Flowers, Blossom!by Monsieur BleuChaptersLucky SlavesFirefliesHideoutInhale, ExhaleBetween the Lines Cliffs notes – not a chapter Quite the TreatGreco-RomanticAn Allusion to Chaos; or, an account of an incident in which alcohol and libido blurred class and racial boundaries in the Antebellum SouthEar to EarLucky SlavesMah sista said that ah ought be grateful fer our situation. Lord knows, she said, where we coulda ended up. Not like our situation is worth hootin bout or even half enjoyable, but buckin is buckin an ah can’t say too much bout it. Lord no. Ah guess all considerin, with dealing with mistress and the professor, it’s a challenge to imagine better folks to have above one’s self. Bein a dirt pony’s hard nough, much less where we is. Ah heard that up towards Fillydelphia and Manehattan they at least give em the courtesy of agent-cy, or whateva. Mercy, mercy, lord it’s hot out. Stuck hitched up to this here wagon fer Faust knows how long, least it ain’t too tirin, just monotonous—back an forth, back an forth—it’s nough to drive ya mad. Well, at least it leaves me time fer thinkin. Ma sista said how much of a privilege one’s own mind is—like a castle. So ah guess ah can consida mahself lucky on two counts. When ah’m a bit bigga, ah guess that ah’ll actually start doing real bucking, not just totin round the full barrels. Sista said it’s lucky that we ended up on a farm with trees to buck. Pecans, peaches, an the like. Even a few apple trees by the slave shacks—not fancy nough fer sellin but good nough fer us. Betta than cotton, she said, no sweating coverless under the sun, bloodyin our hooves. So lucky—then—on three counts. So now, ah don’t know. Ah can’t pretend ta. If ah just behave maself, ah’ll do alright. But fer now, just pull this damn cart… not too long til supper. ~*~ Light trickled, delicately, through the leaves, majestic oaks lining our way. The smells of summer whisked by, perfumes of Dixie. Hail to thee, oh princes of the Carolinas! I come back into myself, two stout earth ponies, Mac and Tobe, continue to guide our carriage up to the house. It has been a long time, or at least it feels it. I have taken too long to heed philosophers and neglected my duties elsewhere. Lost would I be without Rainbow. A department, fine, but the affairs of this house are beyond me. I would far rather tolerate the company junior lectures that deal with our ponies here. Wanting for a sweated brow—this whole idea is rather a joke. But if the Grecians could, then I suppose we can. Necessary after all, not like my scholar’s pittance could keep us afloat. Mac and Tobe detach themselves from our carriage, bow, and make their way. "Well, welcome home," she kissed me. "Gladly." We ascended our porch. "Lovely afternoon Miss Dash, Professor." "Milly," I said, hugging the round, aging earthgro mare. "How’s been the school?" "Good, I’ll tell you about it later. I smell stew, dinner ready?" "Yes ma’am, supper’s just finishin up." I grinned, solace in calm, what I am use to. I have achieved my apex, now what. How much more can I press on. I will make myself happy; I am still young enough to learn, but now I set my terms. I do not like to think of them as my things, legal or not, but still—they are happy, or at least I try to make them as such. Surely I have failed on more than one account, but what now for a soul found and a soul lost. "Masta Dash." "Yes?" "Rarity and Sweetie is gonna be comin through. "I ain’t got an issue with it, for sake, how much you bettin on—" "Dear, maybe not now." "Well certainly for good conversation, Twi." I smiled, "fine, for conversation." ~*~ Equestrian virtue—hold fast on the wandering seas. Onto itself, firm, strong. Oh thee, flagrant upon winds and indebted to the Western sky. Come up, phoenix, back to us now, those hopes and— Ashes, grey, charred wood and twisted steel. All in a mind’s eye. Mah eyes open, kinda quiet. Sista ain’t up yet, nea’er is the sun. Still too early t’be awake. The biggest fear ah eva had was that I’d lose’m. Faust in heaven what ah’d do if ah did. Ah pissed maself on the auction block as we was bein bartered fer. Ah neva prayed so hard. Pullin the cart don’t do ya no good durin apple season, we ain’t gonna use the cart—mastas don’t need it—it’s fer us. Help Granny with the pealin and bakin, you can do the buckin when ye’r old nough. Fall’s always such hard work, but ah love it. The mastas’ crop is finished up by the first of October, so we have a few weeks to tend t’our own provisions. Them apple trees is ours—we keep um, so we get to enjoy em. Slicin up pie—ah pray that this can last forever. Faust, if there is a heaven, let it be like this, warm fire, mah family, food, and even some good cider. If mastas deserve anything it’s a seat at that table. Lord knows! When all is said’n done they may be. "Applebloom! Hey, time t’get up." Ah opened mah drowsy eyes. "Alright," ah stretched, yawned. Granny had already started on breakfast, some toast’n dandelions. The crackle of butter has always made me happy. Ah could toil my whole life away, but for the smell of good cookin, umm, almost makes it worth it. ~*~ Oh, grateful for what, your “masta” not whipping you, not splitting up your family. Circumstances is what they is, ah can only make the best of em. What you want? Hmm! Sowing seeds of malicious— No! you are too much of a fool! No, don’t you be goin around callin me that, no sir. Ah ain’t no fool, ah need te support mah family, ah had no say in this life, so ah make the best of it! Best of— You do not control me, or my dreams. Oh, but your “mastas” do? Nough a you! We are all constrained by— Life, circumstance… Love. Author's Note Comments and critiques are welcome. FirefliesSweet warm, summer skies, evening mists slumber across our meadow, effervesce from between our groves of pecans—the west opens up. The night air is a welcome respite from the day. I swirl the wine in my glass for a time; the purple vortex—not too long ago I was the student of a student, now I am my own student, so still the student of a student. Like a servant in my own mind I grow wistful, wanting something. I have everything, and then— "So, darling, you have to tell me all about the university." I again see the wine, now still, in my aura. "Hard to complain, I guess. Finally, the faculty are not above hiring pegasi." "That long—good lord, Harvard has been keepin—" "Oh lord, do I now, I spent the last two years arguing," \ I comply dramatically. "As if we are any less proficient at teaching!" my wife interjected. "Of course not to play for the devil: but the bulk of higher learning is magic oriented, particularly at the university… but of course with the liberal arts it isn’t some farm manual of magic, but a broad course of learning. Unicorn skulls can be thick with it!" My wife’s gaze turned from puckered to gleeful as I progressed. You never had subtly—it‘s why I love you. But, really, leading me on, for a flash I wanted to show you something… not anger… foolery maybe—anyway, after depletion, my heart grows fond of us. Not the past, but the future—us together. Bodies are bodies and sex can have less emotion than a handshake, believe me I will always love you. ~*~ Ah was sittin high and mighty, sista let me have a swig of last year’s cider. It was a bitter sweet kinda tastin', but it felt good an warm goin' down. "Gets betta with age, she told me." If what ah tasted was aged or not, it was good. "Not allowed to much Appleblooom, ya hear, you’re still just a filly." Don’t know if letting her at that drink was wise, ‘Bloom’s been all silly all night—of course how’s that at all different from the usual, oh well, bein who we is might as well learn to escape early. Pie and cider—the dirt pony refuge. Afta supper ah went out to watch the fireflies with Scoots. Scoots is a free girl, but she ain’t got all that much. She’s been livin in the barn on and off—she moves around quite a bit. I know mistress and the professor don’t mind havin her around though. Come Heartswarmin, Granny lets her stay with us and celebrate—she’s an honorary Apple, mah sista said… well, least durin the winter months she is. Of course durin the warmer months it ain’t too much of a problem livin outside. If ah could be a free girl, ah wouldn’t mind livin outside. Scoots was out by the stream near the far end of the Mastas’ meadow, rod in hoof. "Catchin supper?" ah asked "Yep." Ah sat down next to her. "Scoots?" "Yea." "Ye ever tried cider? Ah mean hard cider." "Yes-er, in fact your Masta gives me a drink every now an then." "Mistress Dash?" "Yep." "She's a nice mare." "Want me te tell er that for ye?" she winked. "No… she is decent, far as ah’m concerned she’s damn near swell fo’a mistress." Ah winked as well. "Least you got fine mastas, it’d been gangly, if they’d been—" Sweetie Belle jumped up on us. "Hey girls, she said in her gentle sing-songy way." "Well evenin Sweetie," ah said. "What brings you around?" Scoots asked. "Mah sista’s visitin the Professor and Miss Dash… talkin bout they usual stuff." Sweetie’s an awful cute girl. If ah—well, she’s a perty thing, coat all white. Not to say that Scoots ain’t a cute girl, but Sweetie, she’s a tad more delicate. Anyway, Scoots and ah are use to ruough livin an Sweetie ain’t. Still, though, she’s the muse that does a betta job of ticklin mah fancy than anything else. Oh mah… sorry oh lord? Ah have felt sinful… ah have thought sinful thoughts, feels kinda right. You don’t need to mind too much; still trying to figure things out in this world. Yea, even though she’s a filly too. It shouldn’t make a difference. True, but— If you’re going to bother with faith—embrace its imperfections. Sounds bout right. Seetie started talkin, ah blinked a few times. "So what are you two doin this weekend?" "Workin." "Workin." "Got a job scoots?" "Nothin steady." "Somethin?" Ah shrugged. "Yea." "Doin what?" "Well… Mistress Dash is having me run some… errands fer her in town." "That ain’t work!" "Well it’s something ah get paid for, besides she ain’t gonna go and you know they don’t let dirt ponies go into town alone. "Ah guess so." "Ah know it ain’t nearly slaven work… ah mean…" Ah giggled some. "Scoots don’t worry ah know what ya mean." Scoots rolled her eyes, smiled; Sweetie just grinned and shook her head. Fireflies are comin out now. Little lights flickerin in the lavender grass, awful pretty. I look over to Sweetie, she’s still lookin out across the stream over at the meadow. She turned to me… ah looked away, blushin. She scooted right up next to me… an rested her head on me. Don’t know what to think now. ~*~ Poured myself another glass of whiskey; lord knows if I have to keep on hearing Dr. Pants drone on… The status of the dirt ponies—dirt ponies isn’t even an acceptable term in academics. For Faust sake speak formally! Earthgros, or earth ponies, call them whatever in your head, but when you talk use the right words; you are a professor! "So what would you say Professor?" "I am sure that you all know my position: that earth ponies are good, honest, and hardworking… They may not be our equals, and their position of servitude is legitimate—but we must treat all kinds, hooved and cloved, with kindness and generosity… Because we are unicorns and pegasi, we must show that we do deserve our status." How much of that is bullshit? Author's Note "The heat thickens." - Zapp Brannigan HideoutSo dreary there, a dream unkept; little dancing virtues, sweeping all about. Absalom, King, then died; and all the world’s-a-bloom! Ah didn’t have much time ta think bout it. Winter turned round right quick, there was a few left on the tree when ah ran towards it, fast as ah could. The last of our apples fell into the last of our barrels. Sista neva grinned bigger. Ah was a little late to it. but ah finally got my mark. Was the first time ah had a full glass a cider. First up over them ridges; you and scoots need to stay outa trouble. Lest the mastas need to find that you’s lost in the woods; snow’s flyin don’t need to be out there this late. If y’all need to run round in the snow, keep at least to the mastas’ property—that ridge is park land, even if no one is usin it. Keepin up with them slaves ain’t what it’s worth, how much did you piss away on that old one so you could buy the young ones— Usefulness is usefulness; dirt ponies are better suited to work when they are happy. Lord knows that happiness correlates with bucking—causality or not—I, for one, am not going to risk it. So it ain’t the depths of your heart that propels you to take in such expenses— For the sake of—love is generated in the mind. ~*~ I hope I didn’t hurt anyone, oh my heavens no, oh but I want her so much. She said, after all, that the professor won’t mind—rather, she is, in fact, quite open to these sorts of things. Shouldn’t be an issue a’tall. The day had been spent procrastinating, the best kind of day. It’s an excited nervousness; can’t do too much with that feelin in your belly. "Mistress Dash?" "What Miss Milly?" "Miss Rarity’s here to see you." Without much thought I leapt up outa my sunbed. "Gracious me, Rainbow," she said as I made my way into the foyer, she was sitting sprawled out on the chaise by the window. "Miss Belle" I bowed, and kissed her extended hoof. "Oh my, what a gentlemare." Forward my legionaries! Dance little virtues. Cast your dreams in flesh. Is it not that the soul is the body, or that the soul is flesh. One’s dreams are not of the soul; it is pure. Dreams are for the self, the partner. Her curves are voluptuous, her sent, arousing. She swoons— Avast! For now is the pulse, the flash, the spark. The rich jellies and red blood—soft flesh, hold me now. I can feel her heart and mine, pounding, off beat. Tend to the cookin, nothin here te see. ~*~ Scootaloo and Applebloom galloped up the hill, Sweetie Belle not too far behind, but winded. "It's just right up this way!" Applebloom exclaimed. The three stopped in front of an old grey stone wall. Towing in front of them, a great stone façade, an arched doorway mimicked by smaller arches, glass long gone. Moss, ivies, vines, and saplings clung to the wall. The three, wordless, walked under the great arch; inside of the stone courtyard mature birch trees had taken up residence. Opposite them, another arch led to another courtyard—holding up a roof that was no longer there. The afternoon sun shone down through the trees. It was a quiet place. "What is this?" "It’s an old winery." "How’d you find it?" "Jackie said somethin bout it to Mac." "What was she doin up here—I thought she said you couldn’t leave your mastas’ land." "She didn’t say." "Wait," Scootaloo injected, "you can’t leave the plantation?" "They don’t care bout it too much, not like ah’m not gonna come back. Mistress Dash might give me a lickin—an certainly not a hard one, a couple a swats. The Professor, she’d just roll her eyes. Sides, ah done all ma chores today." "Why’d you wanna bring us up here?" Scoots asked. "Cause… look at it, perfect place to hang out, not to far a walk, but seems to be in the middle a nowhere. Think of all the trouble we could get ourselves into," Applebloom grinned. "So like our own space, our little hideout," – Sweetbelle mused. "We just gotta keep a look out... but mah sista was talkin like she ain't gonna come up here no more, or too ofen." "Ah like it." "But we gotta keep it secret, so agreed then?" "Agreed!" ~*~ I always liked my office, plenty enough room for my books. Mahogany and red stained oak walls, the whole place has an aura… like red wine. I was sipping some and reading for a while. It was a cloudy afternoon, late in the fall semester. Out my window, the elegance of the gentry abounds, with redbrick buildings and— There is a knock on my door. "Um… oh… Professor are you in?" "Yes; the door is open." Dr. Fluttershy, one of our new lecturers; she isn’t new to this, of course, she had taught for a while at the Oberlin College. She was one of the first pegasi to take us up on our offer. I’ll be damned if this school isn’t trying to look backwards. "Um… Professor… Some of my students… mostly pegasi, have been talking to me about how some of the other faculty… what’s the word… doesn’t show them due respect." "Yea… you aren’t the first one to come to me with this. Wine?" "Of course." I levitated the decanter and glass over to her; she poured herself a glass. "Many tenured faculty in this school are… a tad racist." "Yea… well... that’s why I’m here," she perked up. "We need ponies to start to work together. We need to keep pushing for full equality!" I gulped some. "Indeed. Well, I will try to do what I can to help curb it… I’ll do some chewing out over the next few weeks." "Oh, perfect, just don’t be too harsh now." "I won’t" I winked. She smiled and finished the rest of her wine. She curtsied and hovered out of my office. I think I bit off more than I can chew. Author's Note And the game begins. Critiques welcome. Inhale, ExhaleIt hadn’t occurred to me until ah started growin some more, how small unicorns are. Sweetie is an awful small li’l thang; ah noticed it when we was cuddling a while back in the hideout. She just seemed small, but lord almighty she ain’t that light. More than once when we was campin she’d end up rolled on top a me. Mah sista said it’s cause them unicorns gotta have thick bones for they magical horns; same reason that Scoots is so light, gotta be light te fly. When we was all just foals the differences weren’t so big. Now ah’m almost half a head taller than her, and ah ain’t done growin yet. “Ah told the mastas that Sweetie’s gonna stay with us for the night.” “Does her sista know?” Ah shrugged. “Ah don’t know how fond her sista’s gonna be with her sleepin in our shack.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” The door opened. “Miss Rarity, Sweetie,” mah sista said, nearly bowin. “Oh Jackie, no need.” Oh these poor creatures, I can’t believe that Sweetie wants to stay the night here—she could sleep in the house at least. She could certainly bring her friend, I’m sure Rainbow wouldn’t mind at all. “My sister said she would like to sleepover with little Apple Bloom and Scoots… if that is alright with you?” “Of course Miss Rarity.” “Wonderful, I will be in the house, please don’t hesitate. Bye Sweetie, behave for Miss Jackie.” “I will.” Rarity walked to the house, into the autumn night. “Com’on Sweetie—down in the fruit cellar we got some good cider!” “Scoot’s commin?” “She’ll be here in a little bit.” ~*~ Only because the professor can’t keep up with the affairs of her dirt ponies that leaves all the actual maintenance to Miss Dash; if all the pecans and peaches in the world would only cost half as much as this house fritters away! Cross of the damned for what these red-letter books read, allowed. This is the specter of the lands, the houses on the lands, the homes in the houses, and the foals in the homes. It comes up to laugh at the living and make timely notes of their wants, and their unfed desires. Accursed thee, accursed these! The flowers of generations, seeded though the land, and returned. Ashes to ashes! A shroud and a golden fleece, adorn those little dancing virtues, a pirouette of the damned. I felt Rainbow’s breathing next to me. She seemed calm, but had a vexed look on her face. “Dashie?” I nudged her. “Humm… what?” “Nothing.” She smiled at me, “Love you, Twi.” I nuzzled her, “Love you.” She fell back asleep, I walked over towards the widows. There was a thin layer of snow that covered our fields, colder than usual. Back to work tomorrow, back to the school. Hearthswarming never lasts long enough. I am reluctant to sleep, not ill dreams per say, just ill feelings. It has been a long time since I felt warm in my own flesh. And the heat of another barely covers the cold. Twirl! Open the mind’s eye, stretch out, grab it, and hold it. ~*~ The first time ah had sex with Sweetie wasn’t much fancy, course we didn’t know no betta. We was really nothin' more than a couple a bunnies buckin. It was really Sweetie’s idea, though ah had been thinkin' bout it fer some time. We each had plenty a cider, even though Scoots was with us she had already taken te passin' out—she had already had some wine over at the mastas’ house, so she already was tipsy when she got to the shack. Miss Rarity an the mistress had asked Applejack to come over to the mansion fer the evenin'. We ended up sleepin' in the fruit cellar. Sweetie had the most adorable look on her face; she levitated up her glass a cider to mah lips, an ah took a sip. She stroked my breast with her hoof. Dirt ponies are strong and built, feelin' good and firm against the soft, supple unicorn. Our bosoms—our loins, our lips locked. There was a perfume about her, sweet tastes lingerin' on her tongue. All of the forces in the universe—pulse! We laid there fer a while, brethin real heavy. She curled right up next to me; she didn’t speak. She wrapped herself around me, as did ah her. She levitated a blanket over top a Scoots, and then another on us. Ah fell asleep sometime after that. Ah woke up when the birds started chirpin'. Sun wasn’t all the way up quite yet. I woke up Scoots and Sweetie. Groggy all, ah fired up some dandelions. ~*~ So, finally, it happened. I suppose that it was inevitable, really. I pretended to act surprised. “Well, Dr. Fluttershy, I am not sure if the other faculty will be as accommodating to this idea as I am.” She sat across from me, absolutely beaming. “Well Professor, I am quite sure that they will find her to be not only enlightened but a great opportunity for our students to—“ “I do not doubt you, or her for that matter, but to have an earth pony give a lecture at this school, even an educated one, is just not… not something I think that the faculty or students will be able to digest.” “You know as I do that it is only a matter of time before it starts to become common place. Why this year Oberlin is gonna graduate four earthgros!” “What Oberlin does and what we do here are very different—“ “Look, Professor, you don’t want your students to graduate from some backwards ass school. Your reputation is mud outside of Dixie—you know what your Harvard classmates think of you—“ “Dr. Fluttershy!” I almost never raise my voice, “my reputation is not—“ “Then fine!” she retorted, now hovering above me. I inhaled, in and out, in and out… just like Professore Cadenza said. “Listen, Flutters—sit down,” I gestured back towards the chair across from me. I took out a bottle of Scoltch and poured myself a drink. “I think that you make a valid point; this school needs to modernize. Write your former student, and see what she thinks. I am open.” Dearest Pinkie, …I have spoken with Professor Sparkle, and she is very interested in having you give a lecture at our school… make sure that you have your papers on you… Between the Lines Between the Lines Grey smoke billowed as the train advanced southward. Well my mane didn’t deflate, so I guess that is good at least. Mean old unicorns said I had to third class. Well fuck them! I am who I want to be—they can feel all good about themselves, but I’d bet they can’t even read. Bunch of ignorant— “Papers dirty.” With a toothy, fake smile, I handed him my ticket and identification. He glanced, handed them back, and moved on. Pick your battles—what Fluttershy always said—pick and choose; a contest of wits can only be won if both combatants have them. I took out a book, in Prench mind you, and started reading. L’idée, c’est moi, plein de bruit et de fureur.* ~*~ Tha trees were buddin in the hideout; later in tha evenin when Scoots, Sweetie, an ah was sittin in the courtyard sippin on some cider. “Teacher said that I’m supposed to start lookin at schools for when I’m done here in a couple a years.” “Sweetie, you already been in school too long,” ah chirped, “how come you got te go for more?” “Rarity said it’s cause I gotta be good for marryin, all them rich colts want a wife that’s gone to college.” “Ah’m pretty sure she is well aware that you don’t like colts.” “I told er bout us a long time ago, she ain’t got a problem with it, but she still wants me to get married. But not til I’m done with college—Lord knows another six years in school.” “Well least it leaves us time to plan somethin as an alternative—” Scoots beamed. “Gonna rescue me from mah sista?” We both nodded. “Good then,” she said, swiggin on tha cider bottle. ~*~ Since twelve noon I’d been drinking bourbon. I paced, myself, so I was not drunk, but still—my nerves were, in spite of myself, not as calm as I’d hoped. Rainbow never asked why I fidgeted so much, of course, she already knew. I’d spilled it to her the night before, far more intoxicated then. She too had indulged herself some, a few glasses of white wine—oh she’s more of a lady than she lets on. I figured that it would be better to meet and to talk to her at length before the lecture. Of course Dr. Fluttershy was more than happy to introduce us beforehand, and Rainbow seemed equally intrigued by the idea. So dinner and drinks at Golden Oaks Plantation it was. I had suggested that perhaps another venue, but Fluttershy and Rainbow insisted otherwise. She may think ill of me because of—hardly time now to consider; I’m sure she will understand. Oh, and Miss Belle and her little sister will be joining us as well. What of it all… Sweetie’s going to run off to the slave shack to curl up with Applebloom… Until Scootaloo shows up, by the time we’re serving tea they’ll be peeking in the window. I’ll amuse them, pretend not to see them. No… maybe I’ll invite them in for tea and whiskey, show Dr. Fluttershy’s student a real time. ~*~ It hadn’t felt too awkward leaving the train station, oh but I’m sure that Pinkie felt nervous… but of course she didn’t show it—she never did. I’m glad she’s doing well in Manehattan, keeping up tabs on her show hall and pub. She had taken in interest in political economy—reasonable, her father had some money… out in the mountains they don’t care too much, prospecting… saloon culture never lends itself to sophistication, but it did well for her—accounting and economy in tow. “Uh… ma’am?” a large red earthgro stallion greeted us as we descended the platform, Oh boy! Oh boy! A carriage; this’ll be fun. I always liked carriage rides. “Oh, you must be Mac, Twilight’s… chauffer.” “Eyep.” “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you; this is my former student Pinkamena.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said gripping his front hoof and shaking maybe it a bit too rapidly. “Same.” ~*~ “So Mr. Mac do you have a family?” “Pinkie—” “Eyep, got a pair a sistas and mah grandma.” “They also owned by Professor Sparkle? “Pinkie—” “Eyep.” “What? You always told me to inquire; not like the irony of this whole damn thing isn’t obvious.” “I did say that, but—” “I looked her up, even read some of Twilight’s papers—it’s fun how much she writes between the lines.” ~*~ Mah sista an ah was checking up on the peach trees, bein as they started buddin. “So who’s commin over?” “Someponies that the Professor works with—ah think.” “We gonna meet’em?” “Ah don’t know Bloom, depends if the mastas need us to help Granny and Milly—” We both turned an saw Mac was leadin in the Professor’s guests through the front gate. “Is that them, Jackie?” ah asked. “I believes.” “Is that a dirt pony?” “Wha?” “The pink one Jackie—” “I’ll be damned.” There was a silence fer a time, we just watched em as they made their way up to tha porch. Did that earthgro work at that fancy school? “Girls,” Granny said, walkin up behind us, “Mistress Dash and the Professor said they want you both to inside.” Ah looked at mah sista; she looked back. “Te help wit tha cooking?” “Didn’t say why; also, wanted me to tell you that the Belles and that Scoots will be there also” “Granny,” mah sista aksed, “has the professor been drinkin?” “No more than usual. Why?” “Ah’m a bit confused, sis, wh—” “Later, sis—go get cleaned up.” Ah took a slow walk towards the wash house, usually ah washed in the stream, but that didn’t seem appropriate now, sides, still too cold out. Author's Note * I am the idea, full of sound and fury. To those who are having a challenging time following what is going on, I am writing a miniature cliffs notes to accompany Flowers, Blossom!; it, hopefully, will help clear up any confusion. Cliffs notes – not a chapter Cliffs notes – not a chapter Cliffs notes – so far Flowers, Blossom! is an experimental work that it requires close reading; frequent narration shifts, a quasi-stream of conscious format, and a non-linear plotline make the story a challenging read. To clear up some of the confusion below are some clarifications about style and plot, as well as a brief synopsis of where the story is so far. Narration shifts are indicated by this symbol: ~*~ or by italics. Narration is in a quasi-stream of conscious style, so the text is the typed out thoughts of the characters, more or less. Apple Bloom’s, or any slave’s, narration is marred by misspellings and improper word use—this is because she is illiterate so her thoughts are being typed out phonetically. The seemingly omnipotent third person narrator, who can be either friendly or hostile, is a character you have not met yet. While the plot line is not linear, it is generally progressing forward. For reference, in the first chapter the CMC were approximately 11 or 12, in the most recent chapter they are about 15 or 16. Rainbow Dash, Twilight’s wife, is having an affair with Rarity and then later with Apple Jack; Twilight suspects something but does not talk about it or take any action to stop it. Scootaloo is spending more and more time with Rainbow Dash who is starting to act like a surrogate parent to her. Twilight is increasingly consumed with guilt about having slaves; she drinks heavily to try to overcome this. The plantation is starting to lose money, but Rainbow Dash is keeping this a secret from Twilight. University names have not been ponified. Twilight and Fluttershy are both graduates of Harvard, and Fluttershy worked for a time at Oberlin, where Pinkie attended. As a reference, Oberlin College was the first coeducational multi-racial college in the United States; it has always been known for its open-mindedness and very, very liberal politics. Pinkie is somewhat affluent, her father was a successful prospector and she owns a pub/saloon/showhouse/brothel in Manehattan. Synopsis: At this point in the story, Twilight has invited one of her coworkers, Fluttershy, her student, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo over for dinner and cocktails. Despite trying to pace herself, she is drinking heavily and also invites her slaves to eat and drink with them. She is anxious that as a slave owner she will be looked down upon by Pinkie, who to her represents everything wrong with slavery as well as the “northern” culture she came from. Quite the TreatJanus, empirically there, smiling duel—unease and ease, tears of joy and sorrow. Dancing little virtues, hail to thee! Princes of the Carolinas— Call upon the rows of ponykind; offer them salvation. Legions stand at attention, whores and voyeurs. A transferred lecturer and pegasus, heiresses, with some coin in hand—a deed freshly printed in their purse. “Think your folks would approve?” “Rainbow, the whole state of Massachusetts frowns upon us.” “You’re shaking, nervous—” “—only half as much.” “So what are we looking for?” “Ones with strong legs.” “Right…” “The job is a good offer; they need someone to build up the new department.” “Indeed,” she said, putting down her teacup. “I’ll write a few letters—an old friend of mine knows of an estate that just got put up.” “I appreciate it.” “Crepuscola, sei sicuro che questo è ciò che si vuole ?" “No, Cadenza, non mi*” She shook her head, eyes downcast. I spotted an orange dirt pony with a blond mane, eyes despaired. I glanced at Rainbow, she tried a reassuring glean. “Hello, um… what is your name?” She paused and looked up, but only for a second. “Apple Jack,” she said, her voice strained. With my aura, I titled her head up—her eyes were shot, red. “Um… Apple Jack… ah, what did you do previously?” “I… I’h worked on a peach plantation.” “Did you buck the trees?” She nodded; cast a nervous glimpse behind her. “Your family?” I asked, eyeing for a moment the three behind her. “Can they also buck.” “Could… can… will… but Granny…” “Shh… don’t worry,” I patted her head, “I need house ponies too.” I did not know what to think; cruelty of circumstance and I have never seen more grateful eyes. ~*~ Ah scrubbed mahself cleaner than ah had been in a long, long time. Somethin bout all this stuff said that ah ought be presentable— ah wonder where that pink earthgro is from? If she’s the mastas’ guest then— Professor always hinted that she liked dirt ponies, ah mean she takes good nough care of us considerin… did she buy her? No, slaves don’t ride in carts, or— well if she’s at that fancy school— if she is— can earth ponies go to school? neva felt this confused, ah like masta— not what this is about myself ain’t relevant when lookin at this here didn’t feel so confused bout Sweetie and me… but… but… ain’t got so—who “You done Bloom?” “Yea,” ah dried off some. My sista gave me a white tunic and a ribbon to put mah hair up into. She said mastas wanted us to look nice. ~*~ I try to never pick favorites, but, I confess, at times this virtue is above me. Fluttershy was never my top student, but hardly matters. She was willing to put up with my… we’ll call them shenanigans… and that means a great deal. Harvard can be so stuffy, so… dull. I more than once looked forward to the dean chastising me; at least I could raise my voice to someone then. Ahh… but alas, I find that we are both mellowing, she either doesn’t care or I don’t have it in me anymore. Oh well. Twilight was Cadenza’s student, but I am the department chair, so she was inevitably mine. And while I never disliked her—we never got along as famously as I and Fluttershy. I could show all of this—recount a great story that exemplifies what I am saying, but, as I said before, I no longer have the fortitude. I can play upon the devil’s winds, but not much else. I hope that I can meet that one earth pony student Fluttershy mentions in her letters, she sounds like a treat—Twilight hammered sort of treat—given that mare’s habits—that’s quite a bit. I still correspond with Crepuscola from time to time; I suppose I am the only one who is willing to look her in her mind’s eye and—well never mind that now… last I heard she had invited that earth pony student of Fluttershy’s to speak at her school. I can’t imagine that will go well… hmm… I might have to disappoint the dean and thrill my student’s by taking a bit of jaunt down there—oh, the look on Twilight’s face. It will be priceless. ~*~ “Thank you Mac!” I blurped as we stopped in front of the—house, mansion? it was pretty big, but not as big as some of them cattlemen, of course they got more space than they could ever know what to do— “You’re welcome, Ma’am,” he replied. “Indeed, much appreciated,” said Fluttershy, he nodded. “Mac!” a portly old earth pony said, coming to the door. “Hum?” “Mastas said you’se gotta go get cleaned up, gonna be helpin inside tonight.” He shrugged, “Okay.” “And you are?” “Milly, ma’am.” “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Milly, I’m Fluttershy and this is my former student Pinkiamena.” “They let eartgros go to school?” “Up where we’re form!” I chimed. “Hugh… crazy, mastas said they was gonna be a free earth pony commin over, but never thought thought—” “Are they here, Milly?” “Yes Professor.” A purple unicorn dressed in a suede smoking jacket followed by a rather colorful pegasus in a equally colorful ball gown approached. “Go help Granny with the cooking.” “Yes Professor.” “Fluttershy, dear,” she said, hugging her, turning to me “and you must be Pinkamena.” “Yeppers!” I said, shaking her hand. She has a silly type of grin; I’ll bet she’s nervous; I don’t blame her; I’d be too given her background and where we are all now— “And this beautiful mare is my wife, Rainbow Dash.” “Miss Dash it is a pleasure to meet you.” “Indeed—nice to make your acquaintance, you go to Harvard too?” “Hehe, nice to meet you both as well, and no, Pinkie, I went to Radcliffe.” “Shall we go inside; I’ve got quite the treat for everyone.” Author's Note “*Twilight, are you sure this is what you want?” “No, Cadenza, I do not.” (Crepuscola is the feminized version of Crepuscolo, which means Twilight in Italian.) I am also playing around with internal dialogue format, so the lack of punctuation is intentional. Greco-RomanticRhythms of heaven alluring the noble damned— we the flawed, beseeching the divine! Flesh and mists make thine monde nocturne— open the helm—and cast our dreams asunder! Up on a latter, with dirt covered bare feet balancing precariously on spokes long out riddled, a young slave picks her master’s peaches. Sweat on her brow, she glances into the vista—a young girl in a sundress and wide brim hat, pale fleshed, waves at her. She smiles—waves back. That night, they cool their feet in the stream, and watch the fireflies. Little lights flickering—the eyes of God! The grace of providence! This is your sin, America; this is your sin! This is your redemption! Love is your saving grace! Love—America—this is your salvation. ~*~ “So where the hell are you from exactly?” “Um… Boston,” I answered flatly. “No—where’s you from, you kind?” “My grandparents moved here from Prance if that is what you’re asking.” “So what the hell are you?” “I’m a draconequu.” “What type of pony is that?” I have never so much wanted to snap somepony in half. “Draconequus are not ponies, at all.” “Well, sir, in order to sit in first class you have to be—“ “How about this, like unicorns, draconequus come, originally, from Europe. So, concerning Virginia’s seating rules, I am to be sat in first class.” He nodded, somewhat dully, and I sat down… having to change trains in Arlington...stresses the limits of my— And the same dull sort proceeds to yell at a poor crystal pony trying to sit down—the recipient of this abuse, of course, did not did not follow a damn word of it. Well, I did come down for some entertainment. “Sir—may I ask what’s going on.” “This dirt pony won’t—“ “How many translucent earthgoes do you—“ “Doesn’t matter he ain’t got no horn or win—“ “Qual è il tuo problema? Asino!”* the Crystalian shouted. “My good man…let me talk to him,” trying to demure the situation “Sir, io parlo un po' Crystaliano, non hai bisogno di aiuto?” “Che cazzo c'è di sbagliato con questo bastardo!” “Beh ... si vede ... questo oaf non illuminato non può dire la differenza tra un pony cristallo e un pony di terra.” “Non vediamo niente di simile ...” “Sì, lo so, ma in Virginia, per sedersi in prima classe si deve apparentemente essere un unicorno, o almeno non un pony terra... o essere in grado di stronzate alcuni.” “Così ora che cosa?” I snapped my talons, and a crystal horn appeared on his brow, or, well, an illusion that mimicked adequately. “Grazie.” I winked, and nodded. The oaf had stepped off to the side, now turned back to us and offered up to us a deliciously slack-jawed gaze. It was so, so worth it. ~*~ Scoots looked uncomfortable, ah think even more than the professor and mistress. Ah ain’t never had scotch before, hits you pretty quick’er somethin. But seenin Scoots all tussed up was a treat-an-a-half. She ain’t ne’er worn anything fancier than patched up or’alls—seein her in that there frilly gown made me shine like a little bitty— “So, Professor Sparkle,” that pink earthgro’s voice carried more than it by nature ought to, “what you say is that as long as slavery exists—“ “—Indeed, ponies have been keeping other ponies in bondage since the dawn of time—“ “—But how can we have a democratic society if some ponies are kept all up chattel?” “Um…” That one doctor lady that works with the professor managed to get a peep in, “actually Pinkie the Greeks and Romans also had slavery…” “Hugh… I actually never thought about that,” said the pink earthgro stroked an invisible beard, “still, fact remains, modern democratic institutions are founded wholly different philosophy.” “How so?” asked Mistress Dash. “Think of it this way,” Pinky gestured a hoof, “Roman society and Greek society were based on the assumption that all citizens were equal, not all people.” “Technically our constitution is the same way,” the professor interrupted. “International convention on what citizenship means has sense changed,” she kept at, “back then citizenship was defined as a separate status—if I we moved to Prance, we would all be citizens, no special appointment necessary, no status relevant—we swear to be loyal to Naponyon the third and boom—citizens with full privileges. Maybe ah should run away with Sweetie to Prance. ~*~ Poor dear, I wonder how much the good professor is getting her ego and id tussled. I will confess that I never thought an earthgro could be so… I have never fully embraced the concepts of their submission but I— Hmph. Regardless, Applebloom is awful cute—standing over there holding that bottle of wine like she’s a house slave. I see why my sister likes her. She’s got such a silly smile—oh I bet it’s the liquor; Sweetie told me about the cider them slaves enjoy, but lord knows it can’t compare to whatever scotch the professor has selected. Oh bless her sweet drunk heart—she handles it well. No wonder that Rainbow needs more sex—that mare has to be out seven thirty. Now Rarity, where are your manners? Twilight is a good friend, and far as what I can see she and Rainbow do enjoy each other’s company—not nearly as veraciously as my sister and that sweet little mud pony—but still. Hell, ain’t nopony fuck like them little things do. Well, maybe she’d make for a nice graduation gift—if Sweetie graduates—well regardless. I don’t know how much I by the basis that international interpretations of citizenship really effect the philosophical grounding of a quasi-caste arrangement. Last I do recall there was some parts of Europe that still even allowed for serfs— Barbarians! ~*~ Meaning of words, a servant to servants. Little virtues—twirling! Little pieces of ourselves, we cannot take the whole—we must divide. Philosophies grand— Ideals strong— they do not survive. Slave owners, slaves, patricians, plebeians, the system—money must be upheld. So they take those ideals, and they cut the up— shred them into little virtues, that dance, and dance, to a waltz conducted from Hell. Author's Note Sorry for the long delay. Translation: * What is your problem, Jackass! ... "Sir, I speak a little Crystalian, need help? " "What the fuck is wrong with this bastard!" "Well ... you see ... this unenlightened oaf can not tell the difference between an earth pony and a crystal pony. " "We do not see anything alike ..." "Yes, I know, but in Virginia, to sit in first class you apparently have to be a unicorn, or at least not an earth pony ... or be able to bullshit. " "So now what?" ... "Thanks." An Allusion to Chaos; or, an account of an incident in which alcohol and libido blurred class and racial boundaries in the Antebellum SouthExtend your heart; see into the light. Listen away, to that eternal song, rhythms and oceans hence, rise to the melody of the eternal sky. Let the candle flicker, until it burns out. ~*~ Mah sista said that ah was neva te speak of what’er happened last night again. Not like ah rememba all tha’ much te’begin with. But ah sure as well ain’t ne’r woken up in the professor’s bed before, Sweetie next to me. Professor an Mistress Dash nowhere to be found. “Wait, wait, wait…” you sayin’ that some mud pony can out drink a pegasus – ain’t no fuckin chance!” “Com’on Dashie, *hiccup* don’t need to start that now.” “Oh Professor, ah feel that Miss Dash already dun start somethin’!” “Oh Jackie—manners don’t make me take you back to the shed—“ “Fer what? Te fuck me silly, Rare?” “Would serve you right, muddie *hiccup*!” “Hey, hey, hey… language Miss Belle!” “Oh com’on Doctor, just for fun… ooh! Hey I’ll take on both-a-yous!” “Um Pinkie.” “Who’s got the whiskey—no—get these muddies some calvados!” “You gonna take on two earth ponies with hooch… Mistress?” “Na, this is the real shit form Prance…” In a kinda silly way ah was worried about Scoots, not that she couldn’t a handled herself… but that she got so far gone so quick. She can finally fly now, Mistress Dash been helpin’er—she flew up into the chandelier, still don’t know fer what. She is somewhere round here… just don’t know where. There was some sort of pulsin; Ms. Pie had gotten hold of the piano. Mac had taken to drinking wine out the bottle, the cellar, cool. The floorboards creaked against a mass of— They called it the devil’s water, an ah lapp’d it up! Mistress Dash had passed out with Sweetie’s sister in the wine cella; still can’t find the Professor. They lined up twelve sherry glasses in two rows on the small writin’ table; filled’em to the brim with that fancy hooch Mistress Dash got from Prance. Mah sista and the Mistress locked eyes, in a drunken grin with steadfast determination. Miss Pie took out a small derringer-lookin thing that popped out confetti; round one started. Miss Pie then took the bottle and started chuggin. Professor Sparkle was also in the wine cella, passed out in‘tween two barrels. The contest musta been forgotten; Sweetie’s sister’s kissin mine. Doctor Shy and the Professor have been ridin’ around on Mac’s back for a bit now, but he don’t seem to mind… or notice as he’s been runnin about the house. Milly said the fancy Persian rug in the parlor is ruined. ~*~ The train ride was at least scenic. Cotton… cotton… cotton pretty in the fields. I made an oath to only wear silk from then on out. My Crystalian friend, a sculptor who had been hired to do some work on a plantation house’s façade, had opted to keep then faux horn so long as was to linger in Dixie, not a bad idea. We arrived only an hour late, of course Dr. Pants was still waiting for me. I knew him well—the very model of Atlantic debauchery and refinement; tightly coiled with the little ghastly ideas that, oh so righteously, will be our damnation. “Dr. Pants,” I said, stepping off the train. “Professor Discord, the pleasure is all mine.” I shook his extended hoof. His eyes betrayed his nervousness; they had the usually curious luster of a learned man utterly content with the status quo, but they were coaxed and shifting. “Come, allow me to demonstrate some authentic Southern hospitality.” “Certainly.” I can only assume that his earthgro chauffer had never seen a draconequu. ~*~ A quiet nook, some pub in Oxford, Oxfordshire, England, the United Kingdom, the British Empire, the world, the universe—flames burning gently. A young scholar plucks away at a tome, self-confident, rigorous, sipping scotch with ice—still American. Across the ocean his mentor lies curled up between two large wine casks in her cellar. Elsewhere in the pub, near a rain streaked window, a black woman with acid straitened hair, an All Souls Fellow, eyes a small stone via a magnifying glass. She sips beer in out of the stein she purchased in Salzburg. Across the ocean her sister lies in a large, empty bathtub, a bottle of calvados still clenched twixt her fingers. ~*~ Sloppy jubilee, riding high against better judgments—the floor was cool, comfortable stone. I do not believe that Dr. Fluttershy enjoys the companionship of mares, but she did not resist my lips or tongue. We lost Scoots. Rare keeps smacking Jackie’s… hind… moaning like some—where is— The muses are having a field day, some kind of breezy holiday. Verticality is irrelevant and the constitution has been contaminated. No one can dance, yet everyone’s trying. We found Pinkie lying in the bathtub, she won the game. Rhythms and mistakes— Still breathing, all. ~*~ Scoots stumbled back on in round what ah though was noon. That fancy dress she had worn was all ripped up and muddy. Her eyes were sorta bloodshot. “Scoots, where’d ya get off to?” “I went up to the hideout.” “Why” She shrugged. “What you two doin out’ere?” “Headin’ to the bath to get cleaned up,” Sweetie said, groggily. “Can’t you wash up in the house?” “Pinkie’s still passed out in the tub.” “Ain’t there more than one tub?” Sweetie an’ ah shrugged. “Ah ain’t no house muddy, shit, you’d know betta.” “Well screw it, let’s jus’ get cleaned up.” The three of us made our way to the small wash house. “Well… all consider,” Sweetie started, “I think that it was a fun night—“ She opened the door to up, and lord almighty, there was mah brother curled up with Doctor Shy, both still out hard as a rock. None of us said a word as we grabbed some soap and made our way o’er t’the stream. It was the kinda messa things that get made when ponies decide that good decisions are just no fun. Bad decisions, the best kind that can be made. Ear to EarMy gift to the world—may she long enjoy the calamity. The student of my student, as with sages in years past, is by stake and necessity the fruit of my labor, the work of my hands. Of all the idiotic things we could have done: of none am I prouder. Now if Harvard would start admitting earth ponies I would really be tickled. The ride to Dr. Pants house was as boring as the train ride, true, not as tedious, but equally as boring. In fact, maybe a tad more, I have known Fancy for a long time there are few details about him of which I am ignorant. That sculptor was a new person to meet, from a different nation with a different perspective. Fancy and I went to Yale together—he swore he would never forgive me for accepting a faculty position at Harvard. His estate itself was rather nice—if one desires to mimic every stereotype possible about a Carolina plantation. ~*~ E'ry thing had changed, ya can't uncrack an egg, ya can't unring a bell. Things was gonna be different 'tween all of us, maybe fer the betta It was one of them times where e’eryone knew not to talk. Sweetie’s sista made a drink for us with some-a that clear hooch and tomato juice, she also added some peppa and some other spices. I was reluctan to have some at first, thinkin’ ‘bout hooch at all made me all queasy, but Sweetie said it would make me feel betta—and it did take away from the poundin’ in mah ears. “So Pinky, what topic are you planning to lecture about?” the Professor asked holdin’ a hot water bag te her head. “I was thinking about discussing how expansion to the west affects the economy, and how current policy influences this process.” “Sounds wonderful.” “Not gonna talk about the—“ “Jackie, I swear to god, if you say that, I am going to beat your muddy ass to death.” E’erypony knew this was the professor tryin’te be funny. “—the question of expansion of slavery into the west?” “Jackie, please remind me to kill you at some point… Anyway… So really you won’t address the gigantic elephant in the room?” “I wasn’t intending to—I like havin’ fun with an audience as much as the next dirt pony—but I ain’t looking to get lynched by fraternity brothers.” “Surely you have more faith in our students?” Dr. Shy interjected. “I don’t,” the professor retorted. “Girls, can we pick another topic to discuss?” Rarity bemoaned. “Ooh ooh, I know… let’s talk about Buffalo-settler relations!” “NO!” we all said in unison, including Mac. ~*~ “Professor Discord, welcome to my humble abode.” “Humble?” “Don’t be an arse about it you traitor.” “Well at least I didn’t end up in some shit-hole university in…” “Monsieur Discord?” interrupted his wife, or mistress. “Madame, appelez-vous?” “Je suis Fleur-de-Lis, et vous?” “Je suis un professeur d’Harvard” “Magnifique ! Mon amour, escortez-vous notre invite à leur chambre ?” “Oui, m’amour,” he turned to me, “mais, vous êtes toujours un traître.” “C’est juste.” He smiled. Two young earth ponies, lavender and silver respectively , stepped out of the house. "These are my house muddies, Diamond and Silver. They will help you with your bags, Professor." They each took one of my bags and made their way into the mansion, after a moment we followed. "Do you actually even have any non-house slaves?" I asked. "No." "Then was the modifier really necessary?" "Oh lord, you are worse than Celesta." "You don't have to work with here every day." "I have a feeling you cause her far more trouble than she does you. Let me guess... you told her about this little jaunt... say a day before you left?" "I actually told her the morning of." "Exactly." ~*~ Twilight was fuming. Cadenza telegrammed her as soon as she had been informed by Celestia… after returning from a two week long vacation. TO PROFESSOR TWILIGHT SPARKLE TWILIGHT DISCORD GOING TO CRASH THE PARTY STOP WATCH OUT FOR TROUBLE STOP LEFT FIVE DAYS AGO STOP HE IS STAYING WITH PANTS STOP CADENZA “That son of bitch!” she growled under her breath. The young stallion form the university telegraph office quietly slouched out the door. Composing herself, she took a hardy gulp form her flask and tried to delicately step out of her office. Dr. Pants was not in his office, how convenient. “Fluttershy,” she asked, poking her head through her friend’s office door, “did Discord mention that he was going to be attending Pinky’s lecture tomorrow?” “Yes,” she chimed, looking up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I thought he would have told you… wait… did he not?” “Nope… does Pinky know?” “Yes.” “So why was I left in the dark about this…” “… Om… maybe he wanted to surprise you.” Twilight’s eyelid twitched. “…Or maybe he just forgot…” “No. Dr. Shy. Discord does not forget. Ever.” ~*~ “So wait, I thought your parents were Prench?” Fancy started as Diamond poured him another glass of wine. “They were, but my mother was born in Draconeqo*,” I responded taking a bite from my salad. “Wait, isn’t that part of Prance?” “Non mon amore, they have been independent for a long time.” “Is the country majority Draconequus?” “No, Draconequus only make up about a third of the population, but it is where most of us do live.” “Like nearly all Alicorns live in Roam, but they still make up a minority there?” “Exactly, though unlike the Papess, the house of Drimaldi looks like it is going to stay in power.” “Do you actually think they will manage to unify Crystaly?” “At this rate it is inevitable. Republican and Monarchists have put aside their differences, now united behind Victor Emaneuel—” There was a loud banging on the door. “Silver, be a dear and check the door.” The earth pony nodded and made her way towards the foyer. “I wonder who that could be.” “I have idea,” I grinned. “I really hope th—” “Discord!” “—at you told Professor Sparkle about your visit,” he sighed. “Nope.” “Where are they?” her shout audible across the residence “Um… they’re in the dining parlor, ma’am,” a much softer voice replied. Soon enough standing before them was the disheveled form of their dear friend and colleague. “I swear on my life, you will not fuck this up!” “Oh, Professor, I don’t intend to,” I said, smiling from ear to ear. Author's Note * A play on Monaco.
Lucky SlavesMah sista said that ah ought be grateful fer our situation. Lord knows, she said, where we coulda ended up. Not like our situation is worth hootin bout or even half enjoyable, but buckin is buckin an ah can’t say too much bout it. Lord no. Ah guess all considerin, with dealing with mistress and the professor, it’s a challenge to imagine better folks to have above one’s self. Bein a dirt pony’s hard nough, much less where we is. Ah heard that up towards Fillydelphia and Manehattan they at least give em the courtesy of agent-cy, or whateva. Mercy, mercy, lord it’s hot out. Stuck hitched up to this here wagon fer Faust knows how long, least it ain’t too tirin, just monotonous—back an forth, back an forth—it’s nough to drive ya mad. Well, at least it leaves me time fer thinkin. Ma sista said how much of a privilege one’s own mind is—like a castle. So ah guess ah can consida mahself lucky on two counts. When ah’m a bit bigga, ah guess that ah’ll actually start doing real bucking, not just totin round the full barrels. Sista said it’s lucky that we ended up on a farm with trees to buck. Pecans, peaches, an the like. Even a few apple trees by the slave shacks—not fancy nough fer sellin but good nough fer us. Betta than cotton, she said, no sweating coverless under the sun, bloodyin our hooves. So lucky—then—on three counts. So now, ah don’t know. Ah can’t pretend ta. If ah just behave maself, ah’ll do alright. But fer now, just pull this damn cart… not too long til supper. ~*~ Light trickled, delicately, through the leaves, majestic oaks lining our way. The smells of summer whisked by, perfumes of Dixie. Hail to thee, oh princes of the Carolinas! I come back into myself, two stout earth ponies, Mac and Tobe, continue to guide our carriage up to the house. It has been a long time, or at least it feels it. I have taken too long to heed philosophers and neglected my duties elsewhere. Lost would I be without Rainbow. A department, fine, but the affairs of this house are beyond me. I would far rather tolerate the company junior lectures that deal with our ponies here. Wanting for a sweated brow—this whole idea is rather a joke. But if the Grecians could, then I suppose we can. Necessary after all, not like my scholar’s pittance could keep us afloat. Mac and Tobe detach themselves from our carriage, bow, and make their way. "Well, welcome home," she kissed me. "Gladly." We ascended our porch. "Lovely afternoon Miss Dash, Professor." "Milly," I said, hugging the round, aging earthgro mare. "How’s been the school?" "Good, I’ll tell you about it later. I smell stew, dinner ready?" "Yes ma’am, supper’s just finishin up." I grinned, solace in calm, what I am use to. I have achieved my apex, now what. How much more can I press on. I will make myself happy; I am still young enough to learn, but now I set my terms. I do not like to think of them as my things, legal or not, but still—they are happy, or at least I try to make them as such. Surely I have failed on more than one account, but what now for a soul found and a soul lost. "Masta Dash." "Yes?" "Rarity and Sweetie is gonna be comin through. "I ain’t got an issue with it, for sake, how much you bettin on—" "Dear, maybe not now." "Well certainly for good conversation, Twi." I smiled, "fine, for conversation." ~*~ Equestrian virtue—hold fast on the wandering seas. Onto itself, firm, strong. Oh thee, flagrant upon winds and indebted to the Western sky. Come up, phoenix, back to us now, those hopes and— Ashes, grey, charred wood and twisted steel. All in a mind’s eye. Mah eyes open, kinda quiet. Sista ain’t up yet, nea’er is the sun. Still too early t’be awake. The biggest fear ah eva had was that I’d lose’m. Faust in heaven what ah’d do if ah did. Ah pissed maself on the auction block as we was bein bartered fer. Ah neva prayed so hard. Pullin the cart don’t do ya no good durin apple season, we ain’t gonna use the cart—mastas don’t need it—it’s fer us. Help Granny with the pealin and bakin, you can do the buckin when ye’r old nough. Fall’s always such hard work, but ah love it. The mastas’ crop is finished up by the first of October, so we have a few weeks to tend t’our own provisions. Them apple trees is ours—we keep um, so we get to enjoy em. Slicin up pie—ah pray that this can last forever. Faust, if there is a heaven, let it be like this, warm fire, mah family, food, and even some good cider. If mastas deserve anything it’s a seat at that table. Lord knows! When all is said’n done they may be. "Applebloom! Hey, time t’get up." Ah opened mah drowsy eyes. "Alright," ah stretched, yawned. Granny had already started on breakfast, some toast’n dandelions. The crackle of butter has always made me happy. Ah could toil my whole life away, but for the smell of good cookin, umm, almost makes it worth it. ~*~ Oh, grateful for what, your “masta” not whipping you, not splitting up your family. Circumstances is what they is, ah can only make the best of em. What you want? Hmm! Sowing seeds of malicious— No! you are too much of a fool! No, don’t you be goin around callin me that, no sir. Ah ain’t no fool, ah need te support mah family, ah had no say in this life, so ah make the best of it! Best of— You do not control me, or my dreams. Oh, but your “mastas” do? Nough a you! We are all constrained by— Life, circumstance… Love. Author's Note Comments and critiques are welcome.
FirefliesSweet warm, summer skies, evening mists slumber across our meadow, effervesce from between our groves of pecans—the west opens up. The night air is a welcome respite from the day. I swirl the wine in my glass for a time; the purple vortex—not too long ago I was the student of a student, now I am my own student, so still the student of a student. Like a servant in my own mind I grow wistful, wanting something. I have everything, and then— "So, darling, you have to tell me all about the university." I again see the wine, now still, in my aura. "Hard to complain, I guess. Finally, the faculty are not above hiring pegasi." "That long—good lord, Harvard has been keepin—" "Oh lord, do I now, I spent the last two years arguing," \ I comply dramatically. "As if we are any less proficient at teaching!" my wife interjected. "Of course not to play for the devil: but the bulk of higher learning is magic oriented, particularly at the university… but of course with the liberal arts it isn’t some farm manual of magic, but a broad course of learning. Unicorn skulls can be thick with it!" My wife’s gaze turned from puckered to gleeful as I progressed. You never had subtly—it‘s why I love you. But, really, leading me on, for a flash I wanted to show you something… not anger… foolery maybe—anyway, after depletion, my heart grows fond of us. Not the past, but the future—us together. Bodies are bodies and sex can have less emotion than a handshake, believe me I will always love you. ~*~ Ah was sittin high and mighty, sista let me have a swig of last year’s cider. It was a bitter sweet kinda tastin', but it felt good an warm goin' down. "Gets betta with age, she told me." If what ah tasted was aged or not, it was good. "Not allowed to much Appleblooom, ya hear, you’re still just a filly." Don’t know if letting her at that drink was wise, ‘Bloom’s been all silly all night—of course how’s that at all different from the usual, oh well, bein who we is might as well learn to escape early. Pie and cider—the dirt pony refuge. Afta supper ah went out to watch the fireflies with Scoots. Scoots is a free girl, but she ain’t got all that much. She’s been livin in the barn on and off—she moves around quite a bit. I know mistress and the professor don’t mind havin her around though. Come Heartswarmin, Granny lets her stay with us and celebrate—she’s an honorary Apple, mah sista said… well, least durin the winter months she is. Of course durin the warmer months it ain’t too much of a problem livin outside. If ah could be a free girl, ah wouldn’t mind livin outside. Scoots was out by the stream near the far end of the Mastas’ meadow, rod in hoof. "Catchin supper?" ah asked "Yep." Ah sat down next to her. "Scoots?" "Yea." "Ye ever tried cider? Ah mean hard cider." "Yes-er, in fact your Masta gives me a drink every now an then." "Mistress Dash?" "Yep." "She's a nice mare." "Want me te tell er that for ye?" she winked. "No… she is decent, far as ah’m concerned she’s damn near swell fo’a mistress." Ah winked as well. "Least you got fine mastas, it’d been gangly, if they’d been—" Sweetie Belle jumped up on us. "Hey girls, she said in her gentle sing-songy way." "Well evenin Sweetie," ah said. "What brings you around?" Scoots asked. "Mah sista’s visitin the Professor and Miss Dash… talkin bout they usual stuff." Sweetie’s an awful cute girl. If ah—well, she’s a perty thing, coat all white. Not to say that Scoots ain’t a cute girl, but Sweetie, she’s a tad more delicate. Anyway, Scoots and ah are use to ruough livin an Sweetie ain’t. Still, though, she’s the muse that does a betta job of ticklin mah fancy than anything else. Oh mah… sorry oh lord? Ah have felt sinful… ah have thought sinful thoughts, feels kinda right. You don’t need to mind too much; still trying to figure things out in this world. Yea, even though she’s a filly too. It shouldn’t make a difference. True, but— If you’re going to bother with faith—embrace its imperfections. Sounds bout right. Seetie started talkin, ah blinked a few times. "So what are you two doin this weekend?" "Workin." "Workin." "Got a job scoots?" "Nothin steady." "Somethin?" Ah shrugged. "Yea." "Doin what?" "Well… Mistress Dash is having me run some… errands fer her in town." "That ain’t work!" "Well it’s something ah get paid for, besides she ain’t gonna go and you know they don’t let dirt ponies go into town alone. "Ah guess so." "Ah know it ain’t nearly slaven work… ah mean…" Ah giggled some. "Scoots don’t worry ah know what ya mean." Scoots rolled her eyes, smiled; Sweetie just grinned and shook her head. Fireflies are comin out now. Little lights flickerin in the lavender grass, awful pretty. I look over to Sweetie, she’s still lookin out across the stream over at the meadow. She turned to me… ah looked away, blushin. She scooted right up next to me… an rested her head on me. Don’t know what to think now. ~*~ Poured myself another glass of whiskey; lord knows if I have to keep on hearing Dr. Pants drone on… The status of the dirt ponies—dirt ponies isn’t even an acceptable term in academics. For Faust sake speak formally! Earthgros, or earth ponies, call them whatever in your head, but when you talk use the right words; you are a professor! "So what would you say Professor?" "I am sure that you all know my position: that earth ponies are good, honest, and hardworking… They may not be our equals, and their position of servitude is legitimate—but we must treat all kinds, hooved and cloved, with kindness and generosity… Because we are unicorns and pegasi, we must show that we do deserve our status." How much of that is bullshit? Author's Note "The heat thickens." - Zapp Brannigan
HideoutSo dreary there, a dream unkept; little dancing virtues, sweeping all about. Absalom, King, then died; and all the world’s-a-bloom! Ah didn’t have much time ta think bout it. Winter turned round right quick, there was a few left on the tree when ah ran towards it, fast as ah could. The last of our apples fell into the last of our barrels. Sista neva grinned bigger. Ah was a little late to it. but ah finally got my mark. Was the first time ah had a full glass a cider. First up over them ridges; you and scoots need to stay outa trouble. Lest the mastas need to find that you’s lost in the woods; snow’s flyin don’t need to be out there this late. If y’all need to run round in the snow, keep at least to the mastas’ property—that ridge is park land, even if no one is usin it. Keepin up with them slaves ain’t what it’s worth, how much did you piss away on that old one so you could buy the young ones— Usefulness is usefulness; dirt ponies are better suited to work when they are happy. Lord knows that happiness correlates with bucking—causality or not—I, for one, am not going to risk it. So it ain’t the depths of your heart that propels you to take in such expenses— For the sake of—love is generated in the mind. ~*~ I hope I didn’t hurt anyone, oh my heavens no, oh but I want her so much. She said, after all, that the professor won’t mind—rather, she is, in fact, quite open to these sorts of things. Shouldn’t be an issue a’tall. The day had been spent procrastinating, the best kind of day. It’s an excited nervousness; can’t do too much with that feelin in your belly. "Mistress Dash?" "What Miss Milly?" "Miss Rarity’s here to see you." Without much thought I leapt up outa my sunbed. "Gracious me, Rainbow," she said as I made my way into the foyer, she was sitting sprawled out on the chaise by the window. "Miss Belle" I bowed, and kissed her extended hoof. "Oh my, what a gentlemare." Forward my legionaries! Dance little virtues. Cast your dreams in flesh. Is it not that the soul is the body, or that the soul is flesh. One’s dreams are not of the soul; it is pure. Dreams are for the self, the partner. Her curves are voluptuous, her sent, arousing. She swoons— Avast! For now is the pulse, the flash, the spark. The rich jellies and red blood—soft flesh, hold me now. I can feel her heart and mine, pounding, off beat. Tend to the cookin, nothin here te see. ~*~ Scootaloo and Applebloom galloped up the hill, Sweetie Belle not too far behind, but winded. "It's just right up this way!" Applebloom exclaimed. The three stopped in front of an old grey stone wall. Towing in front of them, a great stone façade, an arched doorway mimicked by smaller arches, glass long gone. Moss, ivies, vines, and saplings clung to the wall. The three, wordless, walked under the great arch; inside of the stone courtyard mature birch trees had taken up residence. Opposite them, another arch led to another courtyard—holding up a roof that was no longer there. The afternoon sun shone down through the trees. It was a quiet place. "What is this?" "It’s an old winery." "How’d you find it?" "Jackie said somethin bout it to Mac." "What was she doin up here—I thought she said you couldn’t leave your mastas’ land." "She didn’t say." "Wait," Scootaloo injected, "you can’t leave the plantation?" "They don’t care bout it too much, not like ah’m not gonna come back. Mistress Dash might give me a lickin—an certainly not a hard one, a couple a swats. The Professor, she’d just roll her eyes. Sides, ah done all ma chores today." "Why’d you wanna bring us up here?" Scoots asked. "Cause… look at it, perfect place to hang out, not to far a walk, but seems to be in the middle a nowhere. Think of all the trouble we could get ourselves into," Applebloom grinned. "So like our own space, our little hideout," – Sweetbelle mused. "We just gotta keep a look out... but mah sista was talkin like she ain't gonna come up here no more, or too ofen." "Ah like it." "But we gotta keep it secret, so agreed then?" "Agreed!" ~*~ I always liked my office, plenty enough room for my books. Mahogany and red stained oak walls, the whole place has an aura… like red wine. I was sipping some and reading for a while. It was a cloudy afternoon, late in the fall semester. Out my window, the elegance of the gentry abounds, with redbrick buildings and— There is a knock on my door. "Um… oh… Professor are you in?" "Yes; the door is open." Dr. Fluttershy, one of our new lecturers; she isn’t new to this, of course, she had taught for a while at the Oberlin College. She was one of the first pegasi to take us up on our offer. I’ll be damned if this school isn’t trying to look backwards. "Um… Professor… Some of my students… mostly pegasi, have been talking to me about how some of the other faculty… what’s the word… doesn’t show them due respect." "Yea… you aren’t the first one to come to me with this. Wine?" "Of course." I levitated the decanter and glass over to her; she poured herself a glass. "Many tenured faculty in this school are… a tad racist." "Yea… well... that’s why I’m here," she perked up. "We need ponies to start to work together. We need to keep pushing for full equality!" I gulped some. "Indeed. Well, I will try to do what I can to help curb it… I’ll do some chewing out over the next few weeks." "Oh, perfect, just don’t be too harsh now." "I won’t" I winked. She smiled and finished the rest of her wine. She curtsied and hovered out of my office. I think I bit off more than I can chew. Author's Note And the game begins. Critiques welcome.
Inhale, ExhaleIt hadn’t occurred to me until ah started growin some more, how small unicorns are. Sweetie is an awful small li’l thang; ah noticed it when we was cuddling a while back in the hideout. She just seemed small, but lord almighty she ain’t that light. More than once when we was campin she’d end up rolled on top a me. Mah sista said it’s cause them unicorns gotta have thick bones for they magical horns; same reason that Scoots is so light, gotta be light te fly. When we was all just foals the differences weren’t so big. Now ah’m almost half a head taller than her, and ah ain’t done growin yet. “Ah told the mastas that Sweetie’s gonna stay with us for the night.” “Does her sista know?” Ah shrugged. “Ah don’t know how fond her sista’s gonna be with her sleepin in our shack.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” The door opened. “Miss Rarity, Sweetie,” mah sista said, nearly bowin. “Oh Jackie, no need.” Oh these poor creatures, I can’t believe that Sweetie wants to stay the night here—she could sleep in the house at least. She could certainly bring her friend, I’m sure Rainbow wouldn’t mind at all. “My sister said she would like to sleepover with little Apple Bloom and Scoots… if that is alright with you?” “Of course Miss Rarity.” “Wonderful, I will be in the house, please don’t hesitate. Bye Sweetie, behave for Miss Jackie.” “I will.” Rarity walked to the house, into the autumn night. “Com’on Sweetie—down in the fruit cellar we got some good cider!” “Scoot’s commin?” “She’ll be here in a little bit.” ~*~ Only because the professor can’t keep up with the affairs of her dirt ponies that leaves all the actual maintenance to Miss Dash; if all the pecans and peaches in the world would only cost half as much as this house fritters away! Cross of the damned for what these red-letter books read, allowed. This is the specter of the lands, the houses on the lands, the homes in the houses, and the foals in the homes. It comes up to laugh at the living and make timely notes of their wants, and their unfed desires. Accursed thee, accursed these! The flowers of generations, seeded though the land, and returned. Ashes to ashes! A shroud and a golden fleece, adorn those little dancing virtues, a pirouette of the damned. I felt Rainbow’s breathing next to me. She seemed calm, but had a vexed look on her face. “Dashie?” I nudged her. “Humm… what?” “Nothing.” She smiled at me, “Love you, Twi.” I nuzzled her, “Love you.” She fell back asleep, I walked over towards the widows. There was a thin layer of snow that covered our fields, colder than usual. Back to work tomorrow, back to the school. Hearthswarming never lasts long enough. I am reluctant to sleep, not ill dreams per say, just ill feelings. It has been a long time since I felt warm in my own flesh. And the heat of another barely covers the cold. Twirl! Open the mind’s eye, stretch out, grab it, and hold it. ~*~ The first time ah had sex with Sweetie wasn’t much fancy, course we didn’t know no betta. We was really nothin' more than a couple a bunnies buckin. It was really Sweetie’s idea, though ah had been thinkin' bout it fer some time. We each had plenty a cider, even though Scoots was with us she had already taken te passin' out—she had already had some wine over at the mastas’ house, so she already was tipsy when she got to the shack. Miss Rarity an the mistress had asked Applejack to come over to the mansion fer the evenin'. We ended up sleepin' in the fruit cellar. Sweetie had the most adorable look on her face; she levitated up her glass a cider to mah lips, an ah took a sip. She stroked my breast with her hoof. Dirt ponies are strong and built, feelin' good and firm against the soft, supple unicorn. Our bosoms—our loins, our lips locked. There was a perfume about her, sweet tastes lingerin' on her tongue. All of the forces in the universe—pulse! We laid there fer a while, brethin real heavy. She curled right up next to me; she didn’t speak. She wrapped herself around me, as did ah her. She levitated a blanket over top a Scoots, and then another on us. Ah fell asleep sometime after that. Ah woke up when the birds started chirpin'. Sun wasn’t all the way up quite yet. I woke up Scoots and Sweetie. Groggy all, ah fired up some dandelions. ~*~ So, finally, it happened. I suppose that it was inevitable, really. I pretended to act surprised. “Well, Dr. Fluttershy, I am not sure if the other faculty will be as accommodating to this idea as I am.” She sat across from me, absolutely beaming. “Well Professor, I am quite sure that they will find her to be not only enlightened but a great opportunity for our students to—“ “I do not doubt you, or her for that matter, but to have an earth pony give a lecture at this school, even an educated one, is just not… not something I think that the faculty or students will be able to digest.” “You know as I do that it is only a matter of time before it starts to become common place. Why this year Oberlin is gonna graduate four earthgros!” “What Oberlin does and what we do here are very different—“ “Look, Professor, you don’t want your students to graduate from some backwards ass school. Your reputation is mud outside of Dixie—you know what your Harvard classmates think of you—“ “Dr. Fluttershy!” I almost never raise my voice, “my reputation is not—“ “Then fine!” she retorted, now hovering above me. I inhaled, in and out, in and out… just like Professore Cadenza said. “Listen, Flutters—sit down,” I gestured back towards the chair across from me. I took out a bottle of Scoltch and poured myself a drink. “I think that you make a valid point; this school needs to modernize. Write your former student, and see what she thinks. I am open.” Dearest Pinkie, …I have spoken with Professor Sparkle, and she is very interested in having you give a lecture at our school… make sure that you have your papers on you…
Between the Lines Between the Lines Grey smoke billowed as the train advanced southward. Well my mane didn’t deflate, so I guess that is good at least. Mean old unicorns said I had to third class. Well fuck them! I am who I want to be—they can feel all good about themselves, but I’d bet they can’t even read. Bunch of ignorant— “Papers dirty.” With a toothy, fake smile, I handed him my ticket and identification. He glanced, handed them back, and moved on. Pick your battles—what Fluttershy always said—pick and choose; a contest of wits can only be won if both combatants have them. I took out a book, in Prench mind you, and started reading. L’idée, c’est moi, plein de bruit et de fureur.* ~*~ Tha trees were buddin in the hideout; later in tha evenin when Scoots, Sweetie, an ah was sittin in the courtyard sippin on some cider. “Teacher said that I’m supposed to start lookin at schools for when I’m done here in a couple a years.” “Sweetie, you already been in school too long,” ah chirped, “how come you got te go for more?” “Rarity said it’s cause I gotta be good for marryin, all them rich colts want a wife that’s gone to college.” “Ah’m pretty sure she is well aware that you don’t like colts.” “I told er bout us a long time ago, she ain’t got a problem with it, but she still wants me to get married. But not til I’m done with college—Lord knows another six years in school.” “Well least it leaves us time to plan somethin as an alternative—” Scoots beamed. “Gonna rescue me from mah sista?” We both nodded. “Good then,” she said, swiggin on tha cider bottle. ~*~ Since twelve noon I’d been drinking bourbon. I paced, myself, so I was not drunk, but still—my nerves were, in spite of myself, not as calm as I’d hoped. Rainbow never asked why I fidgeted so much, of course, she already knew. I’d spilled it to her the night before, far more intoxicated then. She too had indulged herself some, a few glasses of white wine—oh she’s more of a lady than she lets on. I figured that it would be better to meet and to talk to her at length before the lecture. Of course Dr. Fluttershy was more than happy to introduce us beforehand, and Rainbow seemed equally intrigued by the idea. So dinner and drinks at Golden Oaks Plantation it was. I had suggested that perhaps another venue, but Fluttershy and Rainbow insisted otherwise. She may think ill of me because of—hardly time now to consider; I’m sure she will understand. Oh, and Miss Belle and her little sister will be joining us as well. What of it all… Sweetie’s going to run off to the slave shack to curl up with Applebloom… Until Scootaloo shows up, by the time we’re serving tea they’ll be peeking in the window. I’ll amuse them, pretend not to see them. No… maybe I’ll invite them in for tea and whiskey, show Dr. Fluttershy’s student a real time. ~*~ It hadn’t felt too awkward leaving the train station, oh but I’m sure that Pinkie felt nervous… but of course she didn’t show it—she never did. I’m glad she’s doing well in Manehattan, keeping up tabs on her show hall and pub. She had taken in interest in political economy—reasonable, her father had some money… out in the mountains they don’t care too much, prospecting… saloon culture never lends itself to sophistication, but it did well for her—accounting and economy in tow. “Uh… ma’am?” a large red earthgro stallion greeted us as we descended the platform, Oh boy! Oh boy! A carriage; this’ll be fun. I always liked carriage rides. “Oh, you must be Mac, Twilight’s… chauffer.” “Eyep.” “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you; this is my former student Pinkamena.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said gripping his front hoof and shaking maybe it a bit too rapidly. “Same.” ~*~ “So Mr. Mac do you have a family?” “Pinkie—” “Eyep, got a pair a sistas and mah grandma.” “They also owned by Professor Sparkle? “Pinkie—” “Eyep.” “What? You always told me to inquire; not like the irony of this whole damn thing isn’t obvious.” “I did say that, but—” “I looked her up, even read some of Twilight’s papers—it’s fun how much she writes between the lines.” ~*~ Mah sista an ah was checking up on the peach trees, bein as they started buddin. “So who’s commin over?” “Someponies that the Professor works with—ah think.” “We gonna meet’em?” “Ah don’t know Bloom, depends if the mastas need us to help Granny and Milly—” We both turned an saw Mac was leadin in the Professor’s guests through the front gate. “Is that them, Jackie?” ah asked. “I believes.” “Is that a dirt pony?” “Wha?” “The pink one Jackie—” “I’ll be damned.” There was a silence fer a time, we just watched em as they made their way up to tha porch. Did that earthgro work at that fancy school? “Girls,” Granny said, walkin up behind us, “Mistress Dash and the Professor said they want you both to inside.” Ah looked at mah sista; she looked back. “Te help wit tha cooking?” “Didn’t say why; also, wanted me to tell you that the Belles and that Scoots will be there also” “Granny,” mah sista aksed, “has the professor been drinkin?” “No more than usual. Why?” “Ah’m a bit confused, sis, wh—” “Later, sis—go get cleaned up.” Ah took a slow walk towards the wash house, usually ah washed in the stream, but that didn’t seem appropriate now, sides, still too cold out. Author's Note * I am the idea, full of sound and fury. To those who are having a challenging time following what is going on, I am writing a miniature cliffs notes to accompany Flowers, Blossom!; it, hopefully, will help clear up any confusion.
Cliffs notes – not a chapter Cliffs notes – not a chapter Cliffs notes – so far Flowers, Blossom! is an experimental work that it requires close reading; frequent narration shifts, a quasi-stream of conscious format, and a non-linear plotline make the story a challenging read. To clear up some of the confusion below are some clarifications about style and plot, as well as a brief synopsis of where the story is so far. Narration shifts are indicated by this symbol: ~*~ or by italics. Narration is in a quasi-stream of conscious style, so the text is the typed out thoughts of the characters, more or less. Apple Bloom’s, or any slave’s, narration is marred by misspellings and improper word use—this is because she is illiterate so her thoughts are being typed out phonetically. The seemingly omnipotent third person narrator, who can be either friendly or hostile, is a character you have not met yet. While the plot line is not linear, it is generally progressing forward. For reference, in the first chapter the CMC were approximately 11 or 12, in the most recent chapter they are about 15 or 16. Rainbow Dash, Twilight’s wife, is having an affair with Rarity and then later with Apple Jack; Twilight suspects something but does not talk about it or take any action to stop it. Scootaloo is spending more and more time with Rainbow Dash who is starting to act like a surrogate parent to her. Twilight is increasingly consumed with guilt about having slaves; she drinks heavily to try to overcome this. The plantation is starting to lose money, but Rainbow Dash is keeping this a secret from Twilight. University names have not been ponified. Twilight and Fluttershy are both graduates of Harvard, and Fluttershy worked for a time at Oberlin, where Pinkie attended. As a reference, Oberlin College was the first coeducational multi-racial college in the United States; it has always been known for its open-mindedness and very, very liberal politics. Pinkie is somewhat affluent, her father was a successful prospector and she owns a pub/saloon/showhouse/brothel in Manehattan. Synopsis: At this point in the story, Twilight has invited one of her coworkers, Fluttershy, her student, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo over for dinner and cocktails. Despite trying to pace herself, she is drinking heavily and also invites her slaves to eat and drink with them. She is anxious that as a slave owner she will be looked down upon by Pinkie, who to her represents everything wrong with slavery as well as the “northern” culture she came from.
Quite the TreatJanus, empirically there, smiling duel—unease and ease, tears of joy and sorrow. Dancing little virtues, hail to thee! Princes of the Carolinas— Call upon the rows of ponykind; offer them salvation. Legions stand at attention, whores and voyeurs. A transferred lecturer and pegasus, heiresses, with some coin in hand—a deed freshly printed in their purse. “Think your folks would approve?” “Rainbow, the whole state of Massachusetts frowns upon us.” “You’re shaking, nervous—” “—only half as much.” “So what are we looking for?” “Ones with strong legs.” “Right…” “The job is a good offer; they need someone to build up the new department.” “Indeed,” she said, putting down her teacup. “I’ll write a few letters—an old friend of mine knows of an estate that just got put up.” “I appreciate it.” “Crepuscola, sei sicuro che questo è ciò che si vuole ?" “No, Cadenza, non mi*” She shook her head, eyes downcast. I spotted an orange dirt pony with a blond mane, eyes despaired. I glanced at Rainbow, she tried a reassuring glean. “Hello, um… what is your name?” She paused and looked up, but only for a second. “Apple Jack,” she said, her voice strained. With my aura, I titled her head up—her eyes were shot, red. “Um… Apple Jack… ah, what did you do previously?” “I… I’h worked on a peach plantation.” “Did you buck the trees?” She nodded; cast a nervous glimpse behind her. “Your family?” I asked, eyeing for a moment the three behind her. “Can they also buck.” “Could… can… will… but Granny…” “Shh… don’t worry,” I patted her head, “I need house ponies too.” I did not know what to think; cruelty of circumstance and I have never seen more grateful eyes. ~*~ Ah scrubbed mahself cleaner than ah had been in a long, long time. Somethin bout all this stuff said that ah ought be presentable— ah wonder where that pink earthgro is from? If she’s the mastas’ guest then— Professor always hinted that she liked dirt ponies, ah mean she takes good nough care of us considerin… did she buy her? No, slaves don’t ride in carts, or— well if she’s at that fancy school— if she is— can earth ponies go to school? neva felt this confused, ah like masta— not what this is about myself ain’t relevant when lookin at this here didn’t feel so confused bout Sweetie and me… but… but… ain’t got so—who “You done Bloom?” “Yea,” ah dried off some. My sista gave me a white tunic and a ribbon to put mah hair up into. She said mastas wanted us to look nice. ~*~ I try to never pick favorites, but, I confess, at times this virtue is above me. Fluttershy was never my top student, but hardly matters. She was willing to put up with my… we’ll call them shenanigans… and that means a great deal. Harvard can be so stuffy, so… dull. I more than once looked forward to the dean chastising me; at least I could raise my voice to someone then. Ahh… but alas, I find that we are both mellowing, she either doesn’t care or I don’t have it in me anymore. Oh well. Twilight was Cadenza’s student, but I am the department chair, so she was inevitably mine. And while I never disliked her—we never got along as famously as I and Fluttershy. I could show all of this—recount a great story that exemplifies what I am saying, but, as I said before, I no longer have the fortitude. I can play upon the devil’s winds, but not much else. I hope that I can meet that one earth pony student Fluttershy mentions in her letters, she sounds like a treat—Twilight hammered sort of treat—given that mare’s habits—that’s quite a bit. I still correspond with Crepuscola from time to time; I suppose I am the only one who is willing to look her in her mind’s eye and—well never mind that now… last I heard she had invited that earth pony student of Fluttershy’s to speak at her school. I can’t imagine that will go well… hmm… I might have to disappoint the dean and thrill my student’s by taking a bit of jaunt down there—oh, the look on Twilight’s face. It will be priceless. ~*~ “Thank you Mac!” I blurped as we stopped in front of the—house, mansion? it was pretty big, but not as big as some of them cattlemen, of course they got more space than they could ever know what to do— “You’re welcome, Ma’am,” he replied. “Indeed, much appreciated,” said Fluttershy, he nodded. “Mac!” a portly old earth pony said, coming to the door. “Hum?” “Mastas said you’se gotta go get cleaned up, gonna be helpin inside tonight.” He shrugged, “Okay.” “And you are?” “Milly, ma’am.” “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Milly, I’m Fluttershy and this is my former student Pinkiamena.” “They let eartgros go to school?” “Up where we’re form!” I chimed. “Hugh… crazy, mastas said they was gonna be a free earth pony commin over, but never thought thought—” “Are they here, Milly?” “Yes Professor.” A purple unicorn dressed in a suede smoking jacket followed by a rather colorful pegasus in a equally colorful ball gown approached. “Go help Granny with the cooking.” “Yes Professor.” “Fluttershy, dear,” she said, hugging her, turning to me “and you must be Pinkamena.” “Yeppers!” I said, shaking her hand. She has a silly type of grin; I’ll bet she’s nervous; I don’t blame her; I’d be too given her background and where we are all now— “And this beautiful mare is my wife, Rainbow Dash.” “Miss Dash it is a pleasure to meet you.” “Indeed—nice to make your acquaintance, you go to Harvard too?” “Hehe, nice to meet you both as well, and no, Pinkie, I went to Radcliffe.” “Shall we go inside; I’ve got quite the treat for everyone.” Author's Note “*Twilight, are you sure this is what you want?” “No, Cadenza, I do not.” (Crepuscola is the feminized version of Crepuscolo, which means Twilight in Italian.) I am also playing around with internal dialogue format, so the lack of punctuation is intentional.
Greco-RomanticRhythms of heaven alluring the noble damned— we the flawed, beseeching the divine! Flesh and mists make thine monde nocturne— open the helm—and cast our dreams asunder! Up on a latter, with dirt covered bare feet balancing precariously on spokes long out riddled, a young slave picks her master’s peaches. Sweat on her brow, she glances into the vista—a young girl in a sundress and wide brim hat, pale fleshed, waves at her. She smiles—waves back. That night, they cool their feet in the stream, and watch the fireflies. Little lights flickering—the eyes of God! The grace of providence! This is your sin, America; this is your sin! This is your redemption! Love is your saving grace! Love—America—this is your salvation. ~*~ “So where the hell are you from exactly?” “Um… Boston,” I answered flatly. “No—where’s you from, you kind?” “My grandparents moved here from Prance if that is what you’re asking.” “So what the hell are you?” “I’m a draconequu.” “What type of pony is that?” I have never so much wanted to snap somepony in half. “Draconequus are not ponies, at all.” “Well, sir, in order to sit in first class you have to be—“ “How about this, like unicorns, draconequus come, originally, from Europe. So, concerning Virginia’s seating rules, I am to be sat in first class.” He nodded, somewhat dully, and I sat down… having to change trains in Arlington...stresses the limits of my— And the same dull sort proceeds to yell at a poor crystal pony trying to sit down—the recipient of this abuse, of course, did not did not follow a damn word of it. Well, I did come down for some entertainment. “Sir—may I ask what’s going on.” “This dirt pony won’t—“ “How many translucent earthgoes do you—“ “Doesn’t matter he ain’t got no horn or win—“ “Qual è il tuo problema? Asino!”* the Crystalian shouted. “My good man…let me talk to him,” trying to demure the situation “Sir, io parlo un po' Crystaliano, non hai bisogno di aiuto?” “Che cazzo c'è di sbagliato con questo bastardo!” “Beh ... si vede ... questo oaf non illuminato non può dire la differenza tra un pony cristallo e un pony di terra.” “Non vediamo niente di simile ...” “Sì, lo so, ma in Virginia, per sedersi in prima classe si deve apparentemente essere un unicorno, o almeno non un pony terra... o essere in grado di stronzate alcuni.” “Così ora che cosa?” I snapped my talons, and a crystal horn appeared on his brow, or, well, an illusion that mimicked adequately. “Grazie.” I winked, and nodded. The oaf had stepped off to the side, now turned back to us and offered up to us a deliciously slack-jawed gaze. It was so, so worth it. ~*~ Scoots looked uncomfortable, ah think even more than the professor and mistress. Ah ain’t never had scotch before, hits you pretty quick’er somethin. But seenin Scoots all tussed up was a treat-an-a-half. She ain’t ne’er worn anything fancier than patched up or’alls—seein her in that there frilly gown made me shine like a little bitty— “So, Professor Sparkle,” that pink earthgro’s voice carried more than it by nature ought to, “what you say is that as long as slavery exists—“ “—Indeed, ponies have been keeping other ponies in bondage since the dawn of time—“ “—But how can we have a democratic society if some ponies are kept all up chattel?” “Um…” That one doctor lady that works with the professor managed to get a peep in, “actually Pinkie the Greeks and Romans also had slavery…” “Hugh… I actually never thought about that,” said the pink earthgro stroked an invisible beard, “still, fact remains, modern democratic institutions are founded wholly different philosophy.” “How so?” asked Mistress Dash. “Think of it this way,” Pinky gestured a hoof, “Roman society and Greek society were based on the assumption that all citizens were equal, not all people.” “Technically our constitution is the same way,” the professor interrupted. “International convention on what citizenship means has sense changed,” she kept at, “back then citizenship was defined as a separate status—if I we moved to Prance, we would all be citizens, no special appointment necessary, no status relevant—we swear to be loyal to Naponyon the third and boom—citizens with full privileges. Maybe ah should run away with Sweetie to Prance. ~*~ Poor dear, I wonder how much the good professor is getting her ego and id tussled. I will confess that I never thought an earthgro could be so… I have never fully embraced the concepts of their submission but I— Hmph. Regardless, Applebloom is awful cute—standing over there holding that bottle of wine like she’s a house slave. I see why my sister likes her. She’s got such a silly smile—oh I bet it’s the liquor; Sweetie told me about the cider them slaves enjoy, but lord knows it can’t compare to whatever scotch the professor has selected. Oh bless her sweet drunk heart—she handles it well. No wonder that Rainbow needs more sex—that mare has to be out seven thirty. Now Rarity, where are your manners? Twilight is a good friend, and far as what I can see she and Rainbow do enjoy each other’s company—not nearly as veraciously as my sister and that sweet little mud pony—but still. Hell, ain’t nopony fuck like them little things do. Well, maybe she’d make for a nice graduation gift—if Sweetie graduates—well regardless. I don’t know how much I by the basis that international interpretations of citizenship really effect the philosophical grounding of a quasi-caste arrangement. Last I do recall there was some parts of Europe that still even allowed for serfs— Barbarians! ~*~ Meaning of words, a servant to servants. Little virtues—twirling! Little pieces of ourselves, we cannot take the whole—we must divide. Philosophies grand— Ideals strong— they do not survive. Slave owners, slaves, patricians, plebeians, the system—money must be upheld. So they take those ideals, and they cut the up— shred them into little virtues, that dance, and dance, to a waltz conducted from Hell. Author's Note Sorry for the long delay. Translation: * What is your problem, Jackass! ... "Sir, I speak a little Crystalian, need help? " "What the fuck is wrong with this bastard!" "Well ... you see ... this unenlightened oaf can not tell the difference between an earth pony and a crystal pony. " "We do not see anything alike ..." "Yes, I know, but in Virginia, to sit in first class you apparently have to be a unicorn, or at least not an earth pony ... or be able to bullshit. " "So now what?" ... "Thanks."
An Allusion to Chaos; or, an account of an incident in which alcohol and libido blurred class and racial boundaries in the Antebellum SouthExtend your heart; see into the light. Listen away, to that eternal song, rhythms and oceans hence, rise to the melody of the eternal sky. Let the candle flicker, until it burns out. ~*~ Mah sista said that ah was neva te speak of what’er happened last night again. Not like ah rememba all tha’ much te’begin with. But ah sure as well ain’t ne’r woken up in the professor’s bed before, Sweetie next to me. Professor an Mistress Dash nowhere to be found. “Wait, wait, wait…” you sayin’ that some mud pony can out drink a pegasus – ain’t no fuckin chance!” “Com’on Dashie, *hiccup* don’t need to start that now.” “Oh Professor, ah feel that Miss Dash already dun start somethin’!” “Oh Jackie—manners don’t make me take you back to the shed—“ “Fer what? Te fuck me silly, Rare?” “Would serve you right, muddie *hiccup*!” “Hey, hey, hey… language Miss Belle!” “Oh com’on Doctor, just for fun… ooh! Hey I’ll take on both-a-yous!” “Um Pinkie.” “Who’s got the whiskey—no—get these muddies some calvados!” “You gonna take on two earth ponies with hooch… Mistress?” “Na, this is the real shit form Prance…” In a kinda silly way ah was worried about Scoots, not that she couldn’t a handled herself… but that she got so far gone so quick. She can finally fly now, Mistress Dash been helpin’er—she flew up into the chandelier, still don’t know fer what. She is somewhere round here… just don’t know where. There was some sort of pulsin; Ms. Pie had gotten hold of the piano. Mac had taken to drinking wine out the bottle, the cellar, cool. The floorboards creaked against a mass of— They called it the devil’s water, an ah lapp’d it up! Mistress Dash had passed out with Sweetie’s sister in the wine cella; still can’t find the Professor. They lined up twelve sherry glasses in two rows on the small writin’ table; filled’em to the brim with that fancy hooch Mistress Dash got from Prance. Mah sista and the Mistress locked eyes, in a drunken grin with steadfast determination. Miss Pie took out a small derringer-lookin thing that popped out confetti; round one started. Miss Pie then took the bottle and started chuggin. Professor Sparkle was also in the wine cella, passed out in‘tween two barrels. The contest musta been forgotten; Sweetie’s sister’s kissin mine. Doctor Shy and the Professor have been ridin’ around on Mac’s back for a bit now, but he don’t seem to mind… or notice as he’s been runnin about the house. Milly said the fancy Persian rug in the parlor is ruined. ~*~ The train ride was at least scenic. Cotton… cotton… cotton pretty in the fields. I made an oath to only wear silk from then on out. My Crystalian friend, a sculptor who had been hired to do some work on a plantation house’s façade, had opted to keep then faux horn so long as was to linger in Dixie, not a bad idea. We arrived only an hour late, of course Dr. Pants was still waiting for me. I knew him well—the very model of Atlantic debauchery and refinement; tightly coiled with the little ghastly ideas that, oh so righteously, will be our damnation. “Dr. Pants,” I said, stepping off the train. “Professor Discord, the pleasure is all mine.” I shook his extended hoof. His eyes betrayed his nervousness; they had the usually curious luster of a learned man utterly content with the status quo, but they were coaxed and shifting. “Come, allow me to demonstrate some authentic Southern hospitality.” “Certainly.” I can only assume that his earthgro chauffer had never seen a draconequu. ~*~ A quiet nook, some pub in Oxford, Oxfordshire, England, the United Kingdom, the British Empire, the world, the universe—flames burning gently. A young scholar plucks away at a tome, self-confident, rigorous, sipping scotch with ice—still American. Across the ocean his mentor lies curled up between two large wine casks in her cellar. Elsewhere in the pub, near a rain streaked window, a black woman with acid straitened hair, an All Souls Fellow, eyes a small stone via a magnifying glass. She sips beer in out of the stein she purchased in Salzburg. Across the ocean her sister lies in a large, empty bathtub, a bottle of calvados still clenched twixt her fingers. ~*~ Sloppy jubilee, riding high against better judgments—the floor was cool, comfortable stone. I do not believe that Dr. Fluttershy enjoys the companionship of mares, but she did not resist my lips or tongue. We lost Scoots. Rare keeps smacking Jackie’s… hind… moaning like some—where is— The muses are having a field day, some kind of breezy holiday. Verticality is irrelevant and the constitution has been contaminated. No one can dance, yet everyone’s trying. We found Pinkie lying in the bathtub, she won the game. Rhythms and mistakes— Still breathing, all. ~*~ Scoots stumbled back on in round what ah though was noon. That fancy dress she had worn was all ripped up and muddy. Her eyes were sorta bloodshot. “Scoots, where’d ya get off to?” “I went up to the hideout.” “Why” She shrugged. “What you two doin out’ere?” “Headin’ to the bath to get cleaned up,” Sweetie said, groggily. “Can’t you wash up in the house?” “Pinkie’s still passed out in the tub.” “Ain’t there more than one tub?” Sweetie an’ ah shrugged. “Ah ain’t no house muddy, shit, you’d know betta.” “Well screw it, let’s jus’ get cleaned up.” The three of us made our way to the small wash house. “Well… all consider,” Sweetie started, “I think that it was a fun night—“ She opened the door to up, and lord almighty, there was mah brother curled up with Doctor Shy, both still out hard as a rock. None of us said a word as we grabbed some soap and made our way o’er t’the stream. It was the kinda messa things that get made when ponies decide that good decisions are just no fun. Bad decisions, the best kind that can be made.
Ear to EarMy gift to the world—may she long enjoy the calamity. The student of my student, as with sages in years past, is by stake and necessity the fruit of my labor, the work of my hands. Of all the idiotic things we could have done: of none am I prouder. Now if Harvard would start admitting earth ponies I would really be tickled. The ride to Dr. Pants house was as boring as the train ride, true, not as tedious, but equally as boring. In fact, maybe a tad more, I have known Fancy for a long time there are few details about him of which I am ignorant. That sculptor was a new person to meet, from a different nation with a different perspective. Fancy and I went to Yale together—he swore he would never forgive me for accepting a faculty position at Harvard. His estate itself was rather nice—if one desires to mimic every stereotype possible about a Carolina plantation. ~*~ E'ry thing had changed, ya can't uncrack an egg, ya can't unring a bell. Things was gonna be different 'tween all of us, maybe fer the betta It was one of them times where e’eryone knew not to talk. Sweetie’s sista made a drink for us with some-a that clear hooch and tomato juice, she also added some peppa and some other spices. I was reluctan to have some at first, thinkin’ ‘bout hooch at all made me all queasy, but Sweetie said it would make me feel betta—and it did take away from the poundin’ in mah ears. “So Pinky, what topic are you planning to lecture about?” the Professor asked holdin’ a hot water bag te her head. “I was thinking about discussing how expansion to the west affects the economy, and how current policy influences this process.” “Sounds wonderful.” “Not gonna talk about the—“ “Jackie, I swear to god, if you say that, I am going to beat your muddy ass to death.” E’erypony knew this was the professor tryin’te be funny. “—the question of expansion of slavery into the west?” “Jackie, please remind me to kill you at some point… Anyway… So really you won’t address the gigantic elephant in the room?” “I wasn’t intending to—I like havin’ fun with an audience as much as the next dirt pony—but I ain’t looking to get lynched by fraternity brothers.” “Surely you have more faith in our students?” Dr. Shy interjected. “I don’t,” the professor retorted. “Girls, can we pick another topic to discuss?” Rarity bemoaned. “Ooh ooh, I know… let’s talk about Buffalo-settler relations!” “NO!” we all said in unison, including Mac. ~*~ “Professor Discord, welcome to my humble abode.” “Humble?” “Don’t be an arse about it you traitor.” “Well at least I didn’t end up in some shit-hole university in…” “Monsieur Discord?” interrupted his wife, or mistress. “Madame, appelez-vous?” “Je suis Fleur-de-Lis, et vous?” “Je suis un professeur d’Harvard” “Magnifique ! Mon amour, escortez-vous notre invite à leur chambre ?” “Oui, m’amour,” he turned to me, “mais, vous êtes toujours un traître.” “C’est juste.” He smiled. Two young earth ponies, lavender and silver respectively , stepped out of the house. "These are my house muddies, Diamond and Silver. They will help you with your bags, Professor." They each took one of my bags and made their way into the mansion, after a moment we followed. "Do you actually even have any non-house slaves?" I asked. "No." "Then was the modifier really necessary?" "Oh lord, you are worse than Celesta." "You don't have to work with here every day." "I have a feeling you cause her far more trouble than she does you. Let me guess... you told her about this little jaunt... say a day before you left?" "I actually told her the morning of." "Exactly." ~*~ Twilight was fuming. Cadenza telegrammed her as soon as she had been informed by Celestia… after returning from a two week long vacation. TO PROFESSOR TWILIGHT SPARKLE TWILIGHT DISCORD GOING TO CRASH THE PARTY STOP WATCH OUT FOR TROUBLE STOP LEFT FIVE DAYS AGO STOP HE IS STAYING WITH PANTS STOP CADENZA “That son of bitch!” she growled under her breath. The young stallion form the university telegraph office quietly slouched out the door. Composing herself, she took a hardy gulp form her flask and tried to delicately step out of her office. Dr. Pants was not in his office, how convenient. “Fluttershy,” she asked, poking her head through her friend’s office door, “did Discord mention that he was going to be attending Pinky’s lecture tomorrow?” “Yes,” she chimed, looking up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I thought he would have told you… wait… did he not?” “Nope… does Pinky know?” “Yes.” “So why was I left in the dark about this…” “… Om… maybe he wanted to surprise you.” Twilight’s eyelid twitched. “…Or maybe he just forgot…” “No. Dr. Shy. Discord does not forget. Ever.” ~*~ “So wait, I thought your parents were Prench?” Fancy started as Diamond poured him another glass of wine. “They were, but my mother was born in Draconeqo*,” I responded taking a bite from my salad. “Wait, isn’t that part of Prance?” “Non mon amore, they have been independent for a long time.” “Is the country majority Draconequus?” “No, Draconequus only make up about a third of the population, but it is where most of us do live.” “Like nearly all Alicorns live in Roam, but they still make up a minority there?” “Exactly, though unlike the Papess, the house of Drimaldi looks like it is going to stay in power.” “Do you actually think they will manage to unify Crystaly?” “At this rate it is inevitable. Republican and Monarchists have put aside their differences, now united behind Victor Emaneuel—” There was a loud banging on the door. “Silver, be a dear and check the door.” The earth pony nodded and made her way towards the foyer. “I wonder who that could be.” “I have idea,” I grinned. “I really hope th—” “Discord!” “—at you told Professor Sparkle about your visit,” he sighed. “Nope.” “Where are they?” her shout audible across the residence “Um… they’re in the dining parlor, ma’am,” a much softer voice replied. Soon enough standing before them was the disheveled form of their dear friend and colleague. “I swear on my life, you will not fuck this up!” “Oh, Professor, I don’t intend to,” I said, smiling from ear to ear. Author's Note * A play on Monaco.
