Disturbances
“Hello.”
The room around me, so cold, so bitter.
“I was wondering if you received my letter from Ponyville.”
The ponies, so dry, so narrow.
“I sent you it a week ago, and I was waiting patiently for a response.”
The mares are always getting on my nerves.
“Can you tell me if…?”
If only they knew that I was the one they were speaking to.
“Yes, I did receive your letter,” I respond. “It’s the one with the missing husband right?”
The mare in front of me, a bit short for the likes of it; but from the looks of it, she’s a sweetheart. “Yes!” the mare exclaims. “I just hope you can find him!”
“Well,” I say, scratching my chin with my hand. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thank you!” the mare exclaims cheerfully, her mane suddenly poofing up. “He’s one of a kind!”
If he was one of a kind, he wouldn’t be so hard to find.
“I bet he is…” I say, my tone of voice depicting my utter excitement.
Time to get to business.
“So,” I say, attracting the mare’s attention immediately. “Your letter didn’t explain much about your husband, nor about the situation except the fact that he is missing.” I move my hands from my chin, placing them on the desk in front of me. “Do you have any other information that could help with my search?”
The mare in front of me shivers a bit, her hair deflating suddenly. How in the hell does she do that? In a depressed tone, the mare sighs and says, “Not really. All I know is that he was at work, doing a project with a few other ponies from Manehatten.”
While she spoke, I grabbed out the good old pen from my days as a secretary of the Princess, who really loves to distribute pens to her loyal human subjects. Unfortunately, the pen wasn’t enough for me to stay on the job. My hands turned to paste after working as her secretary for three weeks. That job was a nightmare.
Luckily, I gained the job of being an investigator after the last one abandoned ship and hauled all their things to a storage unit in Canterlot, never to be seen again. I don’t know why the investigator left so quickly, but I will probably never have to worry again. After all, I have more important matters on my hands, like this mare’s case.
As I grab the paper from the drawer underneath my desk, I write down the tidbit of notes that I gain from her.
Last seen at work
Project for a few ponies in Manehatten
After writing the notes down, I look back at the mare in front of me, her face still having issues as to whether be sad, or extremely happy.
“Miss?”
The mare suddenly jumps, skyrocketing up to the ceiling. Since gravity still exists on Earth, she quickly falls back to the floor, her rump hitting the tile floor first.
“You okay, Miss?”
The mare groans a bit, rubbing her behind with her back hoof. “Yeah, I’m sorry. You scared me.”
“Well,” I pause, carefully coming up with my response. “Be a bit more careful.” I look around the room for a seat for her to sit in. Pony seats are very hard to come by, because they look so awkward.I mean, they can sit in a human-type chair, but they can’t sit still for more than ten minutes before they start wanting to murder the creator of such a seating device. The pony design is much more comfortable for the user, almost like a couch for a human. They’re slightly more expensive, but businesses are required to accommodate the ponies under the Act of Equine Rights, allowing them the same rights as a human under the Bill of Rights. I’m still confused on that whole matter, they could’ve simply edited it and kept the Bill of Rights as one unified document, but the government was being really lazy. Eh.
Anyway, I find the pony seat I have in stock and bring it over for the mare to sit in. She looks over at me, then back at the seat. She repeats this looking session for about a few minutes, before asking the very obvious question that every pony asks, “Do you want me to sit on this?”
“No,” I reply sarcastically. “I want you to marvel at the masterpiece that lies in front of you.”
The pony turns her attention to the seat, her eyes honing in on the seat like a man who is about to throw a dart at a target. After a minute of seeing this pony taking my words seriously, I laugh and say, “I didn’t think you would take me seriously.”
The pony looks back at me and grumbles, “That was mean.”
I stop my guaffing and look down at the pony before me. “I’m sorry, I apologize,” I start. “Very unprofessional of me.”
The mare smiles and says, “It’s okay!”
I smile back and point at the seat in front of her. “Have a seat.”
She nods and sits down on the seat. She shifts a bit, attempting to get comfortable in the chair.
I sit down as well, my bottom impacting the seat, making it squeak loudly. “Getting back to business, I’d like to know where your husband works at,” I announce, grabbing the pen and paper so I can jot down some more notes.
“Well, he works at an old mine outside of town,” she says, her voice rather saddened. “He always talks about how the mine needed repairs, and how his human friend would always tell him that no one would buy it until he repairs it.”
I raise an eyebrow at this. “Human friend?”
She nods. “He never mentioned his name before, but I’ve seen him a couple of times by our house.”
“Which is…?”
“Located in Ponyville of course! It’s called Sugarcube Corner!” she fires back with sudden excitement.
“You named your house?” I ask, wondering who in the right mind would name their house after a sugarcube.
“No, silly!” the pony replies. “It’s the business that Mr. and Mrs. Cake owns! I’m just their baker and impromptu cashier!”
I scratch my chin once again. Wait.
“But I thought you sai-”
“Yep!”
“Hmm…” I say while rubbing my chin.
“So,” I say, pointing my pointer finger straight up. “Why does the mine need to be repaired?”
The mare looks at me with a puzzled look. “Because it’s old.”
No shit.
“Let me rephrase that,” I reply, trying to come up with a better question. Once I get the correct question, I ask, “Did your husband ever tell you why the ponies were there?”
She pauses and looks down at the ground, her muzzle scrunched up. “Well…” she says, attempting to figure out what she was going to say.
“I think he said they were there for a project, but it wasn’t dealing with the repairs.”
“Well, let me ask you a better question,” I state, facepalming mentally due to my stupidity. “Who were these ponies?”
She sighs, looking back up at me with a blank face.
“They went by the name of Baxter Company.”
Baxter Company sounds oddly familiar.
“Isn’t Baxter’s headquarters located in Canterlot?”
The pony in front of me shrugs and says, “I don’t know.”
Better check that on Google.
Scribbling down more of the notes that she told me, I began to imagine what these ponies looked like: tall, buff, earth ponies with shirts that say, “Baxter Company: Don’t fuck with us”. I begin to chuckle a bit while the pony gazes up at me, worried.
“Did I say something funny?” she asks.
“No ma’am,” I reply, still holding in my laughter. “I just thought of something hilarious that you probably would not understand.”
The pony sighs and shakes her head. Probably disappointed with my maturity.
I let out a powerful huff, almost blowing one of my pens off my desk. Luckily, the mare in front of me is agile and stops the pen with her hoof, the two coming in contact with each other with a loud resounding smack.
“Nice reflexes,” I say.
She smiles and politely responds, “Thank you.”
“Well,” I announce. “Let’s continue, shall we?”
The mare nods, still focusing on me with intent.
“Where did this whole event take place?”
“Right outside the mine,” she responds back. I raise an eyebrow at this. “What? He does business deals right outside because he hates being indoors for business measures.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” I ask. “I mean, even drug cartel users know that if you’re in the drug trade and you’re doing the deal outside, the chances of them surviving is slim without their own men backing them up.”
She pauses and scrunches up her muzzle once again. “Well, that’s true, but Equestria doesn’t have guns.”
Magic is even more powerful though…
“Well, it sounds like he could’ve been taken by Baxter Company.”
The mare gasps loudly. “They wouldn’t do that!”
“How do you know?” I question.
She sighs and leans back in her seat. “Well, Baxter Company has a high reputation in Equestria as a whole. If they ponynapped someone such as my husband, people and ponies alike would hear about it. After all, Baxter Company is funded by the Equestrian Treasury.”
What.
“How does a privately owned business like Baxter get funds straight from the Equestrian Wheel of Fortune?”
The mare giggles at my reference. “Well, Baxter is owned by an Equestrian High Noble, and…” she explains, her voice trailing off. “In Equestria, when a High Noble owns a corporation, they can ask the Princess for funds from the Treasury in case they are in a tight situation.”
Tight situation?
“Care to elaborate?” I ask, my arms starting to become tired.
“In other words, when they’re in debt.”
Debt? You mean…
“Well, that brought up a huge question.”
“Hmm?"
“Well,” I say, nonchalantly leaning back in my chair. “Why the heck would they go to your husband then if they’re in debt?”
“Well, they might’ve been subsidized if they needed money to buy something important for them to stay afloat,” she replies, her left forehoof tapping her chin.
“True…” I say quietly, agreeing with her. “Hmm, well I think that answers the questions I needed to be answered!” I announce, getting up from behind my desk to approach the pony on the other side. “Thank you for answering them! Your information will help in your investigation!”
The mare smiles, her hair becoming poofy once again. “No problem, sir?”
“Rochester,” I say, holding out my hand to shake with the pony.
The pony in front of me sees my hand and smiles, holding her hoof out to shake. I grab her leg and shake, showing that the investigation can begin. “Pinkie Pie,” she says, her voice unwavering. “I hope you find him soon, I need to bake him a cake for his birthday!”
“Don’t worry, Pinkie!” I announce with defiance. “I’ll find him for you, and hopefully figure out who did the deed.”
The mare smiles, throwing her front hooves in the air. “Yay!” She looks back up at me and says, “See you later, Rochester!” With a start, the mare bolts out the building without a second to spare.
“See you,” I say. She probably didn’t hear me.
With a sigh, I decide to get turn back to my desk and get started on this new case.
To Google!
Break Time with "Friends"
After hours of scouring the internet for information about Baxter and the mine, I decided to take a break to go get some dinner. I can’t work on an empty stomach, you know. As I walk outside, I realize that it’s raining, causing me to scurry back in. Why the hell did I not look outside before storming out the door?
This was just another normal day of me looking like a fool, and it is easy for me to do. Back in highschool, I identified myself as the detective, a person who always looking for something wrong with his fellow students in any way, shape, or form. The problem is, I was always clumsy, so I was nicknamed the “clumsy detective” after a short while. Whether I tripped on the first stair while searching for clues, or colliding into a student because another student who walked by looked like a prime suspect; it didn’t matter, I was still called names.
Now some may call it bullying, others like me, however; call it reconstruction. See, being noticed as clumsy simply tells me that I needed to step up my game. In order for me to fit in, I have to at least try and make an effort do something. As time went on, I became less of a clumsy fellow, and more of a careful walker. I improved by simply going on several hiking trips. It was like being an explorer that was too aware of his own footing. Fortunately, I progressed pretty quickly, my skills in being upright and balanced definitely showing. My classmates began to respect me after my sophomore year, dropping the lousy nickname in the bin next to the school cafeteria. Thankfully, I stayed like this throughout the rest of high school, but I always have that nickname haunting my dreams, or where I least expect it, right now.
Berating myself for not checking outside, I pick up my umbrella from the table and grab my trusty trench coat from the coat rack. When I bought this coat, I had to empty my pockets of the cash that I had. Let’s just say, it cost me a couple paychecks, however; I do not regret buying it in the slightest. It has lasted me six years so far, something I have never imagined a coat such as this would last for. I mean, it was made in China. For me, most of the items I buy from China need to be replaced in less than a year.
Damned consumerism.
Despite this, I found the best coat for me, and got through high school without having to be called the “clumsy detective” ever again.
It was great.
Anyway, I attempt this sprint again, this time with the appropriate clothing on me and equipment in my hot little hands. Running out the door, I open my umbrella and begin my trip to the local diner, a quaint eatery called Mike and Moonbeam’s Diner that is run by a human and an unicorn. They are my best friends from high school and are, to this very day, my best friends. It’s incredible that we’ve stayed in the same area. Most of our other friends have left the town, moving closer to the big city. I love our little town. When the ponies came, it still stayed small and homey, something that I love. The big city life never appealed to me nor my closest friends.
Walking down my street is interesting due to the fact that my street is the only real “street” in the whole town. The roads that interconnect the main roadway are dirt roads, something that irritates many who live down them. Most of them own trucks, however; they use their vehicles sparsely. Mike, the owner of the establishment, actually lives on one of these roads. He always complains about how there should be paved streets made, but I think it would ruin the way things are. Actually, I remember hearing on the news of a town where nothing is truly paved. Instead, the roads are made of brick, something that I wish could be in our town. Unfortunately, our state hates us. Figures.
As I near the end of the street, I look to my left to see Mike outside the diner, smoking a cigar near the entrance. When business is slow, he tends to walk out and just smoke, waiting for the next batch of customers to enter. It’s almost like a second home for most, since his customers are primarily local. He does get a few travelers here and there, but it’s only on certain days when the local museum opens its doors, the museum which holds the rare gem that released the gates to Equestria.
Before crossing, I look both ways and then cross, running straight toward the diner instead of using the crosswalk. As I approach, Mike spots me and shouts in a thick Northern accent, “Ello my friend!”
I run up to his side and smile in his direction. “Hello Mike,” I say. “How’s it going?”
“Not too bad,” Mike replies, pausing for a moment to take another puff from his cigar. “Business was well yesterday.”
“Museum open again?”
He sighs. “Yeah, had a couple hundred come in.”
My mouth drops for a moment. “Really?”
He nods a bit. “Yeah.” Mike looks over at me. “Say, you here for some grub?”
I nod enthusiastically, my stomach growling in agreement. “Sounds like you are!” Mike exclaims before heartily laughing. “Come on in, we’ll make you a nice patty melt and some coffee!”
Mike, always knowing what I like.
As I head up the creaky, old metal steps, I turn around and say, “Thanks Mike.”
“Don’t mention it, Rochester,” he says proudly. “You’re one of my active customers.” He lightly shoves me in the diner. “It’s the least I can do.”
As we walk in, he moves to the left of me and heads behind the counter. I slowly approach the counter and sit on one of the comfy bar stools. The interior in this diner was similar to an old A&W, but with a little less color. It’s a bit worn from all the years the diner has been around, but Mike and Moonbeam have kept it clean for the past eleven years.
As I sit down and await my dinner, I look over to Mike, who is still washing a couple of cups. I ask, “Where’s Moonbeam?”
As I say this, said unicorn comes out back, her light purple mane glittering and shining bright under the lights above. Her horn, a bit darker than her mane, glowing brightly as she carries some extra plates to the counter for washing. As she looks up, she sees me and smiles. “Hello, Rochester.”
“Hello, Moonbeam,” I reply back with a smile. “Having fun with those plates?”
She smiles and levitates them over to Mike, who grabs them with ease. “Not anymore, it’s Mike’s turn to do the dishes.”
Mike groans as she says this, irritated by having dish duty. We chuckle in response. After chuckling over Mike’s despair, I look over at her and ask, “So, how’s life?”
Moonbeam sits down beside me. “Well, my son got on the honor roll yesterday,” she explains happily. “He was so excited when he got in the newspaper that he was prancing around the house screaming, ‘Yes!’ for hours on end.”
“That’s great! Tell him I said congratulations!”
“Sure will,” she says in reply, still smiling brightly at me. Moonbeam and I used to date for a while in high school, however; her parents cut our relationship off because they believed that ponies should only date ponies. It was a weird thing that I simply never understood, but apparently, she still had feelings for me.
I look away from her and look at the TV, the screen shining brightly in the dim lights the diner provided. “We’ll now turn it over to Rain Caster for our daily forecast. RC?” the newscaster announced.
On screen came Rain Caster, an unicorn with a cyan and white coloration. “Thank you, Robin.” The unicorn turns towards the weather map, pointing his caster at the locations on it. “We’ll be seeing some rain around Williamsburg and Devinsport tonight, while Peace and Everts stay dry and free of those passing raindrops.” The weather map fades away, the map being replaced by the three day forecast display screen. “As for the three day forecast, we’ll be seeing some more rain entering the mix tomorrow, while Tuesday and Wednesday will be free of mass precipitation.”
As he says this, I turn my attention back from the TV to Moonbeam, who is still looking at me. “Are you alright Moonbeam?” I ask, wondering why she’s staring.
Moonbeam, now realizing that she was staring at me, turns her attention away and stutters out, “S-s-orry, I was-s spacing out-t.”
I smile and softly pat her on the back. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her ears flattening down.
“It’s okay Moonbeam, really,” I say back, continuing to pat her on her back.
Despite acting like a tough pony around others, she is a gentle, nervous pony; one that I still like from a long while ago. When she met her new boyfriend, a rough stallion from up north, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was going to be okay. Few years later, the stallion leaves her behind after he realized that he knocked her up, leaving her in despair. It was really a heartbreaking moment, one that I wish she didn’t have to go through. Fortunately, she was able to make it, with the help of Mike and I.
I still wonder if her parents are okay with her dating ponies, now since they realize what that stallion did to her.
Moonbeam still clings to me, holding onto me like a teddy bear, her tears soaking into my trench coat.
Mike looks over at us and shakes his head, knowing the same truth as I did. As he finishes his last plate, he heads to the back room, checking to see how my food was coming along.
While he does this, I pat my dear friend on her back, her sobs soon fading away and the tears stopping. I hear her sigh, her hooves losing their grip around me. I pull her gently away from me and stare into her eyes, her eyes filled with nothing but want.
“Are you okay now, Moonbeam?” I ask, still concerned about her.
She smiles and wipes her muzzle with her forehoof. “I’m alright Rochester.” She looks back at the TV, her eyes still watering. “Thank you,” she says, happy that a friend was there to help her.
I turn my attention back to the TV as well. “No problem,” I say, happy that she was alright.
Times like these when she has no one to spill her emotions to makes her always release them onto me. I guess I’m her stress sponge.
As we watch the latest news of a New Hampshire man that succeeded in breaking a world record in most jumping jacks in a single minute, I hear the door opening from the back room. With my meal in his hands, Mike comes out the back room, the steam coming off the plate and into my nostrils which fills me with warmth. As he approaches, he slides the food and my coffee and says, “Bon appetit. Hope you enjoy your meal.”
I simply thank him for the meal and dive into the patty melt, the melted cheese and grilled onions meshing well with the rest of the sandwich. It’s my comfort food whenever I need a break, or when I’m simply feeling down. While I dive into my sandwich, Mike comes from around the counter and sits beside Moonbeam. She smiles when he puts his arm around her neck. The two look over at me to see the scene of a man devouring a sandwich with all of his might. The two share a chuckle, while I turn to them and raise an eyebrow.
As the laughter subsides, I hear Moonbeam ask the question, “So why are you here tonight?”
I sigh. “This new case at work has got me in a bit of a doozy.”
Moonbeam opens her mouth to ask another question, but Mike chimes in before she could say a word. “I know how that feels.”
Moonbeam snaps her attention towards Mike, her eyelids lowering, her eyebrows slanted. “Mike,” she says in a low tone. “Choose your words carefully.”
Mike, who is now surprised by the sudden mood switch of Moonbeam, carefully progresses the subject. “So, uh, what’s got you so riled up?”
Moonbeam sighs and snaps her gaze away from Mike, turning her attention back to me with a gentle smile.
“Well, I have a client who came in today with a very interesting case,” I start, taking a second to have a swig of my coffee. “I don’t know if this will make any sense, but we’ll see if you two understand it.”
I take my final bite from my sandwich and take a little swig from my coffee mug. “Do you two know a mare by the name of Pinkie Pie?”
Moonbeam’s eyes widen by the sound of the name. “Do you mean the pink mare, the one who is an Element of Harmony?” she asks.
Mike and I raise an eyebrow at her. “What’s an Element of Harmony, Moonbeam?” Mike asks, puzzled by the title.
I have no idea either, Mike.
Moonbeam looks at us both in shock. “Come on!” she starts, looking back at me before speaking. “You two haven’t heard of the Elements of Harmony?”
Mike and I shake our heads, both of us still confused by the title.
Startled by our profound lack of information, Moonbeam sighs and says, “It’s a long story, but let’s say that these Elements of Harmony are the keys to how Equestria is still alive.”
I raise an eyebrow by this. “So, these elements, are they embedded in the user?”
Moonbeam giggles. “No, they come as crowns or necklaces that embody each of the six Elements of Harmony,” she says her giggling subsiding. She moves a hoof behind her neck, scratching it. Mike notices this, and bats her hoof away, scratching behind her neck. She sighs and snuggles into Mike.
It was Mike’s turn to chuck his two sense out there. “Six? There’s six of them?”
Way to go Mike.
“Yes, there are six of them. The Elements of Harmony include generosity, kindness, loyalty, honesty, laughter, and magic.” She pauses to let out a sigh as Mike moves from her neck to scratch behind her ears. Her ears twitch as he begins to scratch along the sides of them. She closes her eyes for a moment, before opening them again. “In Pinkie’s case, she is the Element of Laughter.”
I look over to Mike, who gives me the trademarked nod in response. “Why are these elements needed?” I ask curiously.
“Because, they protect Equestria from villains that threaten to break the friendship that binds our country together,” she says with determination. “The friendship between the two sisters who rule the land and the friendship among their subjects unifies the nation under one iron hoof.”
“That’s a lot of friendship,” Mike blurts out.
“No kidding,” Moonbeam replies.
I nod in agreement. “Has there been a time where friendship failed and Equestria was taken over?” I ask, not knowing any history of Equestria.
She sighs, her ears flattening against her head. “Yes, several times. We’ve had a ton of close calls.”
Mike notices her downtrodden expression and begins to rub underneath her chin. Moonbeam purrs a bit and snuggles into Mike more, surprising both Mike and I. “Rub harder,” she says quietly. Mike smiles at this and rubs a bit harder, while hugging her close to him.
“Never seen you like this before, Moonbeam,” I say, attracting the attention of Moonbeam once again.
“Well, no pony in their right mind would refuse a rub from their best friend.”
Mike stops for a moment and asks, “What do you mean by ‘rub’?”
Suddenly, Moonbeam’s expression changes in an instant, her forehoof shoving Mike away from her. She, then, slides onto my lap. “Keep me away from Mike, he’s saying perverted things again.”
I put my arms around her. “I got you.”
Mike just groans and says, “I wasn’t implying that, but okay Ms. Gutterbeam.”
Moonbeam sticks her tongue out at Mike and snuggles into me. I reach out and bring my hand towards her ears and begin to scratch them. Her ears suddenly twitch a bit and she sighs, loving the embrace. “You humans and your hands.”
Mike and I both chuckle at this. “Better than a stallion?” I ask.
“Way better,” she replies softly. “So much better…”
As I continue my scratching, I look at Mike, who is glaring at the clock. “It’s time to close up, Moonbeam,” Mike says dryly.
Moonbeam looks up at the clock in her state of bliss and whines, “But Rochy is scratching my ears for me!”
Rochy?
Mike smiles for a moment and gets off his stool, moving towards the back counter. “Yeah, but we need to get things cleaned up so we can leave on time.”
She sighs and reluctantly turns her attention towards me. “Wait here, okay?” She hops off the stool. “We’re not done yet.”
I smile towards her and nod. “I won’t be leaving just yet.”
She smiles back, walks past me, and flicks her light purple tail against my chin, her amethyst colored eyes never leaving mine. “Good,” she says. Moonbeam walks to the back, apparently telling the chefs that the day has ended.
Besides Moonbeam and Mike, theres two other employees, both of which are cooks. The two cooks are from Mike’s side of his family, which to me, are interesting folk. After waiting for a few moments, Mike and Moonbeam emerge from the back room, the two cooks apparently left through the back entrance.
Mike looks down at the ground. “Sorry about that, Shelly and Devin had to go home, so they couldn’t stay and chat.”
I silently nod. They usually do this because they have to look over their grandparents. Apparently, they’ve been having issues walking and eating, but Mike hasn’t been updating me on the issue. Uncomfortable topic, maybe?
Moonbeam approaches me again and slides onto my lap, snuggling into me once again. I sigh and hug her close. She looks up at me, her eyes watering. I see this and go, “What’s wrong?”
She shakily sighs and says, “Why did we break up?”
I gasp slightly. I turn my attention towards Mike, who was leaving the diner. I hear him mumble out, “I’ll give you two some time.”
I’ll have to thank him later.
I turn my attention back at her, petting her mane. “You know why,” I say softly.
She nods a bit. “But, it’s not fair,” she starts, her voice wavering. “I-I, I love you so much.”
I sigh and hug her tightly. “Tell that to your parents,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “They still don’t see human to pony relationships yet?”
She shakes her head, tears flowing down like a waterfall. “I really don’t care anymore,” she says, her voice shaky. “I just…” She looks up at me. “I just want you by my side…”
I sigh. “Yeah…” I say, my voice trailing off. “I know, but until your parents accept us and try not to kill me, we just can’t be.”
She whimpers and continues to cry, her sobs bringing me to tears. “Rochy…” I hear Moonbeam murmur.
“I’m right here, Moony,” I say, holding her close, my own tears escaping me.
Underneath the dim lights of the diner, the two of different species hold each other close, their hearts still together as one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the rain begins to stop, I still stay there, in the embrace of my ex-lover Moonbeam.
I can’t leave her, she’s latched onto me and not letting me go.
Moonbeam, for the most part, has stopped crying, but the little whimpers still echo throughout the vacant diner. I pat her on her back lightly and whisper in her ear. “Are you better?”
She sighs. “I would be if you’d date me again…”
“Only if you’d tell your parents to accept me,” I fire back.
She looks into my eyes again and says, “Only if you’d come with me.”
I stare into those amethyst pools of hers. “Then let’s make a deal.”
Her eyes widen at this. “A deal?”
I nod slowly. “Yes, a deal.” I pull her away from me for a brief moment. “You come with me and help me with this case, and, in turn, I’ll come with you to stand up to your parents.”
She opens her mouth to for a few seconds, her eyes watering once again. She lifts her hoof up and reaches for my hand. “You have yourself a deal, Rochy.” She pulls my head towards her, attempting to get a kiss. Unfortunately, I have to stop her here.
“Stop,” I say, startling her. “Not yet.”
She smiles at me, however; her ears portray a different emotion as they flatten. “Okay,” she says flatly. “Do you mind if I come over tomorrow to help?”
“Of course,” I respond in kind. “When you think you’ll be able to come over?”
Her muzzle scrunches up a little. “Well, how about ten o’clock in the morning?”
I give her a bright smile. “Alright, I’ll see you then?” I say, as I attempt to stand up.
She sees this and slides off my lap, landing on all fours. “Okay,” she says, while rubbing up against my leg. “I’ll see you then.”
As we both leave the diner, I turn to see her walk down the road to my left, away from Main Street, fading off in the blackness of the night.
I head down in the opposite direction, heading down Main Street. As I walk, one single thought enters my mind.
What have I just gotten myself into?
“Ah, home sweet home!” I shout as I open the door with ease.
After the great dinner from the diner, I feel recharged and ready to get back to work. With the quickness of any average man, I put my coat on the rack, and my umbrella on the mat next to the door, allowing it to dry by the heater. Taking off my shoes, I walk into the house and sit back down on my seat, leaning back to hear the squeaky cries of the chair.
As I lean back, I look up at the ceiling. Today was an interesting day…
Suddenly, I remembered.
“Are you better?”
“I would be if you’d date me again…”
“Only if you’d tell your parents to accept me...”
Why in the hell did I want her to be back with me?
Do I…
“Do I have feelings for her again?” I say aloud.
I continue to stare at the ceiling, my mind wandering to past times…
___________________________
“In the summer of sixty-nine!” the radio blares, the music entering our ears.
The three of us, Mike, Moonbeam and I, bang our heads to the sounds of rock’n’roll, a genre that we all enjoyed as kids.
As the music faded, Moonbeam looks over at Mike and says, “Too bad we weren’t born in that era.”
Mike laughs at this remark and jabs me in the shoulder. “Moonbeam is such a wannabe 60’s gal, ain’t she Roch?”
“Yeah, she is,” I say to him, wiggling my brow at her. “Why so sixties?”
Moonbeam nudges me with her foreleg, a smile still gracing her face. “That’s not funny.”
I smile at her, while Mike continues to laugh heartily. “I know,” I respond. “It’s just great to see you smile.”
Moonbeam looks up at me and graces me with a kiss to the cheek. Mike looks over and ohs and ahs, as if he’s at a museum exhibit. “Smooth move, Roch.”
Moonbeam didn’t take it kindly to his remark, jabbing him in the stomach. “Just shut up and drive mister!”
Mike groans in dismay. While Mike keeps his eyes on the road, I look over to Moonbeam, who is staring right at me.
“What’s wrong, Moony?” I ask, using the nickname I gave her on our first date.
She blushes and turns away. “I-It’s nothing.”
I bring my arm around her neck, scratching her left ear. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”
She purrs and snuggles into me. “Well…” she starts. “You want to head over to my house tonight?”
When Mike hears this, he immediately signals over to the right and pulls over. “WHAT?” he says loudly, looking at me like he saw a ghost.
“Why did you stop the car?” I ask, puzzled by his reaction.
“Because, you two are not going to talk about banging at her house while I’m here,” he says calmly. “Besides, I don’t need anymore images of Moonb-”
In seconds, Moonbeam gets up and out of her comfortable position in my arm and slaps him with her hoof. “PERVERT!” she yells at him.
I just laugh at him while she continually hits him with her hoof. It’s always like this…
______________________________
“Haha, I can’t believe she hit him in the face when he said that!” I say aloud, guaffing at sheer thought of it.
After laughing, I sigh, the memories with her were so sweet back then. “That night was the night we broke up…”
I turn my attention away from the ceiling, looking at the computer that is set before me. “I can’t wait for tomorrow…”
With the keyboard in front of me, I begin my research again, my mind set on getting more information on the Ponyville Mine and Baxter Company.