; Theater and Sculpturing” sub-contests.

Scootaloo said:

“What's your proposal, going to paint something ? Well, seems good”

Venicio stopped his readings, and said:

“Y propose to do theate: after all, yt ys the most vyale option, consydered your talents”

Applebloom watched me, and siad:

“Check again: for what I recall, we already did something similar last year”

Venicio said:

“For vhat Y heard, you, Sveetye Belle and Schootaloo refused to styck to vhat you vere good: yinstead, you tryed, and fayled in a miserabe vay, to do things that you vere incapabe of doyng. My proposal, ys to try again, but by doyng the things vhere ve are more skilled.”

Scootaloo smirked, and said:

“And what are the things you think we are skilled in, Mr. Smarty Pants ?”

Applebloom did a peeved gaze towards Scootaloo, while Sweetie Belle, without any order, went looking for fabric; nails; hacksaws and other useful things.

Venicio said:

“Vell: you, Schootaloo, are a good dancer, thanks to your agylity and speed, so you vill dance.

Appeboom is a great carpenter, and, overall, ys good in hoof works, so, sche will do the set design.

Sveetie Belle has a good voice: sche ys  the synger.

My ydea on what represent  ys already set: just let me transcrybe the lyrycs of the song; choreography and all, and we are all set, and ready for practyce”

Scootaloo watched Venicio's sideways, and said:

“I, dancing ? Are you out of your mind ? No way ! But if the others want to do it, so I will: before doing this, I want to see how many of us vote for try again the musical show, and how many wants to see me dance”

“Then we will wait for the return of Sweetie Belle from her pillaging of supplies.”

Some time after, the white filly returned with a little wagon full of miscellaneous things: paints; saws; fabrics of various colors; needles; thread... everything that could be useful for the show.

But, as soon Sweetie Belle started to untie herself, she heard Scootaloo's voice saying:

“What's your vote for doing this musical show ? Yes or no ?”

The filly was surprised by her question: it wasn't established that they were going to do again the musical show ?

Show that Sweetie Belle buried under layers and layers of mind ground for the shame, before getting up again thanks to Venicio.

Sweetie Belle was going to put back the things that she “borrowed”, when she started thinking about Venicio: first of all, that small foal suggested and put in plan one of the best attempts, for Sweetie Belle, to get a Cutie Mark in something.

He suggested volunteering in the hospital.

That suggestion, at first glance quite boring, got interesting when they discovered that the entertainer of the Foal Ward of the hospital was absent that day, and it was needed a replacement.

Sweetie Belle didn't remembered many detailed events, but she remembered clearly the smiling face of Nurse Redheart congratulating with her, Scootaloo and Applebloom for having done such an act of kindness towards the peers, and for their attitude that they kept while doing so.

And maybe Venicio had a similarlly bright idea.

Another thing that moved the vote of doing the musical show from “No” towards “Yes”, was the fact that she lost her “stage fright” long ago, and that she now wanted to show her ability in singing to everypony.

Finally, the white unicorn filly sighed, went into the clubhouse, and said:

“My vote about the musical show is “Yes” : now let's roll !”: that said, Sweetie Belle placed the fabric on the table, took a pair of scissor, a ruler, and started to cut the fabric.

Meanwhile, Scootaloo started to try some random dance moves for heat up, and, finally, Applebloom transcribed what Venicio had in mind to do for the show.

The show that Venicio wanted to do was a little scene taking place into a meadow with a solitary tree in the middle: under the tree, there is Sweetie Belle singing a song called “Ecce Gratum” made up by Venicio; while Scootaloo danced around the tree, and launched flower petals around.

The last part was cut by Scootaloo's orders.

The next day, the four met again, ready for work and practice again: Applebloom kept sawing the planks of down tree for the scenic design; Scootaloo tried the so-called “satyr dance” done by standing on two legs, jumping, and spinning madly around, and the Venicio took a chair, sat on it, handled  the two pages with the song, and told Sweetie Belle to sing it: the filly coughed, and singed sadly:

“Ezze Grattum...”

Venicio said that wasn't correct, and to read it again, and say it with a more joyous tone

So Sweetie Belle read again the pages, and started to sing again ,this time with more energy:

“Ecce gratum...

Ecce gratum et optimatus”

Venicio said again no

Sweetie Belle started again:

Ecce gratum...

Ecce gratum et optatum

Ver reducit gaudia

puppuramur flurum

pattum”

Venicio facehoofed, and said to repeat it

Sweetie Belle snorted, and sang with a more angered voice:

“Ecce gratum...

Ecce gratum et optimatus”

Venicio said again no

Sweetie Belle started again:

“Ecce gratum...

Ecce gratum et optatum

Ver reducit gaudia

purpurarum flores

floret pratum

Sol serenat omnia.”

Venicio did the sign of raise th tone, and say it faster

“Iamima cedeant tristia !

Estas redit, nun recedit

Hyemis sevitia

Iamima cedeant tristia !

Estas redit, nun recedit

Hyemis sevitia”

Venicio did the sign of keep the “a” of sevitia for a long time, before passing ot the next part, and sing said part with a lower tone

“Iam liquescit et decrescit

grando, nix et cetera

Iam liquescit et decrescit

grando, nix et cetera

Iam liquescit et decrescit

grando, nix et cetera

Iam fugit, et iam

sugit Ver Estatis ubera”

The foal with the gray coat gave the sign of raise the tone

“Illi mens est misera, qui

nec vivit, nec lascivit

sub estatis dextera”

Long “a”, lowering of the voice

“Gloriandum et letantut

in melle dulcitudinis

Gloriandum et letantut

in melle dulcitudinis

qui canantur, ut utantur

Premi Cupidinis”

Raising of the tone

“Simus jussu Cypridis

gloriantes et letantes

pares esse Paridis”*

And so the song finished: Venicio clapped his little hooves, and said:

“Alright, Sweetie Belle, repeat it three times tomorrow, and I'm certain that you will make a good impression on everypony !”

Two days later, at night, after two days of preparations; singing; dancing;  small accidents; and difficult enrollingin the contest, everything was ready for the CMC muscial show: Swetie Belle rembered perfectly what to sing, and how; Applebloom calculated every millimiter of movement of the scenery; and Scootaloo knew how to dance according to the song.

The music was supplied by Venicio with misterious means, ways that he refused to reveal, saying that he passed the Tartarus for get the music disc.

Since Venicio was excluded by partecipating, he was in the middle of the audience, waiting to see the fruits of his work.

The three fillies placed their costumes on: Scootaloo had a costume that made him appear half goat and half pony; Applebloom wore a warehouse scrap of a plant costume, and Sweetie Belle was disguised as a sheperd girl: toghter, they were watching the perfomances of other colts and fillies, perfomances that variated from the epically good, to the disastrous.

And, finally, it was their turn: Applebloom put the scenography and prepared the grammophone; Sweetie Belle placed herslef under the cutout of the tree, and Scootaloo stood in the backstage, waiting, of course nervous, for the start.

And finally the announcer, a red pony with a white mane and a top hat, announced the start of the performance of Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo.

The lights lit up on Sweetie Belle, who started to sang sweetly the song: arrived at the third phrase, Scootaloo exited, and started to dance around the stage, while Applebloom changed slowly the background accoring what was going on.

After fice minutes of singing, dancing and stuffs, the CMC's show was over: they put off their costumes, and bowed to the estathic audience, who was clapping geneuinely for the show of the three illies.

When the whole contest was over, and the second place was took by the work of Venicio and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the three exited with the prize in bits, and joined Applejack and Venicio in going home: while they walked, Sweetie Belle asked to her two friends

“Did someone checked her flanks after our work ?”

Scootaloo said unsurely:

“No...”

“So let's do it now !”

The three fillies stopped, and watched their flanks, and they were left bewilded: where before there was a simple patch of fur, there was now a picture, representing their talents.

Scootaloo had a trail of smoke coming througth a wall, representing her agility.

Sweetie Belle had a heart with a muscial note in the middle

Applebloom had a pair of wooden planks crossed.

When the three fillies saw that, they joined into a colelctive hug between Venicio, Sweetie Belle,Scootaloo and Applejack.