“Ponies. Swear to Kamadhenu, I never, ever, not ever will come even close to understandin’ them.
“They think they’re all innocent-lookin’ with their big, cute eyes and their candy-colored coats, and the truth is that they’re right. They do look pretty innocent and huggable. They probably think they’re all innocent-actin’, too, prancing around and giggling and who even knows what else. But that’s where I have to draw the line. Nope, ponies are not innocent, and they would never, ever, not ever come even close to admittin’ it.
“That’s why it takes a cow to tell the truth.
“On behalf of my herd, I am Daisy Jo, and I’m here to tell you the truth about ponies.
“Now, how to start, how to start…ah-ha! Got it!
“Do you like to run? Perhaps a nice, leisurely jog? I used to, when I was a little calf. I would chase my mama’s tail as she strutted around and around the grass. But now I absolutely hate runnin’. Guess whose fault that was?
“If you guessed ‘ponies’’, then you’re right on the mark. After all, it’s not all that fun being forced to jam in-between a bunch of sweaty cows, locked in so tight it’s hard to breathe, and getting jumped on constantly. Those ponies are heavy! They may be small, but Kamadhenu, all those apples they eat can’t be good for their weight. How are they able to stay nice and slender? Are ponies even able to get fat? Funny, because cows can easily get fat. How can that even be fair?
“Not to mention my friend Penelope was bit. Right here on her front leg – she couldn’t walk for days! I had to support her as she staggered about the yard, trying and failing to get just a mouthful of fresh, green grass. All she wanted was a mouthful of grass! But that bite –
“…well, alright, maybe that wasn’t the ponies, but then again, you never know, do you? The little yellow one, the cutest of all? She’s a devil, I tell you. I can see it in her eyes. I wouldn’t put it past her to eat a cow when she felt like it. She could choke someone with the bow and then – ack, it hurts to think about! A killer, that one is. A cold-blooded killer.
“Oh, and her sister! Don’t you get me started! That lasso! The way she is willin’ to toss it around a cow’s neck and pull without a care in the world! Does she not realize it hurts? Does she not realize we’re creatures too? The way she groans if she misses! It’s disgusting, is what it is! Absolutely disgusting! And her voice! She doesn’t even speak, she barks. …barks out commands, that is.
“That’s what we’re forced to live with, every day. Locked up in a pen – quite an ugly thing too, not nearly as nice as the doghouse the dog has – staring out at the town, wishing that maybe one day we could go out there and mingle. Socialize a bit.
“Well, you can imagine why it surprised me that one day, the orange one forgot to lock the gate. It was just that easy – we could walk right out and do whatever we wanted! A dream come true, except I was the only one willing to go. Were the others scared? It is a question that still haunts me to this day.
“Then again, after my experience in Ponyville, I can safely say that they made the better decision. Ponies are even worse as a mob then as a group!
“They didn’t talk to me! They didn’t run off the streets and say, ‘Gee, a cow has arrived in town! How interesting!’ No! They just…went on with their own personal lives! I didn’t make a difference whatsoever!
“So anywho, I decided to go and get a cupcake, because cupcakes taste nice, right? I get in there and somepony acknowledges me! She says, ‘Hello, can I take your order?’ and I’m just so happy that someone notices me I lean over and wrap my front legs around her neck and squeeze as hard as I can, because that’s what ponies do when they’re happy, right?
“Well, it must secretly be some sort of death squeeze, because the mare turns blue – actually, she already is blue, but that doesn’t matter – and pushes me away. A few seconds later there’s a cupcake in my hoof and I’m being pushed out the door. Excuse me? Rude much?
“…actually, now that I think of it, I’ve seen the little yellow one death-squeeze her little friends quite a few times. I knew she was a killer! It’s the eyes, I tell you…those eyes…
“Whoops, sorry! Back to the cupcake. It was green, by the way, with little pieces of grass stickin’ out of the top. How did she get a grass cupcake for a cow in such a short amount of time? It has to have been magic…
“Oh, oh, oh! Speaking of magic, once again another advantage the ponies have over us cows! While we are forced to stay on the ground inside our pen with nothing to do but talk and wander and eat, they’re out there reading books! They’re playing games! They’re soaring through the skies and levitating things and wearing beautiful clothes! What do we get? Absolutely nothing! Oh, what I would give just to have a scarf when it gets cold…
“Off track again? I apologize. The cupcake tasted phenomenal, and I think I finished it off in two big bites, or maybe one big gulp. Either way, it was the best cupcake I had ever tasted.
“…it was the only cupcake I had ever tasted.
“…but then! Then another pony comes to talk to me! I was so happy I nearly death-squeezed her, but I didn’t. On my first day in the town, I didn’t want to be branded as a killer, dear me, no. So I just sat and listened to her – or tried to, at least. She talked so quickly I could hardly understand a thing she was sayin’!
“Of course it was another trick. It had to be another trick. A pony making fun of a stupid, incompetent cow. Well, I knew what incompetent meant, and that was smarter than a lot of little ponies!
“At one point I made out her askin’ for my name, so I gave it to her. ‘Daisy Jo,’ I said, ‘same as my mother and her mother before her.’
“And just like that the pony waved goodbye and left. She was probably thinking of what a stupid cow I am, with no magic or magic ability to not become fat. Now it was up to me – did I go back to the herd and tell them that ponies were giant jerks, like we had imagined, or did I stay and study them some more?
“The orange one made the decision for me. I wasn’t prepared for the lasso to be suddenly tossed around my neck, and I thrashed back all the way home.
“I continued to fume in the pen, tellin’ the others how the ponies behaved. I think they were semi-interested at first, but now they’ve just stopped listenin’. Probably because they don’t like hearin’ about how jerky those ponies actually are. I don’t either. That’s why everyone needs to know. Constantly.
“They told me I was obsessed with those ponies, the rest of the herd. They didn’t know squat about ponies! How could they say I was obsessed with them? My herd thinks some silly thoughts sometimes – or most of the time – or all of the time – but I love them anyways. Who wouldn’t?
“I spent a real long time tryin’ to figure out how I was gonna get back out of the fence without a fancy horn or pretty wings. The answer, though, was simply the orange pony leaving the gate unlocked again. She may be good at barking and kicking trees and not getting fat, but she really isn’t good at that much else.
“…one day she’ll get death-squeezed by her sister, who will then go on to take over the farm, and then the world. We’ll all have to bow down to her. Just goin’ to call it now.
“I’m off track again, aren’t I? Well, what happened next is really quite simple. I went back out into town, and somepony remembered me. Granted, it was the one who talks very fast, but she knew my name and she remembered that I liked the grass cupcake. She even told me that there was one ready at the shop! It was a momentous occasion – the day a pony was nice to me!
“…until I went into the shop and learned she had been tricking me, once again! There was no green-frosted cupcake with grass sticking out of the icing! There was only a green frosted cupcake with a mini brown cube on top. I had never seen anything like it, and, partly out of pure curiosity and partly because of the pony’s words, I took it and ate it.
“That was the worst mistake of my life.
“How long was I sick? How long was I curled pathetically in the corner of the pen, puking from all of my stomachs? How long did Penelope have to comfort me? I don’t even know anymore, but I do know this – it was the pony’s fault! That pink mare, with her fast-talking mouth and her giant blue eyes is setting us cows up to fail!
“I’ve since learned that the little brown cube was called chocolate. Just saying the name sends shivers down my spine! Kamadhenu save us from whatever the ponies will come up with next!
“Do you not see my points? Do you not see how much I have had to go through to discover the truth about these big-eyed equines? They may have other species fooled, but I know the truth! Listen to me, and it will all be revealed! Finally I have managed to escape, and now I am here, at the center of this town, to spill the truth! What I have learned is that ponies are incredibly –”
Daisy Jo was cut off by a lasso looping around her neck; her pupils dilated as she felt it tighten, digging further into her skin. What was going on? Not right at the end of her speech – not right at the end!
Then that voice – the voice that normally barked! Daisy’s chest heaved as she listened.
“Ah’m real sorry about this, Mayor Mare. Ah have no idea how she got out.”
Another voice, one that Daisy had never heard before. It sounded winded, almost. Confused, in a way. Exhausted. “It’s alright, Applejack. I’m just glad we were finally able to find you. She is yours, isn’t she?”
“Yes, siree, ol’ Daisy Jo here belongs to Sweet Apple Acres.” The cow bristled at the words. Had nobody listened to her speech?
A quick sweep of the area in front of the large building proved that no, nobody had stopped to listen to a cow’s words. Daisy Jo gritted her teeth. It was like her herd, but bigger! And all of them were ponies. Of course the ponies didn’t want to listen. What had she been think–
“Come on, Daisy, we’re goin’ back to the pen.”
A tug on the rope. Daisy Jo gave a long, panicked moo. “W-wait! I wasn’t done yet!” She struggled against the lead, thrashing her head from side to side. “This only proves my point, you know!”
The orange pony flicked an ear, ducking her head slightly but only pulling at the rope harder, cutting into Daisy Jo’s neck and rubbing against her skin. Daisy let out a loud bray of pain. “Stop it! It hurts! You wouldn’t like it if the cows turned on you, would you?”
A soft mumble from ahead. “It’s jus’ the way things are, Ah guess.”
“Just the way things are?” Daisy bit her lip. “So you’re sayin’ it’s the norm to treat us poor cows this way? To lock us up and use us for milk and cheese and Kamadhenu knows what else? The norm to never let us live our own lives?” Her whole body suddenly shuddered, as if gripped by an invisible icy hand. “We don’t have to keep going on like this! What if we change things? What if we…what if we prove to my herd that I’m not crazy for thinking such a thing is…” Her voice cracked. “…is even possible?”
She stopped and listened for a response.
Nothing. The orange one had gone completely mute. The silence was so thick she could almost take a bite out of it.
Daisy Jo stared at her a moment, trying to focus despite the rope digging into her neck, and then swallowed. “I see how it is then. Yes, I see how it is. I know what’s going on.”
No response. Daisy furrowed her brow, took in a deep breath, and let it go.
“Ponies are racist! Ponies are incredibly, without-a-doubt, racist! They’re the most racist creatures you’ll ever come upon! Hear me now, ponies! I know the truth! I know it all! I –”
WHAM.
The door to the pen slammed shut; Daisy Jo stared at it a moment, vision slightly blurry, before incoherently mumbling under her breath.
“Kamadhenu, I-I should have death-squeezed –”
She was met with the usual monotone response.
“Shut up, Daisy Jo.”
Author's Note
Kamadhenu is the Goddess of cows. The more you know!
