Where Nature Meets Nurture and Throws it Out the Window
Pipsqueak’s father was a potato farmer from Ponyville. He met Pipsqueak’s mother on a business trip to Trottingham, where he hoped to spread his farm’s influence a bit. It turned out that the Donkeys of Lightninggale already held the monopoly on potatoes that far north, and they weren’t really in high demand in the first place.
It was a dreary Friday afternoon that found him sulking in a café, his ill-considered business venture laying heavily on his mind. Darned if that waitress wasn’t cute, though.
They had dinner.
The next summer, she took a holiday in Ponyville with a few friends. Her friends saw a lot of Ponyville. She saw a lot of potatoes.
Two years later, they were married.
Eleven months after that, Pipsqueak was born.
There was much ado about where their son would grow up. Certainly, his father would not leave the farm unattended, and his mother could not stay away from Trottingham for long. So they compromised.
For most of Pipsqueak’s youth, he spent the school year in Ponyville, learning from Miss Cheerilee and making friends. He spent the summer months in Trottingham, learning how to be a proper gentlecolt. After a while, he found that while the Ponyville vernacular came more naturally, his Trottingham accent made girls giggle.
But there came a day where he was no longer a foal. There came a time when he could spend his summer wherever he wished. There came a summer where he stayed in Ponyville.
“And that, my friends, is why I would be pleased as punch to invite you on my first-ever camping trip!”
“Huh,” Button Mash said. He swung his game controller to the side as he tapped its buttons. “It’s kinda hard to imagine you as the head of an expedition in the wilderness.”
Pipsqueak crossed his forelegs. “Come now, it’s not like I’m going in unprepared! I’ve camped out on the farm plenty of times.”
“In the barn, with the cows,” Snips said with a grin. He tapped his game controller more rapidly than Button, and then raised his hoof in the air. “Yes!”
“Weak!” Button Mash held his controller out to Pipsqueak. “Your turn.”
“You’re a real funny sort, Snips.” Pipsqueak glared at the game’s screen until it prompted him to pick a character. He always went for the Minotaur Lord of Old, Battlefight. “That was only practice, and I regard it as such. I would be completely willing to step aside and let more experienced folks lead the way.”
“In that case, I’m in!” Button clapped a hoof on Pipsqueak’s shoulder. “Winsome Falls is awesome in the summer. Like, a new Barley-Oat Bros. game kinda awesome.”
Snips’ lip twitched as he selected the Zebra Shaman, Zircon. “How long of a camping trip are we talking about? I like a s’more or two as much as the next guy, but…”
“Four days,” Pipsqueak said. The game chimed. Their characters appeared and faced each other. “One to get there, two to enjoy it, one to get back.”
A tinny, garbled voice said “Fight!” Although through the game’s speakers it sounded more like “Fish!”
Pipsqueak tapped three buttons, which sent a fireball flying over Snips’ character’s head. “Darn! What’s the combo for the kneeslapper?”
“Up, down, bee, bee, ay.” Button leaned back on his couch and brought his forelegs behind his head. “But you’re never gonna win against Snips if you don’t block.”
“I’ll block him, alright.” Pipsqueak thwacked the controller. His character gave a digital scream as it tumbled off-screen. “What the hay?”
“Ha!” Snips chuckled. “Now you’re just a blockhead!”
Pipsqueak stood up to his full height. “I do believe insults are uncalled for. Sir.”
Pipsqueak was as fit an earth pony as you could ask for. Muscular, lean, and solid. There were those who said that he be almost as strong as Big Macintosh one of these days.
The main barrier to this eventuality was his shortness. He never quite had that growth spurt his mother always promised him. He came up about shoulder-high on the average Equestrian stallion.
Snips grinned as he stood to his own full height. He was a bit pudgier than the average stallion, but just as tall. “Come on, you set that up perfectly. How could I not take it?”
Button Mash got up off the couch with a groan. He wrapped his forelegs around their necks. “Guys, guys. No roughhousing in the… the house. Mom’ll kick all three of us out.”
Pipsqueak gave Snips a cheeky grin. “Right. Save the aggression for our camping trip.” He looked off to the side. “If you’re stallion enough to join, that is.”
“What?” Snips stomped a hoof as he wriggled away from Button’s hug. “You bet your spots I’m stallion enough. I could lead the trip if I wanted!” He stomped his hoof again, slightly weaker than last time. “I just don’t want to, I mean.”
Pipsqueak passed his controller back to Button Mash. “I’ll let Dinky know you’re coming, then. It’ll be a smashing good experience!”
Snips settled back on the couch. He shot Pipsqueak a look. “Your girlfriend’s coming, too?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Pipsqueak said.
“Right, sorry.” Snips rolled his eyes. “I mean your fiancé of twelve years.”
Button scrunched his muzzle up. “I don’t think marriage proposals are binding when made by five-year-olds.”
“She was six,” Pipsqueak muttered.
“Oh, excuse the heck outta us,” Snips said. “You were practically adults, weren’t you?”
Button and Snips exchanged a hoof-bump as the game announcer shouted “Fish!”
Pipsqueak jutted out his lower lip. “I’m reconsidering inviting you two.”
“Please,” Button said as he swung the controller around, “you need us to help you impress your marefriend.”
“Fiancé,” Pipsqueak grumbled. “Maybe I’ll impress her by comparison.”
“Now which of us was it that said the insults were uncalled for?” Snips grinned as his character used a pile-driver to send Button’s character into the ground. “Oh yeah, the ex-pirate over there.”
Pipsqueak snorted. “I’ll keelhaul you, alright.”
Snips sucked on his lips as he scored another victory. “So what kinda stuff do we need to bring?”
“You should bring whatever supplies you’ll need.” Pipsqueak shrugged. “Sleeping bags, tents, toothbrushes… I’ll bring the food. My Mum and Pa took care of that.”
Snips leaned on his hoof. “I think my dad has an old tent he used to camp with. Maybe. I’ll ask.”
“I can probably borrow my family’s tent,” Button Mash said. “We go camping every year in the fall. Good stuff.” He passed his controlled to Pipsqueak. “When do we leave?”
“A week from tomorrow.” Pipsqueak decided to do something different for once and selected the Enraged Breezie, Sweetcheeks. “Plenty of time to get ready.”
Dinky tapped her hoof in time with the tune in her head. She probably shouldn’t have arrived a half-hour early to the rendezvous spot, but she was a fan of punctuality. She supposed it came from her and her mother’s friendship with Time Turner, the town’s clockmaker. He always told her that if she arrived ten minutes early, she’d always have that little bit of extra time to prepare for “what may come.”
“What may come” came often enough in the ostensibly-sleepy town of Ponyville. She never regretted that extra time when some Everfree monster or another decided to invade. Traffic jams and stampedes would rumble on past, while the back-roads and alleyways were left open to those willing to make a more circuitous route through the town.
Circuitous also meant safer, more often than not.
There were other, more mundane benefits, too. Such as that last peek in a hoof-mirror to correct a stray hair, or that last rehearsal for the next job interview, or that last application of lipstick should Pipsqueak do something especially cute and/or gentlecoltly.
That said, from time to time, she found that more didn’t always mean better.
It was pure logic; something as momentous as a camping trip to Winsome Falls deserved an additional thirty minutes to ensure everything went smoothly. Surely.
Except it obviously didn’t. Ten minutes into that thirty, she’d run out of things to second-guess about what she’d packed. After fifteen minutes, she’d run out of funny-looking clouds to watch. Twenty in, and she’d given up on trying to make a tower of pebbles stand without a telekinetic spell.
“What may come” didn’t.
Life was hard for the obscenely-punctual, she said to herself.
Dinky was drawn from the depths of sheer boredom by the appearance of a curly red mane popping over a nearby hill. The pony it belonged to smiled as she neared, a midsized backpack secured around her midsection. “Hi, Dinky!”
“Hey, Twist.” Dinky waved a sluggish hoof. “You’re kinda early.”
“I figured you might want company” Twist dropped off her backpack next to Dinky’s duffle bag. “You been here long?”
Dinky pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth. “Nnnyeah. Let’s just pretend that I wasn’t. It’s easier.”
“Oh.” Twist gave Dinky a sheepish grin. “Too bad.”
“It’s my own fault.” Dinky leaned against her duffle bag and gazed at the now-very-familiar sky. “I think I’m really, really, really ready for the trip to start, now.”
“Oh yeah,” Twist said. She adjusted her glasses to rest more comfortably against her nose. Her curly red mane bounced as she shrugged. “Apple Bloom coming?”
“Naw. She said something about too much farm work that can’t be put off.” Dinky craned her neck to look out over Whitetail Wood. She pouted. “I think being a workaholic runs in her family.”
“We need to get her out more,” Twist said.
Dinky and Twist sat in silence for a moment. Dinky pawed at the loose soil. “So, how’s your speech therapy going?”
Twist sat up, her back rod-straight. She sucked on her lips. “Good.”
Dinky tilted her head. “Just ‘good?’”
“They’re going good.” Twist angled her ear towards the town. “Hay, you hear that?”
Dinky stood and shook her legs one at a time. “Sounds like Button.”
There was a crash and an “Ow! Dagnabit!”
Twist nodded. “Yup. Button.”
The two mares made their way around a hill. On the other side lay none other than Button Mash, his hooves tangled up in a rope. A large bag was strapped to his back, which acted as a fulcrum to rock him back and forth. His legs wiggled in the air as he accidently tugged the rope tighter.
Button Mash looked their way. His cheeks blushed bright red. “Oh. Hi, gals.” He glanced at his restraints. “Little help?”
Dinky bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “Yeah. Just a sec.”
She lit her horn and grasped at the cords. It slithered around his legs like a snake.
Button gulped. “Um. Thanks.”
“No prob.” Dinky eyed one strand. “Okay, if I pull this one, you should be free.”
She yanked it hard. The rope tightened, and all four of Button’s hooves clapped together.
Dinky bit her lip. “Or not.”
Button Mash lay his head on the ground. His body rocked back and forth. “Somepony call the Coltscouts.”
Dinky raised her eyebrow at Twist, who shook her head. “My Fillythcouth haven’t tried for the rope-tying merit yet. I didn’t really take the time to learn, either.”
Dinky blew a breath through her nose. “Well, Snips’ll be able to cut it when he gets here.”
“No! No, no, actually, no.” Button strained at the knot. “I need this rope. Like, need it. It’s for the tent.”
Dinky tilted her head. “Then why wasn’t it in the bag?”
“Could you rephrase that question to be less incriminating?” Button said. “Anyway, it wouldn’t fit in the bag.”
“That huge bag?” Twist asked. “What do you have in there?”
“My tent.” Button shifted his attention between the two of them. “Any other bright ideas? I’d really like to not start this trip off on the wrong hoof.”
Dinky shared a wry smile with Twist. “So far, so goof.”
“Yeah, yeah. Goof.” Button craned his neck as two young stallions came trotting around the bend. “Speak of Tirek…”
“Pip!” Dinky ran up with the intent to kiss Pipsqueak with a smack.
Dinky, in contrast to Pipsqueak, had a massive growth-spurt one fine summer between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. Long, slender legs met a thin torso which would have spoke of grace if she hadn’t spent the entire year trying to get used to her new center of balance. She managed to stop tripping over her own hooves sometime around her sixteenth year, but had never quite avoided tripping over Pipsqueak.
When Dinky had rushed to meet Pipsqueak, he, too, ran to meet her. Onlookers could see the exact moment when they realized they were on a collision course. Neither pony was able to put on the breaks quite fast enough. Pipsqueak collided with Dinky’s legs, and she landed on top of his back.
They lay still for a moment while Snips chuckled at their expense.
Dinky turned her head towards the rear. “Ready to go?”
Pipsqueak peered at her from under her left leg. “Absolutely.”
Dinky rolled off his back and let him get to his feet. Pipsqueak picked his backpack up and secured it to his person. “Wot’s with Button?”
“Hi. Yeah. I’m just down here with my rope.” Button rocked forward, bringing his face into view. “You guys good with knots?”
Snips lit his horn. “I’m good with ropes.”
“You cut that out now!”
“Suit yourself.”
“Not what I—” Button wriggled his legs away from Snips’ spell. “I need this rope in one piece!”
Pipsqueak examined the tangle. “Trussed like a turkey. We could stick a rope between his legs and carry him.”
“I’m not carrying him,” Twist said.
“You guys are great,” Button said. “Best friends I could ask for.”
“Calm down,” Pipsqueak said. “We’re going to get you out of this.”
Snips chortled. “Yeah, don’t worry, buddy. We’re in this together. You can count on us in your time of need.”
“Go kiss a manticore, Snips!” Button rolled onto his side, but his backpack dragged him upside down. “Fine. Cut it.”
Snips lit his horn with a sadistic grin. “But I thought you needed it.”
“Shut it and cut it.” Button held his legs out. “Just get it over with.”
Snips cast a spell that sliced right through the rope. Button winced.
The five ponies grouped together at the edge of Whitetail Woods, Button clutching at his two severed rope-halves with an expression somewhere between resignation and despair. Pipsqueak looked over his shoulder. “Shall we set forth?”
Dinky trotted forward. “Yes, let’s.”
Snips ducked underneath a branch. “So how far is this camping spot you guys were talking about?”
“A few miles away. Maybe a couple hours’ walk.” Dinky leaped over a small creek. “Why?”
“Oh.” Snips lifted his head to the sky. “It’s looking a little soggy up there.”
“I checked the forecast,” Pipsqueak said. “Cloudkicker isn’t going to start the downpour until later this evening. Then it’ll be bright and sunny the rest of the week.”
Snips grimaced. “So couldn’t we have left tomorrow? After the rain?”
“Then we’d miss the first day of the most beautiful time of the year,” Dinky said. “That would be nuts.”
“It sure sounds better than spending a night soaking in Whitetail Woods.” Snips swatted at a bug. “Whose idea was that?”
“Mine,” Dinky said. “And it won’t be so bad. We’ll have out tents set up, and the rain’ll stop before we get up tomorrow.”
“Tents, huh?” Snips grumbled. “Yeah. Tents.”
A mighty grunt of effort tore through the trees. The three of them looked back to see Button Mash’s massive backpack caught in the branches of a tree, his lanky limbs scraping against a smooth boulder. Twist pressed her forehead against his bag and pushed with all her might. Button broke loose and rolled forward until he reached Snips’ feet.
Button groaned. “Thanks, Twist.”
Snips grinned. “I thought you were the one who went camping every summer.”
“Go suck an eggplant.”
A branch swung around and smacked Snips in the back of the head. The pudgy unicorn stumbled forward and yelped as his face met the mossy forest floor. He lifted his head and spat out some greenery. “Well, that stank.”
Pipsqueak knelt beside him and offered a hoof of support. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going, you know.”
“Really?” Snips gasped. “Oh, gee, and I was planning on trekking through here blindfolded! Silly me!”
“I think we could hook you up with one of those,” Dinky said. She passed Twist a canteen of cool water. “We could get an early start to our game of ‘Marco-Pollo.’”
Twist sat on a nearby rock as they waited for Button Mash to catch up. The young stallion was valiantly making his way through the undergrowth despite the grabby branches all around. “You did tell him we’re only on a four-day trip, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Heaven only knows what possessed him to pack that large a bag.” Pipsqueak pulled off his moderately-sized bag and accepted a drink from Dinky. “Thanks, Love.”
“So,” Dinky said, “we’ll be taking a westerly route after we pass that one tree, and then we’ll circle back to the north.”
“Wot?” Pipsqueak reached into his pack and pulled out a map. “But that would take another hour.”
“Yeah, as the bird flies,” Dinky said. “But that area’s so full of overgrown plants it’s impossible to get through.”
“So why don’t we take a shortcut along the banks here?” Pipsqueak pointed at a river. “That’ll lead us next to the campsite.”
“Because I don’t know that way.” Dinky rested her head on his shoulder and stared at the map. “What if the banks are really slippery or something and it takes us longer?”
“We won’t know until we try, will we?” Pipsqueak grinned.
“We don’t have time to experiment.” Dinky shot Snips a glance. “I hate to admit it, but your buddy has a point about the rain.”
“Come now, we’re not going to spend hours wandering the middle of nowhere.” Pipsqueak pressed his lips against Dinky’s. “What sort of trip would this be if we didn’t have a little adventure, hmm?”
Dinky pursed her lips to try and hold back a small smile. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“Pull!” Button Mash yelped. “Pull, pull, pull, pull! Oh, my gosh, pull!”
Pipsqueak, Snips, Dinky, and Twist had set their luggage a short distance away and were holding half of Button’s rope in their mouths. This was all that prevented the burdened young stallion from tumbling pack-first into the drink. The mud on the riverbanks was as slick as warm butter, and just about as stable.
“Dish wush eh shturpid ide,” Dinky growled through the ropes.
“Whad?” Pipsqueak asked.
“Shturperd!” Dinky said. “Dub! Ibiodig!”
Pipsqueak wrapped a foreleg around the rope and spat some of the taste off of his tongue. “I’m terribly sorry, Love, but I can’t understand a word you’re—”
“Oh sweet Celestia, don’t let go!” Button Mash howled.
Twist dug her hooves into the bank and strained back. Snips squinted as sweat and water stung his eyes. Button Mash eyed his humongous backpack as it dragged him towards utter soakage.
Dinky grasped the rope with a spell and turned to Pipsqueak. “I said ‘stupid, dumb, idiotic!’ Would you like me to repeat?”
“Guys?” Button Mash said. “Guyyysss!?”
“I beg your pardon!” Pipsqueak frowned. “It was hardly my fault that Button Mash decided to roll down the bank.”
“No, but it was your idea to take the shortcut in the first place!” Dinky tapped Pipsqueak’s chest. “I said we should head the usual way, but nooo…”
Button Mash stared at the river with wide eyes. “I’m gonna drown!”
Twist’s hooves slipped a few inches. Snips’ hooves slipped out from under him. With their hold on the rope slackened, Button Mash finally fell the rest of the distance down the bank. Dinky and Pipsqueak got tangled up in the rope on the way down.
Dinky’s face grew red as she glared at the approaching river. “Aw, son of a—!”
The water rolled over them as they were carried away in the current, tumbling head-over-tail in a jumbled mass of ponies and rope. Dinky stuck her hooves out of the water as Button swam down, searching for the surface. She grasped a low-hanging branch and held on tight, even as the current and Button pulled against her. Pipsqueak surfaced next and reached out to her. They linked legs and drew close, holding on to the rest of their friends.
Snips popped out of the water. He stood up and waved at them. “Hay, guys! The water’s only neck—”
Button Mash and Twist ran him over on their way downstream.
Dinky blew a spray of water out her nose. “—gun.”
Pipsqueak squirted water out of his mouth. “How long until they all figure it out?”
Dinky looked downstream. Back the way they came. “I give them a mile.”
Pipsqueak nodded. “How long do you think this will set us back?”
“An hour. Or three.”
“Jolly good.”
The two of them found the others sitting quietly in a puddle, far off from the riverbanks. They looked up as one, their eyes dim and their shoulders shivering.
“Well,” Pipsqueak said, “at least we had the foresight to put the food off to the side!”
Twist’s curly red mane was beginning to frizz as it dried. She glared at him through the fogged-up lenses of her glasses. “Whoopty-do.”
Button Mash wrung out his blankets and pillows as he pulled them out of his bag one by one. “At least we didn’t drown.”
“Oh, yeah,” Snips grumbled. “Too bad we got swept away in a rushing, roaring river, when we could have just stood up. Too bad we got bruised and cut. Too bad all your stuff got drenched. Too bad we’re not gonna make the campsite before the rain starts. But at least we’re still alive.”
Snips bumped noses with Button. “You optimism surprises even me.”
Button pushed back. “Lots of things surprise you, I bet!”
“You wanna bet, partner?”
“Oh, I wanna bet, screwball!”
“Shut up, both of you,” Dinky said. “We’re way behind, and we need to get a move on before it rains.”
“Like we could get any wetter,” Twist said.
“Oh, hay, there’s the next thing.” Snips spread his forelegs as he stared wide-eyed into nothing. “We caught hypothermia, too, but at least we didn’t drown!”
Button hit him with his soggy pack, knocking him over.
They made their slow, precarious way around the deep undergrowth. The sun was falling below the horizon when they finally stopped in a clearing. Dinky plopped her duffle bag on the ground and Pipsqueak followed suit. “Alright, time to make camp.”
“I’ll put together the fire,” Twist said.
Button Mash undid the clasps holding his pack on his back. It slumped to the forest floor with a soggy thump. “Gugh.”
Snips pulled his sack off of his back and pulled a stick and bit of cloth out of it. He glanced up at the sky with a grumble. Dark clouds were gathering all around. “Drip, drip, drop, little April showers…”
“Relax for just a moment, Snips.” Pipsqueak said. “It won’t rain for another little bit.” He sorted through a cooler and pulled out a thermos. “Here. Have a sip.”
Snips took a glug. “Boy, the Apples sure know their juice.”
“Only the best,” Dinky said. “Apple Bloom gave Twist a nice discount.”
Twist twisted the end of a stick against a log, trying to build up enough friction to ignite. Snips waved to her. “Want me to light it?”
“Nope. I need to prac—” She clicked her tongue. “Learn. Learn how to do it.”
“Oh, Fillyscouts.” Snips nodded. “Gonna start setting Ponyville on fire, huh?”
“Ha.” Twist spun the stick faster and faster. “Come on…”
Snips looked up and saw Button Mash spreading his tent out to a chorus of squishy sounds. “So, how’s your speech therapy going?”
Twist glared at him with a heat that froze his heart solid. She pushed her glasses further up her snout. “Good.” She went back to the unmade fire.
Snips gulped. He trundled over to his back and pulled a blanket and a stick forth. He looked at the objects, sucked in a sigh, and poked the stick into the ground.
Pipsqueak glanced over his shoulder. “What in the wide world is that thing?”
“My tent,” Snips said.
“A tent?” Pipsqueak’s ears dipped down. “It’s a branch and a sheet.”
“It’s my dad’s old pup tent.” Snips waved a hoof. “It’s cool.”
“Snips…” Pipsqueak tilted his head. “Snips, you aren’t exactly a ‘pup.’”
“So?”
“So, it’s a pup tent. Pup. A little, one-foal tent. Foal.”
Snips strapped the tent to the pole. He knelt down and snuggled his way inside. “No, no, it works. Check it out.”
Pipsqueak took a step back. He scrutinized the tent and its occupant. Snips’ butt was sticking out of the front. “It stinks.”
“Yeah, well, let’s see you do better!” Snips backed out of the tent and glared.
Without removing his gaze from Snips, Pipsqueak reached into his bag and pulled out a round disk. He flicked the disk, which popped up into a single-pony tent. He set it on the ground and pounded four stakes into the dirt with four taps of his hoof.
Pipsqueak winked. “Checkmate.”
Snips pouted. “Okay, hot stuff. Go ahead and sleep in your silly little castle. I’ll be roughing it like a real stallion.”
“You can’t sleep in that thing,” Pipsqueak said. He pointed at the tiny pup tent. “You will catch hypothermia and die.”
“He’s not sleeping in my tent,” Dinky called from her two-pony tent. “Twist and I are gonna share with nopony, thank you very much.”
“Was never an option, Love,” Pipsqueak sighed. “How’s your tent look, Button Mash?”
“Um…” Button sat in the middle of rolls of damp fabric. Four poles lay in haphazard angles on the ground. “Um… Biggish.”
“Woah.” Twist trotted up. She looked from one end of the tent to the other. “Your whole family fi—can fit in here?”
“Yeah, we all go camping together.” Button Mash gave Pipsqueak a half-grin. “And I think I don’t remember how to set it up.”
Pipsqueak pressed his lips together. “Welp, that’s that, then. Who’s ready to help Mister Mash set up his tent?”
A drop of rain fell on Dinky’s nose. She stared at it cross-eyed. “We better hurry.”
Twist rolled her eyes. “Okay, no fire.”
It was the matter of a full twenty minutes to get the tent set up. Five of those minutes were spent trying to secure the battered, snipped, and soggy rope to the poles. As they worked, the rain grew from a spritz, to a drizzle, to a downpour.
Luckily enough, Button’s tent came with a sizable canopy. They huddled under the overhang, watching as the rain poured in earnest.
A drop hit Pipsqueak on the head. “Huh. Not so waterproof when it’s been soaked.”
“It’ll have to do,” Dinky muttered.
Pipsqueak scootched closer to her. “I’m sorry.”
Dinky raised her eyebrows. “For what?”
“For not listening to the wisdom coming out of your mouth.” Pipsqueak put his hoof on her leg. “We should have just gone the normal way.”
Dinky’s cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry for calling you names.”
“That’s alrigh—”
“Like ‘dumb,’” Dinky said.
“It’s fine, you were—”
“And ‘stupid.’”
“As I said, I’ve forgi—”
“And ‘idiot.’”
“Now…” Pipsqueak squinted. “Hang on.”
Dinky bit back a grin. “And in my head, I called you a pea-brain.”
Pipsqueak snorted. “Alright. Call it even?”
Dinky pressed the tip of her nose against his. “We could call it better than even.”
“Oh my gosh, we’re right here!” Snips said.
Twist crossed her forelegs. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
“Probably not.” Snips looked at Pipsqueak. “What’s for supper?”
Pipsqueak looked at the wet wood in the fire pit. He looked at the bags that sat inside his tent on the far side of the campground. “How does ‘wet grass’ grab you?”
Button Mash groaned. He stood and went to the edge of the overhang. “Like a tentacle in a swamp.” He munched on the green grass.
Snips leaned back. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but this has been the best camping trip I’ve ever been on.”
“The best,” Dinky said. “Out of how many?”
Snips plucked a few blades of grass with a spell. He hovered them before his head, using them to count. “One.” He slipped them into his mouth and chewed.
Twist smiled. “Oh! A dandelion!” She plucked it with a gentle hoof and held it out to Dinky. “Wanna thplit?” Her eyes grew wide and her ears folded back. “I mean—”
“Naw, you can have it.” Dinky planted a kiss on Pipsqueak’s forehead and set to grazing. “Maybe I can find one, too.”
“Dandelion-finding contest!” Button Mash shouted. He chowed down on the grass double-time.
“Oh, score, I can beat that!” Snips said.
Pipsqueak watched them eat for a moment. He rubbed a hoof across his chin and nodded. “This may turn out after all.”
Button Mash snuggled into his mostly-dry sleeping bag. It was zipped all the way up to his neck, and his body heat was keeping him cozy. Snips snored up a storm next to him, and almost drowned out the low thunder outside.
Button rolled over, and accidently bumped into Snips’ back. The other colt snorted and nudged him away. Button stared at the roof as rain plopped on it. He sat up, still wrapped in his bag, and slid on his butt through the tent, all the way to the other side. Once there, he settled back down upon a completely-dry pillow.
The wind howled with an especially strong bellow. The tent shook, but held.
Button stared at the roof. Snips let loose a stuttering gurgle in a continuous call and response with the weather outside. Button rolled over and covered his head with the pillow, smothering his ears.
Button stared at the roof. The roof shook.
Button’s eyes widened as the roof shook again and again. It grew closer and closer, like a monster in a bad dream. A horrendous happening. An inexorable approach. A monolithic evil.
A collapsing tent.
The rope that had gotten tangled around Button’s legs flopped down in two halves atop his chest. The tent poles bent inward.
Button screamed. He scrambled for the zipper to his sleeping bag, but it was far too dark to find. With nothing else for it, he slithered over to Snips and tried to shake him awake.
“Get up, get up, get up!” Button said. “This tent is going down!”
“Go ’way,” Snips replied through a mouthful of drool.
“We’re gonna be trapped and suffocate and stupid things like that!” Button Mash slid back as a tent pole fell between him and the sleeping unicorn. “Everypony for himself!”
He squirmed away at high speeds, unwittingly bunching the floor of the tent beneath him. He hit the wall and kept going as he fumbled around for the outside zipper.
Snips blinked awake. He peered through the folds of dripping fabric at Button. “What the hay crazy dream am I—” His next words were muffled as he was wrapped in a tortilla of toppled tent.
Pipsqueak heard the screaming. Dinky and Twist heard the screaming. A random owl somewhere deep within Whitetail Wood heard the screaming. All but the last stuck their heads out of their tents to watch the scene unfold.
The tent wriggled around like a snake with two heads. One head shuffled towards the center of the camp, shouting about suffocation and drowning. The other head rolled around and cursed just about everything holy and cursable.
Dinky smoothed down her flannel pajamas and smirked. “I say we leave them until morning.”
The tent stakes that restrained the Button-Snips snake uprooted. The tent monster was free. It bolted right for the girls’ tent.
Dinky pouted at their approach. “I really used to like camping.”
Dinky and Twist dove out of the way as their tent was trampled in a stampede of blind panic. “I jutht bought that yethterday!” Twist roared.
With two tents under its belt, the snake-monster decided to go three-for-three. It thundered towards Pipsqueak, silhouetted with lightning. His lip had time for a single twitch before he was overcome with a wave of wet fabric. They lay in a heap together as the rain poured down. Pipsqueak kicked out and hit something soft.
“Ow,” Snips said.
“This is your fault,” Button said.
Instead of a verbal reply, there was the sound of cloth tearing and shearing.
“You can’t cut my family’s tent!”
“Watch me.”
“No, seriously, I am so dead!”
Pipsqueak squirmed under their weight. “Would you mind placing your mortality on the back-burner for a moment, Button?”
Snips’ head popped out of a newly-cut hole. “How else were we supposed to escape?”
“I dunno, the zipper!?” Button Mash followed him out. “The actual door that was put there on purpose!?”
Pipsqueak rose from the mass of demolished tents like an ancient sea monster from the depths. That is, he was covered in grass and mud. “Any ideas on where to seek shelter from the deluge?”
Snips tilted his head. “Huh?”
“Anywhere we can bally well stay dry, chappy!?” Pipsqueak growled. “Tallyho, wot wot, cheerio!?”
Snips shook water out of his mane. “No need to get snippy.”
“Ah, yes,” Button said. “Yes there is.”
“Can it, all of you.” Dinky looked at the rumbling sky. “We don’t really have anywhere to go, so we’ll all have to huddle under the… the family-sized mess.”
Pipsqueak wiped himself off the best he could and sunk beneath the fabric. He was soon joined by Dinky, Snips, Button Mash, and Twist. They stayed close together for warmth as they waited for the sun to rise and the storm to pass.
“Well,” Twist said, “Thith thuckth popthicle thtickth.”
The five ponies walked slowly out of the woods. The majesty of Winsome Falls lay before them, with its streams of rainbow waterfalls and its cool mist in the air. Fog reflected the sun’s light with fractals of sunbeams and floating sparkles of illusory fairy dust. The pools were as colorful as the falls, with multicolored reflections carrying the view for great lengths.
The beach was overcrowded with ponies.
Old ponies, young ponies, fat ponies, skinny ponies, happy ponies, ponies who would rather be anywhere else. All shouting, laughing, arguing, or telling their kids to stay where they could see them. There was not a spare patch of sand in the entire area.
On the far side of the lake, it was a much the same. Diamond dogs swarmed the water, bouncing around balls and boasting of their treasure hoards. Griffons took flight, sticking their feathers into the waterfalls and laughing as they sprayed the ponies relaxing on floating mattresses. A breezie could be seen arguing with a unicorn on the best way to use ambrosia to cure a busted leg.
The company of campers stared.
“Most beautiful time of the year, huh?” Button Mash said. “I’m getting a beautiful view of that fat guy’s butt.”
Twist buried her face in the sand to muffle her scream.
“Clearly, word has gotten out.” Dinky shuffled her hooves. “A little.”
Snips drew himself up. He grinned at the ponies around him. “I dunno about you guys, but I’m gonna…” He ran through the overbearing crowds, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Cannonball!”
Ponies, diamond dogs, and griffons dove out of the way as he charged right into the water. A jump, a dive, and a thump later, he managed to find the one sandbar in the lake. “Ow.”
Twist wiped off her glasses. She examined the lenses and found several scratches. “Needed a new pair anyway.” She looked at the others. “We gonna find a spot, or what?”
Button Mash dropped the tattered remains of his tent to the ground and brushed his coat down. “Heck, yeah. Even if we gotta make a space!”
They wandered off together, looking for a small plot of land to lay claim to.
Dinky wrapped her foreleg around Pipsqueak’s shoulders. Her other three knees bent to accommodate his height. “You got us here, at least.”
“Too true.” Pipsqueak reached up and rubbed her back. “Next year will be even better, though.”
“Oh yeah?” Dinky nudged him. “What makes you think any of us will come with you next time?”
Pipsqueak chuckled. “You, at the very least, can’t resist my charms.”
Dinky shoved him over. She walked sideways until she was a ways from him. “Come on then, charmer. Let’s have some fun.”
Pipsqueak hopped up and saluted. “Anything for you, madam!”
They ran through the overcrowded beach, tripping over foals, chicks, and pups. They splashed through the water and let their laughter mingle with the general din.
Twist lay on her belly, sunbathing in the warm rays. Button Mash sat beside her, pony-watching. There was an overabundance of overweight butts lifting into the air.
“Say,” he said, “I just thought of something.”
“Hmm?” Twist mumbled. “What’th that?”
“Where are we even gonna sleep tonight?”
Author's Note
A silly side-story in my ongoing Near-Future Ponyville series. You can find links to the others in the description!
