Rickshaw Driver: Celestia’s Lonely Mare
By. Blue Hour Pony
April 10th – “Friendship is Magic?”
There’s a saying that’s been going around lately. “Friendship is magic.” Yet another propaganda piece from the powers that be, just another slogan to keep us docile and quiet. If friendship were really magic, why would I have to keep this little record here, huh? Wouldn’t I be talking to somepony instead of writing the truth, alone here in my apartment? Wouldn’t I be out at a party or something, shoving my face with pastries and tea? That’s just it. There is nopony. Nopony would listen. Nopony wants to hear it. Nopony is interested in hearing that. They don’t wanna be told that it’s meaningless. They just wanna keep having their parties, pretending that friendship means something when it’s really just a word. I’m the only pony that knows the truth. Myself and myself alone.
I’ve never kept a journal before. I don’t know what I or anypony else would get from it. And writing is a real pain if you’re not used to it or don’t know how to use magic, so what am I bothering with it for anyway, with this pencil in my mouth? It’s not like anypony would ever be interested in reading the sordid musings of a rickshaw driver. Maybe it’s just to remind myself that I’m sane, that I’m still all here…for now.
Anyway, let me tell you a little bit about myself. If nothing else I’m a diligent worker. I used to do odd jobs here and there. Well, one thing led to another and now I’m a rickshaw driver. You see, I used to wander all over Manehattan when I wasn’t working. I couldn’t sleep, still can’t. Night and day I’d just trot up and down the avenues seeing with my own eyes how sick and disgusting this rotten city has become. And then I figured, if I was gonna do that, I might as well get paid for it. I had gotten to know this city like the back of my own hoof, so I figured I could turn my little, day long trysts with loneliness into bits to keep the bills paid.
When I first walked into the rickshaw garage asking for this job, I could tell the owner was a little wary of me. Maybe he thought I was some kinda drifter or something. Said he already had some problems with a bunch of other bums who didn’t wanna come into work on time. He was a big, burly pony with a soggy mop for a mane and a cutie mark that looked like a grease stain. Or maybe it really was a grease stain; he was covered in machine oil, I couldn’t tell what was what. Anyway, I just played it straight. Told him I willing to work long hours, all days of the week. Told him I’d be willing to drive anywhere, anytime.
He asked me about my record. I didn’t steal anything? Was I clean? Yeah, my record’s clean. Clean as my conscious, I told him. He didn’t like that, thought I was getting smart with him. I promptly apologized of course. I wanted to walk away from this pony leaving a good impression, after all. Much as I hate it, sometimes you’ve got to smile and put on a mask. Ultimately though, I think I got the job cause of my military service. I was in Celestia’s Royal Guard for a while. I was honorably discharged a few years back. Frankly, I think it was because I’m an earth pony. You know how it is. They got wings and they think they’re better than you. I mean, they didn’t out right say that, but you could tell that’s what it was, those elitists.
Turns out the pony at the garage served too, and I think he took a little pity on me when I told him. “Us ex-military ponies have to stick together after all.” Then he gave me the whole “friendship is important this days” talk. I just smiled and nodded. Poor foal. What does anybody in this town know about friendship?
So there you go. I'm working a single now, which means stretch-shifts, six to six, sometimes six to eight in the a.m., six days a week. Sometimes I just flat out do seven days. It’s a lot, but it keeps me busy. It brings in the bits and it keeps me rolling. It’s a hustle, but that’s how it is. What else can a pony do?
April 17th – “…a real rain…”
It rained today. The pegasi were a little late, but what are you gonna do? That’s how it is. Oh thank goodness for the rain, that washes all the garbage out of the streets and sidewalks, and saturates the air with that clear, moist fragrance. Whenever all the filth builds up you need to wash it away. That’s how it is with machinery. That’s how it is with these streets. And that’s how it is with ponies…
Well, that is, if you could call the denizens of this cesspool ponies. They’re equinoids, creatures that look like equines but aren’t. The ponies around here may be hoofed and four-legged like anypony else, but they’re imposters. Liars and phonies, every last one of them. And goodness, you should see them at night. All the animals come out at night. Boars, blank flanks, dodos, colt cuddlers, filly foolers, parasprites, loafers, cupcake junkies. Sick, venal. Perhaps someday a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets.
Yeah, that’s what I have to look at every time I take my rickshaw out. Such splendid scenery, isn’t it? And it’s like that everywhere. I would know, because I take my rickshaw everywhere, ferrying ponies from one place to the next. A soiree here, a gala there, a late and long night everywhere. Everypony’s got somewhere they’ve got to be. Me? I’m just the invisible rickshaw driver, not a friend in the world. But when it rains or you’ve got a long distance to go, then the yellow rickshaw driver is suddenly your best friend. We rule the streets in the fog of the night. Silent. Omniscient. Going where we please, picking up who we want as though we’re demiurges deeming some to be worthy and others not, the yellow on the carriage side serving as a symbol, a beacon of instant service and potential salvation.
I drive ponies everywhere, uptown, downtown, cross-town. I go all over. I take ponies to Bucklyn, to Marelem. I don’t care. Whoever, wherever. Don’t make no difference to me. It does to some. I hear some drivers won’t even take zebras, won’t even head uptown at night. Don’t make no difference to me.
I have to put up with a lot. Ponies who don’t wanna tip. Ponies who think a cupcake serves as a tip. Ponies who think your head must be filled with magnetic tape and that you’re capable of hearing and recording all of the directions they blurt out even while they’re mumbling and party dazed. Ponies who think they’re better than you just because you drive a rickshaw and they work at some grand, highfalutin office or fashion studio. Yeah. You push papers or take pictures, so you think you’re better than me? And I’m thinking, “You know I could just crash this rickshaw, and then you wouldn’t be able to get to wherever you’re going on time. You’ll see how unimportant my opinion is then.”
When I return the rickshaw to the garage at the end of my shift I have to clean the cupcake frosting off the seats. Always somepony carrying goodies from the party they just got out of and the gluttons can never wait to eat them before they get home. Some nights it’s so bad you could have sworn they threw the party entirely in the carriage.
Life’s not a party. And yet, from the way these losers promenade around in their endless waltz of self delusion, you’d think that is was. But I see the truth. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m the only one who sees the truth. And one of these days, if these other ponies don’t start waking up, they’ll turn on the lights to find that the foundations of their entire pathetic, self serving fantasy were built on nothing but congealed cupcake mix. Then they’ll all crash to the ground and drown in the saccharine wasteland of emptiness that they had believed was real. And if, on that day, anypony still feels like partying, then, Celestia help them, I’ll know that no amount of common sense can reach them.
Celestia help them.
That was an interesting choice of words on my part. It’s not like Celestia has really been helping anypony lately. There may have been a time when I looked up to her. What pony hasn’t at some point? But more and more I feel that she is just a hollow edifice, completely out of touch with reality. She keeps talking about friendship and love. Where is it? How come I have yet to see it? It’s not there, that’s why.
Only I know the truth, myself alone.
April 30th – “A good indignation brings out all one's powers.”
It dawned on me yesterday night that I’m of a dying breed of rickshaw driver. The lone, dedicated type must not frequent this town anymore. Apparently, everypony down at the garage has become the same, just a bunch of automatons, not a single individual amongst them. It was after my shift was up and a bunch of us were gathered in the common room. As though they were a bunch of rusty machines all synchronized to prattle off the same nonsensical beeps, they went on about all the fun they were going to have that night. “Work hard, play hard,” they said. Oh, please. Made me want to vomit.
I just sat there at my table alone, watching them. It was mostly pegasi and unicorns; I guess there were maybe a couple earth ponies. Tokens. I don’t know why, but they just don’t sit well with me, those pegasi and unicorns. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bigot or nothing. However, I get the feeling that they’re mocking me somehow. Look at them, over there. Showing off their wings and their magic. I just know they think they’re better than me. Why else would they behave the way they do, all loud and cocky and boastful? Always having fun, always having little slumber parties and get-togethers, always secretly looking down on me.
Poor foals. I should probably feel sorry for them instead of sitting here being vindictive. They’re being used. They’re all being used. They are all ponies who could otherwise be competent individuals if only their minds weren’t numbed into a quivering, amorphous stupor by Celestia’s propaganda. Ever since Princess Luna returned, the propaganda has reached a fever pitch and everypony is into it now more than ever. Luna’s return has been heralded by the media as a reaffirmation of the power of friendship, how any kind of darkness, no matter how profound, can be stemmed by the light within our hearts.
Oh really, dear princess? Well, I’d say that this whole saga is nothing but a confirmation of what I believed all along! Your brand of friendship is a joke. What kind of sister would banish their younger sibling to the moon for so long – and without any plan for ameliorating the crisis – and then not provide any information to the general public as to what was going on? It took a little student filly to look through a bunch of library books to find out about it. (And is anypony even the least bit suspicious that the student who find out about the “legend” is a close protégé of Princess Celestia herself? Does anypony else smell a conspiracy? It’s got New World Order written all over it.)
I’m personally starting to think that the whole thing was an inside job. Princess Celestia locked away her own sister without any due process, orchestrated the events following the Summer Sun Celebration, and now she is “welcoming” Princess Luna back into society and is using the incident as an excuse to further her own agenda: that being the propagation of her pseudo-collectivist “friendship” mantra. All the while, she is skillfully laying the groundwork for the maintenance of her totalitarian dominion over Equestria so that it may continue into the next millennium.
Not to mention that the current order also helps to maintain the position of the pegasi and unicorns over us earth ponies so that we may remain divided. Of course they love “friendship.” They get to be better than us while at the same time pretending that we’re equal. And all the while everypony just keeps having their parties, sleepovers, soirees, and galas. Nopony has to give a single though as to what Celestia is really doing to Equestria.
Friendship. You’ll never get me to buy into such a lie. Never. Not in a million years. Not if Celestia herself came in and told me to get with the program or else she would banish me to the moon for a thousand years, never would I submit. Besides, none of the other ponies want to talk to me anyway; they’ve made that clear enough. Maybe once there was a time when I had tried to court their favor. No longer. I’m invisible to them. However, I see it all. I see them for who they really are. I see the truth behind the façade. One day I’m going to do something to wake them all up. One day they too will see the truth.
May 5th – “Hell is other ponies.”
You know what. I don’t even feel like writing today. I’m so terribly numb, just bored out of my mind. I swear the walls are moving. Just a moment ago I thought I felt an earthquake. Or maybe that was just the subway running under the building.
Okay, now that I think about it, there is no subway line under this building. Did I just imagine that swaying then? It was like the whole room was rocking back and forth, back and forth, like a teetering platform. Gosh, I’m going mad. The walls are getting closer. At times like this I’m sure a normal pony would just go to sleep. But I can’t sleep.
I tried to watch some television earlier, but you know what? It seems I’ve discovered a new found hatred for it. I wasn’t an enormous fan or anything before hand, but tonight I just absolutely lost it. All those stupid commercials pestering you, trying to get you to buy things that you don’t want or don’t need. A bunch of demented little talking heads all dolled up with powder and whitened teeth. Phonies. I see right through them. Here, buy this dress! Buy this diamond studded saddle! How about some new horseshoes? Your life can’t be complete without any of it! Just purchase this and that and before you know it you’ll have friends and feel all better!
Bunch of stupid lairs. Real life doesn’t work like that. Nowhere in Equestria does. Mark my words. One day you’ll all realize that, and if you ever find this journal just let it be known that I was the pony who said it first. It didn’t take a fancy, snobbish, smooth talking intellectual or a pedantic political analyst to publish the finding and force feed it to you. All it took was a rickshaw driver telling the truth. There is nowhere in Equestria where ponies still live in warm harmony and friendship. If anypony tells you there is such a place they are lying through their teeth.
Do I wish there was such a place? Oh, sure! Maybe. That wonderful, quintessential all-Equestrian small town where everything is just smiles and rainbows. Yes, a picturesque little burg where everypony greets you with a smile and they throw a party every time somepony new comes to town, a place where they work hard, are passionate without being fake, and can have some good old fashioned fun and games without breaking down into pointless fighting unlike all the brain dead drones one sees at big city professional sporting events. A place where everypony knows your name. Sounds like an old time sitcom doesn’t it? There is nowhere like that. It is all just wishful thinking.
But you wouldn’t know it hearing our government officials and our royals talk. They act like such a thing could actually exist. Like earlier, I was waiting for all those dumb, sugarcoated commercials on TV to be over. The news came back on and I was saying to myself “Finally, enough with all the dazzling graphics and exaggerated voices. Let’s see what horrible things are happening in the world today. You know, in reality.” And then the newscaster cuts to a speech Princess Celestia gave not long ago. Apparently she and Princess Luna are going on some kind of good will tour, and the whole thing just made me nauseous.
Listening to her it was just like listening to those stupid commercials, only she was trying to sell an event instead a roll of paper towels! And I could have really used some paper towels, that’s how much I thought I was gonna hurl. She and Princess Luna are going around Equestria, touring from city to city, trying to get Luna reacquainted with her fellow ponies again, trying to build up her public image. And it looks like they are going to be having a stop here in Manehatten a few weeks from now, at Hoofington Square Park down in the Village.
She was just droning on and on about friendship and forgiveness and magic and blah blah blah. I had to turn the volume down; I couldn’t stand hearing it anymore. It was like a sick joke, like she was telling it just for me. What friendship? Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, train cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. What does she know? I’m Celestia’s lonely mare.
May 10th – “We’re all bucked, more or less.”
After I was done with the rickshaw, I went to go see a movie the other night. At least it’s better than TV. You know, you don’t have to put up with commercials and at least some film producers at least try to put out something profound, something that stands above all the common junk. But what do you know, I was bored out of my mind again. The popcorn tasted like plastic foam, and this place didn’t even serve Brony Cola, just this watered down stuff called Crown Cola.
You should have seen the look on the face of the lady at the counter when I asked her if they served it. You would have thought I’d asked her to get in a western burlesque dress and do a dance and song for me. She just snapped at me with this irritating, nasally voice.
“No! We don’t have Brony Cola! We only got Crown Cola! Now hurry up sister, let’s go! Order already! Geez!”
I can never have a good, descent exchange with anypony, not even if it is to just get a simple drink at a movie theater. The movie wasn’t even that good anyway. I don’t even remember the plot or anything. My mind was wandering elsewhere for a good hour and a half. I just sat there in the dark, crying bored in the back of the theater. The room was less than an eighth full and partly lit by the screen. And everypony was with somepony, always in pairs or, at most, groups of three. I hate them.
But why do they make me sad? Why do I feel this way when I see them? Why do I even go to these movies if I’m only half paying attention to the screen and paying more attention to the ponies whispering and giggling to each other one row down? They don’t seem to mind the lack of Brony Cola or the popcorn that tastes like foam, or the stupid sticky floors and this terrible, meandering movie that, from the cheesy dialogue, sounds like they hired a bunch of kindergarten fillies to write it. Regardless, they’re having a good time apparently.
It’s at times like that that I sometimes wish that maybe I could feel some of what they feel. Sometimes I wish I could taste it a little, just for a day. Oh I wouldn’t want it to last forever! Goodness no! That sappy friendship nonsense these days is just so fake and phony. Ponies who trulybelieve any of it are just a bunch of mindless sheep.
But sometimes…
Sometimes I just want to see what it is like. Sometimes I feel like I’m spending a little too much time doing nothing truly meaningful with myself. Here I am working night after night. Nopony really talks to me and I don’t really talk to them. Here I am with twelve hours of work and I still can’t sleep soundly. The days just go on and on and they don’t end. I’ve got to do something, don’t I? I just wish I knew what would put me at ease. I don’t believe that a pony should devote her life to morbid self-attention. I believe that somepony should become a decent, normal pony like other ponies. There has to be decent ponies out there.
What do I do?
May 30th – “I am the mare. I suffered. I was there.”
What do I want? What do I want? I don’t know anymore. I feel like I’m on the edge of some kind of precipice, that soon I’m going to have to change, or do something, or make a choice. I can’t keep going on like this forever. The days continue to dwindle. The city continues to flash before my eyes each night in all of its sickening kaleidoscopic fury. The noise, the laughs, the corruption, the parties, the garbage, the cold shoulders and the snobbish noses pointed in the air, all of those things endemic to this city continue to mock me. They’re keeping me down, keeping me out. I can see the lights of their carnival through the trees, inviting and yet foreboding, a preternatural siren’s song.
Today, I saw something that filled by heart with – I don’t know how else to describe it – an otherworldly light. I don’t know why I felt it, and I don’t know why these particular ponies triggered it, but I know I felt something. I was trotting around with my rickshaw today. I had this rather peculiar fare, a pony with this blazing blue mane and these enormous purple glasses that looked like the eyes of some kind of demonic insect.
She wanted me to take her to an office at the corner of 53rd and Trotway, said that she was a volunteer at the temporary headquarters of the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour committee, and 53rd Street is where they were basing their Manehattan operations. I just put on a stoic face, remained blasé and started heading to where she wanted to go.
She was a real chatty one. Apparently she was one of those hip, music fanatics, claimed to be a DJ. Seems she is in charge of the music for that event in Hoofington Square Park. I tried to ignore her and minimize my responses. No use getting myself too invested in her story, I figured. She was partnering with some other pony, a classical musician, and she was droning on and on about how interesting the contrast was going to be, and how, in some weird way, even though she sometimes found herself at odds with this other pony, that the music was going to be spectacular in spite of, and perhaps even because of, the sheer polarity involved. She was clearly ecstatic and she was going on and on about how fun it was going to be.
Normally, I’d just brush off ponies who would try to talk to while I was trotting with the meter running. However, there was something about the why she conversed that demanded more than terse, one word answers. Before I knew it I was talking just to keep her silent, and then before I knew it she was responding and I was having a conversation. And she never made it all about herself, like most of my other fares. She was so nosy. Asking about me, what I thought about music, what I did for fun, my favorite food, yadda yadda yadda. Why did she care? Why did she want my opinion? I can’t say it was the weirdest fare I’ve ever had. In this town you see a lot of messed up things, but I can certainly say, for some reason, that I remember her more vividly than I remember any fare in a long, long time. Nopony has ever cared what I thought about anything.
I dropped her off at 53rd and Trotway and she walked into this ground floor office with these huge windows. You could see everything and everypony inside. Balloons, streamers, a bunch of ponies running around taking care of paperwork and phone calls, and whatever else it is you do at these committee things. The DJ pony turned her head as she left. “Bye Tabby!” she said. Please. Like she knows me or something.
But I didn’t hate her or anything. And then she met up with a few others before going into the office. I don’t know what came over me, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to hate anypony in that group. I mean, if they had a friend like that DJ pony, and if she was willing to talk to me, then they must not be too bad, right? I don’t know.
There was just something about them. They just looked too naïve to be from here. There was the purple one with the cutie mark that looked like a star burst or something. And the one with the crazy rainbow mane. And that last one (she was too precious!), the meek looking one with the pink mane and cutie mark that looked like butterflies. The city noise, the filth, this madness didn’t seem to bother them. They – I don’t know – seemed to transcend it somehow. They were standing amongst it, and yet their very beings generated a force that made them apart from it.
They appeared like angels out of this filthy mass.
They stood alone.
No pony can touch them.
Could it be that this same group of friends had a member who was willing to talk to me? But how could someone from a group like that ever want to talk to me? We’re from completely different worlds. Ponies don’t like talking to ponies who know the sordid truth about how big a waste of time friendship is. She should have immediately been put off by me, but she kept on pressing, kept on sticking her nosy little questions and queries and comments into my business. Would the others treat me as kindly as the DJ did?
I remained transfixed. I couldn’t move, even after the DJ had paid the fare and left. I had to turn the “off-duty” light on and just sit for a bit. I stared through the large windows of that office at all the ponies getting ready for that big event, doing their planning and their organizing and what not. “Should I go help them?” I thought. I’m dead serious; I was this close to unhitching myself from the rickshaw and going in to volunteer to help with the event. They all looked like they were having so much fun in there…
I could just go introduce myself, right? Maybe everypony else would want to talk to me too? Right? The DJ did, so how hard would it be to talk to everypony else?
I suddenly realized that I had been standing there for too long. I must have looked like some kind of demented psycho. A pink pony with poofy hair was staring right at me from inside the office. At the same moment I realized this she waved, and I just took off down the street.
Oh Celestia, what is wrong with me?
June 5th – “Secrets and lies.”
I know now there must be something wrong with me. Try as I might to banish these feelings to the moon I can’t seem to shake them. It’s like I’m addicted to something. Or rather, I’m addicted to the wafting scent, the idea of this something. I don’t know what it is. I feel ill. I decided to take a walk a little earlier. I don’t know why I felt compelled to, I just thought that I’d clear my head a little, you know?
However, the more I walked, the more I felt…uneasy? Apprehensive? The walk didn’t seem to be helping my mind at all. My mind is usually more focused than this. I should be as clear as a crystal. Not this morning.
I found myself in Hoofington Square Park. I hate the place. I don’t know why I would willingly go there at all. And yet time and time again I come here. It is almost as if I enjoy punishing myself, watching all the sick, twisted, buttered-up, loitering ponies. Whispering, giggling, useless ponies, coming here with their dates and partners in crime. I don’t know why I always feel like they’re looking at me, mocking me with their secrets and lies. Logically, they’re probably keeping to themselves and their sick, profligate ways. Making plans for more parties and more cupcakes, as if last night’s batch wasn’t enough, probably laughing about who they’re not going to invite.
There I go again. Don’t get me started on them. I could go all day. I had better not waste paper.
The park, it was different today. They must have done something to the trees. They shimmered. It is a hot summer right now, and I could have sworn that yesterday those trees looked as though they were decayed and dying. The city doesn’t do a very good job maintaining them at all. I had written them off; surely they wouldn’t survive one more winter. But today they almost looked as though they were infused with magic or something. They looked so otherworldly, so unnaturally alive. There were banners and signs up everywhere. I didn’t know what I was looking at, but then I remembered.
They’re getting ready for that stupid, Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour.
I wanted to scoff and keep walking. I don’t know if it was because I was too tired or what, but I just couldn’t bring myself to feel that way. I have to do something. I can’t just keep feeling like this without taking action. Something has got to give. I’ve been too skittish, uneasy, and indecisive lately. I’ve got to take some kind of stand. I just wish I knew exactly what kind of stand that was supposed to be.
Well, anyway, I’ll admit that at least the park did look kinda nice… suddenly that place I revile so much turned into an oasis in a middle of Hades. I almost forgot I was in this cesspool of a city. How did they manage to do that? They took something worn and ugly and dilapidated and made it – dare I say? – pretty.
June 5th (At Night) – “…behold the real princess of the night…”
You tend to see a lot of famous faces in this town. The tourists love it but if you live here you don’t really pay attention to it anymore. It is actually quite a nuisance, really. United Neightions ambassadors are always clogging up the streets when they’re in town, filming projects sometimes shut down entire city blocks. We’ve all got stories about being late for something because of stuff like that.
I don’t lose myself around celebrities. I keep my cool. There’s nothing special about them. They’re just a bunch of hotshots who think they’re better than everypony else when they’re actually some of the most messed up of us all. So when I saw Princess Luna step into my rickshaw tonight, I’m quite sure most ponies would have done a double take. Not me. (Okay. I’ll admit my heart started racing for a little bit.) I didn’t even give her a second glance. Maybe one, longer-than-usual glance. But that was it. I couldn’t care less about her.
“Hey. You’re…you’re Princess Luna. Princess Celestia’s sister. Aren’t you?”
I don’t know why I initiated this one. I never do. Horseapples.
“Why yes, we are.”
We? There was nopony else in the rickshaw with her. I don’t know who else she was referring to.
A bunch of words started coming outta my mouth that I don’t think my brain’s social situational filters properly screened before I uttered them.
“Oh, Princess, I’m a big fan of yours! Everypony I know is glad you’re back. I was even gonna put one of those ‘Welcome Back Luna’ stickers on my rickshaw. But the company said it was against their policy. They’re a bunch of meanies, lemme tell ya.”
“We thank thou greatly… *looks at name on rickshaw license*…Tabitha Buckle. We would have thou know, that we have learned far more about contemporary Equestria from the hind quarters of rickshaws then we have from all the limos and carriages in the realm.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that so?”
“Verily! Tabitha? May we inquire something of thou?”
“Sure.”
“What about Equestria most offends your sensibilities?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t follow political issues that closely.”
“There must be something.”
“Well…I don’t know…it’s just. Well. You know what you and your sister should do? I mean, if you ever get around to it, or something. I mean…what you could help us do. You should…could…help us clean up this city here. Because this city is like an open sewer, it’s full of garbage and dirty, spoiled cupcake batter. Sometimes I can hardly take it. Once you’re reacquainted with Equestria, you and your sister should just…really clean it up. You know what I mean? Sometimes I go out and smell it. I get headaches, it’s so bad. It’s like – they never go away. We’ve got to clean up this whole mess here. Just flush it down the bucking toilet.”
She was silent for a moment. I was kind of afraid. I don’t know why. I just didn’t know how she was going to respond, is all. But she wasn’t annoyed with me or anything. Not that I could tell.
“Hmm, we think we know what thou mean, Tabitha. However, it most certainly shall not be easy. Such a feat would require radical changes. Some of the ponies in this town do strike us as a tad bit fancier than most – yes, quite aloof. It would be easy to become…left out. Art thou lonely, Tabitha?”
“Umm…no. Not particularly. I mean…”
I think she might have kept pressing that question if she hadn’t suddenly announced that we were just around the corner from where she needed to be: The Bark-Hay Hotel on East 48th Street. A few moments later she paid me a few bits and she was gone.
June 15th– “She's a prophet and a pusher, partly truth, partly fiction. A trotting contradiction.”
Well, aren’t I a klutz? I broke my TV today. I was just sitting back, kicking my legs against the little table it’s on, and down it went. Good riddance, I thought. It was a stupid show that was on, and I don’t think I can take anymore stupid shows. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of it all. There was nothing on the news but those stupid royals. Yeah, like they really care for me, even if they pretend to. So I had changed the channel, and there were two ponies dancing. I think it was a music video or something. It was slow and waltzy and the sequins on their clothes were sparkling. Or it might have been the Grand Galloping Gala, or something, I don’t know. The two ponies on the screen were hugging and looking into each other’s eyes, and the lights everywhere were making their eyes shine too, and then I just got this feeling in the pit of my stomach and in my throat and I couldn’t help but just knock the TV over.
It sparked and smoked and now it’s dead. And then I cried, cried like an idiot. I’m glad it’s broken, so I don’t know why I feel like this. I’m so confused. I hate the world.
***
You know, I used to have a very special somepony. It didn’t last very long, but it was something. His name was Gabriel, had a watch for a cutie mark. I could tell he was lonely like me, so one day I trotted up to him and asked him if he wanted to do anything. We went out to eat once, and saw a movie.
I thought he was my friend, but he started to hate me after we had only been out a couple times. There was something about me that drove him away, but I could never get a straight answer out of him. I tried to write him letters, but he wouldn’t respond. I also sent flowers – and I know he got them – but he only pushed me further away. (Are mares supposed to send flowers or is that a colt’s job? I don’t know.) Now the smell of flowers makes me sick. My headaches get worse anytime I’m near them. They give me that terrible feeling in my stomach, like I’m about to fall apart and die. I shouldn’t complain though. You’re only as healthy as you feel, right?
So I went to the office where he works sorting out cherry products, or whatever it was. I may have yelled at him. I guess I could have been less alarming, but I was really upset. I could tell he had been avoiding me. And then one of his co-workers, this irritating, pudgy little mare, tried to push me out of the building, said I was causing a scene. Ha! Who did she think she was dealing with? I’d have slapped her for putting her hoof on me, if the look on Gabriel’s face didn’t tell me that I should probably just leave the matter alone. As I was leaving with my rickshaw, the mare told me that if I ever came back, she would call the police and have me arrested. Fine with me. I could tell Gabriel no longer wanted anything to do with me. I realize now how much he’s just like all the others, cold and distant. Many ponies are like that. Stallions for sure. They’re like a union.
Hearts and Hooves Day is especially annoying. Ponies, especially little fillies who sometimes see me sitting alone in the park, are always asking me, “Do you have a very special somepony?” “Where is your very special somepony?” “Would you like a very special somepony?” “Don’t you think you need a very special somepony?”
No, there is no very special somepony. There is not even an average, ordinary, plain, friendly acquaintance somepony. Nopony understands me. But I’m all right. I don’t need one. You’re only as healthy as you feel…
June 20th – “Baked Bads.”
Things need to change. It is clear to me now that only I can break this deadlock, only I can climb out of this rut, only I can take action; action not just to fix myself, but to fix Equestria and the world. This pseudo love, false friendship, and ersatz endearment had to come to an end. I am going to be the pony that shows everypony, and especially Princess Celestia, what this country really looks like. I see it every day, and they would see it too if they would care to look at the truth that sits right on the ends of their snouts, but I need to open their eyes. I’m going to show them up with the sugar laden implements that drive their own parties. It will be poetic justice.
I went to see a baker today. Andy the Baker was his name. I’ve never seen a more shifty eyed, jumped up little sycophant in my life. This pony was a smooth talker of the highest order. I was introduced to him my one of my fellow rickshaw drivers. Of course, she would usually just buy these things for parties…
She dropped Andy and me off at a building in Bucklyn so I could get a look at Andy’s wears. He doesn’t have a normal shop like most ponies; he sells his “baked bads,” as he calls them, out of a suite. That’s because with the amount of sugar and additives in these things they would be illegal in Manehattan.
“But out here in Bucklyn,” he said, “we know how to party, if you know where to look.”
We got right down to business.
“So, you have any of those Cherrychangas I’ve heard so much amount?” I asked him.
“It’s an expensive pastry.”
“It’s all right. I’ve got money.”
“It’s a real monster. Could drive a buffalo up the wall in one bite.”
He opened up a cooler and showed me some of his merchandise, sifting through it all and coming to the Cherrychanga.
“Here you go. It’s a premium, high-resale pastry.”
He held it up. The sweet smell was overwhelming.
“Look at that. That’s a beauty. I could sell this pastry to some zebra in Marelem for 500 bits. But I just deal high quality goods to the right ponies. How ‘bout that?”
I held it up and took a look. Andy swam on with his smooth, bohemian voice.
“This might be a little too potent for practical parties. In which case, for you, I recommend the doughnuts there. Those kind we call ‘snub-noses’ because they’re light, yet they pack quite a punch. Look at this. Look at that. That’s a beautiful little piece.”
Andy pulled out the “snub-nose” doughnuts. Each doughnut was covered in more sprinkles than I had probably ever seen on all the doughnuts in my life.
“This one here’s a chocolate coated, snub-nose doughnut. It’s got seven times the standard quantity of sugar as comparably sized doughnuts; we’re talking approximately 140 grams here, not counting other additives. On the outside, it looks mostly the same as your standard, store bought variety. The resulting sugar crash from just one of these babies is guaranteed to stop anything that moves.”
I held it in my hoof and inspected it a little bit. Through the window, I could see Lower Manehattan across the river, dominating the view. Andy continued his traveling salespony routine.
“A Cherrychanga, they’ve actually used those out in Appleloosa for pacifying buffalo. That doughnut there is a fine piece of work. Some of these pastries are highly perishable, but that snub-nose there, you could carry a dozen of ‘em around all over town and forget about ‘em for a week and, with or without refrigeration, they’ll taste fresh with every bite. And the sugar concentration packs a heck of a wallop.
“So, you interested in cupcakes? I’ve got some blue, rainbow sprinkled cupcakes. Take a look. They’re some nice little cupcakes. Beautiful little cupcakes. And they come with little lime pieces at the top. Oh, and here, look at this. I’ve got some apple pies. Beautiful little apple pies. After they saw service in Appleloosa, some ponies started using more concentrated versions on dragons. Yeah, they’ll practically lock you up if they catch you with any of this in Manehattan, the health nuts they are, especially on the Upper West Side. Here in Bucklyn, I think Deer Park Slope is getting that way too. Terrible. But you can’t shut down the party, you know? Sugar high ‘til I die, baby! Oh, and take a look at the croissant, isn’t that a little honey?”
I’ll admit he was quite the salespony, but I already knew what I wanted.
“So, how much for everything? All together?”
“That’s 350 for the Cherrychanga, 250 for a dozen snub-noses, 125 for the cupcakes, and 150 per pie. How ‘bout I pack it all up and walk back down with you?”
“Sure.”
“You need anything else? Sweetened hay, sugared grass, toffee, hard candy, potato chips?”
“I’m not interested in that stuff.”
“I can get you high fructose corn syrup, nice and wholesale. How ‘bout that? Or what about some buttermilk? They make it, somepony’s gotta drink it. I can get you a new hansom with the pink slip for two grand.”
“How about you just get me something to carry all this in so I can get outta here.”
“Sure thing.”
I’ll be ready soon. Equestria will have its eyes opened soon.
June 29th – “You talkin’ to me?”
I’ve gotta get in shape now. I may pull a rickshaw for a living, but too many movies, too much sloth has ruined my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on I will do fifty pushups each morning, fifty pull ups. There will be no more pills, no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on it will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight. The idea for all this had been growing in my brain for some time now. True force. All the princess’s horses in their dolled up pigpen cannot put this mess back together again.
I’m going to one up Celestia in front of everypony. When the time is right, when the crowds of Hoofington Square Park are cheering their loudest and smiling their widest – that is when I’ll step forward. And Celestia, she’s going to be her fake, princess self. She’s going to smile and pretend to care about me, because I’m her good, loyal subject, right? And she’ll look at me and think that I’m glad to see her just like everypony else. But I won’t be there to shake her hoof or hug her. I won’t be there to welcome Luna back into this fraud. I’ll just throw one of these cupcakes right in her face. And she and her sister and all the ponies there will be speechless. And she’ll stammer and be as embarrassed just as I’ve been all this time. She’ll try to say something. And I’ll go…
You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Come on princess look me in the eye. You talkin’ to me? I’m the only pony here who ain’t smiling. Do I look happy to see you? Who the buck do you think you’re talkin’ to? Oh yeah? Well, have another cupcake princess. Ha!
I scoped out the park today. I’m ready for the event. Listen you buckers, you screw balls. Here is a mare who would not take it anymore. A mare who stood up against the scum, the diamond dogs, the filth, the parasprites. Here is somepony who stood up. Here is –
June 30th – “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done wrong.”
I don’t expect to get away from the park with my freedom. After I throw that cupcake, Princess Celestia is probably going to have the guards arrest me and then banish me to the moon. And good thing too, because then it will all be over, and I will finally get to be alone without everypony else’s friendship mocking me. I wrote a letter to my parents…
Dear Mother and Father,
I have reached a crucial stage in my life, and I think it necessary to stop with my busy schedule so that I may write to you. A big project is coming up and I may not soon have the chance to write you again for a long, long while. This is such an important month. I know that this is the month of your wedding anniversary, as well as Mother’s birthday. I’m so sorry that I cannot remember the exact dates and I’m sorry that I haven’t celebrated with you, or scarcely ever given you so much as a card. I hope this letter can at least go some way to making up for it. I’m sorry that I cannot give you my address like I promised I would last year, but the sensitive nature of my work for Her Majesty’s government demands the utmost secrecy. I know you will understand.
I am healthy and well, and I am making lots of money that I have just recently put to good use in work related investments. I have also found a very special somepony. I have known him for several months and I know you would be proud if you could see him. His name is Gabriel , but I can tell you no more than that. I hope this letter finds you well as it does me. I really hope that you are all safe and happy.
I might be going away for a really long time, and in case something happens, I just want you to know that I miss you and I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done wrong. I know I’m not the best daughter. I know I have disappointed you in the past and that I might still disappoint you. I’m sorry. Please know that everything I did, I did because I meant well and thought that it was right at the time. Don’t worry about me. Celestia willing, one day there will be a knock on the door, and it will be me.
Love, Tabitha.
July 1st – “Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise.”
I failed. I lost this battle. But the war is not over. Not by a long shot. I went to the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour in Hoofington Square Park today. I had my cupcakes and my donuts ready, tucked away in a pink backpack. The air was clear, the sun was bright. Good, I thought. That way, everypony would get a clear view of the humiliation of their princess. I saw her. Princess Celestia. I saw her in all her radiance, all her other worldly glory. It’s funny, how good and kind and pure she appears in person. The spirit of her presence cannot be transmitted through pictures at all. I don’t think I can quite describe it in writing. The glow she seemed to emit, her flowing hair, her beautiful wings. She overwhelmed my senses.
I went to the park and stayed through all the music and the speeches. With each passing minute I was rapidly forgetting why I was there. I saw her again, that DJ pony. She was up on a platform next to a gray, fancy looking pony with a string instrument. I don’t know what it was I was listening to, I’ve never heard anything like it and I don’t keep up with music, but whatever it is they performed, it made me happy…
I heard a few speeches; some of them were given by a few of the ponies I saw at the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour committee offices. They didn’t seem fake. They didn’t seem deceptive. They didn’t seem hateful or greedy or mean. The one named Pinkie Pie, she made me smile. I couldn’t help it. She was bouncing all over the podium, unable to really string together a coherent message with a beginning, middle, and end, but she seemed like a good pony somehow. And the purple one – Twilight – it sounded like she really believed everything that she was saying, as though happiness, friendship, and the capacity to forgive was how she really did live her life. And she uttered it all with such conviction…
They wanted to make the little meek one give a speech. Poor thing. She was so reluctant, so scared out of her mind. She relented and stepped up to the microphone. She said a few words that I didn’t hear, but then she turned to Princess Luna and said, quite clearly, “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. I don’t think you’re scary or bad. We’ve all your friends now. Welcome back, Princess Luna.”
She hugged Princess Luna and a big “awwwww” went up from the crowd and then she shied away. I think I may have made a similar noise too, but I couldn’t hear myself over everypony else. I was beginning to tear up watching all this. It took all the strength I had to remember my mission. I couldn’t turn away. In spite of these new feelings, I knew I couldn’t just leave. My whole life had pointed in one direction…There never had been any other choice for me.
Ponies were filing along to meet Celestia and Luna up close. This was my moment. This was my time. There was confetti falling everywhere. Princess Luna was stunned, as if unable to believe that so many ponies could be her friend after what she had done and all the time she had spent alone. I reached into my bag to pull out a cupcake I intended for Celestia’s face. I was sweating. I’d never sweated like that before. But I had to do this. I knew I had to. Didn’t I?
And then I ran away. Something about all of this really got to me. The princess had been gone for a thousand years. For all that time her name had stood for darkness and terror incarnate. She had been alone all that time – had plenty of time to be bitter and to allow her rage to amplify. And yet there she was. Smiling, tears in her eyes, accepting everypony’s forgiveness and everypony loving her as though nothing had ever happened.
No. Not as though nothing had ever happened. They had acknowledged her dark past. But in spite of it they were still cheering her anyway. I’ve never seen this city like this before. I mean, I’ve seen ponies party and hang out together, but the type of forgiveness they displayed in the park today… If they could forgive her, they could have forgiven anypony for anything. And it felt so genuine being there. And to think that, all over the country, more Good Will Tour events had already played themselves out and were going to play themselves out. So many more ponies ready to befriend and forgive.
I…I… still think that this city is rotten. But I couldn’t, in my right mind, do to Celestia or Luna what I had been thinking of doing… I couldn’t ruin the event like that…not after all those good ponies had set up such a lovely event and played that strange, lovely music, and given such lovely speeches, and then showed such loving forgiveness…
I guess I would have joined them, but I didn’t know how. I’m Celestia’s lonely mare. I’ll always be that way. This is what I am.
July 7th – “Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.”
So much has changed these past few days. I don’t really know where to begin. I’m in the hospital right now. It’s been crazy. So much has happened to me so fast.
I think I’m recovering from more than just a physical wound. Something had been broken in me, something that no x-ray can see. It’s been this way for a long, long time. I’ve never been able to talk to other ponies. I’ve never been able to interact with them. Long after I had gotten my cutie mark I still couldn’t look anypony in the eye. I must have seemed like a weak, withdrawn little filly. Sometimes I still feel that I am. I never thought that anypony would want to have anything to do with me, and, in turn, I never thought that I should really waste my time trying to make friends. Why bother, I thought?
But some kind of tipping point was reached the day of the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour. I ran away from the park before I could get to the Princesses up close. After I went home to write the previous entry, I just took my rickshaw and trotted all over town. I don’t know why. I didn’t pick anypony up. I had no plan. I just didn’t want to go home that night. I was afraid of my own thoughts. I was afraid of what kind of revelations I would go home to. It’s scary being alone with only my own mind to keep me company, or it used to be. The dark, crevices of my imagination are amongst some of the scariest places I’ve ever been. I just couldn’t be trapped in that stuffy room again, not after being so close to the end of my mission and then turning away.
But I had to do something! This city was still rotten, right? I was so mad at myself for not being able to do what I had originally planned without chickening out, mad that I felt jealous of Luna, mad that I couldn’t join everypony. I had to take my last stand somewhere; I had to make somepony feel as bad as me. I didn’t want to be alone in feeling like a failure. Somehow, someway, I didn’t want to be alone. I had to show all the filth out there that I existed, that I wouldn’t be ignored. So I planned on crashing a party that night and using all those pastries I bought. Yeah, I was gonna use them big time! If they wanted to have cupcakes, then I was gonna make sure that somepony that night was never, ever going to get the taste of concentrated sugar out of their mouths.
I pulled my rickshaw over by some townhouses and left it parked haphazardly on the curb. (Why I brought it with me, I do not know. Pulling it just gets my mind off certain things…) Inside one of the buildings I could hear a party going on, no doubt one of the many Luna-related celebrations going on that night. I was just about ready to bust in there and let cupcakes start flying –buck the consequences –when I heard ponies talking in an alley a few yards to my left. Probably a bunch of revelers who were taking it a little too heavy on the cider, I thought. Maybe I’d ruin their night first.
I walked on over and I saw three rather intimidating looking ponies backing another one into a corner.
“C’mon lady. What’s in the bag? Just hand over all your bits and you won’t get no trouble, see.”
The meek little robbery victim could barely get out a word.
“I…I…I…uh…please…” She was shaking very badly and she looked so unnaturally small, huddled there.
“Lady, look, don’t make this difficult. What are you stupid? Are you deaf? You wanna get hurt or something? I said give it over!”
The one doing the talking seemed to be the leader. On his signal, the other two grabbed her and started shaking her. As they pulled her up her face went in and out of the street light and in those intervals I could tell that I recognized her face. My heart dropped. It was the cute, meek little pony from the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour, the one the others had introduced as Fluttershy (don’t know why I bother remembering the name at the time).
I couldn’t believe it! Rage bubbled within me. This city had already driven me insane with its haughtiness, crime, and debauchery. It had even driven me, that day, to almost do something that I would have come to regret. I had been driven numb and jaded by how many times I had seen things like this play out all over this city. But she…Fluttershy…she was so innocent, so pure. And now here she was about to be scarred for life by this city, and on the same day that she had made everypony in Hoofington Square Park melt from her impromptu, but heartfelt, little speech. I couldn’t stand for that. I couldn’t allow it.
She wasn’t my friend back then. She didn’t know me and I didn’t know her. I could have just run away. I could have run away and gone back home and downed my feelings in a pill induced sleep. But if I had turned my back then I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself. I might as well have gone and just thrown myself off of the Bucklyn Bridge and drowned myself in the Yeast River, because then I would have turned my back on the last light left in my soul.
Listen you buckers, you screw balls. Here is a mare who would not take it anymore. A mare who stood up against the scum, the diamond dogs, the filth, the parasprites. Here is somepony who stood up...
I knew what I needed to do.
“Hey!”
The three ponies, all stallions, turned around at the sound of my voice. I had walked right up to them.
“What the buck do you want? We’re busy, see? Scram!” the leader said.
I could tell I made him nervous. The look on my face must have been that of a monster. I had never been so angry or so sure of something in all my life.
“Leave her alone!”
“I have a better idea. You turn your flank around, march right outta that alley, and pretend you didn’t see nothing, capisce? Who the buck are you, anyway?”
“What? You don’t recognize me? Well get a good look, ‘cause I’m the one who’s going to mop the floor with your filthy little flank if you don’t leave that mare alone.”
The leader seemed quite taken aback.
“I…I know you’re not talkin’ to me!”
“Who else would I be talking to, dummy? We’re the only ones here.”
“You little…!”
They all stepped forward.
“Suck on this,” I muttered.
Before he knew what hit him I had thrown a cupcake in the leader’s face. He stumbled back, writhing from the instantaneous, diabetic effects of the over concentrated sugar.
“ARRRGH! Well, c’mon! What am I, alone in this world? Get her you mooks! Waste her! Geez, son of a…”
There was a bit of a scuffle. One of them managed to get one of my hooves in a lock, but that didn’t stop me from using my free hoof to procure an apple pie and drive it right into his face. He fell back against a dumpster. The leader had wiped some of the cupcake away from his eyes and was careening toward me, clearly flummoxed. Regardless, he was able to get off a few strong kicks that knocked me down and injured me in such a way that I knew that a bone somewhere in my hind leg had been broken.
I dropped the pie that I was going to throw at him and he started to pummel me, but luckily, I was able to whip out some of the snub-noses. I pelted him with a few, and the saccharine fusillade seemed to send him into a seizure of some kind.
The remaining thief tried to use Fluttershy as a shield (the coward)! However, he was too clumsy for me, and he never got a good grip on Fluttershy with the struggle she was putting up. When Fluttershy had wriggled herself free I threw myself at the assailant, a feat that wasn’t easy with my injured leg, and tackled him, driving a cupcake into his face. He stumbled backward for a time before I finished him off by throwing a couple of pies, one of which hit him dead center in the face and caused him to collapse to the floor.
My injured leg, the blows I took to the head, and all the sweet smelling sugar left me dizzy and unable to move, so I just lied there. It was very quiet. I almost thought that Fluttershy had run away until she appeared so suddenly over me, so quietly did she move.
“Oh my… Are you okay?”
I just laughed. It was a stifled laugh. I tried to make it a light hearted one. I don’t know if she took that as a good sign.
“Please wait here. My friends are inside. I’ll be back. I’ll get help.”
I became really light headed. Nothing felt real. I remember what followed as a montage of images and voices. I was a part of it, but I felt detached. Fluttershy went to go get her friends who, as I understand now, were the ponies in the townhouse whose after-party I was initially planning on crashing. At the exact same time that she and her friends returned some guards had also happened to arrive, for they had already received calls from neighborhood residents who heard the commotion.
Then for reasons that I couldn’t comprehend at the time it were as though the circus had come to town. The street was full of ponies, and not just ones from the neighborhood. The press was there. A whole bunch of guards and police were there. The thieves I had taken down were being hauled away and everypony who happened to have a camera on hoof was taking pictures. Suddenly everypony wanted to talk to me. I’d never had that many ponies wanting to talk to me. It all felt surreal. It was like I was watching this all happen from above. I was loaded onto an ambulance and Fluttershy insisted on riding to the hospital with me. I couldn’t process all this. A part of me was afraid that I had made a big mistake. A part of me wanted to just curl up and die so that I wouldn’t have to face the fear.
What was I afraid of? I don’t know. The attention, the cameras, all these ponies suddenly in an ambulance with me and wanting to know more about me, the sheer gravity of just dealing with so many other ponies. I never knew what to say to ponies like that, ponies from Fluttershy’s world. They’re a whole different breed. I didn’t know how to act or what to say. Up to that point, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a conversation that had lasted as long as the one we all had in that ambulance.
And then the hospital visits. I mostly expected that everypony would leave me alone after that night and I would go back to being alone. It didn’t happen like that. Fluttershy and her friends kept coming back. I must have sounded like a filly to them. Even I could hear my voice quivering. I simply didn’t know what to expect. But they weren’t mean at all. And they were surprisingly patient with me. I got to know them pretty well. A few days went by and they all had to leave to go back home eventually; they weren’t from here after all. And to my surprise, I was actually sad when they left. I had gotten so used to their visits. I had grown used to each one of them.
Fluttershy. Twilight Sparkle. Rainbow Dash. Applejack. Pinkie Pie. Rarity. I had forgotten what other ponies were really like. I had forgotten what friendship could be. Part of me was trying to convince myself that none of these ponies really cared and they were just visiting me out of some obligation. But that little voice telling me those things, I couldn’t really believe it anymore. With each passing day that cynical little part of me was vanishing. What had really removed all doubt was when I asked them one day, talking to nopony in particular, “Why do you all keep coming to see me? Why?”
The fancy looking one, Rarity, answered, “Why, darling, you saved our Fluttershy and put away those ruffians! The least we could do is check in on our new friend. To do otherwise would be so uncouth of us.”
New friend? What? It was too much. I didn’t feel I deserved any friends. I had been without them for so long that to be anything other than friendless had seemed impossible to me. I had already given up on having friends a long time ago. I was resigned to my fate. I was really to die like this, alone. I didn’t want them to see me cry lest my tears turn them away; how pathetic I must have looked! To my surprise I instead got a series of hugs, one after the other, from each of them. It only made me shed even more tears. And yet, I was okay with that before long. Everything felt okay.
There’s no way there is a better group of friends anywhere. This has to be an anomaly, I thought. Where were these ponies from? Upon my inquiry, they had answered “Ponyville.” Ponyville. Even after those six had finally left the word reverberated through my mind. A place where I had friends. A place where ponies knew my name. A place where perhaps more friends were waiting too. A place that was happy and warm and welcoming. Ponyville…
July 9th – “History is something that never happened, written by a mare who wasn't there.”
***A series of newspaper clippings and an article from the night after the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour***
Manehattan Daily News
CABBIE BATTLES INFAMOUS GANGSTERS
Manehattan Sun
Ponyville residents express gratitude to rickshaw driver hero.
Manehattan Telegraph
Rickshaw Driver Hero to Recover
The Equestria World-Tribune
Manehattan Cabbie Returns to Job
Manehattan Times
Al Capony cohort behind bars after pastry fracas
By DaggerQuill
A stunning turn of events following the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour have allowed Manehattan residents to breathe a sigh of relief. Surely, as many have expressed, things are beginning to look up for this city. After enduring years of crime, sugar epidemics, meteorological terrorism from pegasi separatist groups, and other unsavory activities, events following the return of Princess Luna have proven most propitious for the health of this metropolis. Ponies are kinder, crime is going down, and just last night, ponies all over Equestria were stunned to learn that long time criminal and mob boss, Alphonse “Al” Capony, is now behind bars and awaiting sentencing.
After years of eluding Manehattan and Canterlot authorities, including this country’s best police and guard units, Al Capony was felled and brought to justice not by our standard keepers of the peace but by a lone rickshaw driver.
At a few minutes before midnight yesterday, just as ponies all over the city were in the midst of Welcome Back Luna after-parties, Al Capony and two of his cohorts accosted a Ponyville resident in an alley on the Lower East Side who had been in town as a volunteer working on the recently concluded Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour. Al Capony and his goons proceeded to begin robbing the young mare, only to be stopped by a local rickshaw driver who happened to be passing by and, taking matters into her own hooves, defended the poor victim and disabled Al Capony and his gang. Details are still forthcoming in light of the ongoing investigation, but it would appear that the cabbie was armed with a number of highly potent pastries and was able to use them to subdue the mob boss.
Many authorities and pundits were surprised to hear that Al Capony was even on the street at all. Though he was known for petty theft in his days as a young colt in Bucklyn, he had generally begun to keep his hooves off of the grittier, more personal aspects of criminal affairs as he rose through the ranks over the years. This made it easy for him to rake in the money from the criminal framework that he had constructed, all the while maintaining a safe distance from it, so that he may disavow all knowledge of illegal activity in the event that the authorities moved in to pick off his junior members. Though it had been generally known before now that Al Capony’s name is tied to many illegal activities, and though it has been known for years that he was, in some way, the linchpin of these operations, the mobster had been able to exploit many loopholes in the justice system that, until last night, seemed to make him one of “the untouchables,” as many have said of him and other such mobsters.
It is thought that Al Capony took the risk of conducting a common street robbery given the hit that his cider bootlegging business has been taking lately. Given the rise in the number of crackdowns on the bootlegging of defective cider, and the general wave of good will and the decrease in crime that seemed to almost magically follow the return of Princess Luna, Al Capony had been down on his luck and getting desperate. It was that night that he decided that a good old fashioned robbery might have been what he needed to begin refinancing his empire.
However, he would have done well to heed the zeitgeist of the times, for had he been paying attention, he would have known that friendship is magic, and that the residents of the new Manehattan are not going to allow petty theft in their city, nor anywhere else if they can help it! One pony can indeed make a difference, and last night, a lone rickshaw driver proved that to all of us. Good Samaritans all over the city are taking notice and holding up this cabbie as an inspiration to all ponies. Mobsters take note. Your days are numbered. This newspaper, which had long been under threat from Al Capony, and other such mobsters, for daring to take issue with criminality in our editorial pages and reporting, shall let it be known that we will not remain silent on this matter, and shall show neither favor nor fear in exposing such practices.
***A letter from the Princess Celestia***
Dear Ms. Buckle
I cannot say how happy Princess Luna and I were to hear that you are well and recuperating. We would have loved to visit you at the hospital while we were in Manehattan, but national security matters of the utmost importance kept us bound for the capital immediately after the event in Hoofington Square. However, I am glad that my protégé and her friends were able to keep you company while they were there. There is no way we can repay you for aiding Fluttershy in her hour of need and I believe I am correct in saying that most of Ponyville shares similar sentiments. Needless to say, you have become something of a hero in that town.
I’m sure you would like to know about the current state of the six who kept you company, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy. They have all been working hard getting ready for the final stop on the Welcome Back Luna Good Will Tour which has been held in Canterlot and was quite an event to behold. We would have loved for you to be there; nopony forgot you and your good deeds were mentioned quite a bit. As that is over, however, we would like to do something else. Whenever it is convenient for you, Pinkie Pie has requested that you come to Ponyville so that you may be properly introduced to the town and the wonderful ponies who live there. Everypony is sure you would enjoy what they have planned.
In conclusion, Luna and I would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts. If you should ever come to Canterlot you would find yourself a most welcome guest in our home.
Deepest Thanks.
Princess Celestia.
July 17th – “I used to wonder what friendship could be until you all shared its magic with me.”
Today was the last day I drove a rickshaw in Manehattan. In spite of my trepidation I think that looking toward the future is perhaps the best thing for me. I am leaving this city and going to Ponyville permanently. I think a change of scenery and surroundings would do me some good. So I took the rickshaw out of the garage for one final ride and drove around a bit, picking up a few fares here and there and trying my best to look at everypony differently. Perhaps things weren’t as bad as I thought. I feel… happy? I’m not quite fully there yet, but perhaps I don’t need to be. Just trying to approach life differently is making me feel better somehow.
You won’t believe who my very last fare of the night was. I saw Gabriel again. He wasn’t going far, just a few blocks. He recognized me immediately. The conversation didn’t last very long.
“Hello Tabitha.”
“Hello.” I paused for a bit. “I hear business is really taking off for you.”
“Yeah. We’ll be opening a new processing facility in Appleloosa in a couple of weeks. I’ll be moving out there actually, to oversee it.”
“I’ll soon be heading out of town myself. I’ve got some new things I wanna try.”
“I read about you in the papers. How are you?”
“Oh, it was nothing, really. I got over that. The papers always blow these things up. I’m feeling better. I had little stiffness from the injury, but I’m good now. That’s all.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
We had finally stopped at Prancesylvania Station. He may have actually been leaving town right then. He hesitated a moment, like he wanted to say something.
“Tabitha. I’m – uh, so how much is the fare?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. So long.”
“Wait, Tabby?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime, huh?”
I just smiled. “Sure.”
I took off down 7th Avenue. I didn’t really know where I’d be going in particular that night, quite like a lot of nights in the past, really. But in the long term I knew I had friends waiting for me somewhere. For once I felt like I belonged in this world. All the nameless faces on the street didn’t seem so foreboding or mean spirited anymore. For once I saw ponies everywhere who could potentially be new friends and not new enemies. How sudden and delightful this change is! And even though I’m not even in Ponyville yet I already feel like I’m in a new home because, for reasons I can’t explain, I’m more at peace with myself. I feel like I can really start to live life now. Not just exist day to day, but really live. It’s a great feeling. Praise Celestia, it’s a great feeling!
So this is what the magic of friendship feels like? This is what I’ve secretly longed for.
