Cloud's Odysseyby Matthew PennChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 1The waitress wanted to know if I wanted anything to drink during the train ride. I politely pass up the offer, already having my fill of cider before the way here. She leaves to the next booth with a smile on her face, and I turn my attention to the magazine I carry on my hooves, the Equestrian Inquirer. I wouldn’t call the articles interesting, they’re mostly about the Canterlot elite and their shallow lives, nothing I could possibly relate to. It’s just something to draw my attention while the train transports me from Baltimare to Ponyville. The ride to Ponyville from what was used to be my home is an eight hour trek. The reason I’m on this steam powered locomotive is because Baltimare was getting too crowded for me. The ponies moving in my neighbor were of the weird, artsy, beatnik variety. I don’t like those ponies, not one bit. They’re always giving me those disapproving looks whenever I walk into a coffee shop I have been visiting for seven years. Always telling me I couldn’t understand the deeper meaning of that piece of compiled garbage they call “modern art.” Ever since they moved in the property values of the homes in my particular neighborhood had gone down. Also, my old job was getting on my nerves. I work at a horseshoe factory, where my boss would yell at me for every small mistake I made, not to mention the hours were too long and the pay was tedious. On my last day at that factory, I told him straight to his face that I quit. I told everypony at that factory that I never wanted to see any of them again. A couple of weeks prior to this train ride, in a sense of misplaced rage, I wrecked my living room and flooded the bathroom, to the confusion of my neighbors. They stood outside, mouths agape, eyes on me, staring and judging me. Once I opened the front door to my house and asked them what they wanted from me, they ran like they were fillies who just saw Nightmare Moon. I packed my things, left my house without notice, and making an eight hour journey across the country to a town where I knew nopony, nor do I have a place to stay. Looking back now, I should have thought this through. It doesn’t matter now, what happened is in the past, and now I’m moving toward my future. Hopefully history doesn’t repeat itself. I don’t know much about Ponyville, but I do know that it is the hometown of Princess Twilight Sparkle. I heard that it is a relatively nice place to live, save for all the monster attacks that happen regularly. I don’t mind monsters, I had my fair run-ins with huge creatures, it’s just my new neighbors that I’m worried about. Will they be those small towns types that avoid anything that is different? Or will they be those creepy neighbors that put on those fake smiles, each one of them hiding a dark and terrible secret? Fifteen minutes later the engine starts and I can feel the train move on the tracks. The train station vanishes and leads to the perfect view of the skyscrapers of Baltimare, the sunlight bouncing off the glass windows. This is the second train ride I have ever taken in my life. The first time was when I was a colt scout and my scouting division had a field trip to the Manehattan Museum of Natural History. Up to this point I never enjoyed leaving my home. Visiting another place is just hard work for me. I have to keep up with everything, make sure nothing is lost, all while my anxiety rises. I even had a hard time trying to pack my belongings the weeks before. As the train picked up speed, the buildings of Baltimare became smaller and smaller each passing second. We cross a bridge over the Cimarron River and into a long dark tunnel. The sounds of the engines and the steel wheels screeching on tracks vibrate off the walls. After prolonged darkness, the train reached the other side, as if I had just entered the afterlife. The iron and steel metropolis is completely gone, the scenery replaced with an ocean of grass dancing in the wind. I see my reflection being submerged on the passing grass. My initial thought during the first part of the ride is how am I going to adjust to my new life in a small town. I’m not a small town type pony, having been growing up in the city since colthood. No matter how peaceful or quiet this town may be, the hussle and bussle of the city life and the clamoring of hoodlums on street corners will always be apart of me. As much as I disliked the ponies that intruded on my uneasy solitude, I fear that I might slowly lose my mind if Ponyville will just be too perfect for my tastes to endure. I ride through grass, wheat fields, mountains, and other small towns, but I don’t bother to check my watch. I figured that the more I wanted to know what time it was, the longer the train ride will be. I just sit back and let the gallery of nature pass me by. It took me a while to actually noticed, but I forgot I was still holding the Equestrian Inquirer in my hooves. I placed the magazine on the empty seat next to me. Why would I want to read about those rich, pampered, self-absorbed ponies that probably never had to do any work in their superficial lives? I’ve never been to Canterlot, but there is nothing on this earth that would make me want to go. I don’t care how much culture Canterlot has, I refuse to surround myself with those ponies with their noses raised up in the air, ignoring my existence and silently judging me based on their preconceived notions about humility. I couldn't tell if it was noon yet, but the sun is at its highest point in the sky, so that gave me an idea of what time is was. A red maned waitress carrying a cart filled with snacks approached my booth, which slowly got my attention. “Would you like something to eat, sir?” she asked sweetly. I nod and say, “No thanks, I don’t have that much of an appetite.” She smiles and continues with her business. That was the second conversation I had with somepony today, and it was small talk about food. I enjoyed sitting alone for the most part, but I desperately needed somepony to talk to, especially on a long train ride like this. I look at the empty seat next to me and I imagine that somepony had just entered my booth and occupied it. I try not to actually shake the imaginary pony’s hoof or engage in a conversation if I didn’t want to look like a fool when the next train attendant stops by my seat. I don’t know who would worthy to actually sit next to me, but I’ll take anypony to accompany me at this rate. I’ll take one of those artsy, beatnik types that brag about their modern art collection and jazz records. At least I’ll get some kind of amusement while listening to their gibberish. The train ride continues and I still find myself sitting alone. I never been much of a social pony growing up, not that I cared. I had my own circle of friends during my school years, but that’s all behind me now. I’m an adult stallion, I, well, I did had a job, and I have responsibilities that pertain to myself. If somepony came inside my booth at this very moment, I would have to depend on him or her to start the conversation, because I have nothing interesting to say. The horseshoe factory I used to work at is nothing to write home about; the city that I used to live is not that outstanding in the least; my family is pretty boring, especially my dad, who just won’t shut up about the Wonderbolts and how great they are. The only thing in my life that is remotely interesting is my former beatnik neighbors. Who in their right mind would be up at three in the morning playing the bongos and reciting awful poetry? “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice behind me asked. The question alone was a surprise to me. I did a double take at the pony in front of me who asked the question. He was stallion - a unicorn to be exact - who I could imagine was slightly taller than me, his coat was a bright shade of yellow and a soft and smooth green mane that covered his right eye. “No, go ahead,” I answered. He nudged past me and became the new occupier of the empty seat. He set his briefcase by his legs and laid back with a face that looked of satisfaction and accomplishment. “Going to Ponyville?” he asked me. “Yeah.” “Why?” I take a moment to think about what I’m going to say. Then I answered, “To start my life over, I guess.” “Ah, the classic story of searching for the Equestrian Dream,” he chimed. “Well, it’s not exactly like that. I’m only moving to Ponyville to get away from my neighbors. They’re really annoying. Every Wednesday and Saturday nights, they’re up at least three-thirty in the morning playing the bongos and listening jazz. I even had to call the police to complain about the noise at one point,” I explained. “Beatniks.” “I know. Why are you going to Ponyville?” “Me? Well sir, I’m a traveling salespony,” he said, “I go from town to town attempting to separate ponies from their hard-earned cash.” “Oh. What do you sale?” He carried a mischievous smile on his lips, and his horn levitated the briefcase and placed it on his lap. He unlocked it and magic engulfed the contents of what was inside. “Shoes?” “Not just any shoes. These babies are vintage, All-Equestrian, Chuck Neighlor Converse Shoes. You can’t deny that these are classic legware. At this day and age, you can’t find these anywhere else.” “I haven’t worn those since I was a colt,” I said. “That’s why they’re classics. If you ask me, they are indeed the coolest shoes ever made. They’re the kind of shoes you can wear anyplace you go. I mean, look, they come in all different colors: red, blue, yellow, orange, and my personal favorite… black.” When I saw the pair of the black converses floating in front of my eyes, I was enthralled by its charming simplicity. The white laces hung over the neatly stitched black surface like how a young colt would wear it. The shoe was in itself a design of perfection. The young stallion sensed that I was mesmerized by the legware and he nodded his head in approval. “You’re right, they are cool,” I said with a slight chuckle. “I knew you’d be interested.” “How many have you sold so far?” “From what I can tell, I say… at least one hundred and thirty,” he answered. I couldn’t tell if he was sure of himself or not, or if that was the exact number of shoes he sold, but I don’t think he actually cared. He was just a stallion trying to make a living in the world. I could relate to somepony like that. “You looking at that magazine?” he asked me. He pointed at the Equestrian Inquirer and I nodded no. The unicorn let his magic hover the magazine in front of his face. It was only a minute later when he started laughing at what he was reading. “What’s so funny?” I asked confusingly. “The ponies they feature in this magazine. Look at the title of this article,” he said showing it to me. “Celebrities, They’re Just Like Us. No they’re not just like us. If they were just like us, then they would be the ones sellings these shoes. I don’t live in a big fancy mansion with twenty butlers and maids. I don’t attend fancy dinner parties or go to art galleries. Or play that game… what’s the name of that game they play all the time?” “What game?” “You know, that game. It’s like golf, only with a mallet.” “You mean croquet?” “Yeah that’s it.” “Have you been to Canterlot before?” I asked out of curiosity. “Yep. Like I said, I’m a traveling salespony. I go where the shoes take me.” I think about the next question I’m going to ask him, but I had a hard time getting it out because I silently laughing to myself. After holding my laughter back, I finally asked him, “Have you ever tried to sell shoes to the high class ponies?” “One time,” he answered. “Just one time.” “Where?” “At the Grand Galloping Gala a few years back. I got dressed all nicely and what not, and tried to sell as many shoes as possible. I swear, I can’t fathom how anypony would not want converses like these. Imagine those fancy posh ponies wearing Chuck Neighlors at the Gala.” “That is what I want to see.” “For all that’s worth, at least I wasn’t the only pony failing to make a profit at the Triple G's.” “There was another?” “Yeah. Some mare was trying to sell apples and apple related products - like apple pie, apple strudel, apple fritters, you name it. I didn’t know I had competition until after the Gala, but by then it was too late. It ended when some pegasus got crazy with the animals in the garden.” “I heard about that, it was all over the newspapers.” “And that was last time I… wait, hold on,” he suddenly said. “What?” “Now I remember… I don’t believe we ever got each other’s names. Lemon Tart,” he said as he extended his yellow hoof. “Cloud,” I said, reaching out my blue hoof at him. “Cloud? That’s it, nothing else?” “Well, yeah, that’s it. That’s what they called me since elementary school and it just stuck. That and on the count of my cloud cutie mark,” I said, showing him the simple image of a cumulus cloud on my hindquarters. He lowered his neck and squinted his eyes, closely examining my cutie mark. “Cloud. Alright then.” The train crossed another bridge and entered a second tunnel. The darkness blanketed the entire cabin, so much so that I couldn’t tell if I had my eyes closed or not. Light appeared from the unicorn next to me much to my relief. It was not enough to fill the entire booth with light but was enough to see our colored faces. “So Cloud, what do you plan to do once you arrive in Ponyville?” “Find a job for starters, something to get back on my hooves. And, oh I don’t know, maybe… maybe Ponyville might help me get a second chance at pursuing my dream.” “And that dream would be…” “I’ve always wanted to be an author, and write a bestselling book.” “An author? You trying to write the Great Equestrian Novel?” “I’m guessing you’re going to sell as many shoes as possible once you arrive in Ponyville?” “You betcha! I will not rest until every stallion, mare, and foal in Ponyville have vintage Chuck Neighlors on their legs! Mark my words, and you mark them well.” The golden sun and the blue sky returned its light to our cabin. Conversing with Lemon Tart extinguished my fears of starting of new life in a new town, if only for a short while. I saw in the young stallion the kind of energy and enthusiasm I hope to meet again the moment I step out of this train. Right when I had finally found my peace of mind, I grew anxious again. I knew the moment when we stop at Ponyville, Lemon and I will have to go our separate ways. Due to his profession, he never stays at one town for long. In the back of mind, I wish we could spend more time together before he goes to the next town. Already I was beginning to feel like I had just lost a good friend as quick as I found one. Chapter 2It’s truly amazing how time flies when I’m actually enjoying an eight hour train ride for once. I found myself waking up in the comfort of my booth after dozing off. I see that Lemon Tart’s head is leaning against the glass window with his eyes closed. Even when he is sleeping he still carried the briefcase full of shoes on his hooves. I take a look at my watch to find out it is exactly 4:20 pm. I stop a train attendant who was just passing by our booth. “Excuse me,” I begin to ask, “how long will this train arrive in Ponyville?” “In the next forty minutes,” she answered. “Would you like some refreshment while you wait?” “A cola please,” I said. In any situation I would have asked for a cold cider, but I figured I’ll just save it for later once I find a good bar in Ponyville. On the right side of me I hear a yawn followed by small groans. Lemon Tart, the shoe salespony, had just emerged from his slumber. As he rubbed his eyes I take a moment to speculate what he was dreaming about. I imagined he dreamt about sitting on a grand throne on top of a mountain of Chuck Neighlors, while his subjects, wearing them on their hind legs, grobble at the bottom of his throne. “Are we there yet?” he asked. “We’ll be there in the next forty minutes - at least five o’clock,” I said. “I asked one of the attendants earlier.” “Five o’clock?” He seemed surprised by my answer. He took out his pocket watch and read the current time with a sense of content. “That is what I call perfect timing,” Lemon said. “Maybe that nice little nap we had must have sped up time.” “If only that was possible,” I added. The attendant from earlier approached us with the glass of ice cold cola I asked for and insert the glass on the cup holder. “Excuse me, ma’am,” Lemon asked, “do you know where we are?” “We’re in the Gabble Flatlands, just twenty miles outside Ponyville,” she answered. “Perfect. May I get a glass of cider? Nice, ice cold cider.” “Sure,” she said nicely. The attendant walked the other direction to get Lemon his drink. I took one sip of my cola before setting it back down on the cup holder. Lemon Tart opened his briefcase and used his magic to levitated a fishing hat out, placing on his head. “Almost forgot my hat,” he said. “I never go anywhere without it.” “A fishing hat?” I asked. “Why?” “You see, my friend, the profession of a traveling salespony is very similar to fishing. My briefcase is my fishing rod, what’s inside the briefcase is the bait. All I need to do is to present the fish with the bait, and I catch them. It’s just business.” “I never knew entrepreneurship was such a competitive sport,” I joked. “I tell you, being an entrepreneur is not as easy as it looks,” Lemon said with a slight hint of weariness in his voice. “You really have to appeal to whatever random pony who is in your way. You have to make them really like the product you’re trying to sell. Observe.” The attendant came back with his glass of cider. He levitate the cold drink off the tray and into his cup holder, and said to the mare, “Thank you very much for this glass of cider, sleeping in this comfortable chair has made me very thirsty,” sounding as professional as possible. “You’re welcome,” she said with such sweetness. “And may I add that you are doing a wonderful job as our attendant. Walking from booth to booth, cabin to cabin, just to make sure everypony is perfectly comfortable during this eight hour train ride.” “Why thank you,” the attendant said, her eyes beaming and the muscles on her lips curling to form the letter U. “In fact, I know of a way to work efficiently and look fabulous at the same time.” He opened his briefcase to reveal to the confused train attendant the Chuck Neighlor shoes lined up in a variety of different colors and size. “These are the world-famous Converse All-Stars, the Chuck Neighlor special. They’re comfortable, they’re fashionable, and I promise you, these shoes are just your style. Doesn’t the design just pull you in?” “Well, they are pretty nice…” “... And for a good price.” “This seems rather tempting,” she said. The attendant’s eyes were locked closely on the shoes while Lemon waited for her answer. I just sat there, with the glass of cola on my hoof, observing the process of the salespony trying to reel in the fish with his bait. Lemon’s toothy grin was glued to his face; I’m rather surprise the muscles on the face weren’t irritating him. “Well, what do you think?” he asked. “These are nice shoes, sir,” she said, “but I’m not interested. Sorry. Thanks anyway.” She left our booth, leaving the two of us to stare at each other silently. I couldn’t help myself, but I began to chuckle at my friend’s expense. “What’s so funny?” “Did you notice you were wearing your fishing hat? Maybe she was on to you.” “You can’t blame it entirely on me. This was my good luck charm for three years,” he reasoned. The both of us grabbed our glasses with our respective drinks, Lemon Tart with his cider and myself with my cola, and we drunk together. The flatlands soon turned into steep hills and meadows as the sun began its regular descent into the horizon. Above the corner of my eye, I saw a multi-colored streak fly by the train with incredible speed, almost like a pony sized torpedo. “What was that?” I asked. “What was what?” asked Lemon. “I saw something, like a small colored light shooting across the sky and then vanishing as it appeared,” I said. “It was… cool.” “You must have been seeing things,” Lemon said. “We have been sitting on this train for the longest time, might have affected your brain. Don’t worry, as soon as we get off this train, you can have all the fresh air you want,” he said. I chuckle under my breath and I take another sip of my cola, counting down the minutes that was left on the train ride before stopping at Ponyville. Just as the attendant had said, and party my prediction, the train arrived at the Ponyville train station at exactly 5:00 pm. The announcement was made by the conductor over the train’s intercom. As the locomotive prepared to slow down to a stop, Lemon and I grabbed our belongings and other possessions and made our way out of the booth. The train slowly stopped at the platform of the train station, where we saw other ponies waiting, either waiting for their loved ones to exit the train or to get on the train (although I don’t know if the train still ran this late). Our cabin was not entirely full, so the two didn’t have a hard time trying to get off. The ponies in our cabin the whole ride through was a pair of families with foals, one of them a single mother, and an elderly couple. We let the elderly couple go first, followed by the parents with their foals. My luggage consists of all the clothes I had; important items such as books, bathroom items, including toothbrush, wash cloths and towels; and of course the picture of my parents I've always kept in my pocket - I’ll elaborate on that later. As for Lemon Tart, he carried nothing but his briefcase. It was as though his entire existence relied on that leather square with combination numbers. And his fishing hat, he can’t forget that - as he had told me, it was his good luck charm. We exited the cabin and into the platform, and we felt the relaxing cool spring breeze embrace our skin after spending eight hours on a warm train with artificial air conditioning. We watched the ponies coming out of the train ambush their friends and families with loving hugs and joyful noises. Nopony came to greet us, or to hug us, or to tell us that they were glad to be here - not that it mattered anyway. The platform was beginning to empty and the train was going to start its engines in a few minutes. Lemon and I viewed the town before us gleam under the orange light of the sunset. The sky above was a mixture of violet and strawberry red, like an oil canvas painting. “Well, we’re here,” Lemon finally said, “Ponyville, Equestria. Population - you, me… and everypony else.” “Yeah,” I weakly added. Silence had taken over our confidence. We both knew we would have to separate the moment we left the train. It was unfortunate too. He was the first pony ever since the beatniks moved into my former neighborhood that I had enjoyed being accompanied with. I’m not sure if I can handle trying socialize with strangers in a strange land - this time was just a temporary fluke. “Hey, I just wanted to say,” I begin to say, “good luck with trying to sell those shoes.” “Thanks,” he replied. “And good luck with… whatever comes your way.” “Thanks,” I said. Before I go the opposite direction, I ask him something that has been lingering on the back of my mind ever since he told me his name. “Hey Lemon, you think we’ll be able to see each other again? You know, before you go to the next town or whatever?” “Maybe. I hope so. Come to think about it, I wish that would happen. You’re the first pony I ever enjoyed talking to,” he said. We share a light smile, with a hint of contempt for our situation. Lemon extend his yellow hoof and I pull out my blue hoof, and we both shook. “See ya ‘round,” he said. “Good-bye, for now,” I said back. Then I realize we were on the only road that leads into town, so going the opposite direction will lead me nowhere. I feel like a ton of bricks were just dumped into my head. Now that we had just made our goodbyes official for no reason at all, we awkwardly walked together on the only trail to Ponyville. Finding our way into town wasn’t hard as we thought. We learned that there was farm located just near the train station. On the farm, there was a line of trees which had apples that had that perfect spherical shape and that perfect shade of crimson. During our walk into town, I had something that was lingering in the back of my mind ever since Lemon Tart told me his name. “Hey Lemon,” I began to ask, “there’s been something I wanted to know about you.” “Shoot.” “... Where are you from? What’s your story?” “... Well, I was born in the city of brotherly love, Fillydelphia. My father was a salespony as I am, and my mother was nurse. My dad sold cleaning products like soap, bleach, pine oil, you name it.” “How did you become a shoe salespony?” I ask again. “It happened when I got my cutie mark. You see, all throughout my colt years I loved selling lemonade. I would sit in front of my house and try to get as many ponies to drink my lemonade. I always used the techniques my dad uses when he sells stuff to ponies. All the other fillies in my neighborhood had their own lemonade stands, and I had the urge to outperform the competition. I posses what they didn’t have - charisma. After selling at least one hundred cups of lemonade, a lemon magically appeared on my flank. That’s why I’m called Lemon Tart.” “And the shoes?” “After I graduated high school, I decided to move out of the house and make it on my own. I admit it’s not the wisest decision I've made.” “I can relate,” I added. “First, I tried selling lemons and lemon accessories - like lemon juice, lemon cleaning products, lemon bread, which I’m not even sure if they make that anymore. But that adventure failed,” he said somberly. “Sorry about that.” “Don’t be. After my lemon selling days ended, I lived in Manehattan for sometime and worked at a shoe shop. My boss saw that I was natural when it came to selling shoes. I sold glass slippers to mares, dress shoes to stallions, and sneakers to the little ones. That’s when my boss gave me the idea to become a shoe salespony. Now, I didn't think I was ready to get back on my hooves, but I took the challenge. And to this day, I wander across Equestria, going door to door selling shoes to anypony who wants them or not. You ever of the phrase, ‘When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade?’ “ “Of course, everypony has,” I answered. “I refuse to follow that philosophy. When life decides to give me lemons, I kindly throw them back at life.” I saw a stallion wouldn't take no for an answer in Lemon Tart. Tart’s enthusiasm for the challenges of life was completely opposite to my personality. Whenever things get too hard for me, I choose to run away and find something else to do. I remember that one time in elementary school when I auditioned for the lead role in the school play. When I didn’t get the part, I vowed never to pursue acting again. That’s just one of many instances where that had happened. We found ourselves in the center of the town square, with the sky growing presently darker. I felt my stomach growl like a ferocious manticore and the aroma of sweet pastries invaded my nostrils. The smell of sweets directed me to a building just on the other side. It was place called Sugarcube Corner, which was a bakery shop. A small bell chimed when I opened the door. Once we let ourselves in we were instantly greeted by a pink mare with a poofy mane who seemed to materialized out of thin air. “Hi, Pinkie Pie,” she exclaimed, “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” Needless to say, both Lemon Tart and I had to play catch up with our breathing, not to mention our heart rate had drastically increased due to the sudden appearance of this so-called “Pinkie Pie.” “H-hello,” I weakly said. “We’re here to find something edible to satisfy our stomachs,” Lemon said. “Then you came to right place,” the over enthusiastic pink mare said. “What would like? We have all sorts of goodies here!” The two of us squinted our eyes at the display counter, searching for anything that looked promising to eat. I have to admit, Pinkie was right when she said this place has “goodies.” Chocolate cake, chocolate-raspberry cake, freshly-baked brownies, cupcakes, muffins, any sort of confectionary treats imaginable. Making difficult choices in times of adversity has never been my strong suit. “I guess I’ll take a slice of that brownie cake,” I finally said. “And I’ll have a lemon cream custard pie,” Lemon Tart said, “a small one, please.” Of course he would chose something lemon related. The pink mare fittingly named Pinkie happily gave us our orders as fast than any of us could say “rubber baby buggy bumpers,” and we placed our money on the counter. We took our food to a neatly lit booth in the center of the room and eat with our hearts content. “You know, that Pinkie was right,” Lemon commented, “this stuff is delicious, it’s ten times better than the pastries they have in Fillydelphia.” “I’m glad you like it!” The one called Pinkie Pie appeared from under our table, completely oblivious to fact that I almost choked on my food. “Where the heck did you come from?” I asked while I violently cleared my throat. “From my parents. Anyway, I’m glad you like the food! We try our best here,” she said. “From what I can tell, you are the best,” Lemon said. “Maybe even the best of the best.” “Aww, thanks Mr. um…” “Call me Lemon Tart,” he said, extended his hoof to the pink mare. She grabbed his hoof and they shook like good acquaintances at a business meeting. Looks like he’s going to try to sell some shoes again. This I have to watch. “And what’s your name?” she asked turning to me. I swallowed my food and answered, “Cloud.” “Cloud? That’s it, nothing else?” “Nope. Just plain old Cloud.” “Okay… Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “You guys aren’t from around here, are you?” “We just came in from Baltimare from train,” Lemon explained. “It was an eight hour ride.” “Then that means… new ponies! This is so exciting! I’ll be right back!” A pink blur manifested in front of us on the spot where Pinkie once stood. A second later she came back carrying a cannon, aimed directly at us. Lemon and myself ducked under the table with our arms covering our heads, waiting for our imminent end. He heard an explosion of cannonfire, but to our amazement - and confusion - there was no fiery destruction or waves of debris falling. Instead we heard party music playing and the room was suddenly filled with a multitude of ponies from out of nowhere. The dining hall of Sugarcub Corner was decorated with multi-colored party balloons, streamers, and banners, and the wooden floor was littered with confetti. Above our heads was a golden banner that hung from the ceiling that read “WELCOME TO PONYVILLE!” I hesitated to asked, but I managed to get the words from out of my mouth. “Pinkie, what’s going on?” “This? I always throw a party when there’s new ponies in town! Hey everypony,” she called out to the guests, “let’s give a big Ponyville welcome to Cloud and Lemon Tart!” The guests cheered and stomped their hooves on the floor in mass approval. My brain suddenly ceased its primary functions. I had no idea how to react to this doubtlessly random event, nor could I find the right words to describe my current emotions. Everything just seem to happen so fast the moment I stepped into Sugarcube Corner. Every single pony around me was dancing wildly, while others came up to me and Lemon to welcome us to their town. I stand there completely frozen, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the surrealism of it all. I feel somepony’s arm nudge against mine, only to realize it was Lemon’s arm. “Cloud,” he said. “Yeah…” “I think I’m starting to like this place.” Chapter 3The dining room of the bakery shop must have grown three sizes that night because more ponies arrived in swarms during the unexpected party. The whole population of the town has to be here - young and old; earth, unicorn, and pegasi; stallion and mare - all ponies from all walks of life, rounded up into a small room with booming music and hypnotic dancing. I had no idea how this feat was done, nor did I cared or wished to know. I was in a sea of earthly pleasures, trying my best to dance through the waves of dancers to get to the ringleader of it all, the pink mare named Pinkie Pie. After shoving my way through I found her having a conversation with a few of the party guests. I tapped her behind her back as hard as I could to get her attention. “Hi Cloud!” she said loudly over the pounding music in the air, “Isn’t this a great party?” I increase the volume of my voice and answered, “Yeah, the party is great. Listen, I wanted to know if -” My question was cut short when a stranger chose me as her dancing partner. I clumsily try to keep up with her while at the same trying to release myself from her harmonic grasp. I pull her into the influx of ponies and have her involuntarily replace me with another dancer. Free from my tango of imprisonment I lost Pinkie yet again. I’m back at the center of the party, my nervous system refusing to cooperate with my brain. When the guests saw me standing around like a deer caught in the headlights, they turn their attention toward me, chanting my name and stomping their hooves on the wooden floor. I awkwardly wave my forearms and have my legs follow the rhythm of the beat. I go around in circles, making myself dizzy in the process. The party attendees cheer and feel myself becoming week in the legs. I stumble over, thankfully being caught by the arms of a bystander. “Whoa there, partner,” the voice behind me said. “That was some crazy dance you did back there. You might need some lessons,” the voice joked. The pony had a voice of a mare with a heavy country accent. I stand on all fours to look at the face that belonged to the voice. “Thanks, but that wasn’t a dance,” I said, “I was really desperate to get out there.” “Ah can see you ain’t the one for partying,” the mare said. She was orange with a golden mane that reached around her neck that was hidden under a stetson hat, with a combination youthful freckles on her cheeks and eyes as green as the shiniest of emeralds. She reached her arm out and introduced herself as “Applejack.” I took her as well, and gave her my name. “Cloud?” “Yes, there’s nothing else. I get that a lot,” I said. Up until this moment I could not grasp why everypony I meet think that my name is weird. I think it’s appropriate that my name is only a one word syllable that sums up my personality. I hear an enthusiastic voice coming from the back of the room. The familiarity of this pony’s vocal pattern is what drew me. I excuse myself from Applejack to see who it was. For a second time I politely push and shove my way through the crowded throng of jovial ponies, and sure enough, when I arrived to the back of the room, I saw my friend Lemon Tart attempting to sell his shoes to middle school aged colts. “You can’t deny that these are the perfect legware,” he said with such eagerness. “These are the classics you can’t get anywhere else. I can see into the mind of a colt such as you three, and I can guarantee all of you that you will never have to worry about a thing if you buy these shoes.” The colts kept their unsure eyes on the Chuck Neighlors Lemon presented. Their silent debate came to a close when they cooly pass on the offer and walked back to their own group of friends. I approach him after spending part of the night on my lonesome and say, “Still trying to make your mark on this town?” “Don’t worry,” he said, “there’s always going to be bumpy roads to drive through before the path becomes smooth. I got all the time in the world,” he stated before choosing his next target. The party went on for what might have been three hours. Eventually, the loud dance music died down and the attendees went home when party fatigue caught up with them. The only ponies left were myself and Lemon Tart, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and two other ponies I didn’t recognize. One was bright yellow pegasus with a long pink mane that covered part of her face, and a white unicorn mare with a dark blue mane that was almost the same length as the pegasus. They volunteered to help Pinkie and Applejack clean up, as did Lemon and I. Looking at the bakery after the party ended was like stumbling upon a warzone where none perished. There were spots of spilled fruit punch, splats and lines of icing on the floor, not to mention the littered confetti and rolls of streamers. Lemon wiped the tables while I mopped the floor, while Pinkie and Applejack threw away any trash that was left. The pegasus and the unicorn were responsible for setting the chairs and tables in their proper place. “That was some party, wasn’t it Cloud?” asked Lemon. “It took me by surprised,” I said. “That’s how Pinkie throws her parties,” Applejack commented, “they’re designed to be unpredictable.” “It’s highly considered an honor to have a Pinkie Party in your favor in Ponyville,” the unicorn said. Lemon bowed elegantly and said, “In that case, I’m highly honored to be among such fine ponies.” The unicorn blushed and giggled just as any mare would do when a stallion attempts to flirt. In this case, I’m not sure if Lemon was actually flirting or just trying to reel her in on his ongoing quest to sell shoes. I can’t really be annoyed by his antics. His purpose in life was to present his product and appeal to the masses, no matter how it is done. Unlike other salesponies I’ve come across over the years, Lemon seemed like the only one that stood out. I saw no malicious intent in the stallion, but I did see a proneness of over-exaggerating certain elements and embellishment of the stuff he was selling. However, I can’t really say anything about him at all - I’m not a salespony, nor would I ever will be. “Lemon Tart,” he introduced himself. “Rarity,” she said flexing her hair. The yellow pegasus floated beside and gently stated her name was “Fluttershy.” Lemon took her nervous hoof and shook it with a smile. Pinkie Pie, the mare who threw us the surprise party, manifested herself out of nowhere (which I believe is her recurring theme), giving us thanks for helping her clean the mess of the party. “It’s like nothing even happened,” exclaimed Pinkie. “Thanks guys! You’re the best!” “Isn’t this your shop?” I asked. “No, this is actually Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s shop. I work and live here. I’m watching it for them while they’re away. Isn’t it cool?” “So where are you fellers from,” Applejack asked. I knew it would eventually come when somepony will ask about my backstory - not that’s there is anything interesting to begin with. I think about what I’m going to say and begin with, “I was born and raised in Baltimare. I worked at a horseshoe factory for a few years until I quitted. I moved here because my neighbors were giving me a hard time and… that’s about it actually.” “I’ve never been to Baltimare. How is it? Is it nice,” asked Rarity. “It’s… I wouldn’t say it’s a beacon of culture if that is what you’re asking. We did have a small theatre company and a planetarium that nopony goes to, which is a shame because I love astronomy. That’s about it. I wouldn’t recommend visiting.” I wish I had an acting award to give to Rarity, because she gave the best poker face I ever seen in anypony. Afterward she slightly smiled, trying to not be too disappointed. “Oh, I see… what was about your neighbors you didn’t like,” she asked again. “They were eccentric little ponies. So eccentric that I chose to live as far away from them as possible.” Most of us forced a chuckled at my semi honest statement. I try to put a smile on my face, even though the idea of the beatniks that invaded my neighborhood and my job are never happy thoughts. I couldn’t tell at first, but I noticed that one called Fluttershy shifted nervously whenever I talked. “Well I guess it’s my turn,” Lemon said. “I was born and raised in the city of brotherly love itself, Fillydelphia. I spend most of the days of my youth on the playground before I found my calling in life.” “What was yer true calling?” asked Applejack. His face was gleaming with pride when he was about to answer her question. "This," he said, “This is my true calling.” As I would have figured, he brought out his briefcase and when he opened, I thought I saw white light emerging from it and heavenly music playing in the background. The four mares gathered around to see what he was referring to. “My purpose in life is to sell as many of these shoes. Vintage Chuck Neighlors Converse All-Stars, or as I would like to call them, the Greatest Shoes Ever Made.” The mares exchanged confused and bewildered looks to one another while Lemon stood proudly with his briefcase full of shoes. While he continued to talk endlessly about the life fate had given him, one important aspect of our journey hadn’t crossed my mind until now. Where on earth are we going to stay? Would these kind ponies (at least I hope they’re kind) open up their homes for us? Aren’t there no motels we could stay until we find a place? I’m not sure about Lemon, since he’s a wanderer of some sorts he’ll probably leave town once he had sold enough shoes, but I intend to stay here as long as I can. I wanted to speak up but another pony already entered the shop just as I raised my arm. “Hey guys,” the tomboyish voiced called out, “how’s it going?” “Rainbow Dash! You missed an awesome party,” Pinkie said excitedly. “We threw it for these two! They’re new in town!” The pony that just walked in was a pegasus mare with skin that was a lighter shade of blue than mine. Her mane was covered with multicolored stripes, as was her tail, hence the “rainbow” in her name. “New ponies? That’s cool,” she said. “Sorry I missed it, I was racing with an old pal from flight school.” “I take it you must be Rainbow Dash?” I asked. “The one and only, and you are…” “Cloud.” “... Cloud?” “Yes, that’s all there is,” I answered. “I didn’t like the name my parents gave me, so I named myself.” “What’s your real name,” Dash asked. “It’s too embarrassing to even say it in public, that’s why I changed it to Cloud.” “You didn’t like your birth name?” a slightly shocked Lemon Tart asked me. “You didn’t tell me that on the train ride here. I don’t know who you are anymore,” he joked. “We just met this morning,” I said. “It takes one day, Cloud. It all takes one day.” “For what?” “... I don’t know, just trying to be dramatic,” he said. “Well, Cloud, it’s nice to meet you,” she said as we shook hooves. “I have one question - was that you I saw flying past my train this afternoon?” “What do you mean?” “Earlier, I saw a little rainbow shoot pass the train I was riding. Was that you?” “If it was a rainbow, you bet it was me!” the proud pegasus exclaimed. “Yep, just leaving my mark everywhere I go!” Time passed while we took leisure in the bakery shop and I was surprised to learn it was 9:30 pm when I took a look at my watch. I had not known it was this late, however I do have a tendency to not keep up with time. Pinkie decided it was time to close up shop, with the others in agreement. I still hadn’t the chance to say my piece and I really wanted to speak up, until Applejack turned back to the group and said, “Hold on one minute. Do you two have a place to stay?” “Well.” With the attention now focused on me I begin to stammer. “You see, my move to Ponyville… wasn’t well planned.” “In other words, you ain’t got no place to go?” Applejack bluntly asked. “Yeah, pretty much.” “Oh dear, that’s terrible,” Fluttershy said. In fact, those were the first words she said to me all night. Most of the time she just nodded and laughed nervously. What was it that makes me so intimidating to her? “Where are you gonna go?” Pinkie asked. “I’m not sure. I was going to find a motel or something to stay for a little while until I found a permanent place.” “I don’t believe there are many motels you could stay at, darling,” Rarity said. “If that’s the case, how about you stay with me until you get back on your hooves,” the farmpony suggested. “That’s okay, I don’t want to intrude.” “Nonsense, there’s always room in the Apple house, we always have visitors looking for a place to stay.” “Well… thanks,” I meekly said. My first day in a new town and a party was thrown for my arrival and pony I might not too long ago opened her home to me. This is more than surreal, this is something completely different. What else will be in store for me the next day, or better yet, in five minutes? Applejack turned to Lemon and asked, “What about you? You wanna come?” “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said. “During the party I set up a nicely sized tent right in the middle of town. That is going to be my headquarters for the time being.” “You’re going to live in a tent?” Rainbow asked. “Yep, always did when I’m traveling around Equestria, and it has never failed me yet.” “Take his word for it,” I added. “His entire life revolves around entrepreneurship. He is not going to give up selling shoes for anything.” “I’ll sleep in a dragon’s cave if I have to,” Lemon said. “That’s how dedicated I am.” “I wouldn’t want to live in a dragon’s cave at all,” said Fluttershy, “it’s dark and scary, and dragons are so mean.” “What about Spike? He’s a dragon and he’s not mean,” Pinkie said. “Who is Spike?” I asked. “Somepony I should know about?” “Spike is an adolescent dragon who is Twilight Sparkle’s personal assistant,” Rarity explained. “You mean, Princess Twilight Sparkle?” “Yes dear, I’m sure you have heard of her.” “Yes I have. By the way, where is she?” “She’s off for some royal meeting in Canterlot, but she’ll be back soon,” Rainbow said. After all was said and done, everypony departed Sugarcube Corner and went straight home for a good night’s rest. The party that was spontaneously created by Pinkie was a nice gesture, but I was never particularly great at huge social events. If the party had at least eight to twelve ponies, I might have managed, otherwise it is on my list of the most awkward events that ever happened to me for no apparent reason. As I walked with Applejack under the guidance of the stars I saw Lemon enter his tent he was referring to earlier. I imagined how the town’s population would react once they see a tent in the middle of the road in the morning. I also imagined how he will terrorize everypony he sees in an effort to make money off his shoes. I hope he doesn’t go too far on his methods. It was awfully nice of Applejack to let me stay in her home while I search for a place and a job. I never expected that when I arrived here, especially from a born and bred country mare, no offense to her. I send my eyes to the shining stars in the black sky. Taking nightly walks has been a favorite pastime of mine, especially in areas where there is less light. When I was young, after I had finished my dinner, I always asked my parents if I could walk around the neighborhood. My mother would always say no repeatedly, but my father didn’t mind, as long as I didn’t accidently take a wrong turn into a dangerous part of the neighborhood. Looking at the stars up the night sky, I think of all the different outcomes this day could have taken. What if Lemon Tart never came into the booth I was occupying? What if I missed my stop to Ponyville? What would have happened if my senses never led me into Sugarcube Corner? “So, have you lived here all your life?” I asked Applejack. “Yep, born and raised in Ponyville as long as I can remember.” “It must be fulfilling living in a nice, quiet town like this.” “Well, I didn’t always think like that,” she said. “What do you mean?” “When I was a little filly, I wanted more out of my life - I wanted to have the life of my Aunt and Uncle Orange, rich and sophisticated and such,” she explained. This really took me by surprise. I wanted to learn more about her past, but we were almost to her home. It was same farmhouse Lemon and I passed when we arrived here. It’s obvious that the house next to it was where she lived. We could see brightly-lit light coming from two rooms on the first floor, so it was prevalent it was not bedtime yet. Applejack and I walked the trail that led to the front door, and we passed a field of a thousand apple trees. I was tempted to pick one, but I decided to wait until later when I get her permission. “A lot of apple trees you have here,” I casually say. “We ain’t called the Apples for nothin’,” she responded. We heard voices coming from the other side of the door when we were close. It sounded like a small child and an adult having a shouting match. “But I’m not tired yet!” the smaller voice whined. “You have to go to bed, it’s way past your bedtime,” the older and deeper voice commanded. Applejack gave a small chuckle over the ordeal. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, that’s just my big brother and little sister at it again,” she answered. “Don’t worry, you’ll love ‘em.” The first thing I saw the moment she opened the door was the sight of a huge red stallion forcing pajamas on the small yellow filly. The little filly did her best to maneuver herself out of the strong grip of the stallion, but to no avail. She let it go on like this for a few seconds before she whistled. “Applejack, you’re home!” the filly said. She skipped in circles around her middle sibling until sensing that something was amiss. Her answer came into the form of a blue stallion, which was myself. “Who in the heck are you?” she bluntly asked. “Apple Bloom, that’s no way to treat our guests,” Applejack rebuked. So Apple Bloom was here name? It’s a nice name, for the most part. “Sorry about that,” Applejack said to me. “Cloud, this is my little sister, Apple Bloom, and over there is my big brother, Macintosh. We call him Big Mac.” Mac came up to me and shook my hoof. For a stallion who was considerably taller than I was, I saw a certain gentleness in his eyes. However, I’m not sure what type of pony he is personally, so I have to do my best to be on his good side. “Nice to meet you,” he said in his bass-like voice. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I said as I smiled. “He ain’t gonna stay here, is he?” Apple Bloom asked. “Why would ask something like that?” Applejack countered. “We don’t even know him!” “He has no where else to go, Apple Bloom, we can’t just him leave out in the cold!” “I don’t care,” the filly yelled, “he can’t stay here!” “Cloud is stayin’ here until he can find a place of his own,” Applejack said in a stern and annoyed tone. “And you are going to show him some respect. Now skidaddle up those stairs, it’s time for bed.” Apple Bloom mumbled something under her breath while she marched up to her room. She turned back to me with an apologetic look on her face, as did Macintosh. “I’m really sorry about that, she’s usually not like this,” she said. “That’s okay. I dealt with unpleasant kids in my life,” I said. “Apple Bloom’s no problem. Is there anything wrong with her?” “She’s been in a really bad mood lately,” Macintosh said. “She won’t tell us why.” “Come on, let me show you to your room,” Applejack said. Walking up the stairs, I was given a mini gallery tour of a series of family pictures on the wall. We entered a hallway with walls decorated with apple-related wallpaper. The doors had similar designs on the front, although what was behind the doors may tell a different story. Applejack stopped in front of one of the doors and unlocked it with the key in her mouth. “Here ya go, your room for the time being,” she said. It was neither too small nor too big, and as Goldilocks once said, it was just right. “This is spare bedroom visitors stay in,” she explained, “hope you like it.” “It’s really nice,” I said. There was a chair and desk combo sitting in front of a window, overlooking the apple tree field and beyond, which was perfect spot to spend writing. On the right side was a bed that looked like nopony had slept in since dawn of time. It was far from dirty; the blankets were neatly folded and the sheets don’t have a wrinkle on them. On left side was a closet, and as I had expected there was nothing on the inside. “It’s perfect,” I said. Applejack smiled and watch me unload my belongings from my giant traveling case and backpack. “I’ll be downstairs helping my brother clean up,” she said, “if you need anything, just ask.” “I will, and thank you,” I said. I was left alone in my temporary sanctuary. I didn’t pack many things when I was leaving my home in Baltimare, particularly things like furniture. I couldn’t afford a moving company, so my parents had me put it in storage. My backpack contained personal items, like my toothpaste and toothbrush, towels and washcloths, lotion, and other personal hygiene material. However, my giant traveling case held one of the only things in the world I valued the most: books. Novels, short story collections, comics, poetry, essays, textbooks, all right here in my protective case. Whenever I need a break from reality, or just want to fill my mind with knowledge, books are my one and only passageway. I can’t think of a single book I had not enjoyed. I chose a book from my case and sit at the desk. I bring the lamp close to me as I begin reading. The book I chose to read was “The Journey,” an epic poem dating back to the classical age of Equestria. I thought it might be an appropriate read, given my situation. The hero, Ulysses, has been away from his home and family for twenty years after fighting a war. He faces many obstacles like monsters and gods before he could reach his home again. Granted, my current situation is much smaller compared to Ulysses, but come the next day, I too will have obstacles of my own to overcome if I’m to survive in this strange town. Speaking of obstacles to overcome, one of them happened to be standing on my front door. Apple Bloom, the youngest of the Apple siblings, was glaring at me with her pretty orange eyes. I knew what she wanted to talk about, but I still put on a friendly smile. No need to get worked up over a pouty filly. “Hello,” I said brightly. “Don’t play innocent with me, mister,” she said accusingly. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do, and it ain’t gonna work!” “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t ya? Tryin’ to put the moves on my sister? Well let me tell ya something, Cloud, if that is your real name.” “There’s a semi-funny story about that,” I joked, “You see, my parents--” “I don’t care! My sister ain’t gonna fall for your pretty pony act,” she declared, “so you best better watch yourself!” “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Apple Bloom, let me assure you that I have no intentions on… getting it with your sister. For goodness sake, we just met today.” “Then why did she let you stay here?” “I’m guessing you haven’t heard of The Golden Rule.” “The what now?” I’m not kidding, she seemed genuinely confused. “You know, do unto others as you would have them do to you?” “I know what it means! Listen, you better keep your dirty hooves away from my sister, or else I’m gonna have to give you an old fashion Apple Bloom Beatdown!” “By the tone of your voice, I’m guessing you’ve given others this beatdown of your’s before,” I said. “You bet! So just watch your flank!” “Don’t worry, I will,” I joked. She returned to her bedroom not before giving one last “soul-crushing” glare. Fillies will always be a mystery to me. However, I know deep inside that Apple Bloom meant no harm. Like her brother and sister have said, she’s probably having a bad day, or a bad week if I am to guess. I know how it feels to be nervous when somepony you trust brings a stranger into the house. I couldn’t blame her. She will eventually open up to somepony about her problems, be it her friends, her family, or maybe even me - on second thought, I hope she never comes to me with her problems, I refuse to be anypony's psychiatrist. Before I turn in for the night, I read one section of The Journey to myself. I have not read it since sixth grade, and already I feel the excitement of following Ulysses into unknown territories of adventure as though it were for the first time. Opening to the first page, I read the first line, “Sing to me of the stallion, muse, the stallion of twist and turns driven time and again off course…” Chapter 4I don’t know how I got here, nor do I know where I am. I’m in a dark cave with the five mares I met at the welcome party, Macintosh, and two other ponies who almost look like my old coworkers at the horseshoe factory. We are all wearing what appears to be armor and we look like we just came from a long battle. I hear the sound of a rock being pushed by somepony. I look up, and the creature is huge. He is pushing a giant boulder in front of the opening, so we can not escape. “Now, you puny ponies,” the monster said, “there is no escape from Cyclops Island.” Our captor was a giant cyclops, a real ugly cyclops to be exact. He had an extended bone that grew from the side of his head. In fact, he had a striking resemblance to my old boss at the horseshoe factory, except with one eye. Come to think about it, this whole scenario seems oddly familiar. “Now which ones do I eat first,” the cyclops asked himself. The other ponies and myself huddled together and coward before the monster. He scanned our little group for anypony that looked remotely delicious. Since this is a cyclops that looked my boss, I would have figured he chosen me. I was wrong. He grabbed two ponies who looked like my coworkers and gobbled them up in one bite. Oh gosh, their screams were so horrifying. When the cyclops jaw moved up and down, blood trickled down his mouth, which made most of sick, especially Fluttershy. “That was a tasty meal,” the cyclops said. “We’re doomed,” somepony whispered, “What are we gonna do, Ulysses?” I turned around and see it was Applejack, adorned in silver armor, as was everypony else. They all looked to me for a plan. Now I remember, this was a scene from the Journey, Book 9. The cyclops, his eyes still filled with hunger, walked toward us. He laughed as he was about to “prepare” for his next meal. “Wait!” I yelled. I held my arm out and the cyclops stopped on his tracks. “May I say something first?” “You may speak.” “Surely you can’t eat any of us without something to drink. Uh, would you like some of our sweet, tangy cider?” “Cider? From you ponies?” “Yes, we have the best cider in all of the four corners of the earth, don’t we, Applejack?” I nudged my arm on her arm, which told her go along with what I was saying. “Oh, uh, yes sir, Mr. Cyclops, I bet you’ll love our cider, I tell ya what,” she said nervously. “Hmm… very well. Bring me your cider so that I may drink it before I eat,” the cyclops demanded. He went to a little corner of his cave and brought a giant bowl out. There was suddenly a giant sack behind us which contained jars of cider. All us poured it right into the bowl, however some of us were unwilling. Rainbow Dash, who was clad in silver breast plate like all of us, held to a jar of cider affectionately. I grabbed it from her hooves and pour all that remained into the giant bowl. The giant bowl was now filled with so much cider, it could have been used as a tub for us. The cyclops grabbed the bowl and the cider fell to his mouth like a waterfall. He released a loud belch that shook the cave and swept most of us from our hooves. “This is best cider I have had! I like you, Equestrian. What is your name,” he asked. “My name is Nopony,” I answered. “Well, Nopony, I promise to eat you last,” he said. That did not make me feel any better. As the cyclops continued drinking from the bowl, the more he felt dizzy. I neglected to mention that Equestrians have one the strongest ciders known in the planet. After spending five minutes consuming the bowl of cider, he dropped the bowl and sat on his flank. He mumbled something about eating the puny ponies before snoring loudly. With the cyclops asleep, my plan was set into motion. We found a tree trunk laying on the ground. I ordered Macintosh to help me sharpen the end of the trunk and told the girls to start a huge fire. With one end of the trunk now sharp and pointy, we had to harden it with heat. Rarity, being the only unicorn in our group, levitated the trunk with her magic close to the fire. The pointed edge was now red and hard, and ready for action. Now the moment of truth has arrived. I gathered the girls and Macintosh and we lifted the trunk over our shoulders as one. We walked as a group to make sure our clumsiness would not wake up the sleeping giant. We pointed the sharp heated end of the trunk to the cyclops closed eye. “We’re not really going to stab his eye out, are we,” Fluttershy asked. “Do you want to live,” I asked back. “Yes, but not if we have drive this trunk into his eye. He is a cyclops, you know.” “Fluttershy, we have no time for this,” Rainbow said, “if we want to get out here, we have to do this.” “But it seems so unethical. That’s his only eye. Poor thing.” “We’ve seen him eat two ponies in front of us, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, “I believe showing sympathy for this brute is out of the question.” “Girls, this thing is really heavy,” Macintosh said through his teeth. “Let’s get this over with.” All of us were startled when the cyclops sneezed and mumbled in his sleep. We agreed to finish to this. With several heaves and sweat dripping down our heads, we plunged the trunk deep into the monster’s only eye. The screamed in immense pain and shook his head wildly. My crew pulled the trunk from his socket, his eye coming out along with it. Needless to say, this made some us queasy. Fluttershy’s yellow coat turned green with sickness. I really don’t know why she is in my dream. “My eye!” the monster scream. “What have you done to my eye? I am blind!” “Hey Cyclops,” I yelled, “Nopony is grabbing another blunt object to strike you with! We might want to use that huge boulder to crush him!” “He won’t get away!” he yelled back. He heaved the boulder that blocked our path and used it to crush an imaginary enemy. As quick as we could, we ran out the cave and into our ship, without taking some treasures and food with us. As we sailed away, we heard the cyclops yelled at the top of his lungs, “I will kill you, Nopony! Neptune, my father, avenge me!” “Cloud,” a small voice said to me. “Cloud, are you awake? It’s morning.” My eyes gradually opened to the bright sunlight and the orange mare standing behind it. “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” For a second, I thought I’ve seen a halo on her. “It’s morning already?” “Yep. Good ‘ole Celestia working that sun,” she said proudly. “So did you sleep good last night?” “For the first time in two weeks,” I said. “I gotta say, this bed is really comfortable. I could sleep in it for the rest of my life.” “I’m afraid I can’t let ya do that,” she joked. “Were you up this whole time?” “Oh yeah, my family always wake up in the early hours before anypony else does, since we’re farmers and all. I thought I let you sleep for a little while longer.” “Thanks, I needed that.” “Breakfast is waiting downstairs once yer ready.” She trotted out the room to join the rest of her family. I lifted my body out of my bed and stretched my limbs. I find my copy of The Journey lying on the floor next to me. I picked it up and put it inside my treasure chest of books. Now that today has officially started for me, it was time for me to freshen up. I opened my backpack and took out a towel, soap I took with me, my toothbrush and other private essentials. I travel down the hall to the location of the bathroom. I reach for the door knob, but I pause. I sensed a disturbance in the force. I turn slowly to see Apple Bloom standing next to me, staring me down like a bounty hunter would do with a rogue bandit. “Good morning,” I said in a friendly manner. “And what’s so good about it, Cloud?” she said with animosity in her voice. “The sun is shining? The birds are chirping and stuff? Other things that would make a normal pony happy?” “I heard you and my sister on my way here - did ya sleep good last night? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on between you two.” “She asked me if I slept comfortably in the guest room.” “Unlikely story.” The filly’s orange eyes stared right into my soul as I tried to think of a good excuse to get out of this situation. I can tell that Apple Bloom really had it in for me, for whatever reason I don’t know. She edged closer to me, my eyes shifting from the door to the filly. “What do you think your doing now?” she asked. “I was going to use the bathroom.” She blocked the door and stated, “Not before I do. This is the Apple House, and we always go first. You just gonna have to wait ya turn.” “But I really have to go.” “Then you should have woken up early. We Apples don’t sleep around while the day passes us. We’re early birds, and early birds always catch the worms.” “You catch worms in the bathroom?” I joked. Apple Bloom made a look of utter disgust and entered the bathroom and shut the door. I guess I have to wait until she finishes whatever she has to do in there. “The little one locked you out?” an elderly voiced asked. Standing next to me was a green mare who I could guess was at least in the middle of her senior years (you don’t think I would really guess age, didn’t you?), here mane was short and white, and was shorter than I was. “Yeah. Fillies, am I right?” “Don’t ya worry about her. I tell ya, she is the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet when she’s not acting out.” “Hopefully I get to see this sweet side of her’s. By the way, I don’t if Applejack told you, but I’ll be staying here for sometime, if that’s okay with you. Just until I find a place of my own.” “Sonny, this house had it share of visitors throughout the years,” she said, “you’re welcome to stay here as long as ya like.” “Thanks. My name is Cloud,” I said reaching my blue hoof out to her. “Granny Smith, and around here we don’t do hoofshakes, we go for hugs.” We wrapped our arms around each other, and I thanked her for the friendly gesture. She went on with her business and I remained at my spot, waiting for Apple Bloom to come out the bathroom. The door opened and Apple Bloom poked her little head out. “Are you finished,” I asked. “I’m still busy,” she said sharply. “Why don’t you go have breakfast, or something?” “I can’t. My morning ritual was always shower first, breakfast second. It’s been ingrained in my mind since the beginning,” I explained. “Having breakfast first will ruin everything.” “Will you just get out of here? I’ll tell you when I’m finished!” The door shut again and I was left alone. My stomach was feeling weak, so I thought breakfast couldn’t hurt. I was met with a kitchen table full of food you would see in a menu at the EHOP. There was a stack of pancakes sitting at the center, with butter melted at the top. Burnt toast was at the side along with some fruit, like grapes, oranges, and of course, apples. Not to mention there was the option of having both scrambled and over-easy eggs. It’s a good thing I don’t have to leave a tip. “Hi there, Cloud,” Applejack said, “grab a pancake and let’s eat.” “Don’t mind if I do.” I held a plate and put two pancakes on it, then I had a helping of a piece of toast and eggs. I haven’t eaten breakfast like this in a long time, mostly because the horseshoe factory in Baltimare opens around 6 am, and I never have the time to sit down and have a nice, old-fashion morning eat-off. Weekends aren’t as good neither, since I sleep through half the day. The only time I get to eat food like pancakes and eggs is when my parents visit my home or I visit theirs. And that’s at least once a month. I poured some maple syrup over the golden flapjacks and used the fork and knife to cut a slice. One bite and I was in pancake heaven. Seriously, those were the best pancakes I have ever eaten. Almost restuarant quality if I say so myself. While we were eating, Apple Bloom came downstairs. She grabbed a plate full of pancakes and sat next to her older brother. “I’m done now, Cloud,” she said without looking at me. “If you want to use the bathroom, go ahead.” “... Thank you?” Macintosh gave her little sister a look of disapproval, but I don’t think she cared. We awkwardly continued our breakfast until Applejack decided to break the silence. “So, Cloud, what are you planning to do today?” “After breakfast, I’m going job hunting.” “Job hunting? In Ponyville? Good luck with that,” Apple Bloom mumbled. “Apple Bloom, don’t make me double your chores,” Applejack warned. At least that got her to be quiet for now. “So what were you saying?” “I’m planning to go out in the town and search for jobs. I got my resumes ready and everything,” I said. “The only question now is who will hire me.” “I don’t know if there is many job opportunities here, but I’ll be thinking about you,” Applejack said. “We all will… right Apple Bloom?” The yellow filly force a grunted “hmph” from under her breath. “Thanks. What are you going today,” I asked out of curiosity. “Well, the three of us have some chores to get done, so we’ll be here all day,” said Applejack. “Yep,” Macintosh concluded. “Chores? Do you need me for any of them?” “I don’t think you can handle the workload,” Apple Bloom said. “Apple Bloom, what did I tell ya?” Applejack shouted. “Look at ‘em, Applejack! He’s skinny! He won’t be able to do anything!” “That’s it, you’re on bathroom duties for the rest of the day!” “What? But that ain’t fair! I was supposed to hang out with the Crusaders!” “Well, you should have thought of that before running yer mouth!” she chastised. Both Macintosh and I felt awkward watching the two sisters duke it out verbally. As I watched them, I keep thinking how I am truly blessed that I was an only foal. I couldn’t bare the thought of having a little brother or sister, let alone having an older sibling to tell me what to do. The closest relative who I could consider a brother was my Cousin Neon Noodle, even he had his cringe-worthy moments. He was seven years younger than I was, and I would watch him when his parents were out of town, but he would always talk about the most stupidest, idiotic things imaginable, like saying that foals came from Uranus. Make of that what you will. I think he’s in college, but my gosh, those were the worst summers ever. “What am I gonna tell the Crusaders?” Apple Bloom whined. “I’ll tell them you can’t come out, under strict orders,” Applejack answered. “Now you better hold your tongue, or else somethin’ real bad is gonna happen.” Applejack and Macintosh gave me apologetic looks, but I just shrugged, not really troubled about it in the slightest. After breakfast was over, I went back into the guest room and searched for the folder that contained my resumes. I knew it was going to be a long grueling process, but I was confident that the experiences I had working at the horseshoe factory will get me a job. Applejack told me earlier that Ponyville has family-owned businesses and finding a job might be a difficult task, but I am not worried. Opportunity will come, I hope. All was well until I heard angry hoofsteps approach my door. My guess was correct, and there was Apple Bloom, steam coming out of her nostrils. I don’t think my friendliness is going to work, not that it has worked before. “Hi,” I said weakly. “This is all your fault!” “Me, what did I do?” “You had to ask if you can help with our chores! It was none of your beeswax! Thanks to you, I can’t go out with my friends!” “Maybe you should have done what Applejack said and kept your mouth shut,” I suggested. “Maybe you should’ve done the same!” “Listen, I offered to help because it didn’t feel right having you guys do your chores while I sit back and do nothing,” I said. “I would have been a terrible houseguest.” “You’re already a terrible houseguest,” she shouted. “I gonna miss a full day of crusadin’ because of you!” “Crusading? What is that, what does that mean,” I asked. “Like I said, it ain’t none of your beeswax! Now if you excuse me, I got some work to do!” She stomped down the hall to wherever she was going, possibly going to her room and sulk some more. The silence that was left behind felt eerie. I was making a mental checklist of all the items I needed for my job search when I saw Applejack enter her little sister’s room. They were both bickering about what had transpired this morning, which I knew I shouldn’t be involved in, unless I wanted to make the situation worse. I wanted to let Applejack know that I was leaving the house, but I figured that now is not a good time. On my way downstairs, I ran into Granny Smith again. “Going somewhere, honey,” she asked. “Just into town to find myself a job. Can you let Applejack know that I left the house? I would have told her myself, but she’s busy with Apple Bloom at the moment.” The bickering quickly increased as I mentioned them, but thankfully it turned back into low chatter again. She nodded at me and wished me good luck. I opened the front door and let myself outside. I was under a light-blue dome painted with puffy clouds along with a glowing yellow orb as the centerpiece. It was just days like these that I wish I could stay home all day with a glass of cider, but I had to what I have to do. I walked down the path that led me out of the Apple farm, waving good-bye to Macintosh as I did so. My first official day as a resident of Ponyville was about to begin. It was obviously a great day for a walk, seeing there were many ponies on the streets and sidewalks taking advantage of the sunlight. No matter where I went, ponies I didn’t know would wave and smile at me, or stop to say “hello, nice day isn’t it?” I hate to say it, but it was off-putting to be honest. Having been born in the big city, there was no such thing as hospitality. City ponies would just pass me by without so much as acknowledging my existence, or when I accidently bump into somepony they would say, “Watch where you going, you bum!” At least that is when they notice me. Just now, when I accidently bumped into somepony, I almost had the urge to say the exact same words to him. To my surprise, the pony said, “I’m sorry sir, are you alright?” I nodded and asked him the same thing. There was no conflict to be resolved, no fights broke out, and we went on with our lives. I gave myself a mini tour of the town while I searched for possible places to get hired at. There was a sporting goods store, a spa, couch and quills store, a game workshop, and many others. I never knew Ponyville had so many stores that cater to different tastes. Later, I found myself standing in the center of the marketplace. There were ponies inside booths and in front of carts selling things to other ponies, whether it be food or just supplies. Something in my mind told me that Lemon Tart would be here somewhere. I try not to make any eye contact with the booths or carts, because that’s how they get you. I could hear the ponies saying things to me like, “Would like some bean sprouts?” “We got cabbage, half price!” “Sugar dates, sugar dates and figs, sugar dates and pistachios!” Not even a small town like Ponyville was safe from rampant capitalism, but I don’t hold it against them. They’re just ponies trying to feed their families. I keep walking until I saw a familiar pony a few yards away from me. A yellow pegasus was at a booth which was selling fruits and vegetables. She had a long pink mane, and I instantly recognize her as “Fluttershy.” Good, at least one pony I kind of know was out today. I walked to her, attempting to make small talk about the usual stuff, like the weather. That’s what ponies talk about, right? The weather? “Fluttershy?” I said. The pegasus turned to see me standing in front of her. “It’s Cloud, you know, from the party last night? I helped you and Pinkie clean up the place?” “Oh, um, hi,” she responded meekly, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Yeah, I’m just going find myself job so I can make some cash. I gotta make that money, you know?” “Oh yes, having a job is important… and stuff,” she said. “So… what are you doing today,” I ask her. “Just buying food for the animals where I live.” “Cool. Animals are nice.” “Yes, they are.” We stayed like for what felt like an agonizing ten years in a dungeon. After Fluttershy bought some fruits and veggies for her “animals,” whatever that means, she wished me good luck on my job search and went another direction, probably hoping to never cross paths with me for the rest of the day. Is she that frightened by me? Was I too much on my approach? Did my white mane offend her in some way? With the attempted small-talk with Fluttershy proven to be a failure, I continued my walk to some shops I would like to apply to. There were so many to choose from, I didn’t know which I wanted to go first. Maybe I should pick the one that sounded appealing to me. “Hey Cloud,” a pony said to me. “Hey,” I said back. Now where should I go first? Wait a minute. I did an about-face and walked toward the pony who said hello to me. I was correct in my assumptions - Lemon Tart now had a booth to himself, with racks filled with shoes. And not just shoes, there was shoe polish, socks, and custom shoelaces. It took a long time to let it sink in my mind that Lemon managed to do this by himself. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to ask him. “Lemon, did you do this?” “Yes sir, I course I did! It didn’t take me long, had some coffee this morning, find some lumber laying around and I thought to myself, you know maybe I should use a booth to display these things instead of walking ‘round with a suitcase. I build this in ten minutes! Did I forget to mention that being a salespony comes equipped with super-agility?” “... No.” “I haven’t? Hm, maybe I should have, oh well. How’d you like it? Is it too much? Too simple? Or just… meh?” “It looks… professional?” “That’s great! What are you doing wandering around town?” This guy was jacked up on caffeine. His mouth moved at least 200 per hour. I couldn’t believe he managed to build this display, put all his shoes on racks and other accessories across his booth in a span of ten minutes. Even I couldn’t get that much done when I drink too much coffee - and I don’t even like coffee. “Uh, Lemon, are you--” “Hush son, a customer.” A mare was coming toward our direction, which prompted Lemon to put on his fishing hat and prepare for action. She was a unicorn with a minty-green coat and her mane was sort of a palish, cyan-gray with white highlights. The mare couldn’t take her eyes off the shoes being presented. Lemon had her right where he wanted her. “Like these shoes,” he asked the unicorn. “Yeah, these are some cool shoes! I haven’t seen these in a long time!” “They’re one-of-a-kind vintage Chuck Neighlor All-Stars. A classic piece of legware.” “Awesome!” “Which ones do you like? We have whole variety of sizes and colors, don’t we Cloud?” Why did he mention me? “Yeah, we do. They’re really nice,” I said. “Uhh, how much for the red ones?” “Which red ones? We got low tops and high tops.” “The high tops,” the unicorn answered. “Great choice. The red high tops will be eight bits.” “Sold!” The minty unicorn levitated eight bits into Lemon’s jar and levitated the red high top converses into her hind legs. She used her magic to tie the shoelaces together, and the wide grin on her face indicated that it was money well spent. She walked around in circles in front of us a few times before she said, “I love these! Wait until Bon Bon sees me now!” She stood up right on her hind legs and walked away like she didn’t give a hoot. “How’d like that, Cloud? My first sale!”
Chapter 1The waitress wanted to know if I wanted anything to drink during the train ride. I politely pass up the offer, already having my fill of cider before the way here. She leaves to the next booth with a smile on her face, and I turn my attention to the magazine I carry on my hooves, the Equestrian Inquirer. I wouldn’t call the articles interesting, they’re mostly about the Canterlot elite and their shallow lives, nothing I could possibly relate to. It’s just something to draw my attention while the train transports me from Baltimare to Ponyville. The ride to Ponyville from what was used to be my home is an eight hour trek. The reason I’m on this steam powered locomotive is because Baltimare was getting too crowded for me. The ponies moving in my neighbor were of the weird, artsy, beatnik variety. I don’t like those ponies, not one bit. They’re always giving me those disapproving looks whenever I walk into a coffee shop I have been visiting for seven years. Always telling me I couldn’t understand the deeper meaning of that piece of compiled garbage they call “modern art.” Ever since they moved in the property values of the homes in my particular neighborhood had gone down. Also, my old job was getting on my nerves. I work at a horseshoe factory, where my boss would yell at me for every small mistake I made, not to mention the hours were too long and the pay was tedious. On my last day at that factory, I told him straight to his face that I quit. I told everypony at that factory that I never wanted to see any of them again. A couple of weeks prior to this train ride, in a sense of misplaced rage, I wrecked my living room and flooded the bathroom, to the confusion of my neighbors. They stood outside, mouths agape, eyes on me, staring and judging me. Once I opened the front door to my house and asked them what they wanted from me, they ran like they were fillies who just saw Nightmare Moon. I packed my things, left my house without notice, and making an eight hour journey across the country to a town where I knew nopony, nor do I have a place to stay. Looking back now, I should have thought this through. It doesn’t matter now, what happened is in the past, and now I’m moving toward my future. Hopefully history doesn’t repeat itself. I don’t know much about Ponyville, but I do know that it is the hometown of Princess Twilight Sparkle. I heard that it is a relatively nice place to live, save for all the monster attacks that happen regularly. I don’t mind monsters, I had my fair run-ins with huge creatures, it’s just my new neighbors that I’m worried about. Will they be those small towns types that avoid anything that is different? Or will they be those creepy neighbors that put on those fake smiles, each one of them hiding a dark and terrible secret? Fifteen minutes later the engine starts and I can feel the train move on the tracks. The train station vanishes and leads to the perfect view of the skyscrapers of Baltimare, the sunlight bouncing off the glass windows. This is the second train ride I have ever taken in my life. The first time was when I was a colt scout and my scouting division had a field trip to the Manehattan Museum of Natural History. Up to this point I never enjoyed leaving my home. Visiting another place is just hard work for me. I have to keep up with everything, make sure nothing is lost, all while my anxiety rises. I even had a hard time trying to pack my belongings the weeks before. As the train picked up speed, the buildings of Baltimare became smaller and smaller each passing second. We cross a bridge over the Cimarron River and into a long dark tunnel. The sounds of the engines and the steel wheels screeching on tracks vibrate off the walls. After prolonged darkness, the train reached the other side, as if I had just entered the afterlife. The iron and steel metropolis is completely gone, the scenery replaced with an ocean of grass dancing in the wind. I see my reflection being submerged on the passing grass. My initial thought during the first part of the ride is how am I going to adjust to my new life in a small town. I’m not a small town type pony, having been growing up in the city since colthood. No matter how peaceful or quiet this town may be, the hussle and bussle of the city life and the clamoring of hoodlums on street corners will always be apart of me. As much as I disliked the ponies that intruded on my uneasy solitude, I fear that I might slowly lose my mind if Ponyville will just be too perfect for my tastes to endure. I ride through grass, wheat fields, mountains, and other small towns, but I don’t bother to check my watch. I figured that the more I wanted to know what time it was, the longer the train ride will be. I just sit back and let the gallery of nature pass me by. It took me a while to actually noticed, but I forgot I was still holding the Equestrian Inquirer in my hooves. I placed the magazine on the empty seat next to me. Why would I want to read about those rich, pampered, self-absorbed ponies that probably never had to do any work in their superficial lives? I’ve never been to Canterlot, but there is nothing on this earth that would make me want to go. I don’t care how much culture Canterlot has, I refuse to surround myself with those ponies with their noses raised up in the air, ignoring my existence and silently judging me based on their preconceived notions about humility. I couldn't tell if it was noon yet, but the sun is at its highest point in the sky, so that gave me an idea of what time is was. A red maned waitress carrying a cart filled with snacks approached my booth, which slowly got my attention. “Would you like something to eat, sir?” she asked sweetly. I nod and say, “No thanks, I don’t have that much of an appetite.” She smiles and continues with her business. That was the second conversation I had with somepony today, and it was small talk about food. I enjoyed sitting alone for the most part, but I desperately needed somepony to talk to, especially on a long train ride like this. I look at the empty seat next to me and I imagine that somepony had just entered my booth and occupied it. I try not to actually shake the imaginary pony’s hoof or engage in a conversation if I didn’t want to look like a fool when the next train attendant stops by my seat. I don’t know who would worthy to actually sit next to me, but I’ll take anypony to accompany me at this rate. I’ll take one of those artsy, beatnik types that brag about their modern art collection and jazz records. At least I’ll get some kind of amusement while listening to their gibberish. The train ride continues and I still find myself sitting alone. I never been much of a social pony growing up, not that I cared. I had my own circle of friends during my school years, but that’s all behind me now. I’m an adult stallion, I, well, I did had a job, and I have responsibilities that pertain to myself. If somepony came inside my booth at this very moment, I would have to depend on him or her to start the conversation, because I have nothing interesting to say. The horseshoe factory I used to work at is nothing to write home about; the city that I used to live is not that outstanding in the least; my family is pretty boring, especially my dad, who just won’t shut up about the Wonderbolts and how great they are. The only thing in my life that is remotely interesting is my former beatnik neighbors. Who in their right mind would be up at three in the morning playing the bongos and reciting awful poetry? “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice behind me asked. The question alone was a surprise to me. I did a double take at the pony in front of me who asked the question. He was stallion - a unicorn to be exact - who I could imagine was slightly taller than me, his coat was a bright shade of yellow and a soft and smooth green mane that covered his right eye. “No, go ahead,” I answered. He nudged past me and became the new occupier of the empty seat. He set his briefcase by his legs and laid back with a face that looked of satisfaction and accomplishment. “Going to Ponyville?” he asked me. “Yeah.” “Why?” I take a moment to think about what I’m going to say. Then I answered, “To start my life over, I guess.” “Ah, the classic story of searching for the Equestrian Dream,” he chimed. “Well, it’s not exactly like that. I’m only moving to Ponyville to get away from my neighbors. They’re really annoying. Every Wednesday and Saturday nights, they’re up at least three-thirty in the morning playing the bongos and listening jazz. I even had to call the police to complain about the noise at one point,” I explained. “Beatniks.” “I know. Why are you going to Ponyville?” “Me? Well sir, I’m a traveling salespony,” he said, “I go from town to town attempting to separate ponies from their hard-earned cash.” “Oh. What do you sale?” He carried a mischievous smile on his lips, and his horn levitated the briefcase and placed it on his lap. He unlocked it and magic engulfed the contents of what was inside. “Shoes?” “Not just any shoes. These babies are vintage, All-Equestrian, Chuck Neighlor Converse Shoes. You can’t deny that these are classic legware. At this day and age, you can’t find these anywhere else.” “I haven’t worn those since I was a colt,” I said. “That’s why they’re classics. If you ask me, they are indeed the coolest shoes ever made. They’re the kind of shoes you can wear anyplace you go. I mean, look, they come in all different colors: red, blue, yellow, orange, and my personal favorite… black.” When I saw the pair of the black converses floating in front of my eyes, I was enthralled by its charming simplicity. The white laces hung over the neatly stitched black surface like how a young colt would wear it. The shoe was in itself a design of perfection. The young stallion sensed that I was mesmerized by the legware and he nodded his head in approval. “You’re right, they are cool,” I said with a slight chuckle. “I knew you’d be interested.” “How many have you sold so far?” “From what I can tell, I say… at least one hundred and thirty,” he answered. I couldn’t tell if he was sure of himself or not, or if that was the exact number of shoes he sold, but I don’t think he actually cared. He was just a stallion trying to make a living in the world. I could relate to somepony like that. “You looking at that magazine?” he asked me. He pointed at the Equestrian Inquirer and I nodded no. The unicorn let his magic hover the magazine in front of his face. It was only a minute later when he started laughing at what he was reading. “What’s so funny?” I asked confusingly. “The ponies they feature in this magazine. Look at the title of this article,” he said showing it to me. “Celebrities, They’re Just Like Us. No they’re not just like us. If they were just like us, then they would be the ones sellings these shoes. I don’t live in a big fancy mansion with twenty butlers and maids. I don’t attend fancy dinner parties or go to art galleries. Or play that game… what’s the name of that game they play all the time?” “What game?” “You know, that game. It’s like golf, only with a mallet.” “You mean croquet?” “Yeah that’s it.” “Have you been to Canterlot before?” I asked out of curiosity. “Yep. Like I said, I’m a traveling salespony. I go where the shoes take me.” I think about the next question I’m going to ask him, but I had a hard time getting it out because I silently laughing to myself. After holding my laughter back, I finally asked him, “Have you ever tried to sell shoes to the high class ponies?” “One time,” he answered. “Just one time.” “Where?” “At the Grand Galloping Gala a few years back. I got dressed all nicely and what not, and tried to sell as many shoes as possible. I swear, I can’t fathom how anypony would not want converses like these. Imagine those fancy posh ponies wearing Chuck Neighlors at the Gala.” “That is what I want to see.” “For all that’s worth, at least I wasn’t the only pony failing to make a profit at the Triple G's.” “There was another?” “Yeah. Some mare was trying to sell apples and apple related products - like apple pie, apple strudel, apple fritters, you name it. I didn’t know I had competition until after the Gala, but by then it was too late. It ended when some pegasus got crazy with the animals in the garden.” “I heard about that, it was all over the newspapers.” “And that was last time I… wait, hold on,” he suddenly said. “What?” “Now I remember… I don’t believe we ever got each other’s names. Lemon Tart,” he said as he extended his yellow hoof. “Cloud,” I said, reaching out my blue hoof at him. “Cloud? That’s it, nothing else?” “Well, yeah, that’s it. That’s what they called me since elementary school and it just stuck. That and on the count of my cloud cutie mark,” I said, showing him the simple image of a cumulus cloud on my hindquarters. He lowered his neck and squinted his eyes, closely examining my cutie mark. “Cloud. Alright then.” The train crossed another bridge and entered a second tunnel. The darkness blanketed the entire cabin, so much so that I couldn’t tell if I had my eyes closed or not. Light appeared from the unicorn next to me much to my relief. It was not enough to fill the entire booth with light but was enough to see our colored faces. “So Cloud, what do you plan to do once you arrive in Ponyville?” “Find a job for starters, something to get back on my hooves. And, oh I don’t know, maybe… maybe Ponyville might help me get a second chance at pursuing my dream.” “And that dream would be…” “I’ve always wanted to be an author, and write a bestselling book.” “An author? You trying to write the Great Equestrian Novel?” “I’m guessing you’re going to sell as many shoes as possible once you arrive in Ponyville?” “You betcha! I will not rest until every stallion, mare, and foal in Ponyville have vintage Chuck Neighlors on their legs! Mark my words, and you mark them well.” The golden sun and the blue sky returned its light to our cabin. Conversing with Lemon Tart extinguished my fears of starting of new life in a new town, if only for a short while. I saw in the young stallion the kind of energy and enthusiasm I hope to meet again the moment I step out of this train. Right when I had finally found my peace of mind, I grew anxious again. I knew the moment when we stop at Ponyville, Lemon and I will have to go our separate ways. Due to his profession, he never stays at one town for long. In the back of mind, I wish we could spend more time together before he goes to the next town. Already I was beginning to feel like I had just lost a good friend as quick as I found one.
Chapter 2It’s truly amazing how time flies when I’m actually enjoying an eight hour train ride for once. I found myself waking up in the comfort of my booth after dozing off. I see that Lemon Tart’s head is leaning against the glass window with his eyes closed. Even when he is sleeping he still carried the briefcase full of shoes on his hooves. I take a look at my watch to find out it is exactly 4:20 pm. I stop a train attendant who was just passing by our booth. “Excuse me,” I begin to ask, “how long will this train arrive in Ponyville?” “In the next forty minutes,” she answered. “Would you like some refreshment while you wait?” “A cola please,” I said. In any situation I would have asked for a cold cider, but I figured I’ll just save it for later once I find a good bar in Ponyville. On the right side of me I hear a yawn followed by small groans. Lemon Tart, the shoe salespony, had just emerged from his slumber. As he rubbed his eyes I take a moment to speculate what he was dreaming about. I imagined he dreamt about sitting on a grand throne on top of a mountain of Chuck Neighlors, while his subjects, wearing them on their hind legs, grobble at the bottom of his throne. “Are we there yet?” he asked. “We’ll be there in the next forty minutes - at least five o’clock,” I said. “I asked one of the attendants earlier.” “Five o’clock?” He seemed surprised by my answer. He took out his pocket watch and read the current time with a sense of content. “That is what I call perfect timing,” Lemon said. “Maybe that nice little nap we had must have sped up time.” “If only that was possible,” I added. The attendant from earlier approached us with the glass of ice cold cola I asked for and insert the glass on the cup holder. “Excuse me, ma’am,” Lemon asked, “do you know where we are?” “We’re in the Gabble Flatlands, just twenty miles outside Ponyville,” she answered. “Perfect. May I get a glass of cider? Nice, ice cold cider.” “Sure,” she said nicely. The attendant walked the other direction to get Lemon his drink. I took one sip of my cola before setting it back down on the cup holder. Lemon Tart opened his briefcase and used his magic to levitated a fishing hat out, placing on his head. “Almost forgot my hat,” he said. “I never go anywhere without it.” “A fishing hat?” I asked. “Why?” “You see, my friend, the profession of a traveling salespony is very similar to fishing. My briefcase is my fishing rod, what’s inside the briefcase is the bait. All I need to do is to present the fish with the bait, and I catch them. It’s just business.” “I never knew entrepreneurship was such a competitive sport,” I joked. “I tell you, being an entrepreneur is not as easy as it looks,” Lemon said with a slight hint of weariness in his voice. “You really have to appeal to whatever random pony who is in your way. You have to make them really like the product you’re trying to sell. Observe.” The attendant came back with his glass of cider. He levitate the cold drink off the tray and into his cup holder, and said to the mare, “Thank you very much for this glass of cider, sleeping in this comfortable chair has made me very thirsty,” sounding as professional as possible. “You’re welcome,” she said with such sweetness. “And may I add that you are doing a wonderful job as our attendant. Walking from booth to booth, cabin to cabin, just to make sure everypony is perfectly comfortable during this eight hour train ride.” “Why thank you,” the attendant said, her eyes beaming and the muscles on her lips curling to form the letter U. “In fact, I know of a way to work efficiently and look fabulous at the same time.” He opened his briefcase to reveal to the confused train attendant the Chuck Neighlor shoes lined up in a variety of different colors and size. “These are the world-famous Converse All-Stars, the Chuck Neighlor special. They’re comfortable, they’re fashionable, and I promise you, these shoes are just your style. Doesn’t the design just pull you in?” “Well, they are pretty nice…” “... And for a good price.” “This seems rather tempting,” she said. The attendant’s eyes were locked closely on the shoes while Lemon waited for her answer. I just sat there, with the glass of cola on my hoof, observing the process of the salespony trying to reel in the fish with his bait. Lemon’s toothy grin was glued to his face; I’m rather surprise the muscles on the face weren’t irritating him. “Well, what do you think?” he asked. “These are nice shoes, sir,” she said, “but I’m not interested. Sorry. Thanks anyway.” She left our booth, leaving the two of us to stare at each other silently. I couldn’t help myself, but I began to chuckle at my friend’s expense. “What’s so funny?” “Did you notice you were wearing your fishing hat? Maybe she was on to you.” “You can’t blame it entirely on me. This was my good luck charm for three years,” he reasoned. The both of us grabbed our glasses with our respective drinks, Lemon Tart with his cider and myself with my cola, and we drunk together. The flatlands soon turned into steep hills and meadows as the sun began its regular descent into the horizon. Above the corner of my eye, I saw a multi-colored streak fly by the train with incredible speed, almost like a pony sized torpedo. “What was that?” I asked. “What was what?” asked Lemon. “I saw something, like a small colored light shooting across the sky and then vanishing as it appeared,” I said. “It was… cool.” “You must have been seeing things,” Lemon said. “We have been sitting on this train for the longest time, might have affected your brain. Don’t worry, as soon as we get off this train, you can have all the fresh air you want,” he said. I chuckle under my breath and I take another sip of my cola, counting down the minutes that was left on the train ride before stopping at Ponyville. Just as the attendant had said, and party my prediction, the train arrived at the Ponyville train station at exactly 5:00 pm. The announcement was made by the conductor over the train’s intercom. As the locomotive prepared to slow down to a stop, Lemon and I grabbed our belongings and other possessions and made our way out of the booth. The train slowly stopped at the platform of the train station, where we saw other ponies waiting, either waiting for their loved ones to exit the train or to get on the train (although I don’t know if the train still ran this late). Our cabin was not entirely full, so the two didn’t have a hard time trying to get off. The ponies in our cabin the whole ride through was a pair of families with foals, one of them a single mother, and an elderly couple. We let the elderly couple go first, followed by the parents with their foals. My luggage consists of all the clothes I had; important items such as books, bathroom items, including toothbrush, wash cloths and towels; and of course the picture of my parents I've always kept in my pocket - I’ll elaborate on that later. As for Lemon Tart, he carried nothing but his briefcase. It was as though his entire existence relied on that leather square with combination numbers. And his fishing hat, he can’t forget that - as he had told me, it was his good luck charm. We exited the cabin and into the platform, and we felt the relaxing cool spring breeze embrace our skin after spending eight hours on a warm train with artificial air conditioning. We watched the ponies coming out of the train ambush their friends and families with loving hugs and joyful noises. Nopony came to greet us, or to hug us, or to tell us that they were glad to be here - not that it mattered anyway. The platform was beginning to empty and the train was going to start its engines in a few minutes. Lemon and I viewed the town before us gleam under the orange light of the sunset. The sky above was a mixture of violet and strawberry red, like an oil canvas painting. “Well, we’re here,” Lemon finally said, “Ponyville, Equestria. Population - you, me… and everypony else.” “Yeah,” I weakly added. Silence had taken over our confidence. We both knew we would have to separate the moment we left the train. It was unfortunate too. He was the first pony ever since the beatniks moved into my former neighborhood that I had enjoyed being accompanied with. I’m not sure if I can handle trying socialize with strangers in a strange land - this time was just a temporary fluke. “Hey, I just wanted to say,” I begin to say, “good luck with trying to sell those shoes.” “Thanks,” he replied. “And good luck with… whatever comes your way.” “Thanks,” I said. Before I go the opposite direction, I ask him something that has been lingering on the back of my mind ever since he told me his name. “Hey Lemon, you think we’ll be able to see each other again? You know, before you go to the next town or whatever?” “Maybe. I hope so. Come to think about it, I wish that would happen. You’re the first pony I ever enjoyed talking to,” he said. We share a light smile, with a hint of contempt for our situation. Lemon extend his yellow hoof and I pull out my blue hoof, and we both shook. “See ya ‘round,” he said. “Good-bye, for now,” I said back. Then I realize we were on the only road that leads into town, so going the opposite direction will lead me nowhere. I feel like a ton of bricks were just dumped into my head. Now that we had just made our goodbyes official for no reason at all, we awkwardly walked together on the only trail to Ponyville. Finding our way into town wasn’t hard as we thought. We learned that there was farm located just near the train station. On the farm, there was a line of trees which had apples that had that perfect spherical shape and that perfect shade of crimson. During our walk into town, I had something that was lingering in the back of my mind ever since Lemon Tart told me his name. “Hey Lemon,” I began to ask, “there’s been something I wanted to know about you.” “Shoot.” “... Where are you from? What’s your story?” “... Well, I was born in the city of brotherly love, Fillydelphia. My father was a salespony as I am, and my mother was nurse. My dad sold cleaning products like soap, bleach, pine oil, you name it.” “How did you become a shoe salespony?” I ask again. “It happened when I got my cutie mark. You see, all throughout my colt years I loved selling lemonade. I would sit in front of my house and try to get as many ponies to drink my lemonade. I always used the techniques my dad uses when he sells stuff to ponies. All the other fillies in my neighborhood had their own lemonade stands, and I had the urge to outperform the competition. I posses what they didn’t have - charisma. After selling at least one hundred cups of lemonade, a lemon magically appeared on my flank. That’s why I’m called Lemon Tart.” “And the shoes?” “After I graduated high school, I decided to move out of the house and make it on my own. I admit it’s not the wisest decision I've made.” “I can relate,” I added. “First, I tried selling lemons and lemon accessories - like lemon juice, lemon cleaning products, lemon bread, which I’m not even sure if they make that anymore. But that adventure failed,” he said somberly. “Sorry about that.” “Don’t be. After my lemon selling days ended, I lived in Manehattan for sometime and worked at a shoe shop. My boss saw that I was natural when it came to selling shoes. I sold glass slippers to mares, dress shoes to stallions, and sneakers to the little ones. That’s when my boss gave me the idea to become a shoe salespony. Now, I didn't think I was ready to get back on my hooves, but I took the challenge. And to this day, I wander across Equestria, going door to door selling shoes to anypony who wants them or not. You ever of the phrase, ‘When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade?’ “ “Of course, everypony has,” I answered. “I refuse to follow that philosophy. When life decides to give me lemons, I kindly throw them back at life.” I saw a stallion wouldn't take no for an answer in Lemon Tart. Tart’s enthusiasm for the challenges of life was completely opposite to my personality. Whenever things get too hard for me, I choose to run away and find something else to do. I remember that one time in elementary school when I auditioned for the lead role in the school play. When I didn’t get the part, I vowed never to pursue acting again. That’s just one of many instances where that had happened. We found ourselves in the center of the town square, with the sky growing presently darker. I felt my stomach growl like a ferocious manticore and the aroma of sweet pastries invaded my nostrils. The smell of sweets directed me to a building just on the other side. It was place called Sugarcube Corner, which was a bakery shop. A small bell chimed when I opened the door. Once we let ourselves in we were instantly greeted by a pink mare with a poofy mane who seemed to materialized out of thin air. “Hi, Pinkie Pie,” she exclaimed, “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” Needless to say, both Lemon Tart and I had to play catch up with our breathing, not to mention our heart rate had drastically increased due to the sudden appearance of this so-called “Pinkie Pie.” “H-hello,” I weakly said. “We’re here to find something edible to satisfy our stomachs,” Lemon said. “Then you came to right place,” the over enthusiastic pink mare said. “What would like? We have all sorts of goodies here!” The two of us squinted our eyes at the display counter, searching for anything that looked promising to eat. I have to admit, Pinkie was right when she said this place has “goodies.” Chocolate cake, chocolate-raspberry cake, freshly-baked brownies, cupcakes, muffins, any sort of confectionary treats imaginable. Making difficult choices in times of adversity has never been my strong suit. “I guess I’ll take a slice of that brownie cake,” I finally said. “And I’ll have a lemon cream custard pie,” Lemon Tart said, “a small one, please.” Of course he would chose something lemon related. The pink mare fittingly named Pinkie happily gave us our orders as fast than any of us could say “rubber baby buggy bumpers,” and we placed our money on the counter. We took our food to a neatly lit booth in the center of the room and eat with our hearts content. “You know, that Pinkie was right,” Lemon commented, “this stuff is delicious, it’s ten times better than the pastries they have in Fillydelphia.” “I’m glad you like it!” The one called Pinkie Pie appeared from under our table, completely oblivious to fact that I almost choked on my food. “Where the heck did you come from?” I asked while I violently cleared my throat. “From my parents. Anyway, I’m glad you like the food! We try our best here,” she said. “From what I can tell, you are the best,” Lemon said. “Maybe even the best of the best.” “Aww, thanks Mr. um…” “Call me Lemon Tart,” he said, extended his hoof to the pink mare. She grabbed his hoof and they shook like good acquaintances at a business meeting. Looks like he’s going to try to sell some shoes again. This I have to watch. “And what’s your name?” she asked turning to me. I swallowed my food and answered, “Cloud.” “Cloud? That’s it, nothing else?” “Nope. Just plain old Cloud.” “Okay… Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “You guys aren’t from around here, are you?” “We just came in from Baltimare from train,” Lemon explained. “It was an eight hour ride.” “Then that means… new ponies! This is so exciting! I’ll be right back!” A pink blur manifested in front of us on the spot where Pinkie once stood. A second later she came back carrying a cannon, aimed directly at us. Lemon and myself ducked under the table with our arms covering our heads, waiting for our imminent end. He heard an explosion of cannonfire, but to our amazement - and confusion - there was no fiery destruction or waves of debris falling. Instead we heard party music playing and the room was suddenly filled with a multitude of ponies from out of nowhere. The dining hall of Sugarcub Corner was decorated with multi-colored party balloons, streamers, and banners, and the wooden floor was littered with confetti. Above our heads was a golden banner that hung from the ceiling that read “WELCOME TO PONYVILLE!” I hesitated to asked, but I managed to get the words from out of my mouth. “Pinkie, what’s going on?” “This? I always throw a party when there’s new ponies in town! Hey everypony,” she called out to the guests, “let’s give a big Ponyville welcome to Cloud and Lemon Tart!” The guests cheered and stomped their hooves on the floor in mass approval. My brain suddenly ceased its primary functions. I had no idea how to react to this doubtlessly random event, nor could I find the right words to describe my current emotions. Everything just seem to happen so fast the moment I stepped into Sugarcube Corner. Every single pony around me was dancing wildly, while others came up to me and Lemon to welcome us to their town. I stand there completely frozen, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the surrealism of it all. I feel somepony’s arm nudge against mine, only to realize it was Lemon’s arm. “Cloud,” he said. “Yeah…” “I think I’m starting to like this place.”
Chapter 3The dining room of the bakery shop must have grown three sizes that night because more ponies arrived in swarms during the unexpected party. The whole population of the town has to be here - young and old; earth, unicorn, and pegasi; stallion and mare - all ponies from all walks of life, rounded up into a small room with booming music and hypnotic dancing. I had no idea how this feat was done, nor did I cared or wished to know. I was in a sea of earthly pleasures, trying my best to dance through the waves of dancers to get to the ringleader of it all, the pink mare named Pinkie Pie. After shoving my way through I found her having a conversation with a few of the party guests. I tapped her behind her back as hard as I could to get her attention. “Hi Cloud!” she said loudly over the pounding music in the air, “Isn’t this a great party?” I increase the volume of my voice and answered, “Yeah, the party is great. Listen, I wanted to know if -” My question was cut short when a stranger chose me as her dancing partner. I clumsily try to keep up with her while at the same trying to release myself from her harmonic grasp. I pull her into the influx of ponies and have her involuntarily replace me with another dancer. Free from my tango of imprisonment I lost Pinkie yet again. I’m back at the center of the party, my nervous system refusing to cooperate with my brain. When the guests saw me standing around like a deer caught in the headlights, they turn their attention toward me, chanting my name and stomping their hooves on the wooden floor. I awkwardly wave my forearms and have my legs follow the rhythm of the beat. I go around in circles, making myself dizzy in the process. The party attendees cheer and feel myself becoming week in the legs. I stumble over, thankfully being caught by the arms of a bystander. “Whoa there, partner,” the voice behind me said. “That was some crazy dance you did back there. You might need some lessons,” the voice joked. The pony had a voice of a mare with a heavy country accent. I stand on all fours to look at the face that belonged to the voice. “Thanks, but that wasn’t a dance,” I said, “I was really desperate to get out there.” “Ah can see you ain’t the one for partying,” the mare said. She was orange with a golden mane that reached around her neck that was hidden under a stetson hat, with a combination youthful freckles on her cheeks and eyes as green as the shiniest of emeralds. She reached her arm out and introduced herself as “Applejack.” I took her as well, and gave her my name. “Cloud?” “Yes, there’s nothing else. I get that a lot,” I said. Up until this moment I could not grasp why everypony I meet think that my name is weird. I think it’s appropriate that my name is only a one word syllable that sums up my personality. I hear an enthusiastic voice coming from the back of the room. The familiarity of this pony’s vocal pattern is what drew me. I excuse myself from Applejack to see who it was. For a second time I politely push and shove my way through the crowded throng of jovial ponies, and sure enough, when I arrived to the back of the room, I saw my friend Lemon Tart attempting to sell his shoes to middle school aged colts. “You can’t deny that these are the perfect legware,” he said with such eagerness. “These are the classics you can’t get anywhere else. I can see into the mind of a colt such as you three, and I can guarantee all of you that you will never have to worry about a thing if you buy these shoes.” The colts kept their unsure eyes on the Chuck Neighlors Lemon presented. Their silent debate came to a close when they cooly pass on the offer and walked back to their own group of friends. I approach him after spending part of the night on my lonesome and say, “Still trying to make your mark on this town?” “Don’t worry,” he said, “there’s always going to be bumpy roads to drive through before the path becomes smooth. I got all the time in the world,” he stated before choosing his next target. The party went on for what might have been three hours. Eventually, the loud dance music died down and the attendees went home when party fatigue caught up with them. The only ponies left were myself and Lemon Tart, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and two other ponies I didn’t recognize. One was bright yellow pegasus with a long pink mane that covered part of her face, and a white unicorn mare with a dark blue mane that was almost the same length as the pegasus. They volunteered to help Pinkie and Applejack clean up, as did Lemon and I. Looking at the bakery after the party ended was like stumbling upon a warzone where none perished. There were spots of spilled fruit punch, splats and lines of icing on the floor, not to mention the littered confetti and rolls of streamers. Lemon wiped the tables while I mopped the floor, while Pinkie and Applejack threw away any trash that was left. The pegasus and the unicorn were responsible for setting the chairs and tables in their proper place. “That was some party, wasn’t it Cloud?” asked Lemon. “It took me by surprised,” I said. “That’s how Pinkie throws her parties,” Applejack commented, “they’re designed to be unpredictable.” “It’s highly considered an honor to have a Pinkie Party in your favor in Ponyville,” the unicorn said. Lemon bowed elegantly and said, “In that case, I’m highly honored to be among such fine ponies.” The unicorn blushed and giggled just as any mare would do when a stallion attempts to flirt. In this case, I’m not sure if Lemon was actually flirting or just trying to reel her in on his ongoing quest to sell shoes. I can’t really be annoyed by his antics. His purpose in life was to present his product and appeal to the masses, no matter how it is done. Unlike other salesponies I’ve come across over the years, Lemon seemed like the only one that stood out. I saw no malicious intent in the stallion, but I did see a proneness of over-exaggerating certain elements and embellishment of the stuff he was selling. However, I can’t really say anything about him at all - I’m not a salespony, nor would I ever will be. “Lemon Tart,” he introduced himself. “Rarity,” she said flexing her hair. The yellow pegasus floated beside and gently stated her name was “Fluttershy.” Lemon took her nervous hoof and shook it with a smile. Pinkie Pie, the mare who threw us the surprise party, manifested herself out of nowhere (which I believe is her recurring theme), giving us thanks for helping her clean the mess of the party. “It’s like nothing even happened,” exclaimed Pinkie. “Thanks guys! You’re the best!” “Isn’t this your shop?” I asked. “No, this is actually Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s shop. I work and live here. I’m watching it for them while they’re away. Isn’t it cool?” “So where are you fellers from,” Applejack asked. I knew it would eventually come when somepony will ask about my backstory - not that’s there is anything interesting to begin with. I think about what I’m going to say and begin with, “I was born and raised in Baltimare. I worked at a horseshoe factory for a few years until I quitted. I moved here because my neighbors were giving me a hard time and… that’s about it actually.” “I’ve never been to Baltimare. How is it? Is it nice,” asked Rarity. “It’s… I wouldn’t say it’s a beacon of culture if that is what you’re asking. We did have a small theatre company and a planetarium that nopony goes to, which is a shame because I love astronomy. That’s about it. I wouldn’t recommend visiting.” I wish I had an acting award to give to Rarity, because she gave the best poker face I ever seen in anypony. Afterward she slightly smiled, trying to not be too disappointed. “Oh, I see… what was about your neighbors you didn’t like,” she asked again. “They were eccentric little ponies. So eccentric that I chose to live as far away from them as possible.” Most of us forced a chuckled at my semi honest statement. I try to put a smile on my face, even though the idea of the beatniks that invaded my neighborhood and my job are never happy thoughts. I couldn’t tell at first, but I noticed that one called Fluttershy shifted nervously whenever I talked. “Well I guess it’s my turn,” Lemon said. “I was born and raised in the city of brotherly love itself, Fillydelphia. I spend most of the days of my youth on the playground before I found my calling in life.” “What was yer true calling?” asked Applejack. His face was gleaming with pride when he was about to answer her question. "This," he said, “This is my true calling.” As I would have figured, he brought out his briefcase and when he opened, I thought I saw white light emerging from it and heavenly music playing in the background. The four mares gathered around to see what he was referring to. “My purpose in life is to sell as many of these shoes. Vintage Chuck Neighlors Converse All-Stars, or as I would like to call them, the Greatest Shoes Ever Made.” The mares exchanged confused and bewildered looks to one another while Lemon stood proudly with his briefcase full of shoes. While he continued to talk endlessly about the life fate had given him, one important aspect of our journey hadn’t crossed my mind until now. Where on earth are we going to stay? Would these kind ponies (at least I hope they’re kind) open up their homes for us? Aren’t there no motels we could stay until we find a place? I’m not sure about Lemon, since he’s a wanderer of some sorts he’ll probably leave town once he had sold enough shoes, but I intend to stay here as long as I can. I wanted to speak up but another pony already entered the shop just as I raised my arm. “Hey guys,” the tomboyish voiced called out, “how’s it going?” “Rainbow Dash! You missed an awesome party,” Pinkie said excitedly. “We threw it for these two! They’re new in town!” The pony that just walked in was a pegasus mare with skin that was a lighter shade of blue than mine. Her mane was covered with multicolored stripes, as was her tail, hence the “rainbow” in her name. “New ponies? That’s cool,” she said. “Sorry I missed it, I was racing with an old pal from flight school.” “I take it you must be Rainbow Dash?” I asked. “The one and only, and you are…” “Cloud.” “... Cloud?” “Yes, that’s all there is,” I answered. “I didn’t like the name my parents gave me, so I named myself.” “What’s your real name,” Dash asked. “It’s too embarrassing to even say it in public, that’s why I changed it to Cloud.” “You didn’t like your birth name?” a slightly shocked Lemon Tart asked me. “You didn’t tell me that on the train ride here. I don’t know who you are anymore,” he joked. “We just met this morning,” I said. “It takes one day, Cloud. It all takes one day.” “For what?” “... I don’t know, just trying to be dramatic,” he said. “Well, Cloud, it’s nice to meet you,” she said as we shook hooves. “I have one question - was that you I saw flying past my train this afternoon?” “What do you mean?” “Earlier, I saw a little rainbow shoot pass the train I was riding. Was that you?” “If it was a rainbow, you bet it was me!” the proud pegasus exclaimed. “Yep, just leaving my mark everywhere I go!” Time passed while we took leisure in the bakery shop and I was surprised to learn it was 9:30 pm when I took a look at my watch. I had not known it was this late, however I do have a tendency to not keep up with time. Pinkie decided it was time to close up shop, with the others in agreement. I still hadn’t the chance to say my piece and I really wanted to speak up, until Applejack turned back to the group and said, “Hold on one minute. Do you two have a place to stay?” “Well.” With the attention now focused on me I begin to stammer. “You see, my move to Ponyville… wasn’t well planned.” “In other words, you ain’t got no place to go?” Applejack bluntly asked. “Yeah, pretty much.” “Oh dear, that’s terrible,” Fluttershy said. In fact, those were the first words she said to me all night. Most of the time she just nodded and laughed nervously. What was it that makes me so intimidating to her? “Where are you gonna go?” Pinkie asked. “I’m not sure. I was going to find a motel or something to stay for a little while until I found a permanent place.” “I don’t believe there are many motels you could stay at, darling,” Rarity said. “If that’s the case, how about you stay with me until you get back on your hooves,” the farmpony suggested. “That’s okay, I don’t want to intrude.” “Nonsense, there’s always room in the Apple house, we always have visitors looking for a place to stay.” “Well… thanks,” I meekly said. My first day in a new town and a party was thrown for my arrival and pony I might not too long ago opened her home to me. This is more than surreal, this is something completely different. What else will be in store for me the next day, or better yet, in five minutes? Applejack turned to Lemon and asked, “What about you? You wanna come?” “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said. “During the party I set up a nicely sized tent right in the middle of town. That is going to be my headquarters for the time being.” “You’re going to live in a tent?” Rainbow asked. “Yep, always did when I’m traveling around Equestria, and it has never failed me yet.” “Take his word for it,” I added. “His entire life revolves around entrepreneurship. He is not going to give up selling shoes for anything.” “I’ll sleep in a dragon’s cave if I have to,” Lemon said. “That’s how dedicated I am.” “I wouldn’t want to live in a dragon’s cave at all,” said Fluttershy, “it’s dark and scary, and dragons are so mean.” “What about Spike? He’s a dragon and he’s not mean,” Pinkie said. “Who is Spike?” I asked. “Somepony I should know about?” “Spike is an adolescent dragon who is Twilight Sparkle’s personal assistant,” Rarity explained. “You mean, Princess Twilight Sparkle?” “Yes dear, I’m sure you have heard of her.” “Yes I have. By the way, where is she?” “She’s off for some royal meeting in Canterlot, but she’ll be back soon,” Rainbow said. After all was said and done, everypony departed Sugarcube Corner and went straight home for a good night’s rest. The party that was spontaneously created by Pinkie was a nice gesture, but I was never particularly great at huge social events. If the party had at least eight to twelve ponies, I might have managed, otherwise it is on my list of the most awkward events that ever happened to me for no apparent reason. As I walked with Applejack under the guidance of the stars I saw Lemon enter his tent he was referring to earlier. I imagined how the town’s population would react once they see a tent in the middle of the road in the morning. I also imagined how he will terrorize everypony he sees in an effort to make money off his shoes. I hope he doesn’t go too far on his methods. It was awfully nice of Applejack to let me stay in her home while I search for a place and a job. I never expected that when I arrived here, especially from a born and bred country mare, no offense to her. I send my eyes to the shining stars in the black sky. Taking nightly walks has been a favorite pastime of mine, especially in areas where there is less light. When I was young, after I had finished my dinner, I always asked my parents if I could walk around the neighborhood. My mother would always say no repeatedly, but my father didn’t mind, as long as I didn’t accidently take a wrong turn into a dangerous part of the neighborhood. Looking at the stars up the night sky, I think of all the different outcomes this day could have taken. What if Lemon Tart never came into the booth I was occupying? What if I missed my stop to Ponyville? What would have happened if my senses never led me into Sugarcube Corner? “So, have you lived here all your life?” I asked Applejack. “Yep, born and raised in Ponyville as long as I can remember.” “It must be fulfilling living in a nice, quiet town like this.” “Well, I didn’t always think like that,” she said. “What do you mean?” “When I was a little filly, I wanted more out of my life - I wanted to have the life of my Aunt and Uncle Orange, rich and sophisticated and such,” she explained. This really took me by surprise. I wanted to learn more about her past, but we were almost to her home. It was same farmhouse Lemon and I passed when we arrived here. It’s obvious that the house next to it was where she lived. We could see brightly-lit light coming from two rooms on the first floor, so it was prevalent it was not bedtime yet. Applejack and I walked the trail that led to the front door, and we passed a field of a thousand apple trees. I was tempted to pick one, but I decided to wait until later when I get her permission. “A lot of apple trees you have here,” I casually say. “We ain’t called the Apples for nothin’,” she responded. We heard voices coming from the other side of the door when we were close. It sounded like a small child and an adult having a shouting match. “But I’m not tired yet!” the smaller voice whined. “You have to go to bed, it’s way past your bedtime,” the older and deeper voice commanded. Applejack gave a small chuckle over the ordeal. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, that’s just my big brother and little sister at it again,” she answered. “Don’t worry, you’ll love ‘em.” The first thing I saw the moment she opened the door was the sight of a huge red stallion forcing pajamas on the small yellow filly. The little filly did her best to maneuver herself out of the strong grip of the stallion, but to no avail. She let it go on like this for a few seconds before she whistled. “Applejack, you’re home!” the filly said. She skipped in circles around her middle sibling until sensing that something was amiss. Her answer came into the form of a blue stallion, which was myself. “Who in the heck are you?” she bluntly asked. “Apple Bloom, that’s no way to treat our guests,” Applejack rebuked. So Apple Bloom was here name? It’s a nice name, for the most part. “Sorry about that,” Applejack said to me. “Cloud, this is my little sister, Apple Bloom, and over there is my big brother, Macintosh. We call him Big Mac.” Mac came up to me and shook my hoof. For a stallion who was considerably taller than I was, I saw a certain gentleness in his eyes. However, I’m not sure what type of pony he is personally, so I have to do my best to be on his good side. “Nice to meet you,” he said in his bass-like voice. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I said as I smiled. “He ain’t gonna stay here, is he?” Apple Bloom asked. “Why would ask something like that?” Applejack countered. “We don’t even know him!” “He has no where else to go, Apple Bloom, we can’t just him leave out in the cold!” “I don’t care,” the filly yelled, “he can’t stay here!” “Cloud is stayin’ here until he can find a place of his own,” Applejack said in a stern and annoyed tone. “And you are going to show him some respect. Now skidaddle up those stairs, it’s time for bed.” Apple Bloom mumbled something under her breath while she marched up to her room. She turned back to me with an apologetic look on her face, as did Macintosh. “I’m really sorry about that, she’s usually not like this,” she said. “That’s okay. I dealt with unpleasant kids in my life,” I said. “Apple Bloom’s no problem. Is there anything wrong with her?” “She’s been in a really bad mood lately,” Macintosh said. “She won’t tell us why.” “Come on, let me show you to your room,” Applejack said. Walking up the stairs, I was given a mini gallery tour of a series of family pictures on the wall. We entered a hallway with walls decorated with apple-related wallpaper. The doors had similar designs on the front, although what was behind the doors may tell a different story. Applejack stopped in front of one of the doors and unlocked it with the key in her mouth. “Here ya go, your room for the time being,” she said. It was neither too small nor too big, and as Goldilocks once said, it was just right. “This is spare bedroom visitors stay in,” she explained, “hope you like it.” “It’s really nice,” I said. There was a chair and desk combo sitting in front of a window, overlooking the apple tree field and beyond, which was perfect spot to spend writing. On the right side was a bed that looked like nopony had slept in since dawn of time. It was far from dirty; the blankets were neatly folded and the sheets don’t have a wrinkle on them. On left side was a closet, and as I had expected there was nothing on the inside. “It’s perfect,” I said. Applejack smiled and watch me unload my belongings from my giant traveling case and backpack. “I’ll be downstairs helping my brother clean up,” she said, “if you need anything, just ask.” “I will, and thank you,” I said. I was left alone in my temporary sanctuary. I didn’t pack many things when I was leaving my home in Baltimare, particularly things like furniture. I couldn’t afford a moving company, so my parents had me put it in storage. My backpack contained personal items, like my toothpaste and toothbrush, towels and washcloths, lotion, and other personal hygiene material. However, my giant traveling case held one of the only things in the world I valued the most: books. Novels, short story collections, comics, poetry, essays, textbooks, all right here in my protective case. Whenever I need a break from reality, or just want to fill my mind with knowledge, books are my one and only passageway. I can’t think of a single book I had not enjoyed. I chose a book from my case and sit at the desk. I bring the lamp close to me as I begin reading. The book I chose to read was “The Journey,” an epic poem dating back to the classical age of Equestria. I thought it might be an appropriate read, given my situation. The hero, Ulysses, has been away from his home and family for twenty years after fighting a war. He faces many obstacles like monsters and gods before he could reach his home again. Granted, my current situation is much smaller compared to Ulysses, but come the next day, I too will have obstacles of my own to overcome if I’m to survive in this strange town. Speaking of obstacles to overcome, one of them happened to be standing on my front door. Apple Bloom, the youngest of the Apple siblings, was glaring at me with her pretty orange eyes. I knew what she wanted to talk about, but I still put on a friendly smile. No need to get worked up over a pouty filly. “Hello,” I said brightly. “Don’t play innocent with me, mister,” she said accusingly. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do, and it ain’t gonna work!” “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “You think you’re so smooth, don’t ya? Tryin’ to put the moves on my sister? Well let me tell ya something, Cloud, if that is your real name.” “There’s a semi-funny story about that,” I joked, “You see, my parents--” “I don’t care! My sister ain’t gonna fall for your pretty pony act,” she declared, “so you best better watch yourself!” “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Apple Bloom, let me assure you that I have no intentions on… getting it with your sister. For goodness sake, we just met today.” “Then why did she let you stay here?” “I’m guessing you haven’t heard of The Golden Rule.” “The what now?” I’m not kidding, she seemed genuinely confused. “You know, do unto others as you would have them do to you?” “I know what it means! Listen, you better keep your dirty hooves away from my sister, or else I’m gonna have to give you an old fashion Apple Bloom Beatdown!” “By the tone of your voice, I’m guessing you’ve given others this beatdown of your’s before,” I said. “You bet! So just watch your flank!” “Don’t worry, I will,” I joked. She returned to her bedroom not before giving one last “soul-crushing” glare. Fillies will always be a mystery to me. However, I know deep inside that Apple Bloom meant no harm. Like her brother and sister have said, she’s probably having a bad day, or a bad week if I am to guess. I know how it feels to be nervous when somepony you trust brings a stranger into the house. I couldn’t blame her. She will eventually open up to somepony about her problems, be it her friends, her family, or maybe even me - on second thought, I hope she never comes to me with her problems, I refuse to be anypony's psychiatrist. Before I turn in for the night, I read one section of The Journey to myself. I have not read it since sixth grade, and already I feel the excitement of following Ulysses into unknown territories of adventure as though it were for the first time. Opening to the first page, I read the first line, “Sing to me of the stallion, muse, the stallion of twist and turns driven time and again off course…”
Chapter 4I don’t know how I got here, nor do I know where I am. I’m in a dark cave with the five mares I met at the welcome party, Macintosh, and two other ponies who almost look like my old coworkers at the horseshoe factory. We are all wearing what appears to be armor and we look like we just came from a long battle. I hear the sound of a rock being pushed by somepony. I look up, and the creature is huge. He is pushing a giant boulder in front of the opening, so we can not escape. “Now, you puny ponies,” the monster said, “there is no escape from Cyclops Island.” Our captor was a giant cyclops, a real ugly cyclops to be exact. He had an extended bone that grew from the side of his head. In fact, he had a striking resemblance to my old boss at the horseshoe factory, except with one eye. Come to think about it, this whole scenario seems oddly familiar. “Now which ones do I eat first,” the cyclops asked himself. The other ponies and myself huddled together and coward before the monster. He scanned our little group for anypony that looked remotely delicious. Since this is a cyclops that looked my boss, I would have figured he chosen me. I was wrong. He grabbed two ponies who looked like my coworkers and gobbled them up in one bite. Oh gosh, their screams were so horrifying. When the cyclops jaw moved up and down, blood trickled down his mouth, which made most of sick, especially Fluttershy. “That was a tasty meal,” the cyclops said. “We’re doomed,” somepony whispered, “What are we gonna do, Ulysses?” I turned around and see it was Applejack, adorned in silver armor, as was everypony else. They all looked to me for a plan. Now I remember, this was a scene from the Journey, Book 9. The cyclops, his eyes still filled with hunger, walked toward us. He laughed as he was about to “prepare” for his next meal. “Wait!” I yelled. I held my arm out and the cyclops stopped on his tracks. “May I say something first?” “You may speak.” “Surely you can’t eat any of us without something to drink. Uh, would you like some of our sweet, tangy cider?” “Cider? From you ponies?” “Yes, we have the best cider in all of the four corners of the earth, don’t we, Applejack?” I nudged my arm on her arm, which told her go along with what I was saying. “Oh, uh, yes sir, Mr. Cyclops, I bet you’ll love our cider, I tell ya what,” she said nervously. “Hmm… very well. Bring me your cider so that I may drink it before I eat,” the cyclops demanded. He went to a little corner of his cave and brought a giant bowl out. There was suddenly a giant sack behind us which contained jars of cider. All us poured it right into the bowl, however some of us were unwilling. Rainbow Dash, who was clad in silver breast plate like all of us, held to a jar of cider affectionately. I grabbed it from her hooves and pour all that remained into the giant bowl. The giant bowl was now filled with so much cider, it could have been used as a tub for us. The cyclops grabbed the bowl and the cider fell to his mouth like a waterfall. He released a loud belch that shook the cave and swept most of us from our hooves. “This is best cider I have had! I like you, Equestrian. What is your name,” he asked. “My name is Nopony,” I answered. “Well, Nopony, I promise to eat you last,” he said. That did not make me feel any better. As the cyclops continued drinking from the bowl, the more he felt dizzy. I neglected to mention that Equestrians have one the strongest ciders known in the planet. After spending five minutes consuming the bowl of cider, he dropped the bowl and sat on his flank. He mumbled something about eating the puny ponies before snoring loudly. With the cyclops asleep, my plan was set into motion. We found a tree trunk laying on the ground. I ordered Macintosh to help me sharpen the end of the trunk and told the girls to start a huge fire. With one end of the trunk now sharp and pointy, we had to harden it with heat. Rarity, being the only unicorn in our group, levitated the trunk with her magic close to the fire. The pointed edge was now red and hard, and ready for action. Now the moment of truth has arrived. I gathered the girls and Macintosh and we lifted the trunk over our shoulders as one. We walked as a group to make sure our clumsiness would not wake up the sleeping giant. We pointed the sharp heated end of the trunk to the cyclops closed eye. “We’re not really going to stab his eye out, are we,” Fluttershy asked. “Do you want to live,” I asked back. “Yes, but not if we have drive this trunk into his eye. He is a cyclops, you know.” “Fluttershy, we have no time for this,” Rainbow said, “if we want to get out here, we have to do this.” “But it seems so unethical. That’s his only eye. Poor thing.” “We’ve seen him eat two ponies in front of us, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, “I believe showing sympathy for this brute is out of the question.” “Girls, this thing is really heavy,” Macintosh said through his teeth. “Let’s get this over with.” All of us were startled when the cyclops sneezed and mumbled in his sleep. We agreed to finish to this. With several heaves and sweat dripping down our heads, we plunged the trunk deep into the monster’s only eye. The screamed in immense pain and shook his head wildly. My crew pulled the trunk from his socket, his eye coming out along with it. Needless to say, this made some us queasy. Fluttershy’s yellow coat turned green with sickness. I really don’t know why she is in my dream. “My eye!” the monster scream. “What have you done to my eye? I am blind!” “Hey Cyclops,” I yelled, “Nopony is grabbing another blunt object to strike you with! We might want to use that huge boulder to crush him!” “He won’t get away!” he yelled back. He heaved the boulder that blocked our path and used it to crush an imaginary enemy. As quick as we could, we ran out the cave and into our ship, without taking some treasures and food with us. As we sailed away, we heard the cyclops yelled at the top of his lungs, “I will kill you, Nopony! Neptune, my father, avenge me!” “Cloud,” a small voice said to me. “Cloud, are you awake? It’s morning.” My eyes gradually opened to the bright sunlight and the orange mare standing behind it. “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” For a second, I thought I’ve seen a halo on her. “It’s morning already?” “Yep. Good ‘ole Celestia working that sun,” she said proudly. “So did you sleep good last night?” “For the first time in two weeks,” I said. “I gotta say, this bed is really comfortable. I could sleep in it for the rest of my life.” “I’m afraid I can’t let ya do that,” she joked. “Were you up this whole time?” “Oh yeah, my family always wake up in the early hours before anypony else does, since we’re farmers and all. I thought I let you sleep for a little while longer.” “Thanks, I needed that.” “Breakfast is waiting downstairs once yer ready.” She trotted out the room to join the rest of her family. I lifted my body out of my bed and stretched my limbs. I find my copy of The Journey lying on the floor next to me. I picked it up and put it inside my treasure chest of books. Now that today has officially started for me, it was time for me to freshen up. I opened my backpack and took out a towel, soap I took with me, my toothbrush and other private essentials. I travel down the hall to the location of the bathroom. I reach for the door knob, but I pause. I sensed a disturbance in the force. I turn slowly to see Apple Bloom standing next to me, staring me down like a bounty hunter would do with a rogue bandit. “Good morning,” I said in a friendly manner. “And what’s so good about it, Cloud?” she said with animosity in her voice. “The sun is shining? The birds are chirping and stuff? Other things that would make a normal pony happy?” “I heard you and my sister on my way here - did ya sleep good last night? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on between you two.” “She asked me if I slept comfortably in the guest room.” “Unlikely story.” The filly’s orange eyes stared right into my soul as I tried to think of a good excuse to get out of this situation. I can tell that Apple Bloom really had it in for me, for whatever reason I don’t know. She edged closer to me, my eyes shifting from the door to the filly. “What do you think your doing now?” she asked. “I was going to use the bathroom.” She blocked the door and stated, “Not before I do. This is the Apple House, and we always go first. You just gonna have to wait ya turn.” “But I really have to go.” “Then you should have woken up early. We Apples don’t sleep around while the day passes us. We’re early birds, and early birds always catch the worms.” “You catch worms in the bathroom?” I joked. Apple Bloom made a look of utter disgust and entered the bathroom and shut the door. I guess I have to wait until she finishes whatever she has to do in there. “The little one locked you out?” an elderly voiced asked. Standing next to me was a green mare who I could guess was at least in the middle of her senior years (you don’t think I would really guess age, didn’t you?), here mane was short and white, and was shorter than I was. “Yeah. Fillies, am I right?” “Don’t ya worry about her. I tell ya, she is the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet when she’s not acting out.” “Hopefully I get to see this sweet side of her’s. By the way, I don’t if Applejack told you, but I’ll be staying here for sometime, if that’s okay with you. Just until I find a place of my own.” “Sonny, this house had it share of visitors throughout the years,” she said, “you’re welcome to stay here as long as ya like.” “Thanks. My name is Cloud,” I said reaching my blue hoof out to her. “Granny Smith, and around here we don’t do hoofshakes, we go for hugs.” We wrapped our arms around each other, and I thanked her for the friendly gesture. She went on with her business and I remained at my spot, waiting for Apple Bloom to come out the bathroom. The door opened and Apple Bloom poked her little head out. “Are you finished,” I asked. “I’m still busy,” she said sharply. “Why don’t you go have breakfast, or something?” “I can’t. My morning ritual was always shower first, breakfast second. It’s been ingrained in my mind since the beginning,” I explained. “Having breakfast first will ruin everything.” “Will you just get out of here? I’ll tell you when I’m finished!” The door shut again and I was left alone. My stomach was feeling weak, so I thought breakfast couldn’t hurt. I was met with a kitchen table full of food you would see in a menu at the EHOP. There was a stack of pancakes sitting at the center, with butter melted at the top. Burnt toast was at the side along with some fruit, like grapes, oranges, and of course, apples. Not to mention there was the option of having both scrambled and over-easy eggs. It’s a good thing I don’t have to leave a tip. “Hi there, Cloud,” Applejack said, “grab a pancake and let’s eat.” “Don’t mind if I do.” I held a plate and put two pancakes on it, then I had a helping of a piece of toast and eggs. I haven’t eaten breakfast like this in a long time, mostly because the horseshoe factory in Baltimare opens around 6 am, and I never have the time to sit down and have a nice, old-fashion morning eat-off. Weekends aren’t as good neither, since I sleep through half the day. The only time I get to eat food like pancakes and eggs is when my parents visit my home or I visit theirs. And that’s at least once a month. I poured some maple syrup over the golden flapjacks and used the fork and knife to cut a slice. One bite and I was in pancake heaven. Seriously, those were the best pancakes I have ever eaten. Almost restuarant quality if I say so myself. While we were eating, Apple Bloom came downstairs. She grabbed a plate full of pancakes and sat next to her older brother. “I’m done now, Cloud,” she said without looking at me. “If you want to use the bathroom, go ahead.” “... Thank you?” Macintosh gave her little sister a look of disapproval, but I don’t think she cared. We awkwardly continued our breakfast until Applejack decided to break the silence. “So, Cloud, what are you planning to do today?” “After breakfast, I’m going job hunting.” “Job hunting? In Ponyville? Good luck with that,” Apple Bloom mumbled. “Apple Bloom, don’t make me double your chores,” Applejack warned. At least that got her to be quiet for now. “So what were you saying?” “I’m planning to go out in the town and search for jobs. I got my resumes ready and everything,” I said. “The only question now is who will hire me.” “I don’t know if there is many job opportunities here, but I’ll be thinking about you,” Applejack said. “We all will… right Apple Bloom?” The yellow filly force a grunted “hmph” from under her breath. “Thanks. What are you going today,” I asked out of curiosity. “Well, the three of us have some chores to get done, so we’ll be here all day,” said Applejack. “Yep,” Macintosh concluded. “Chores? Do you need me for any of them?” “I don’t think you can handle the workload,” Apple Bloom said. “Apple Bloom, what did I tell ya?” Applejack shouted. “Look at ‘em, Applejack! He’s skinny! He won’t be able to do anything!” “That’s it, you’re on bathroom duties for the rest of the day!” “What? But that ain’t fair! I was supposed to hang out with the Crusaders!” “Well, you should have thought of that before running yer mouth!” she chastised. Both Macintosh and I felt awkward watching the two sisters duke it out verbally. As I watched them, I keep thinking how I am truly blessed that I was an only foal. I couldn’t bare the thought of having a little brother or sister, let alone having an older sibling to tell me what to do. The closest relative who I could consider a brother was my Cousin Neon Noodle, even he had his cringe-worthy moments. He was seven years younger than I was, and I would watch him when his parents were out of town, but he would always talk about the most stupidest, idiotic things imaginable, like saying that foals came from Uranus. Make of that what you will. I think he’s in college, but my gosh, those were the worst summers ever. “What am I gonna tell the Crusaders?” Apple Bloom whined. “I’ll tell them you can’t come out, under strict orders,” Applejack answered. “Now you better hold your tongue, or else somethin’ real bad is gonna happen.” Applejack and Macintosh gave me apologetic looks, but I just shrugged, not really troubled about it in the slightest. After breakfast was over, I went back into the guest room and searched for the folder that contained my resumes. I knew it was going to be a long grueling process, but I was confident that the experiences I had working at the horseshoe factory will get me a job. Applejack told me earlier that Ponyville has family-owned businesses and finding a job might be a difficult task, but I am not worried. Opportunity will come, I hope. All was well until I heard angry hoofsteps approach my door. My guess was correct, and there was Apple Bloom, steam coming out of her nostrils. I don’t think my friendliness is going to work, not that it has worked before. “Hi,” I said weakly. “This is all your fault!” “Me, what did I do?” “You had to ask if you can help with our chores! It was none of your beeswax! Thanks to you, I can’t go out with my friends!” “Maybe you should have done what Applejack said and kept your mouth shut,” I suggested. “Maybe you should’ve done the same!” “Listen, I offered to help because it didn’t feel right having you guys do your chores while I sit back and do nothing,” I said. “I would have been a terrible houseguest.” “You’re already a terrible houseguest,” she shouted. “I gonna miss a full day of crusadin’ because of you!” “Crusading? What is that, what does that mean,” I asked. “Like I said, it ain’t none of your beeswax! Now if you excuse me, I got some work to do!” She stomped down the hall to wherever she was going, possibly going to her room and sulk some more. The silence that was left behind felt eerie. I was making a mental checklist of all the items I needed for my job search when I saw Applejack enter her little sister’s room. They were both bickering about what had transpired this morning, which I knew I shouldn’t be involved in, unless I wanted to make the situation worse. I wanted to let Applejack know that I was leaving the house, but I figured that now is not a good time. On my way downstairs, I ran into Granny Smith again. “Going somewhere, honey,” she asked. “Just into town to find myself a job. Can you let Applejack know that I left the house? I would have told her myself, but she’s busy with Apple Bloom at the moment.” The bickering quickly increased as I mentioned them, but thankfully it turned back into low chatter again. She nodded at me and wished me good luck. I opened the front door and let myself outside. I was under a light-blue dome painted with puffy clouds along with a glowing yellow orb as the centerpiece. It was just days like these that I wish I could stay home all day with a glass of cider, but I had to what I have to do. I walked down the path that led me out of the Apple farm, waving good-bye to Macintosh as I did so. My first official day as a resident of Ponyville was about to begin. It was obviously a great day for a walk, seeing there were many ponies on the streets and sidewalks taking advantage of the sunlight. No matter where I went, ponies I didn’t know would wave and smile at me, or stop to say “hello, nice day isn’t it?” I hate to say it, but it was off-putting to be honest. Having been born in the big city, there was no such thing as hospitality. City ponies would just pass me by without so much as acknowledging my existence, or when I accidently bump into somepony they would say, “Watch where you going, you bum!” At least that is when they notice me. Just now, when I accidently bumped into somepony, I almost had the urge to say the exact same words to him. To my surprise, the pony said, “I’m sorry sir, are you alright?” I nodded and asked him the same thing. There was no conflict to be resolved, no fights broke out, and we went on with our lives. I gave myself a mini tour of the town while I searched for possible places to get hired at. There was a sporting goods store, a spa, couch and quills store, a game workshop, and many others. I never knew Ponyville had so many stores that cater to different tastes. Later, I found myself standing in the center of the marketplace. There were ponies inside booths and in front of carts selling things to other ponies, whether it be food or just supplies. Something in my mind told me that Lemon Tart would be here somewhere. I try not to make any eye contact with the booths or carts, because that’s how they get you. I could hear the ponies saying things to me like, “Would like some bean sprouts?” “We got cabbage, half price!” “Sugar dates, sugar dates and figs, sugar dates and pistachios!” Not even a small town like Ponyville was safe from rampant capitalism, but I don’t hold it against them. They’re just ponies trying to feed their families. I keep walking until I saw a familiar pony a few yards away from me. A yellow pegasus was at a booth which was selling fruits and vegetables. She had a long pink mane, and I instantly recognize her as “Fluttershy.” Good, at least one pony I kind of know was out today. I walked to her, attempting to make small talk about the usual stuff, like the weather. That’s what ponies talk about, right? The weather? “Fluttershy?” I said. The pegasus turned to see me standing in front of her. “It’s Cloud, you know, from the party last night? I helped you and Pinkie clean up the place?” “Oh, um, hi,” she responded meekly, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Yeah, I’m just going find myself job so I can make some cash. I gotta make that money, you know?” “Oh yes, having a job is important… and stuff,” she said. “So… what are you doing today,” I ask her. “Just buying food for the animals where I live.” “Cool. Animals are nice.” “Yes, they are.” We stayed like for what felt like an agonizing ten years in a dungeon. After Fluttershy bought some fruits and veggies for her “animals,” whatever that means, she wished me good luck on my job search and went another direction, probably hoping to never cross paths with me for the rest of the day. Is she that frightened by me? Was I too much on my approach? Did my white mane offend her in some way? With the attempted small-talk with Fluttershy proven to be a failure, I continued my walk to some shops I would like to apply to. There were so many to choose from, I didn’t know which I wanted to go first. Maybe I should pick the one that sounded appealing to me. “Hey Cloud,” a pony said to me. “Hey,” I said back. Now where should I go first? Wait a minute. I did an about-face and walked toward the pony who said hello to me. I was correct in my assumptions - Lemon Tart now had a booth to himself, with racks filled with shoes. And not just shoes, there was shoe polish, socks, and custom shoelaces. It took a long time to let it sink in my mind that Lemon managed to do this by himself. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to ask him. “Lemon, did you do this?” “Yes sir, I course I did! It didn’t take me long, had some coffee this morning, find some lumber laying around and I thought to myself, you know maybe I should use a booth to display these things instead of walking ‘round with a suitcase. I build this in ten minutes! Did I forget to mention that being a salespony comes equipped with super-agility?” “... No.” “I haven’t? Hm, maybe I should have, oh well. How’d you like it? Is it too much? Too simple? Or just… meh?” “It looks… professional?” “That’s great! What are you doing wandering around town?” This guy was jacked up on caffeine. His mouth moved at least 200 per hour. I couldn’t believe he managed to build this display, put all his shoes on racks and other accessories across his booth in a span of ten minutes. Even I couldn’t get that much done when I drink too much coffee - and I don’t even like coffee. “Uh, Lemon, are you--” “Hush son, a customer.” A mare was coming toward our direction, which prompted Lemon to put on his fishing hat and prepare for action. She was a unicorn with a minty-green coat and her mane was sort of a palish, cyan-gray with white highlights. The mare couldn’t take her eyes off the shoes being presented. Lemon had her right where he wanted her. “Like these shoes,” he asked the unicorn. “Yeah, these are some cool shoes! I haven’t seen these in a long time!” “They’re one-of-a-kind vintage Chuck Neighlor All-Stars. A classic piece of legware.” “Awesome!” “Which ones do you like? We have whole variety of sizes and colors, don’t we Cloud?” Why did he mention me? “Yeah, we do. They’re really nice,” I said. “Uhh, how much for the red ones?” “Which red ones? We got low tops and high tops.” “The high tops,” the unicorn answered. “Great choice. The red high tops will be eight bits.” “Sold!” The minty unicorn levitated eight bits into Lemon’s jar and levitated the red high top converses into her hind legs. She used her magic to tie the shoelaces together, and the wide grin on her face indicated that it was money well spent. She walked around in circles in front of us a few times before she said, “I love these! Wait until Bon Bon sees me now!” She stood up right on her hind legs and walked away like she didn’t give a hoot. “How’d like that, Cloud? My first sale!”
