Donut Joe wasn’t Dr. Hoophil. He wasn’t a counselor, and he definitely wasn’t the kind of guy that wants to hear your problems. As he put it, “I don’t wanna hear it.”
Well, that was simple. He even had it on a sign in his shop. What’s more, his doughnuts were anti-depressants, or so he told his customers incessantly. It just needed a large helping of chocolate frosting and a whole lotta sprinkles, he said. So there shouldn’t have been ponies coming in and talking to him about their troubles. Really, how hard was it? It’s not like he’s a shoulder that anypony would want to cry on or anything. Right?
A dark-coated pony—80% grey, Joe often thought—came through the doors. There really was no better word than came. It wasn’t that Joe wasn’t clever, it was that this pony wasn’t showing any emotions. It was either a really good poker face or a really lost pony.
The pony sat down on a stool right up front. It was the one with the ripped cushion, with yellow foam springing out every time one put their weight on it. Joe was quite fond of it. Or maybe Joe just acknowledged that it was recognizable.
“Janitor,” he almost said to himself, “always rearranging the stools.”
Half expecting to hear a doughnut order and half expecting the pony to just sit there and not do anything, Joe was surprised to hear neither. Instead, the stallion nearly replied to his thoughts.
“Sometimes I want to kick that colt’s flank,” they said. “Really, I shoulda.”
“Hey, uh, Thunderlane? What are you doing here?” Joe asked. Thunderlane wasn’t exactly a regular customer, and he certainly wasn’t often in need of an anti-depressant.
“First, have you seen a colt? Small, about 20% grey, pegasus?”
“Oh, no,” Joe said, realizing what the stallion was going to say next. “I know where this is going, and I really don’t need to hear it. I’m not Dr. Hoophil, ya know.”
Thunderlane seemed not to hear him, continuing: “I thought, maybe you might have.” He let out a sigh.
“Rumble ran away from home,” he said.
Joe was a little surprised. “First, don’t you mean flew away, and second, why would that happen?”
“No, I mean ran away. He’s a smart little colt; he ran so that I would have more trouble trying to find him—I tend to get lost around here. And, uh, he ran away because he got not-so-good grades this year.”
“Yeah, what grade is he in, anyway?”
“It’s his first year in Cloudsdale Junior High. He had a teacher that just gave rapidfire homework…it gave Light Bulb a hard time. You know, that genius colt?” Thunderlane sighed hollowly again.
Well, my efforts at changing the subject to improve his mood have failed, Joe thought.
“Aren’t you a little angry with him?” Joe said.
“No, really it’s just empathy for the little guy.” Thunderlane laughed bitterly. “I had the same teacher when I was a colt.”
Soon after, Thunderlane left the shop. Geez Louise, what do they think I am, some kinda psychologist? Joe thought.
“Was that my big brother?” a small voice said. Rumble had come out of the back room of Joe’s shop, which was pretty much his living quarters. Rumble was, Joe thought, quite innocent. He was especially innocent for somepony in junior high.
“Yeah, that was. You know, he’s really thinking about you.” Joe ran a hoof through his stubble thoughtfully.
Rumble looked down. “With my luck,” he started, “with my luck, he’d probably find my report card right when I decide it’s safe to go back.”
Joe smiled. “You know what, kid? I can’t see why you would think that he’d be cross with a kid like you. Really.”
“You’re just saying it,” Rumble said, really not sure about that.
“No, I mean it,” said Joe.
Thunderlane came back a day later. Had the guy been able to sleep? Joe noticed bags under his eyes, and his responses to Joe’s words were quite delayed.
“Had a bad night?” Joe asked. It seemed like he was, unwillingly, taking on the role of the mentor. Donut Joe sighed; this stallion really needed a doughnut.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Thunderlane half-moaned, not seeming to be aware of the fact that that was what Joe had asked.
“Were you thinking about Rumble? To be honest with you…” No. Joe knew he couldn’t say anything to Thunderlane about Rumble, who had actually been in his spare room the whole time. “…Your little brother’s clever.”
“Too clever,” Thunderlane sighed.
“Honestly, I think he really misses you too, but he doesn’t want to admit it. That colt’s a teen now, he’ll be like this sometimes. Better now that later.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather it never than later. I really miss Rumble, you know?”
Thunderlane didn’t need to know where his brother was right now. It would make him angry at Joe, and Joe and Rumble both knew it. Rumble had to show up at a good time. Rumble was, right now, sitting in front of the door, and he could hear every word of what his older brother was saying.
“I wish he would come back, ‘cause I really love the little guy.”
Joe let out a sigh with his customer. “I can’t empathize, but I’ll sympathize, just this once. My condolences.”
“Thanks,” Thunderlane said, picking his head off the counter. “It means a lot.”
Joe was not a family reconciler, and he wasn’t one of those ponies anypony would necessarily look to for comfort. More a doughnut than comfort, and he knew it. But hey, he thought he was doing a pretty bang-up job.
“I hope he comes back,” Joe called after Thunderlane. Joe knew how hard-pressed Thunderlane was at work as it was, on the weather team and such. He knew that one more day would be pretty rough for the pegasus, unless he called in sick or something.
“Hey, kid?” Joe called to the colt behind the door of his living quarters. “Let’s getcha home. You’ve got somepony waiting for you.”
Author's Note
I've had this idea in my head for a while. Quite a while. And I think it turned out quite nicely.
