This Is Your Story!

Chapters

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
—
Dear Diary
Painting the Town
Lemon and Sugar
Never Again
Preface
Chapter Four
Three Mares (and Apparently Everypony Else in the World) Enter a Bar

Chapter One

"Hey, get your sweet ass back over here!"

As the train rolled on its sentimental steady pace and bumped the rumps of its passengers ever so slightly, Berry Punch was getting bored. She wasn't ever one for subtlety, but her unicorn gal-pal Colgate was certainly one for gabbing with her clientèle. To Berry, it was all brushes and bizarre instruments; to Colgate, every open-minded client was another potential friend or source for stories. The disagreement of minds was temporarily settled as Colgate congenially dismissed her conversation and headed back to Berry's seat. A traded peck on the cheek later, the two commenced a spicier discourse.

"So, who all did you hook up with?" sparked the berry-marked mistress of sass and sauce.

Her hourglass-branded confidante stumbled at the mouth, eyes wide, her squeaky cute cheerleader-like nature thrown off course. "You know those are some of my regulars, not, um--"

Berry belted out that soulful, all-too-knowing laugh of hers. "Oh please, girl! Appleloosa! Tell me who all you met. And where you met. And how many times ya met 'em. Lemme hear it!"

And so, in only mildly hushed tones, Colgate divulged every lurid detail of her conquests during the first annual Buffalony Peacetimepalooza in the town they'd just departed--all four nights of them. She wasn't quite as loose in the lips with such matters as Berry, but together they could share absolutely anything. Make no mistake: Berry had at least found one partner of her own to make the Super Duper Party Pony's festivities utterly unnecessary to her vacation experience. But she could never turn down hearing these sorts of affairs secondhoof (or watching others blush in the process). There were more species involved this time around, so she got bonus diversity points there.

A few minutes into this, a thought occurred to Colgate. Shame that she couldn't get into things full swing herself... What kept my Berry that way? It was a thought kept to herself, though--forgotten soon enough.

Still, this discussion spurted and trailed along, covering at least half the length of the trip in a thread so sticky that no nearby passengers dared to try to leave their seat (except for a couple oblivious fillies). Everyone has their limits, however; and so Colgate and Berry moved on to discussing the more aesthetic pleasures of Appleloosa and the kind of party that would have put Ponyville's own legends to the test. How did they get so many streamers, or any balloons so perfectly shaped like ripe apple trees? How were they able to get pretty much the entire town playing Cops and Robbers--with pies of all things? Who was that Braeburn fellow, and what kind of heat was he packing? (Or perhaps they hadn't gotten all of that out of their system yet, after all.)

The attendant alerted their approach of Ponyville, which abruptly adjusted talk toward future plans. Colgate would have to head right to work after this, though she'd have just a few minutes to reserve if their missing member turned up on the platform. Berry just had the kids today, and there was no huge rush as her daycare reservation assumed for a possible train delay (and there wasn't one).

There must have been something either very settling or very unsettling about that evening sun that caught Berry Punch's eye, sending her gaze to a high deep distance as she and her best friend exited the train. She slowed a moment...an island of serenity in the bustling crowd.

Her unicorn friend, however, had been scanning the crowd for a few seconds already, hoping to find--

"Carrot Toooop!"

Berry quickly joined in facing Colgate's target of singsong attention, and the two practically bounded toward their missed mare.

In the proverbial blink of an eye, the trio was complete once more--mulberry, cerulean, and yellow corn flour. As a team they bore the standard of the BGs, or Backgrounders (referring to their apparent relegated role in Equestria, only half in jest). Their shared embrace was as toasty and gooey and "mmmm"-y as campfire marshmallows.

After the warmth subsided, Carrot got right to business. "Soooo...who wants to start? These articles don't write themselves!" The light creak in Carrot's voice strangely offset her typically frail tone and uneven fast pace, but it had its charm. And in any case, she held no emotional reservations in this moment of reunion. She did, however, hold a notebook and pen, prepared for anecdotes or dictation.

"Jeez, already?" Colgate nudged back at Carrot, attempting to subtly dissuade her from getting too serious too quickly.

Berry shared a glance or two with her lifelong friend--their secret code to remind that, though they handled issues quite differently, they would forever remain on the same page. She cleared her throat, alerting Carrot to an incoming story--one she delivered with a grave tone.

"Oh, it was the worst! They couldn't keep up with demand. None of the guests of honor turned up. There wasn't anything to do. It felt more like a damn scam than a party. They even tried to get us to pay just to sit in a bucking tub of jelly. I mean, why the buck not a good ole ball pit or something? And the worst part of it all, ya gotta know, it was..."

She mouthed two words to Colgate over an oblivious Carrot, and then they said them aloud in unison. "No cider."

Colgate continued from there, her perky upbeat tone highlighting the sarcastic charade. "It was bad enough having to be sober throughout all that. But then it got even worse at the end! The buffalo wanted us to pay respect to their...dinosaur ancestors before they would let us leave in peace. We all had to walk through...a ritual door, yeah! And then writhe around on the floor like wounded snakes. It was the most humiliating experience of my life."

"Wait--I actually liked that part!" Berry snorted as a devilish sidewise grin possessed her.

Carrot finally got the hint, pitching her writing aids onto the station platform in a huff. Berry immediately put a hoof around her, belly-laughing just once more before their eyes met. In a matter of seconds, Berry's compelling charisma returned Carrot to calmness. Then she drew the group toward a picnic table, well out of traffic's way, as she commenced the actual party debriefing.

"To be honest? For as much as I get around, that party was really something. Hell of a show. If I'd known it was done by the same guy who whipped my Berry Bunch into such a lather last year, this would've been a family affair!"

The others knew fully well that "Berry Bunch" referred to the light in her world, her three fillies and colt--Sunny, Dandelion, Sparks, and Planter. This didn't stop Colgate's segue: "I got all the lather I needed, though..." She wouldn't lay this talk on nearly as thick for Carrot Top, who had neither the lifelong friendship nor the common experience to appreciate the details. She might even get a bit salty from envy.

Envy of a life that's impossible to achieve and dangerous even to dream of. Did this occur to the carrot-flanked one just now?

As it turned out, even that offhoof phrase was enough to set Carrot's ears down a couple of pegs.

But Berry keenly picked up the slack: "But really, I just couldn't help taking some photos, you being stuck here to dig up dirt for your home and all that. The kids'll kill me if they find out where I was...so I guess these'll be just for you, huh?" If voices could wink, hers did right at the end; her right eye merely followed suit. The two shared a faint smile, keeping Carrot from her negative dwelling. Then Berry dug in her saddlebag for those pictures--grumbling and swearing in the effort--before sitting down. Splayed on the table, the assorted photos presented a piecemeal panorama of party life--over-sized piñatas, interactive parade floats, a monstrous tumbleweed made entirely of balloon animals, a guillotine that cut cheese and produced rude noises upon doing so, every manner of confetti and/or confection cannon... Berry went over every last one with her orange-maned friend, a hoof around her shoulder throughout. Colgate took this time to simmer down a bit before realizing she had places to be; this thought caused her to sit right up and quickly mention as much before hoofing it to another platform. The others weren't too worried about the lack of usual courtesy hug; they'd meet again that night.

As the two sat alone in mirth among a dying crowd of strangers, all tensions of the moment faded.

As if on cue, Berry then broke that tranquility like a boot to the head.

"You're still not stable, you know."

Carrot's demeanor instantly diminished, and the vocal cracking in her rapid reply was rather pained. "Why do you have to-- I mean, why can't I-- Uch..." She ran her forehooves through her generous mass of elaborate curling hair, grimacing.

"Goddesses, girl, do you even have any friends outside of us--I mean, besides that loopy-ass Script guy? Ditzy Doo, of all ponies! You can't even be friends with her! And after all she's put up with from you! I swear, that girl's heart pumps liquid courage." A self-admitted chuckle. "Well, maybe not quite like mine does."

Carrot Top was about to respond, but Berry intercepted the thought with what must have been pure presence. Berry's entire mien shifted to uncharacteristic tenderness--perhaps even soberness.

"You know what you really need now...you need freedom. And I think this little place you just built--you did finish it, right?" Carrot nodded in response, her expression unchanging. "This little place you just built is gonna help you a lot. But there's a great big bucking world out there, and you ain't seen the half of it still! But you've started to see it now, doing your writing work. Don't that mean anything to you? You can go just about anywhere now and be paid for it... That's a wonderful thing, and not everypony gets that. You think every last one out there is judging you? Think they even notice, really? Hell, only reason I know about you is because I know you already! It's been two years now--so ain't it about time you felt right about yourself? Take some bucking pride, for once? This is all your game to win, girl!

"And now, check this out! You're a BG, and now we make sure you see all the good things in life"--Berry's guarded tenderness peeked through her cheeks for an instant--"and they'll all love you for it. Now you get to help out everywhere--not just Ponyville, everywhere--help out so many colts and fillies who ain't never even knew you before, touch their lives--the same kinda ones who woulda dragged your name through the mud. We'll make 'em eat their own shit 'til they shoot sparkling rainbows out their asses, and we'll do it right"--she shook her right forehoof to slam it twice to the bench table and accent her spiel--"killing with kindness. It don't matter if we're living in a whole world of fools 'cause nopony can ignore the shit we do around here. We're the color of this town. And I'll keep telling you that until it gets through that thick-ass tank of a hairdo you got...ya got it?"

Similarly, nopony could ignore the deep thinly-veiled smile in Berry's voice, so charged with sisterly love and indignation--or perhaps a motherly sort, given that Carrot was a considerably younger adult than she or Colgate. Still, Carrot chose not to respond. What response is there to one who believes their own lies so completely?

As Carrot wilted onto the table and cupped her hooves around her head, the other mare tried to hide a sigh of exasperation from her torn friend.

Rowdy Berry returned.

"Are you bucking kidding me? We've got another event coming up in just six days, and that's another chance to break the ice with a guy! Another chance to show up your old garden gang. Another shot at somepony saying something nice about your banners, or your articles, or some shit like that.

"I'm not gonna let you live it down if you bail on this. Why..." Her eyes darted around, and she lowered her voice. "Back in the day, I'd have pushed my own husband off a cliff just to have what you got with us today." She'd hoped the very rare in-joke about her ex (notably a pegasus) would get at least a dry laugh or something. No dice.

Still, Berry's hardship could hardly compare to the isolation wrought by a transsexual transition--especially when leaving the small pool of available stallions in the process--within such a traditionalist, unenlightened town. Thus, Carrot dwelled in silence.

Berry waited for a proper response this time--a wait of perhaps twenty seconds. There was indeed a laugh, but it had a note of mockery to it.

But Berry was not known for putting up with that kind of arrogance from anyone. "I ain't taking that shit from you," she rang, following with a light smack on the back of Carrot Top's head. Berry then got up and headed a few steps away before turning around and brusquely calling out, "Colgate's apartment. Ten o'clock tonight. See ya." With that, she and the last slivers of sunlight fizzled out of the station.

One might imagine what a difference a moon makes. Without Luna's refined touch and the coordination of the weather pegasi, there could be no guarantee of moonlight sufficient to walk by almost every single night. She still wanted the world to play and revel in her sacred nocturne, it would seem.

By this moonlight, Berry and Carrot had no trouble making their way to Colgate's apartment in the northeastern quarter of town. Though they approached it at roughly the same time, their eyes did not meet until they were seated with Colgate around her drab table.

It had been a while since Carrot had seen the place, so she took it all in--however much that turn of phrase applies to a cramped one-bedroom apartment. It remained just as barren of decoration or flair as she'd remembered. A clock, a calendar, and a bulletin board with business cards and appointment notes comprised all of her wall ornamentation. Perhaps Colgate simply doesn't have time to live at home, she may have thought.

Colgate noticed this behavior, head nestled drowsily in forehooves atop the table. She called her out on it, mumbling what sounded like, "I don't have time for nonsense."

Berry was silently admiring the place herself, lamenting the probable lack of appropriate nighttime nosh in the fridge. The mumble reminded her that they had a purpose and she had a bed to get to at the other end of that purpose, so it'd be best not to hold that up. "Yes...Pet Center fundraiser. Cole, you say you're building and decorating the stage for the Ponytones. We ain't exactly carpenters or anything. So what'd you have in mind, bringing us into this?"

Colgate hadn't had time for a nap after the crazy last half-day of partying like Berry had, so the tiredness already carried in her voice. One might wonder what exactly possessed her to insist on this night to begin her next bout of Ponyville volunteer work. "Stage platforms are a simple enough thing. I can handle construction if one of you can help me fetch the lumber." With a flash of unicorn magic, she floated a bag of bits from a half-height corner bookshelf to the table's center. "Sooner's better, though. Who might be able to get started on that tomorrow?"

It wasn't much of a question to ask: Berry's winery schedule was more-or-less known to the group (and included a shift tomorrow), and Carrot's freelance writing work was flexible. "Got it," came Carrot's reply.

"Awesome!" she squeaked back. "Say, Berry...care to bring that 'shine' of yours out and help with the lighting?"

The pony in question rolled her eyes at the reference, then responded, "That's gonna take some thinkin' with my brain. You know I don't like thinkin' with my brain." She flashed a hint of a silly grin. "No, but seriously, there are lots of ways to do lighting. They're all just gonna be standing in a row on stage, right? So the stage isn't going to be very deep. No need to hang any weird skylights--we should be able to cover it either on the ground or on poles. Maybe both." The aforementioned brain-thinkin' started, then stopped far too quickly. "Gah--I still can't believe you got us into this."

Carrot Top just about saw the imaginary light bulb come on over her head. "There's lighting from behind, too! Throw a bright floodlight against a thin curtain... As long as they have some light from the front too, it should hit those outfits of theirs and come out dazzling!"

Berry began to mull this over, but Colgate piped up first. "This is going to be at night--just a little bit before right now, actually, around 9:30. To get the effect right at night, you'd either end up blinding the audience or making the Ponytones themselves look too dark and contrasted from the front. Backlighting's good, though...maybe something ambient?"

Berry was back on board again. "Oh, I get ya. Alright, I'll look into it. Maybe candles, or..." She busted out in a genuine hearty giggle at a sudden thought. "Aw hell, you're gonna love this one. I'll tell you about it on-site tomorrow, but I can't really set it up in advance. You're just gonna have to see Berry's magic live."

Colgate could afford her but half a smile before continuing. "I guess I'll cover the curtains, too...and that leaves the banner."

The prankster in Berry emerged forcefully in Carrot's general direction: "Oh, don't worry, Princess Celest's got that one covered!"

How could Carrot reply to this? She's making you eat your past mistakes right now--so where are the sparkling rainbows?

Her eyes suddenly gave the suggestion that they might fire acid or poison at Berry at any moment. Her expression was otherwise calm. Gradually, the energy behind those eyes dripped into flaring nostrils and a teeth-bearing grin. Without warning, she leapt from her chair to charge Berry, some way around the round table.

The teasing one was used to this sort of treatment from her troubled friend, but it was always a harmless flash-in-the-pan affair. Better to let her act it out, she must have thought. She let herself be choked for a moment, then to be knocked to the floor with the plain stool she sat on, tucking and rolling to avoid a neck injury.

"You lie to me! Why do you lie to me!?"

Berry's eyes plainly bugged out. This one would not be the same. This time I fight back, she realized. Maybe not even holding back.

Supine, Berry Punch whipped her legs up and down a couple times, trying to wiggle some proper momentum to overcome Carrot Top's incomplete choke-hold from the side. She finally whipped her hind legs down hard, curling inward to maximize the velocity of her forward roll. This worked better than expected, pulling Carrot with her and also freeing her right forelimb to come back down on Carrot's torso with an elbow as she spun 180 degrees. The elbow landed; Carrot coughed and relinquished her hold. Berry slipped after the elbow landing, however, and so the two were left to scramble to grab each other's limbs on the living room floor.

By the time either of them thought about what Colgate might be doing in all of this, she was about two paces away with a fire extinguisher telekinetically aimed directly at them.

"Five seconds," she bellowed.

Berry ceased struggling and sat upright, an unbefitting look of open-mouthed confusion spreading vaguely, turning toward Colgate. "Like, I don't even know--"

WHOMP went something after a flash of limbs and ferocity, obviously Carrot Top's. The sound apparently came from the contact of Berry's head with etched olive linoleum, and on etched olive linoleum Berry's head remained.

CLANG went the something that stopped levitating before Colgate, sharply upon the floor. A single sob, then: "Oh Celestia...what's going on?"

Colgate's composure under fire was easily the steadier of the two ponies standing, and it tied with Berry's; but now even her heart leaked through her voice box, pushing out a squeak and more sobs.

After a full minute of panting, with Colgate's gaze unshifting from her, Carrot's low-laying frenzy subsided. She then sat herself fully upright and gazed back at Colgate for an unending moment. Where one might expect submission or dejection or tears, only hardness could be found. The only sign that this former beast had not forsaken all care was the same open mouth of confusion that Berry bore before, perhaps with a slight frown added.

"I...need...help."

Stern and punctual, yet positive as ever through the exhaustion: "We. Are. Your. Help."

A stretch of silence.

The surrealism of the situation could not seep into Colgate's determined mind.

"...Hugs?"

The frowning vacancy hardly gave way, and the hopeless stare did not at all; but then a voice betrayed a still-beating heart.

"Hugs."

And so they came and collapsed together, slumping over and around Berry's slowly breathing mass. Gruesome commotion had faded to silent emotion, and then that faded as well. Nopony moved from there for the rest of the night.

Nopony.

Chapter Two

The first and most regretfully opened set of eyes to see the morning belonged to Berry Punch. She was no novice to morning headaches, only twitching a bit as her senses came to bear. One of those senses arrived to her brain faster than light--and the only thing faster than light is bad news.

"Shit!" came a forced whisper--and then she was off to tend to the kids.

The oozing glaze of the sun's first rays peeked upon the faces of the other two mares--loosely drawn about each other's shoulders as old lovers might do.

Colgate stirred from the light, not wasting time to separate and dust herself off. She frowned somewhat, recalling last night's events without the adrenaline rush that insulated her from trauma of one sort or the other. Effectively alone for the time being, she gently considered the ordeal, speaking aloud to unhearing ears.

"Something's gotta change, dearie. It can't stay like this forever."

She looked down upon her comrade, who was moving somewhat--but in what way? Colgate examined a little more closely and saw that Carrot Top was indeed shaking. Shivering? Instinctively, she knew that Carrot was not merely cold... She fetched her blanket from the bedroom with a touch of horn magic, but let it hover a moment before her. She then smiled as she considered to fold and wad it more tightly, then nestle it within Carrot's limbs instead of atop her. Carrot then pulled it close to her chest, and the shivering ceased.

Colgate whispered something to herself, then dashed for the train to Canterlot and the dentist's office, not even taking a moment to comb or brush beforehand.

The blanket-holder continued to lay thus. Perhaps she had been more tired than the other two put together. Or perhaps...

There commenced a dull and muffled roar of sobbing into a blanket. There was some tossing and turning, and then suckling, and then briefly some rhythmic thrusting of the lower body. After this last act came a full cacophony of whines caught in cries, alien and disorienting, and ever stronger shivers. The shivers took residence and would not leave.

Eyes opened, their head wincing immediately, fearing the very thought of facing the day once more with the same shattered pony.

Then without warning, the living, breathing source of this spectacle tumbled onto all fours and regarded the window to outside. Something prodded her to straighten up and enter the daylight. A lovely drumbeat of activity could just barely be seen, and it called to Carrot. Cautiously, she departed to discover what good things the day might bring her.

After Colgate's couple hours of catch-up work at the front desk, she returned home to finally freshen up; then, off to the back yard she went to commence this stage-building project of hers. From years of previous such work, she'd amassed all the basic tools to build impromptu wooden structures. She didn't have much scrap wood to start with before getting the--

Colgate headed back inside to double-check; as she'd suspected, the lumber funds remained on the table. Drawing on her vast reserve of cheer and grace, she just dismissed the mistake with a faintly upturned cheek and mentally prepared to do this bit of grunt-work herself. She did have to admit to herself, though, that it was a bit of a bummer not knowing if Carrot would even turn up today; this she indicated with a sigh while strolling by the blanket on the floor and minding to float it back where it belonged.

She didn't even make it fifty paces out the door toward the hardware store before spotting Carrot, heading back toward her. (Oh, what manner of mighty magic might permit one to summon a friend at will like this?)

With a friendly shout: "Hey, I forgot to help you get the wood! And, you know...I kind of didn't get the instructions, either!"

Colgate hadn't even gotten far enough last night or today to actually devise those instructions...but that wasn't on her mind at the very moment. She'd broken out into full gallop, that somewhat excitable mare that she was, aiming to embrace and to express her joy at the golden one's apparent lack of dysfunction.

After doing so with a squeeze, the two quickly caught up on affairs: Carrot had apparently just been wandering town ("looking for trouble", borrowing Berry's terminology), and she realized something. She resolutely would not discuss the nature of this "something", and she felt frustrated even to have mentioned it; Colgate reasoned that a bit of refreshment back at her place might loosen the both of them up a bit. The BGs had all had a rough start to the day; but some things could be fixed after the fact, and a proper cup of ginger root tea was certainly among them. Wherever Berry was, she would probably happily settle with a different drink of her own choosing.

They silently set back to last night's table, seated next to one another, and held their tongues until the tea was ready.

After blowing to cool off her fresh cup: "Really, now, I gotta ask: how did you pull it all back together?" Colgate sipped while viewing her company askance. "You were...not in a good place last night."

Carrot declined her head, though not enough to imply shame. Her voice carried sympathy. "I... Maybe I didn't?"

"You're saying you don't know?" Colgate's eyebrows furrowed, a developing tangle of concern and mild disbelief.

Carrot froze again. Colgate waved her free hoof wildly to indicate not to continue further. "Oh, nevermind that. I'm not holding you on trial or anything!" She tittered, then patted Carrot while offering her "sorry", letting trouble wash back out to sea.

She proceeded to idle chat. "I'm also sorry I'm not much of a host. Yeah, I don't have a lot of stuff in here. I've just been lost in doing things, day in and day out. Hardly a moment to myself, hehe..."

With an awkward pause and a reluctant sip, Carrot countered, "And that doesn't bother you? I mean, it's great that you're helping keep my sorry flank busy too. But we're all looking out for each other here, and--"

A fluttering and melodic Colgate riposted, "Ooohhhhh no no no no no no no no no, I didn't pour this tea for me today. Don't even try that. Come on now. I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. Maaaaybe you don't know me as well as you'd like to, and that's fine. But we gotta deal with this. So...hm...yeah, why'd you come back? I didn't even tell either of you how long I'd be at work today."

Carrot pushed her barely touched teacup aside and idly clopped her forehooves together, leaning on the tabletop. The mare of the hour had been running on emotional fumes all morning, and the fumes were just beginning to falter. She eyed her fair-and-foul-weather friend with something in the opposite direction of contempt. Shivers. There were shivers--there had always been shivers--and now they were visible again. Something inside her silently cried for a deep and arcane satisfaction, and Colgate could see through the slumped hungry-eyed form and read that desire like any good mare--but she would not shy away from it like most sane or socially conscious mares. (For all her quirks, Colgate couldn't ever turn down a pony in need.)

Please help me mend my broken heart, Carrot's sunken self wordlessly intoned from within the flesh-and-blood suit of life she wore. Let me live again. Nopony would know how to respond, not even Carrot herself. But Colgate tried with two outstretched hooves and a smile, even while suspecting it could not be enough.

Colgate felt the shivers. Though someone scared of the situation herself, she just let out a gentle humming tone to attempt to calm Carrot's storm.

Then Carrot finally spoke with her mouth.

"I can't...I can't do this! I just want to be...I want to be someone like you! Why can't I just be you? Why!?" The sobbing was beyond earthly control, but Colgate's close embrace about the neck and chest at least provided Carrot a soothing shock absorption for these spasms.

Colgate opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, just continuing to provide a pillar to collapse upon. This pillar stood with Carrot for some ten or fifteen minutes while she continued to relieve her existential woe. Carrot mentioned a sense of missing something that everyone else had; she bemoaned her inadequacy to live up to anyone's expectations; she confessed a lack of appreciation for the happiness of others out of spite and envy. Finally, she touched on the heart of the matter.

"There just doesn't seem to be any place in the world for a pony like me. They don't just fail to understand--they don't want to understand! So I lose my job, I can't find a place to live, I lose all the other ponies I used to call 'friend'--and for what? Because I wasn't born a certain way? Because I couldn't know my own natural beauty like you? Because I'm not at peace inside??"

Colgate wisely kept her tongue still on the topic, sharing nothing in reply but a gentle squeeze. She kept holding as Carrot continued unloading.

And then, minutes more into the episode, Carrot let slip one of her real desires. "But really...I just want everyone to be honest and true to one another. Like...a pony can't stay mad or harsh when she opens up. She reveals herself. She looks like a fool for a moment, sure...but then you're ready for the healing, too. The healing of intolerance. The remediation of..."

Another thought flooded into Carrot's mind, causing her to sob once more. "I just can't fix everyone in this town, Colgate! Everyone in this world! There's just not enough time! There's always going to be...there will always be ponies who hate. I hate that! It would be so much easier..." Colgate just continued to hold her, humming in assent, not prepared to act further.

"Can't I just be you?" After the passage of time, the remark's repetition now seemed but a simple request.

But Colgate now knew she fully was out of her element. Best that Carrot snap out of this episode and make her complaints plainly. She hugged a moment longer, then with a distancing push: "What do you really want?"

"You've got it all...you've got a job where people know you. You have friends, and one who's loved you her whole life. You don't have to worry about anything. You're just you...you don't have to worry about what 'you' is...because you've got it down to an art..."

Colgate could have said many, many things in response to this. Her wisdom led to this outcome, bearing a sympathetic smile: "No. No, you don't know me as well as you'd really want to. But that's fine. Come over to this bulletin board. Let me show you something."

Trotting slowly over from their chairs, Colgate maintained a foreleg around Carrot's disrupted shell. Then, on arrival: "See this? See all these dates--" a wave over the whole corkboard "--all these places--" another wave "--all these causes? Things set up by others? Missions, designed to help those who really know what they want?" Here, Carrot Top perused current and future tasks and times Colgate had obtained for the group as well as for herself through her connections at the dentist's and at Town Hall. The pet charity...coaching Ditzy Doo to help her represent Ponyville honorably in the Equestria Games...the ongoing efforts of the Town Clean-Up Post-Plight Squad...pruning trees before the expected arrival of the Breezies... Colgate's proxy life was laid bare before Carrot, and the beginnings of an unspoken realization washed over Carrot's currently still form.

"Hun, it is okay to want more in life. That is absolutely okay. And you're part of the reason I know it to be true. Because you're coming to me, when I'm already coming to--"

"Guys!" The yell came from a fair distance beyond the front door.

Colgate responded right away, "Berry! What's up!?"

Along with the expected noises of a quickly approaching mare came Berry's reply: "Cheese! He's here! Code Red! Move move move! Party time!"

Colgate's composure broke in a much more pleasant fashion than it did last night--sparkling eyes, mildly dropped jaw, standing ramrod straight and facing the closed door. "Holy sh--" But then she caught herself and giggled. She then quickly regarded Carrot. "Alright! Hey, let's get going! You're gonna get to see him after all! Time for your little flank to brighten up!" This was followed by a peck on the cheek, something Carrot rarely received from either of her BG comrades.

Carrot attempted happiness, scoffing coyly at that remark. "Hey, my flank's not that little..."

As the panting Berry made it to the door, the sprightly Colgate sprang over to quickly whisper some words that included the name of Carrot Top--which did not go entirely beyond the notice of that name's bearer. It seemed obvious that they were discussing her latest plight. Carrot drooped her head and fidgeted about in a corner for several seconds, but she was interrupted before going too far down that road.

Berry, having approached unnoticed, held Carrot's head aloft again with one hoof, presenting to her the second most wide-eyed and glorious smile she'd ever beheld. "Hey, get outta that funk o' yours, girl! This is Carrot's time to shine! I can feel it in my soul." Berry kicked her head back and subtly turned, the smile and eyes turning a bit more sultry. "You...are...sooooo gonna get lucky tonight."

The three bolted for the center of town, slackening a couple times for the sake of the already-winded Berry Punch. Perhaps none of them really knew what to expect; but if Cheese Sandwich was featured on the menu, then a good time would be as well.

And there he was: the pumpkin-mocha party master himself, breaking out in song and bending reality itself with flashes of music and spirit. An upbeat tune was heard yet unplayed; vivid party-time mental images (or were they only images?) matched the beat. Berry suddenly recalled last year's birthday party for Dandelion--but so, apparently, did everypony else! What was even going on?? Cheese was something truly special--even otherworldly.

Carrot's wandering friend and mentor, Written Script, was also a witness to the scene. Though Carrot quickly identified him by his silver coat and slick indigo mane, he was totally fixed on Cheese; there was never really a moment for her to catch his attention during this boisterous occasion.

As the song wrapped up, the gathering crowd (BGs included) couldn't help but close ranks around him for an impromptu traveling crowd-surf. The mob's cheers of unadulterated joy rattled windows as it migrated through town. The cluster was not static, though--it mingled and moved in its awareness-bereft celebration. Throughout this affair, the town-famous Elements of Harmony conversed with Cheese; it came to light that the showy blue pegasus, Rainbow Dash, was due for a birthday party and arrival anniversary befitting her, and this is why he had shown up.

Some half a mile later, Cheese hopped out of the bunch to land on his own four hooves; and both his hind legs started twitching, one after the other. Wait--did his eponymous cutie mark just move? With an "Ohoho, wowzers!", he dismissed his sendoff party and vanished back toward Town Hall at a tack that would've racked a Wonderbolt's head.

A few seconds after that, a rubber chicken he'd left on the ground just then was picked up by...himself, having come from the other direction. He then let out a goofy guffaw and disappeared toward Town Hall again. Amused bemusement held the crowd for a second. Even Rainbow Dash, hovering above the crowd with a good view of things, spat out, "Wait, what?"

And in a flash, the mob transformed back into a group of individual ponies--who currently just happened to be rather uncomfortably close to one another.

The Elements of Harmony departed right away, with two of them--the stunningly white and cultured Rarity and her folksy orange foil Applejack--alerting the rest to come along because Cheese was probably starting to plan the party already. The town's usual insane reality-warper and party planner, Pinkie Pie, did not hold with either her closest friends' ranks or the slower erstwhile mob's; at some point, she wandered off completely. The rest would also soon be out of sight from the herd around the eclectically arranged apartments and stores.

Some seconds in commencing their slow trot toward the town clearing, Carrot Top checked her company. Berry and Colgate were out of sight for now. Everypony present was quite mature, which made her wonder for a moment: Aren't daytime fêtes more of an all-ages affair? Then she suddenly scoffed at herself, realizing the little ones were all at school at this time. She also happened to be almost completely surrounded by stallions. Though she'd already brushed the flanks of a tall mossy-gray-coated fellow on her left side and one in aged vellum on her right, this was the first moment she had to realize what (that is, whom) she'd touched lately. She blushed rather brightly.

She looked up to the one in gray, and--sweet Celestia!--he was looking right back at her. There was something else that caught Carrot's attention, and it wasn't just the high noon sun blasting radiance into his punky emerald-green mane. The vague hanging silence of expression indicated she was trying to place him, as if he were familiar from a past acquaintance. There were likely some more primal feelings in play as well. The moment demanded a more immediate reaction, though, so she snapped out of it, tumbling into a search for words.

"I-- Ju-- Hey."

A flat broad-mouthed smile and confident eye were her rewards for this. Then: "It's for horses!" jumped out of his lips in inviting satin-coated basso, with the slightest hint of Highlands charm.

Milliseconds later, from the still-shocked mare: "By-- Are you married?"

"Hoho, get a hold of yourself there, lass! Let's try: 'What's your name?' "

Very rushed and high-pitched came her reply: "Okay, what's your name?"

The stallion was mildly befuddled; Carrot Top's embarrassment followed fully a second later. She cowed her own excitement, drooping and blushing again--but only until the next words were spoken.

"Delighted, Miss Okay." The smile turned up a little, tilting the balance of coolness and warmth in his visage toward the latter. "Drum here. Drum Digger. I guess my parents couldn't agree on something with my name...but my Pa won the destiny game, it would seem." He glanced straight backward, and Carrot eagerly followed. Emblazoned on his rump were a round-bladed shovel and a narrow-bladed spade, crossed, with matching handles on top.

"Huh--oh right. Carrot Top." A thought of her own occurred. "Please, just a second? I'm...I maybe don't get out a lot and I need to--oh, I don't know--"

"You need...to slow down." Carrot visibly melted at the sound of Drum's rumbling closed-mouth laughter.

She was about to say something, probably in assent, but Drum simply turned his head fully toward her and went, "Shhhhhhh..." Then, "If you can make it one whole block without saying anything, I'll tell you something."

But Carrot's mind was racing, and she would just as soon carry the juggernaut of a stallion on her back and win the Equestria Games 400-meter hoofrace if that race ended at the end of the block. But the tightly-packed herd may as well have been a spillage of concrete mix, pooling and spreading but doomed not to go far--only to cease and to lock her in place and to end her happiness forever. She grimaced and sought a way around the ponies in front of her, but she then quickly realized even breaking through wouldn't help anything if her acquaintance didn't match pace.

She had her resources, though. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, allowing the sounds of the steps and occasional bumping around her to guide her pace. She breathed audibly through her nose--inhaling, holding, exhaling, pausing. The deadening of taut expression on her face paired with relaxation on Drum's; he continued to glance at her slightly but otherwise returned to his own thoughts.

Carrot Top waded through eternity while Drum and everyone else endured about three and a half minutes.

Then they rounded the block. Drum tapped the top of her head with his temple to get her to stir and pay attention again before crashing into the lighter-yellow-coated one to her right any more than she already had.

"How was yoga?"

Whatever she could've said on the matter was immaterial: she tensed up again immediately and remembered Drum's promise with shimmering eyes and childlike fascination. Any caution or serenity she used to govern her life was gone from this time and place.

"Okay, 'Okay'. I noticed earlier you were wondering whether you knew me. Well, not a lot of ponies do...but the ones who do, they find out sooner or later that I'm a stallion's stallion, if you follow."

Carrot turned away sharply. Her mood shifted back to embarrassment. Then it rotated to amusement, then rollicked toward despair, then made a brief stop in sadness before settling back at amusement. A couple forced gingerly laughs could be heard.

But Drum was looking dead toward her this whole time, a rather mischievous attitude growing in his eyes and parted-lip smile.

"Mostly."

Being the near-giant that he was, he invoked his presence to part the ponies to his front and left and broke away. Carrot finally looked back, was apparently startled beyond comprehension at his departure, and screamed outright. The situation triggered a panic response in the group, half of which circled around Drum to impede his movement. Besides this circle, every eye now focused on Carrot, and every body stayed motionless.

The light yellow stallion to her right then asked, "What happened? Did this guy do something to you?"

Carrot's senses had whiplashed so many times recently, she could not regain a simple composure. Her almost sobbing voice didn't do much for her case in her statement, "Ah--no, no! Just leave me alone! He's fine! It's a misunderstanding!"

The unnamed stallion confirmed drily and nasally, "I saw nothing either, just you getting excited about something--I presume the tall fellow." He half-rolled his eyes with a "hmph" and resumed his walk forward. This engaged the herd to follow suit and leave Drum completely alone. With a path cleared, Drum picked up to a gallop, shouted, "See me at the party, won't you!", and slipped back around the old corner.

Carrot scrunched her face mightily and shouted back a garbled nothing in particular. The crowd did not react this time beyond some annoyed mumbling.

The herd, steadily shrinking from members departing to their original plans for the day, otherwise proceeded to Cheese's latest destination without further incident.

After chasing said Sandwich, five of the Elements, and the stragglers from that mob halfway across town, the BGs finally reunited in the nearly setting sun. Berry had been robbing more ice for her latest round of liquid refreshments but was still mostly in a publicly presentable state. Carrot had managed to level off emotionally and stayed to herself on the sidelines. Colgate was just in her own world, thinking about the platform for the pet charity. Pinkie Pie turned up for something she called a Goof-Off--a partying battle against Cheese; and though the affair ended on a bit of an angsty note, it was quite the mind-blower. After the Goof-Off, most of everyone parted to start setting up the party proper back near Town Hall.

But the BGs were quite strained with their own plans and projects and simply would not be bothered with the matter further until the fun started. Was Cheese's impromptu crew really going to try to pull it off that night? It wasn't their issue anymore. Berry made sure of that after getting Carrot to blab about her new acquaintance.

"See? Trus' a mother's intuition ever' time!"

She was beaming at her own 'achievement' of willing Carrot Top into a potential hook-up. Plus, she had the sort of look in her eye that itself should receive a strict viewership rating--though Carrot, generally not allowing herself to consider the carnal in public, received it with a standard sort of cheer.

Colgate, who was not directly in Carrot's line of sight, chose to show her affection instead with a tackle-hug from behind. This was met with cute laughter all around and repaid with a return of their close embrace earlier that day--minus Carrot's inner torment.

Berry quipped, "Oh, ge'a room, you two. But don' turn in that key in early, Veggie-Tail!"

Carrot's cheeks heated at the thought and sighed with relief at the idea of satisfaction around the proverbial corner--or was it something else? Suddenly, however, she decided to try to explain at least something deeper to Colgate.

"Cole..."

"Yes?"

"I really do admire you. Really. It's not just the thing I said earlier."

"Am I gonna have to send Berry to set up that room?"

"I...uh, nevermind. Can I just stay here for a while? You feel so warm."

"Don't you have a fireplace at your new home?" Colgate was sort of jerking the chain here, more for her own amusement and also because she wasn't getting the point.

A startled silence.

"Kiss me. Kiss me so I can feel right."

In their years of acquaintance, Carrot and Colgate certainly knew about each other's open persuasions. But this was a first--at least while sober.

"Hun, are you losing it? Just a few more hours--you got this!"

"Kiss me so I might feel myself again."

Berry was just kicking back, leaning against an over-sized birthday cone hat, regarding with a giant grin that communicated quite a lot about her interests and her inebriety.

For as much as Carrot wanted this moment, she could not bring herself to initiate something even remotely unwanted from her dear friend. Colgate took this hesitation as a chance to pull away--but Carrot held fast, even on the dirt and spilled punch and confetti, even smack in the middle of a not-entirely-depopulated part of Ponyville. Colgate grimaced slightly, looked around, and took a deep breath.

"You need this, don't you?"

Carrot apparently considered that the equivalent of consent and dove in. Colgate, no stranger to untimely pleasures, indulged a bit herself, opening her mouth so they could share tongues. They shared and shared while a caring Berry stared. Carrot started to caress Colgate's mane and part it along two of its high-contrast blue/white stripes. Then she left her left hoof in the open rift, swirling it around a bit and purring into Colgate's opened mouth.

After perhaps five minutes of this, Colgate dropped the pretense of involvement (as she was adjusted to a rather steamier course of events) and took a free eye to gaze at Berry as hard as she could--alternately catching Berry's eye and directing her own to the orange-maned issue at hoof.

"She really is min'y fresh! Ow owwww!" That was really not what Colgate had wanted to hear.

It may well have done the job she wanted, though. Carrot was suddenly ensnared in embarrassment, pulling away and curling in a ball with a terrible frown.

Colgate stayed chipper about matters, giggling a little while sliding back over to her capricious companion. She rotated herself on the ground so as to have to crane her neck fully backward to meet Carrot's eyes--a silly yet affectionate pose.

She then covered at least two octaves in gently squealing, "Feeling like yourself again?" If she was not truly enthralled in the moment, she certainly could turn on the coquettish charm like a light switch.

This disarmed Carrot's concern, which followed her already having been disowned of her passion, which had dismissed her woe. There was nothing left for her to do. She facehoofed.

"Yeah...guess so..."

"Hahaa! Time for Berry Punch!!" A luscious lush of mauve splashed into their view and then their bodies; and the three all laughed and cuddled and rolled about in the spent party favors for a while, freaking out every passerby they could.

Chapter Three

Though it was not required by any physical means, the sun and moon kept their distance. One would never dare be seen while the other bore any direct presence in the sky. It seemed there was once a time when this distance was not so required or enforced. It was not, however, a matter for mortals to dwell upon with any sense of purpose. It would so figure that a certain new alicorn shared the name of an event that had not been fully known to Equestria's firmament in thousands of years. Her parents or theirs must've been well-read to even know of it...

Within this artificial interstice there lay a newborn party. The BGs would make it come of age.

After the round of streetside cuddling, Colgate had explained that there was still more to do at the office and went to it. Before she made it back, Berry had already passed a message to school for the Berry Bunch for what to do that night (a fairly common occurrence given her erratic lifestyle). Carrot had also gotten paid for her bit on the qualifier meet for the Equestria Games, so she and Berry got to have dinner out together--just snacking at the Hay Burger, as there was no sense eating fancy right before a party with more free food--while Carrot received Berry's own bizarre brand of pep talk for what could be a very important night.

When they rejoined and arrived back at the town clearing, they just about died from the spectacle. It had to be even bigger than the Peacetimepalooza! How much money did these friends of Rainbow Dash make, anyway?

Carrot, ever impatient for good things in her life, scanned the crowd from the hillside. She noted that Pinkie Pie had come back from her huff earlier and was even helping out with stage entertainment. She beheld a few other festivities relevant both for tonight's fun and for a possible write-up: impossible ice sculptures, nested piñatas, a dangerous and comically futile contest to chase a wheel of cheese down a hill, a repeating confetti mega-cannon on wheels, and lots and lots of room for dancing. There was also a fruit punch lake, complete with diving board, way off to the side of everything else, where she figured Berry would go in an instant...but she didn't.

"Well, what're you waiting for?"

Berry wasted no time in her reply. "Now, girl, I am hurt. Truly so. Did you really think I was gonna leave you alone on this buck-tastic mission of yours?"

Carrot dwelled on the particular application of "mission". The gears turned in her head, and she was suddenly stricken with awe.

Berry understood perfectly. "Yeah, that's right. This is your mission. And now it's mine, too. These things we do, they don't always have to be for the town. They don't have to be for everyone else. They can be for ourselves, too. For each other. You get it now?"

Carrot borrowed an invisible mask from Colgate's wardrobe--a mask of determination.

"Operation Get Me Laid is go."

"Phew! Thank goodness I didn't have to explain how you're so loco in the coco that you couldn't be--" Berry cut herself off and feigned embarrassment at administering that test of character. But Carrot just sheepishly chuckled without breaking or even cracking.

Berry smiled in reply: "You are clear for takeoff."

Colgate, who had apparently agreed to give the two their distance for this final pep talk, turned to give a salute to Carrot. Berry did the same. Carrot wasn't sure whether she should salute anyone or not. She decided to direct her gesture of allegiance and respect toward the scene of the party itself.

And so they marched right on in.

"Damn, that Pinkie can sing!" Berry Punch swore in front of some pretty pastel fillies.

"And I'd bet you could make her sing." The earlier naughtiness had apparently loosened Colgate's tongue again--or had she found whatever Berry was drinking earlier?

Berry thought about going right for the current liquid offering, eyeing the punch bowl; but she held off her usual inclinations, apparently figuring these drinks were not mission-critical.

Ten seconds afterward, she turned around and got one anyway.

After she returned: "Well, Carrot, time for Plan A?"

Colgate chimed in, "Plan Shake Dat A!"

The focal mare blushed a bit, still being one who hadn't fully gotten the feel for a dance style of either gender. But yes...she was going to give it a go on this special night. She stepped into her character: party-rocking machine, full-time.

Then, out of nowhere, Berry hoofed her a cup of punch. Berry shuffled through her mane shortly after doing this, briefly extracting and re-concealing a bota bag. "Only the goodest of shit," she pronounced with a wink. And sure enough, Carrot did enjoy it. It smelled of pears and ginger and lavender and cloves and horehound and some kind of berries and especially alcohol.

"I'll, uh, save my energy on the sidelines for now," she continued. "But you--get your ass out there."

Colgate embraced the party-rocker one last time before heading to the dance floor herself. Then she came very, very close to her ear and whispered something tender and inspiring--something like, "Everything we are will never die."

The tunes started pretty tame, which gave Carrot a chance to find a groove without getting embarrassed out of her skull. She attempted a very basic swing dance with one named Thunderlane, but Thunderlane far outclassed her and wasn't in the mood to tone it down. Undeterred, she tried this again with a portly old unicorn fellow with a marionette for a cutie mark; this went a bit better, and he even taught her a couple twirls. She spotted a conga line and popped into that--always easy fun. When a mid-paced soulful piece came up, half the floor organized into a line dance. It turned out to be one of the simplest around--the Electric Slide--and Carrot was able to pick it up. There were a couple songs in a row where she just felt kind of lost; she defaulted to whole-body gyrations and eccentric one-forehoof motions that included the Time Warp. At least nopony was laughing at her.

As the fallen sun's diffracted rays slipped entirely out of view, the overhead lights kicked on full-blast. Seconds later, as the current song ended, Co-MC Pinkie Pie called the grounds to attention.

"Filli-i-i-ies and gentlecolts! You all feeling epic out there?" The crowd exploded like a fireworks factory. "Well, you think you're getting excited now? We can take this party to the next level--but only after we've put the little ones to bed!" A storm of moans and groans crept through the air. "Heehee! That just means you get to party in your dreams instead!! And you can do whateeeeever you want there! One time I thought in my dream, 'Hm, Pinkie, why can't I just party all the time?' And Dream Pinkie told me back, 'But you can!' And we went partying everywhere--in ancient Saddle Arabia...oh! Then we went dancing on a train! Aaaand then we danced with the dinosaurs. And then we went to space and danced with the Mare on the Moon! And then I danced with a giant cake on the moon!! That was just crazy! And I got pink frosting all over my mane, but it blended in so well that I couldn't tell just by looking, and then there were astronau--"

With a swoop, Ponyville's own royalty, Princess Twilight Sparkle, approached from above and knocked the mic stand over with a gust of wing-blown wind. After a cringe-inducing thump and feedback squeal from the speakers, Twilight righted the stand with her horn and addressed the crowd herself. "Uh, guys...she means we're starting the second half of the party, so"--she flickered from coyness to graceful command--"it's time to clean up the first half, and that also means taking care of everypony who's got school in the morning. We certainly don't want to miss out on the lessons tomorrow has to bring!"

Pinkie swooped back in herself, impossibly giddy, to add: "But if you're staying tonight it's gonna get sooooooooooo magical." Even coming from those family-friendly lips, the last two words dripped unmistakably with sleaze.

She and Twilight then bickered at the mic for a few minutes over whether that was even appropriate to say, although nopony had actually said anything lewd--but does how you say it really matter? In this little magical moment, the crowd died down as foals and a good number of their parents dispersed.

Carrot looked out over the dance floor. She noticed Berry giving her little ones tender hugs and kisses as their hired caretaker and chaperone, a shale-gray Earth pony mare named Charged Up, brought up a small wagon to haul them home. She didn't spot Colgate or her presumed date, but she couldn't help noticing a very excited Rainbow Dash finally approaching the floor. Cheese Sandwich, who had been riding on a giant cheese wheel much of this time, was long gone. Perhaps he and Pinkie didn't see eye to eye on the matter of partying after dark.

Twilight piped up again: "We have a very special guest performer tonight." Pinkie, next to her: "It took a message to Princess Celestia herself to approve the fastest force in Equestria to get here in time." Twilight, dramatically taken aback: "Oh my, Pinkie. The fastest force in Equestria? Sounds pretty amazing!" Pinkie, deadpan: "Wait, you don't know who the Wonderbolts are?"

On that 'cue', a terrific blaze of flight-trail magic striped the skyscape. The blaze was then encased with a corkscrew of others: frosty, zappy, and shiny, all shimmering at a frightful tack, sharply about-facing at the party's rear and coming back in a broader cross-threading corkscrew to encase their own old trails. The three then split up and to each side while the blazing trail finally came back, just inches above the crowd, sending a gust strong enough to blow punch cups and hairdos into disarray. Their trails hung in the night sky, slowly disintegrating--or as it turned out, gently fell on the crowd in light clouds of colored glitter.

While this unexpected overhead party favor held the crowd's full attention, the source of the leading trail had to clear her throat at the mic for anypony to recognize the Wonderbolts' current stage presence. Captain Spitfire, she of the orange-red mane, spoke once enough heads were turned toward her: "Rainbow Dash. Always going big and bold--like I should even be surprised. It's a shame we can't stay--" a deep-blue maned Wonderbolt beside her went "what?" and got a smack in reply "--but we're always glad to give the old fly-by to see you. Keep being awesome--and happy birthaversary!" And then they took off, straight up then curving to an unseen distance behind the stage. Though some were cheering throughout that spectacle, many were just too much in shock; only after leaving did the flying aces receive their fullest celebratory due.

Twilight and Pinkie slowly trotted back from by the stage's curtain. The princess led: "Just...amazing!" The MC followed: "You don't even knooooow amazing! But you're gonna! Yeah! Yeah!" Twilight: "Why, whatever do you--" Pinkie, hungrily stealing the next line, even though it was already hers: "This is just the greatest thing ever! I never thought I'd get to see her perform again! This is gonna be better than maple doughnuts and whipped cream with habanero sprinkles! And she's gonna be everypony's best friend for the night, right here on the stage, and she can take all the cheer you got and give it back to you harder and faster than a Big Mac Attack!" Wait...how family-friendly was she? Some of the crowd started whooping insanely, already anticipating the only one deserving of such an introduction.

Twilight took it back: "Hehe, yeah. So let's give it up for..." In unison: "DEE! JAY! PON-3!!"...with one side dribbling on, "heeheeicantbelieveitohmygoshimsoexcited..."

The excitement explosion before contained much shouting and whooping. This time, however, many had gone to full high screams. Even with the cozier crowd, the roar was just as intense and maybe even more voluminous than any heard before the second half. Though the crowd's limits were already strained by this effort, they went one higher for the performer herself--wheeled out atop a giant pink/blue tank with thousands of lights, whole arrays of lasers, side-shooting streams of fog, hatches that shot out strings of glowsticks and blacklight-lit streamers, and an extremely conspicuous cannon pointed directly at Rainbow Dash. Then the bottom of the tank folded out, and a fully-complemented deejay booth appeared with more mixers, scratch pads, buttons, knobs, and big red levers(?) than any non-superpony could manage. And she slid right down from the top, straddling the over-sized tank cannon for a moment and stirring up the crowd to an entirely different level before falling into place behind the controls.

In the brief lull of the DJ's setup, Berry suddenly appeared back at Carrot's side, offering another cup of "punch". "You seem to have misplaced your drinking vessel, ma'am." The ridiculous politeness made Carrot smile warmly well before any more alcoholic aid was administered--though it was administered quickly enough.

The music-making center of attention then spoke--but it seemed not to be her voice, but rather something electric and synthetic. She moved her mouth, and the tank itself delivered her intention. "What up, Ponyviiiiiille!" The cheers surged once more, totally electrifying the floor. Carrot Top was pushing her lungs for all they were worth. Berry knew better than to try.

"Alright, from the top. Let's spin! This! Shit!!" She pulled one of those red levers, and the cannon lit up in rings, starting at the base and working toward the nozzle. When the very tip finally lit up, there came a great and powerful nothing. Vibrations rattled the very floor itself, with some tiles cracking or peeling from their foundation. The cheese wheel, put away dozens of paces behind the floor in the cannon's direction, utterly exploded, blasting bits mostly away from the party scene but with a few chunks falling toward the back of the crowd. And Rainbow Dash, the honored and targeted guest, along with a half-dozen others behind her, had just combined with the back of the crowd--having been blown clear with inconceivable amounts of invisible force. Piled atop roughly five to ten others, Rainbow bore a goofy, drunken grin and little else. By the time that anyone fully realized that the cause of this was sound, the DJ had already started her first track, one of her recent releases of the rap and dubstep persuasions.

This loud, booming, uncomfortably energetic electronic music took the partying experience and added jet rockets to it--which is somewhat to say, it really improved the situation for experienced rocket racers and masochists. Carrot Top had no experience whatsoever with this, so she was going to throw herself in and prepare for pain. She noticed that others weren't really dancing so much as jumping and contorting madly to the beat. There were a couple of really skilled performers who did something like break-dancing, and it was great to cheer them on. But it just didn't feel the same as a proper thrashing effort all of one's own.

And yet, her persistence paid off. Within only a few tracks, she intuited the point of everything. She was giving her energy to DJ PON-3. She just had to smash and crash and swirl around until there was hardly a spark of life left in her, so that the DJ could know her enthusiasm and she could then be made whole again by the awesomeness in the DJ's reply. Thus, this exhausting act of musical devotion had a note of profound intimacy. And it drove her absolutely wild.

A mare possessed (and, not by chance, of greater-than-usual stamina), Carrot Top bared her soul in rave form. Adorned in several of the glowsticks spewed by the Bass Tank, she unleashed upon the world a whirling dervish of flying-limb, floor-crossing engagement that only picked up with the tempo. As many enthusiastic but less well-adjusted individuals had to take to the sidelines to recuperate, they could only watch her insatiable appetite for bass and beats and drops and hard lyrics and insanity. Dizziness was hardly her concern--she just kept enough wits to avoid crashing into others and let her unbridled heart do the rest. Her method of physical rest was merely to pause the head-shaking and forelimb-waving for a moment, but her body stayed fairly intense and in the moment even then. She did, however, remember on occasion to grab a glass of water from the side stand in order to stay hydrated.

Berry and Colgate, both of whom appreciated raving on the same level but nowhere near with the same enthusiasm anymore, decided to join in a couple times when Andrew W. Neigh was sampled, both not quite half an hour in. They did their best to align to either side of their orange tornado, but "side" didn't have much meaning here. They just tried to shadow her moves as well as they could. Tonight, Carrot was their leader.

As she developed a vague sort of following from strangers, even Rainbow Dash dropped by--of course while fully engaged her own wing-aided brand of triumphant craze--with a "Way to rock!" She then flew up and waved toward the stage, also pointing down toward her partner in partying crime. Ten seconds later, the criminal's punishment due was initiated--execution by bass cannon. Carrot gazed straight toward the cannon and its lighting rings, and she gradually rendered a hyper-smile of the sort that would give most other smiles nightmares.

"HIT ME!" she cried, so high and forcefully that the second word broke entirely and seemed more of a croak.

Colgate, one of many who had not anticipated a second assault from the Wubwaffe, suddenly noticed her fellow BG approaching at about a hundred miles an hour. Carrot had keenly leaned into the blast and was not knocked clean from her hooves; however, Colgate and several others in the cone of effect behind her got abruptly acquainted with her hindquarters as a result.

Righting herself among a pile of plowed ponies, Carrot raised her head and roared with laughter--a healthy but frenzied cackle, so bursting with mirth that it could challenge the DJ's cutting-edge sound system for a moment. After a full deep breath's expression, she fired another salubrious salvo, even slightly louder than the first. This abruptly ended with a squeak as her voice finally gave--along with her consciousness. She crumpled and then came to again seconds later, groggy and weak but still full of wild abandon.

Colgate braced her with worry; they exchanged some words in close quarters, Colgate's mind eased somewhat, and Carrot rested for a few minutes at the water table. But soon the beats pulsed through her once more as she blitzed about on the floor, less refined in motion but not withered in the least. In her fever, she had become one with the night.

At least an hour and a few more choicely aimed Bass Cannons into the madness, Carrot received a tap on the head--just as "Meth is for Monkeys" commenced its drop.

She arrested her groove and searched about, finding a quite familiar face--the mouth of it, at least, until she glanced upward. For several seconds, she wasn't even fully aware of his relevance, being too far gone from higher thought. Indeed, though, she soon knew it to be her newest prospect.

"You're pretty much the belle of the ball, or what have you."

Carrot stared at Drum, wide-eyed, still raving internally. "Join me!" growled something from Carrot's body.

He acted visibly nervous, glancing around and starting to back-pace. Carrot couldn't help but react to such a display, regaining her sympathetic composure and gently trotting back over to him.

"Sorry... Just don't mind me."

"What?" The stream of great stonking beats could have overwhelmed any conversation.

"I'm fine! Let's go talk somewhere!"

A hundred paces taken away from the dance floor only made small talk possible rather than pleasurable. Drum motioned to keep going, out around one of the corners she'd waded through with a quasi-mob hours prior. The shop building muffled the sound well enough and foiled anypony who might look on. Actually, it was quite seriously dark in this part of town, with all of the buildings and their awnings obscuring Luna's light.

Carrot, still not fully disengaged from the rave, regarded the well-built stallion all over and wondered.

"Heh, yep, it's all me," he said, just somewhat too quickly for it to come off as smug.

As her senses came back, she recognized the situation as rather dangerous, being separated from friends and the public eye by an essential stranger. But she had a playful spirit this night.

"So, you dragged me back here to have your way with me?"

"Oh, get a hold of yourself, lass! Do I look like I need to fight unfair?"

"So you do wanna fight..." Her saucy undertones barely even made sense.

Drum braced himself as if to charge at her and snorted loudly. "Snap out of it!!" The anger from her admired certainly caused this thing. She drooped her ears a tad and resigned herself to sitting on the ground before him, still rather dazed.

Then Drum stood at ease and took one firm step forward. "I could have my pick of the lot, if I were to want it badly enough. But this isn't about control. Go on now, take a crack. What do you think caught my eye about you?"

Carrot tried her thoughts. Things didn't make sense quite the way they did before. But she'd also never been in a place like this before.

"You like me and my friends?"

"I don't even know if I really know who your friends are. Try again."

"Hmm..." She jiggled a bit. Then she stood back up and jiggled several bits. "Well, I've been told I have a nice hip sway." This was likely Berry's coaching at work here.

"Hehe, now we're getting somewhere."

Glancing straight upward: "Oh, the luscious hair, too. I spend an hour or two on it some days."

"Though it's definitely taken a beating today, hasn't it?" He gazed into her frayed locks and splayed tresses earned from two days of tussling, tumbling, and tuckering herself on the dance floor.

"Oh...oh yeah, hehe..."

"Hey, don't worry about it." He slowly approached and put a hoof around her upper back, sharing body heat and vibrations along their sides. He politely released after a few seconds and stepped back to resume the face-to-face.

He looked her over carefully in the low light, more like an appraiser of minerals than of derrières. "There's a lot to you, lass. You see, deep down, I really like the gentleness of a mare's touch. Stepping into that embrace, I can feel so at home. A big guy like me needs a break from the whole being-big thing to forget everything and fall into a little bundle of joy. And even if there are so many around who would be their bundle for me, I think that bundle is you. You're so cozy. You're so timid." Half a beat later: "Well, maybe not tonight, but I suppose you need to break out of the usual sometimes too, eh?"

Carrot's confusion finally waned entirely, and she smiled with warmth and some confidence. "I didn't even know what came over me. I was just...it was so great, getting to be me. I didn't even care about anything else."

"Yah. Yah." Drum's head turned away.

Continuing, his eyes totally out of view, revealing only the bright green of his mane in the light of a faraway streetlamp: "What does it mean to be you? I wonder."

Carrot lacked a ready response to this. She just tried to act pensive.

"So, still don't know?"

"Um, I don't know what you're aski--"

"I'm asking if you even know who you are. And you should care!" What could this mean?

Responding to the silence: "Because I care! I care about you! And..." His voice broke ever so slightly. "I did care about you."

Carrot caught a certain message between the lines here, and it shook her resolve to the point of her not even realizing she was pawing gently backward from that disturbed stallion, arching her tail end up like a cornered foal.

"Every week...I came to buy supplies. Supplies I could've bought twice a year instead. You wanted to...'be yourself'. And I wanted you. You were everything I was looking for. So calm...so poised...so supple in the right places, athletic and robust but not so full of muscle. So...tender..." He drew a sharp breath, revealing still-unseen troubles. "I can't find anything like that in the world. I couldn't before you."

He slowly, slowly returned his gaze forward. In the much-increased distance between them, one could only see the glints of the other's eyes. One set hung low, getting tearful; the other tipped monstrously high and canted, already to tears and beyond. His breathing gradually increased in pace, shivering and then slobbering and then slicing the air with...not sadness, not pain...

"And now I never will again!! You've gone and bucked the whole works! 'Carrot's lost his carrot!', they said. But you'll soon wish you'd only lost that!"

One hard pair of hoofbeats. Then another. The third came sooner, and then a fourth sooner still, and then all noise from Drum's corner became barreling thunder.

Carrot Top was still somewhat tired from the night's big event, and it was clear she could not outrun his pace in any state. She just continued to back up and count the last seconds of her life.

About two seconds away, a pair of heads butted hard into Drum's side from the darkness, rolling him clean into a lit lamppost. One of those heads raised and pushed toward his quickly recovering form.

"Tell me, what's my name?" the head commanded.

The pony stood just outside the lamp's light, form outlined but color not quite clear.

"Don't make me say it again!"

Drum stood tall, very tall, previously unseen muscles tensing everywhere, seething and breathing with senseless grotesquerie under full light.

"What is my name?"

Then Drum reared up, nearly high as a house, his neigh a feral bellowing, his form a great green-on-gray volcano. As he came down, the volcano was cooled by a disrupting splash of liquid and ice. The cup from which it came, hanging in mid-air, crunched intensely against the end of his face--along with a solidly planted hoof. A second hoof broke against his right temple a split second later; the third strike came not quite two seconds after that, against the opposite temple, with sweeping force. Drum toppled and crumpled, half-spilled from the lamp light.

"And don't you bucking forget it!"

The three ran off blindly. Berry Punch trailed among them, her forehooves clearly giving her some trouble.

After clearing the scene, the backstreet brawler spoke once more: "Everyone. My place. Now."

Chapter Five

The sun rose. So also rose the eldest daughter of Berry Punch, runtish of size and sky-blue of coat and pale goldenrod of mane and not quite teen of age, up and out into the house proper.

"Yo Mom!"

Chances are she'd been advised not to poke her nose about chaos in the morning. But there was no helping it this time because her mother was snoozing right in front of her and her siblings' bedroom door.

Berry's head moved once. An added tap on the side from her eldest got her to stir enough to shake off the sandmare. An eye crept open. She recognized the hopeful glint in her child's eyes and responded tiredly but without resentfulness: "Yep, alright. Let's get to it."

Though simpler breakfasts were available, Sunny was looking forward to a family meal today. She trotted eagerly over to the fridge and got out milk, then eggs. With those beside the oven, she uncovered and scooped flour from a nearby bin into a bowl. From the pantry cabinet near Berry's bed, a big dollop of cooking oil joined in. One whisk and several minutes later, her mundane magic had created a simple batter.

Berry had taken to pressing oranges from the pantry at the time. When the batter was done, she popped back to the stove to handle the cooking task while Sunny continued making juice. In all of this, they worked silently and efficiently. Berry had embraced the new day fully already, unencumbered by the past. Sunny was just, well, sunny.

When the third full-size pancake landed on the serving plate, Sunny finished the pressing and cast her delicate voice out to Mama.

"You ever gonna tell me about Cole?" She made her reference clear with a glance toward the beanbags.

The working cook, after not reacting for a moment, released a very audible sigh. "I think you're old enough. But you can't tell anyone else. Alright?"

"Ohh...but I like being a blabby butt!"

"Ssshhhh, c'mon, keep it down. Now I'm serious. This doesn't leave this conversation, got it?"

"Yes, Moooom."

Berry shook from barely heard laughter at that sweet sarcasm. She flipped pancake #4 with a mouth-held spatula. "Well, you remember how I told you when two ponies love each other verrry ve--"

"Yeeeeah, dat's sex Mawm," she blurted in exaggerated playfulness.

"Ssssssshhhhhh!"

Ignoring her: "And Cole and you are a thing. Geez, like I've known that forever!"

Just as the last word escaped Sunny's lips, Berry's spatula clattered to the floor. The head once holding it now had slackened its jaw, and the stupefied mare creaked around to face her clever girl.

After a few seconds of blankness, she focused on her daughter and spoke carefully through almost trembling lips: "Well! I guess I really don't give kids enough credit for being bright. Or is that soundproof wall in your room not working right?" She clearly knew the wall was fine, though.

She paused, looking downward as if searching for something lost on the floor--something other than dropped kitchenware. "So...what do you wanna know, then?"

"You never tell us about your life, Mom! Like, who is she? She comes over like every week and sometimes eats our food, and you never say a thing!"

Berry visibly angered at the unrelenting volume level of this inquiry. "Hey, ssshhhhh!!"

Undeterred: "And are you two even married or what? Do you even have any--"

Berry shifted her aggravation to a higher gear, silently arresting her daughter's disrespect. She firmed her facial features, stood tall, and made it known in a hard shout of undertone: "Raise your voice to me again and you're getting grounded! Lock-in grounded!"

The last words widened Sunny's eyes visibly. But she whispered hard right back: "That's not right Mom!" She glanced about, her eyes getting fearful, wanting to say something but not sure how she could get away with it.

Berry's sudden bit of frustration broke. She glanced aside herself, considering how to ease the situation. Her eyes softened by several grades and refocused on Sunny. "Hey, get over here, hun." Sunny took a couple seconds to realize the threat was over, and she did as commanded. They embraced, side by side, tenuous smiles on each of their faces. "When you move out on your own, I'll tell you everything. But I don't think I have to tell you what a dirty little thing drama is. And it's a thing we just can't have here." Sunny didn't look entirely convinced this conversation was going her way; Berry just pulled her in more closely. "Don't you wanna keep things a secret from me, too? Like your going out with Rumble last night?"

Sunny gasped and blushed and stumbled away from the embrace, suddenly an embroiled klutz. "But you don't understand me! You never could!" One second later, she snapped into terror at her violation and its inevitable consequences. Berry just lowered her head and glared for a brief space of time, then returned to Gentle Mom mode.

"Come on, come back here." They returned to sharing warmth side by side, though Sunny was only blankly staring forward with a blushing, scrunched face and hard breathing. "We'll never totally get each other. That's just a fact of life. But I still love you love you love you, and it's my job to look out for you. That means keeping my life out of your life. Cole is somepony special to me, and that's all you need to know."

A little torn by grief, Sunny let on, "But you know about me; why can't I know about you?"

Berry reclined her head in thought for a full moment--long enough to make the embrace more than a little awkward. But Sunny calmed and waited patiently, looking at her mother most of this time with another glint of hope.

A burning smell came to Berry's attention, and she quickly returned to it and hoofed the forgotten pancake onto the plate, ignoring the heat. The second side was quite black. "Oh, right. Guess that one's mine, hehe."

After a few more silent seconds, Berry rounded to regard her biggest little one squarely. "For starters, I'm Mom, deal with it. Secondly, it's not important. But here's the big thing: If I have to explain my whole life to you--or to anyone, even to Cole really!--that's just gonna bog everything down. You want answers, just so you can know and stop bugging me and get some sleep at night or whatever? I could be a lot harsher about this. But...oh my goddesses, you don't even know how much I love you, hun." Her raspberry eyes acquired some morning dew. She audibly strained in taking her next breath. Now cracking: "And you're so smart too!" She smiled brightly for a moment, holding a hoof to Sunny's tiny chin.

Then Berry resumed, having regained some of her standard composure but still lit with joy: "Cole and I are best friends. We go back to when we were a little younger than you. We always had each other's back. A bad thing happened to her one day, and we became closer. Then a bad thing happened to me, and we became closer still. Almost no pony in this world have a friendship that lasts that long...and if it weren't for you guys, she'd be the only thing keeping my head from flyin' off.

"And did you know she likes helping other ponies too? Maybe you've seen her at fairs and fashion shows and even Nightmare Night? She's not just there to watch. She helps set things up. She volunteers everywhere. I mean, she has a job...but helping others is her whole life. It's beautiful. It's really beautiful.

"So tell me again...what do you want to do when you get out of this house?" She glanced at Sunny's recently-appeared cutie mark--a tall glass of berry lemonade with a straw.

Wakey wakey.

A slow awkward tone in describing what should have already been known: "I want to help out at the Ponyville Café?"

"And that is awesome, hun. It's so awesome that you know what you want to do. But Cole...well..."

This thought was interrupted by a loud thud by the bed. Carrot Top had been lulled awake, just a half-dozen paces away, tumbled out through the curtain onto crouched fours, mane a mass of moist knots, coat slicked back in places, expression vacuous, legs and body dripping with...things. A certain smell crept over to the mother and daughter; and the daughter froze, abjectly mortified. Berry froze too, though her thought process ran into a totally different dimension.

"Hey now, what're you doing, getting all cozy in my bed like that? You...you get, uh, get out of here! Shoo shoo! Go!" She lightly waved away this home invader, not approaching her.

But Sunny wasn't even a party to this ruse. "Oh... Oh my goddess. Mom. It's true. It's TRUE, isn't it?" The obscenely high squeaks in this shout could curdle blood, but the scream afterward could curdle tap water. "IT'S TRUE! You're nothing but a hussy! You're nothing but a slut!" She howled and screamed again, then a third time--loudly enough to stir birds outside.

Berry merely looked on, somewhere slightly above Sunny's head, expressionless. She might have tipped over if someone breathed hard enough at her.

Naturally, the consternation was also loud enough to stir Colgate. But as soon as she perceived the scene, she went back to inconspicuous laying. Anything more than this might have caught Sunny's attention--particularly when she sprinted by the bags and out the door.

Berry turned and headed to the window, taking in pale warming skies and sheets of clouds and familiar hills and distant trees. The presence of the other kids could be heard thumping against the wall to her left, probably waking up or making their beds. Colgate sat up to her distant right. No one thought of Carrot.

The mauve mare bundled her forehooves up against the windowsill, up to the elbows, and rested her head on them aloofly to gaze and gaze. No tears came. Just being there was tragic expression enough. Barely audible, she said to the window: "Guess my baby's gonna be growing up today."

Berry contemplated a number of things as the others looked on in silent awe, suffering contemplations of their own.

Then the door to the kids' room opened. Berry snapped to.

"Everyone, shower time. Make a line outside the shower box. Right now. Cole, Carrot, go with the young'uns but let them go first."

She sped over to the oven to resume pancake duty while the others followed the plan--which also led them outside. She even got out a second pan so as to flip double-duty. Ablaze with energy, she took to the fridge to claim some peppers and all 6 or so of the remaining eggs, chopping the former and whipping them into the latter in a large bowl intermittently between pancake flips. Once there was only one pancake left to make, the empty pan received the raw ingredients for an omelette--minus the cheese, which Berry then hastily grated directly onto the egg puddle as it started to cook. Completed, she left the omelette in the pan and set the pancakes on an plate and onto a blanket she'd just set in the house's center. Another trip to grab more plates and utensils, a set-up of the fresh jug of OJ with cups, and breakfast was ready. She'd easily outraced her kids in preparation.

Berry stuck her head out the door and hollered, "BGs assemble!"

The adult ponies headed back in, although they had not yet gotten to shower. Carrot and Colgate both seemed pretty level-headed despite resembling utter messes. But Carrot also wasn't looking anypony in the eye.

"Here's the deal. Nopony talks about Sunny. That's my business. I'll find out if she went to school or somewhere else. Now I'm gonna take the others up to school. Cole, you're off work today. I'll pay you if you need--"

Colgate interrupted, "You're not any better able--"

Berry repeated, "But I'll pay you if you need to eat because I'm not gonna bucking let you starve." Continuing more normally, though still rather quickly for her: "Carrot, just don't fall apart today. We are the BGs, not Two Cool Mares and Their Bucked-Up Tag-Along. You're cool too. Start acting like it. And remain here. And Cole, come back here after telling work. Something happened last night, and there may not be a lot of time for us to sort this shit out. We gotta make a plan. A big plan. The pet charity's just gonna have to wait. This is serious business. And we discuss nothing until we're all together. Not even to ourselves. Just. Say. Nothing."

She started to pass them through the door, then suddenly turned about to add, "Oh right, and help yourself to breakfast--I left the omelette for you two in the pan. And you'll need to brush up, so use my vanity and stuff by the bed. Remember, Mama loves you. Cole, one other thing..." Berry's shifting eyes led Carrot to set for breakfast while she shared a private moment with her closest friend just outside the door.

And the morning plan was followed.

After freshening up and eating in pregnant silence, Colgate and Carrot glared at each other for a while. It wasn't such an evil or contemptuous thing. There was just so much they each wanted to say, so much to learn from one another; and that did include some suspicions on each side. But per Berry's orders, nothing would be said.

For about thirty seconds.

"Carrot...This is some fine mess you've gotten us into."

"Maybe you wanna hear my side?"

"Oh, really! I've heard it up and down my side lately! You darn near abused me in public!"

"Then why'd you bother to play along?"

"Because I'm your friend and I care about you! --Actually, hold up..."

Carrot's glare did not let up that quickly.

"Now you know I wasn't upset at the time or anything. But like, you're a lady now! You can't just act out like that. It's so...so freaky!"

" 'You're a lady now'!? What the hay is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're an adult too!"

"I--well--" A pause. "This is hard!"

Colgate half-relented her eye assault and cast her head somewhat aside. More dismayed than apprehensive: "And coming to us in private isn't, darling. You know right where we live."

Carrot just growled. Then after a moment: "And what's this about?" She circled her hoof tightly about her right eye, to refer to Colgate's own somewhat puffy one.

"I was...I was upset. It's not your business."

"Like hay it's not my business! Do you guys even treat me as an equal?"

Colgate sharpened and bristled at that. "Now I've said you don't understand me as well as you'd like. But I've already told you my life story. You know Berry's, too. I don't think we left much out. But life is more than just a series of events. Have you thought about what's happened to me? For example...with my job?"

Carrot paused a bit.

"I wonder if you're not mature enough even to really think about others' feelings, hun. Sure, you can get laid. You can feel really close to somepony. But if you don't at least try to understand the world from their point of view, the loneliness is going to come back again and again. You are you--and while I don't agree with Berry just telling you to suck it up, I can't make that click in your head to happen for you either."

Carrot sobbed tearlessly; she'd started soon after the mention of her recent laying experience. This immediately threw the moment's dynamic away from anger.

Colgate concluded: "You did the bravest possible thing in order to be yourself. I can't even imagine that. So please, please--just put all that nonsense out of your head already!"

"I--I think I'm kind of beyond that, actually. You know that rave last night?"

Colgate raised her eyebrows, then grinned approvingly. "Oh, I'm not sure if I even knew who you were at that rave last night!"

"Ohhh..." Carrot remembered the experience, and she snapped her head aside, inhaling sharply, her face shivering with delight. "Something happened out there. And I was kind of like, to Tartarus with that other guy. I just wanted to stay out there." She took several seconds to come down from that relived memory.

The next words held an apologetic tone. "Oh, and um...thanks for saving me. I was pretty drunk. What was I even doing?"

"Aww, c'mere..." They shared a simple, friendly hug. "It was Berry's prescription. Like I said, I don't think she always does everything right--and I told her this, too. Oh, and did I ever mention you're a total lightweight?"

They giggled a bit.

Colgate was still regarding a rather unpleasant face--filthy body notwithstanding. "So what's eating you, then?"

"I still don't really feel as much a part of this group. Now that I've kind of come back to being right in the head, now I see where I wanna be. Being you would be easier. But really--"

"But really..." Colgate considered carefully for a moment. Then she sat on her haunches and crossed one foreleg to her own chin, her voice and demeanor now quite frank and not so dolled-up. "You should try more of that writing, if you ask me. You're getting better at expressing yourself, even if they're just descriptive articles. So use your words to try to imagine being in somepony else's shoes." A focused stare into the other's eyes followed, waiting to confirm they were on the same page. "The more you see others for who they really are, the less you'll be trying to live up to some impossible pony's life that doesn't exist, and you can just be happy with the crackpot that you are. That is what makes you a BG!"

Carrot dwelled on this for a while. "Wow. Where'd you get that wisdom from?"

"From paying attention in the School of Hard Knocks. You went there too. Must've slept through the lectures or something?" Colgate giggled at her own trailing metaphor, and Carrot just rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.

Echo the cat heard something mournful and strolled to the piano.

While Colgate departed to upset her boss and clients, Carrot took advantage of some precious minutes alone. She changed out the bedsheets, put back the beanbags, and put some extra time into those fanciful curls at the vanity.

But then she brainstormed ways to get more into Berry's life. Figuring an invitation to the vanity meant there wasn't too much of importance inside it, she looked behind it, under it, on top of it. Nothing unusual.

So she headed back to the bed. She knew she'd find all sorts of adventures underneath the bed...but what about that headboard? Berry had told her about the portraits, quite a while ago, and that they represented a childish time of fairy tales and diamond rings. She checked behind it--maybe there'd be some sentimental love letter or a more private memento. But she came up dry. She checked behind a few of the portraits; some had names written, one spoke of a "sweetheart", another just "wish you were here"--but none seemed all that interesting. After a few minutes, she smiled in pride at just being able to think about the love life of another without getting all envious for once.

Then she checked the Wonderbolt badge. It belonged to one Major Falcon Glider, Bravo Team Leader. What a catch, she must have thought. Also rather impressive how shiny it remained after what must've been a number of years in the open air. And how much trouble would this Falcon Glider have gotten in for leaving his badge behind?

Bored, she gave up on that chase and saw whether she could get into the cellar. Naturally, though, it was locked. It would be terrible for kids to mess around down there with all the booze.

...Then it clicked. Berry had told her that her old husband had been a Wonderbolt. She went back and regarded the badge one more time. She drooped her ears in melancholy, contemplating what would possess one to keep a memento from a beloved husband and father next to all these other conquests. Some faint praise, that.

After hearing somepony try the door, she opted to feign sleep there. Colgate caught her in the feigning act, however, and she just shook her head.

The two summarily agreed to try to get some more sleep for the time being, shut the curtains, and slept apart on the bed. They couldn't seem to rest, though, and it was certainly too awkward to cuddle.

Berry took two whole hours to return, mostly due to her search for Sunny. She did eventually go to school after all--though was that really the best outcome for Berry?

She stormed in to see the Colgate at dishes and Carrot cleaning the floor.

"Alright guys. That's just beautiful. Now I have nothing for the kids to do!" Berry looked strangely serious about everything.

Colgate recognized the attitude for what it was from her old friend. "Wait--really, this is part of the plan?"

"Actually, I need you all to stop what you're doing, right now. Especially you, Carrot." So they did.

"Yeah. The kids are gonna be running loose today after school, I bet. I'll leave a note for Sunny or something. This is a big deal, guys."

"Is this about last night, Berry? I...I think I got over it." Colgate patted her swollen eye.

Berry's serious brows and even mouth remained. "Got over...what, would you say?"

"I was just mad...I flipped out over...uh, over--"

"You flipped out, and then you pushed away a box I was chucking at you with your horn. And then you passed out." A brief but dramatic aperture of tenderness opened in Berry's inquiry. "Do...you even...remember what you said?"

"Uh, no, not precisely...it was just so late and I was so tired."

Berry snorted hard. "You were drugged. Some funky shit went down. And then whoever did it ran off."

"Did you catch them?"

Carrot interrupted meekly. "Wait, got over what?"

Colgate turned steadily to the interrupting mare with much the same sort of seriousness as Berry already had equipped. This broke into confusion after trying to speak. "Over... Um...wait..."

Berry continued her thought: "Over something that you haven't cared about in years. Like sleeptalking a bad dream, almost. And not like your usual thing, either. I'm shit outta clues to how." She then rubbed her foreleg, upon which a long slice wound could only barely be seen.

She then cleared her throat. "There's a reason I don't think you were just dreaming. Girls, I may not be the most reliable of witnesses myself. But let me show you something."

She wandered toward a spot on the ground a few paces to the front-right of the fireplace. "Tell me, now...whose is that?"

As Berry pointed down, the other two gathered and scanned, arriving at an object of interest.

Gushing in pride or perhaps confidence: "Miss Minty Fresh, care to confirm that for me?"

She eyed it closely for all of two seconds. "Good call, Berry. Somepony out there's missing a piece of a tooth. Pretty fresh."

Berry addressed her gang with something of a rapt and nervous astonishment. "Or..." She eyed each of them carefully, making sure their attention was held in kind. "Or someone in here. No telling. I watched them open the door and flee...but I didn't. I didn't see anything. And I checked all the kids' mouths already. They're invisible. They could be anywhere. That's what's got me all freaked out."

Carrot burbled with excitement, perhaps at the thought of a new writing topic. "Mystery time?"

Colgate interrupted Carrot's irrational moment. "You can't just go...you can't just change your--" She snapped to Berry. "Pardon me--you can't just change our lives around because of something you saw in the middle of the night! Seriously!"

Berry acted casual to this retort. "Yeah, yeah--and I was drunk, and I was drowsy, and damn Carrot, where'd you get that--" She grinned as Carrot fidgeted and blushed brightly. "Sorry hun, you should've known nothing's a secret between us. But it doesn't matter."

She cleared her throat and turned to face Colgate, a playful arch in her brow. "And I'll let you decide what we do today on one condition...and that's you tell me what you did to earn that token of my affection on your face."

Colgate gritted her teeth for a few seconds--but this gave way to sullen shock at her own persistent lack of recollection. She stammered. "I--what's going..."

"And shit, Carrot. This ain't a Hinny Boys mystery. This is proof we gotta watch our backs! Somepony may want us dead or something!"

Colgate reacted in repulsion to this, lowering her eyes to slits. Drily, she proposed, "So we're gonna catch the Boogeymare."

But Berry just turned her sass dial to maximum, sliding her head side to side with each stressed syllable. "You're goddess-damned right we are."

Carrot had a sudden thought and blurted it. "Hey, if they're listening in, maybe we need to gather up and keep this to a hush." The others agreed with and headed toward her, somewhat to her own surprise.

And so they whispered ideas among each other for some time. One tossed out the idea to stay in public places. Diversions and split-ups were suggested. Carrot got smacked on the head once for a particularly silly notion. Then the hush fell entirely; they nodded, broke, finished preparations, left out the door, and then all headed off in different directions.

Chapter Six

In the hours since Sunny disappeared, so had the sun. The southerly-driven cloud cover indicated that a storm was due for Ponyville. These would likely not deploy until evening, and their early arrival just served as a traditional form of warning for the necessities of the weather cycle. Anypony who cared had a time limit to get home and avoid the quick but heavy downpour prescribed to nourish the land.

Still in sight of Berry's place, Colgate bounded in the general direction of Golden Oak Library, whistling conspicuously. She considered, in her merry state, whether it might be better to swing by the arcade for a while. Good way to pass the time while Berry hatches this crazy scheme of hers.

Wait--wouldn't it be better to meet with Berry first, to get all the details again?

Where is she headed off to, anyway?

Colgate paused for a couple seconds in astonishment, then resumed her silly hop, steered a bit more toward the center of town. Maybe she didn't really know what Berry was even up to. Or even she herself.

A quarter mile from home, Berry was clearly plodding over to Sweet Apple Acres. There simply wasn't any other thing of interest between these two points on the northwest and southwest edges of town. She frequently stopped, eyed around, and sniffed the air--but no Boogeymare was to be found.

Downtown Ponyville.

The garden shop was having trouble with their new hires: for every customer leaving the place with a wheelbarrow of goods and a smile, another grumbled over a wilted potted plant or a leaky bag of soil.

The quill and sofa place saw a few quill-buyers--including Spike, Twilight's dragon assistant; but it seemed no one would bother buying furniture on such a damp day.

The Ponyville Café wasn't exactly percolating at the moment, either. Even though ponies knew quite well about when the rain would appear, that burning ball the clouds now concealed had an unmistakable effect on moods--and thus also on a good number of providers of non-essential goods and services.

Wasn't Carrot headed this way? It didn't seem that she was, after all.

On the northern edge of downtown, a hint of the mare in blue topaz peeked over the light crowd in the open market. She was not headed to the arcade just beyond it--in fact, she seemed to be heading away from it. Perhaps she decided against it at the last minute.

So she considered her options some more. If not the arcade...why not check out the market? One could spend hours just picking over all the fresh produce and deals on knick-knacks you never knew you needed. Might even get a good deal on some munchies you could bring home. At least until Berry comes back.

Colgate stopped again, pondering her plans with an audible "hmm".

She is coming somewhere around here, right?

Her concentration was broken by the appearance of none other than Berry herself, walking toward her from the market crowd. This was utterly impossible.

Colgate eyed her carefully, then grinned and piped up. "Ah, so which one are you?"

A mellow and unassuming Berry replied, "Oh, Colgate! You're the only one who never mistakes us for ole Punchie when we come to town. Berry Jam here. Say, you got plans?"

One of Berry's identical sisters, rarely seen in Ponyville, just had to drop by on this day.

"Well..." Where do you have to be today? Say it! "Oh, maybe you'd like to help me go flower shopping? I need to go to the library today too, but there's a housewarming party I have later on and I wanted to get a gift. What about you?"

The wind picked up a bit. Perhaps this storm might be a big one.

Somewhere in the hills east of the Golden Oak Library, Carrot Top's new and allegedly complete home lay. Somewhere in the nooks and valleys abounding the verdant landscape, a concealed grass-covered door opened to an underground hovel. Somewhere. Somewhere...

Inside of that somewhere, flat square stones formed a simple yet elegant flooring solution for a great earthen dome. The sloping walls bore wall-scrolls of various artworks--mostly Eastern--as well as snippets of writing passages from old social and political figures. Clopfucius seemed to be well-represented among the literature. One piece of stylized artwork depicted a possible comic-book character--a burgundy mare with puffed straight auburn mane, braided in back, and with a hot/cold water spigot for a cutie mark. The ceiling bore a fine mesh, apparently meant to catch any clumps of dirt that loosened from the--well, the hill. Half-finished pages of hoofwriting littered the desk to the entrance's left; on the right, a few pillows were situated about a blanket bearing a modest tea set. Overall, the home was properly furnished except that a simple pile of hay formed the bed, there was no clear bathroom solution, and the chute that might serve as a fireplace seemed quite unfinished. What an odd place to live.

But nopony lived here at the very moment.

The clock and the outdoor shadows' movement indicated it was now past noon.

Sweet Apple Acres, and Ponyville's founding family, were situated across town from that hut. The Apples were invested in one more day of labor to feed Ponyville and the nation; no Berry mingled with them, however. The only trace of foreignness here was a small piece of paper, held fast by a rock, a hundred paces north of the farmstead's outer fence. The paper read: "Nice try stalker."

Not far into town from the farm, the sun peeked through the clouds for a moment, illuminating an acre-sized patch of ground that happened to include the domicile of Ditzy Doo and daughter Dinky. A locked door separated its lifeless interior from the outside world. Of course, they were both busy with work and school at the moment.

Nothing illuminated Carrot's whereabouts.

Inside the flower shop, along with the standard racks and shelves and the wares upon them, flyers adorned the walls to announce the Ponyville Pet Charity Concert. Idly gawking at one of these flyers stood one Berry--though it could not be discerned at first glance which Berry this was.

"Shit, Carrot...come on!"

The other observed Berry popped out of the shopping crowd, and she gave her sister a tap on the shoulder. Berry #1 spun around and promptly gave her a hug.

"Oh, awesome, girl! What a...um, I think Cole would call it a 'coinky-dink'! Oh, have I got plans for you today...if you're not too busy, anyway."

"Just in town for some of the nicer corn and radishes they grow here. Your lady actually had me come in here and pick up some zinnias for a housewarming party. Just told me to wait here."

The apparent Berry Punch pumped her forehooves in excitement and let out a quiet shout. "Aww yes! She is the best. I thought she wasn't gonna work with me on this at all. Something gone right in this shit-tabulous day for once..."

Befuddled, the apparent Berry Jam raised one eyebrow in anticipation of an explanation.

Closer to her ear, hushed to the crowd but not totally inaudible: "We have a stalker problem. A very very sneaky stalker. Maybe just me. Or Cole. Or Carrot Top--you remember her, right? Well, whatever--we're gonna give this guy the run-around." The smirk that followed had a sneakiness of its own.

"The run-around..." she echoed. Then out loud came the reply: "So he'll turn himself in and apologize?" The pause was worth a thousand words. Punch fidgeted slightly while Jam lowered her lids, grinning just a skosh, almost condescending. "You are a nutcase, Punchie. Whatever made you think that'd work?"

Now everyone could hear this bizarre conversation if they'd wanted to. "Hey, this is serious business here! I got proof someone's messing with us! What would you want me to do? I can't catch what I can't see, Jams. So you tell me what you'd do."

"How about you have them follow you somewhere and then trap them?"

"What, like, bait him? I don't even know what this guy wants. I just found out last night. He could be after anything. But whatever it is, nothing's missing in my stuff. So it's gotta be one of us, I think."

They looked at each other a bit while Jam considered the matter. Fluttering her eyes, she suggested: "Well, there's one bait I know that works... masterfully for most guys."

Berry Punch studied her twin carefully, scanning her face for a clue. Something slowly clicked in her mind. Then her eyes upturned. Her cheeks tightened, then puffed. And she let out a laugh--first a chortle but then building, eventually loud enough to disrupt the whole store, falling clean backwards, rolling around a bit on the floor.

After her sister settled, Jam clarified with knowing mirth: "Well, if you're sure it's a guy, anyway."

Punch busted out laughing anew. "Maybe even if it's not! Bwahaha!"

A good few faces from the shopping mass now glared disapprovingly or disgustedly at the Berries. Punch glared back at them briefly, then got back up and dusted herself off.

"Alright. I got an idea. You just wait for Cole to get back and, um...just go wherever she tells you. And try to be like me a bit. You can tell them real quiet-like who you are, but otherwise make sure to slip a few 'shit's and 'damn's in to keep this psycho from suspecting anything. Think you can do that?"

"Hey! I got a life too! You can't just rope me into this."

Punch broke into a crazed grin. Jam called the grin with her own--one of tepid enthusiasm, familiar to her sister's ways.

With a stab at eloquence: "Are you aware of my collection of potent potables? I'll let you have your pick next time I see you at my place."

Berry Jam gave real pause at this; her head shot straight up. She pondered the possibilities.

"...The Dammore '63?"

A smack upon the head from the punchy one. "Buck you, I know you don't even like scotch. But basically anything else, yeah."

Jam shrugged, rolled her eyes, and smiled faintly at her crazy sister. And then Punch winked and vanished without another word.

Minutes later, a couple hundred paces out from the flower shop, another scene was wrapping up.

"--but why? I don't know her, or anypony there..."

"If anyone's gonna get us out of this mess, it's her, alright? You and I both know Berry's lost it, and it's gonna take some...special thinking to get out of this without me getting a black eye and you getting black eye number two." And she'd surely make you regret last night, too.

"Hey, just chill! She's not usually like that. She's just under a lot of stress lately. And uh, Carrot, why do we have to involve a bunch of other innocent ponies? Could you maybe, just maybe be overreacting because of how you're feeling about Berr--"

Carrot suddenly roared at her comrade, exuding raw fury.

"Whoa..." Colgate's determination failed for the first time as Carrot faced her, panting and grimacing before her. She stood loosely, shaken. Then after a moment she frowned, almost seeming to pout. Staring straight ahead, her voice flat and faltering and glum: "Fine. Lead the way..."

The clouds had thickened and darkened the sky. One born and raised in a scene like this might be forgiven to not know the sun existed at all.

Colgate, Carrot, and the "fake" Berry all trotted steadily toward another downtown destination. Carrot indeed led the way, proud and defiant; Colgate pressed on behind her, downtrodden. Berry Jam just tagged along without much concern.

Some minutes into this: "So...what the shit is going on lately?"

Colgate chuckled at that. "I'm afraid that your impression needs...it needs some work."

"Well, forgive me for not having had a Wonderbolt for a husband!"

Some nerve that girl's got.

Colgate froze on the spot, straightening up. As Jam moved to pass her, Colgate cut her off with an outstretched forehoof and beheld her with distaste. "Are you really going to talk like that around me?"

Worried, with darting eyes: "Whoa, uh, no. I didn't realize that was still...touchy."

Through clenched teeth: "He ditched her and left her with nothing! If there's one thing in this world that makes my blood boil, it's what that wretch put her through!"

"Uh...wow. You definitely have a different version of the story than me."

"I've heard it straight from the horse's mouth! I don't care about your rumors, or whatever the folks of this town have to say about us."

Carrot yelled impatiently from some thirty paces ahead. "Hey! C'mon, move it--we don't have all day!"

But this Berry only had eyes for Colgate--warbling and shrunken in pupil. "I...I never said a word."

Colgate stared harshly for a few more seconds. Then, with a gruff pat on the shoulder: "Good. We have a housewarming party to get to after this. Let's stay cool for now."

But that thought could hardly describe this trio, now in sight of their goal--and in this day's light, it was a dreadfully cheery thing to behold.

One can hardly describe Sugar Cube Corner without mentioning Pinkie Pie. Despite the bakery/confectionery being owned and run by a separate family, that family's assistant and pseudo-adoptee had singlehoofedly transformed its atmosphere into something more like a playhouse. The Cakes had not permitted any changes to the fanciful gingerbread-house mockup. But Pinkie's notion of inviting the more daring of customers to make professional-quality baked goods for little more than cost made for an unexpected attraction--one that bolstered the shop's commercial reach beyond those with a sweet tooth to schools, corporate picnics, youth groups, rehabilitation clinics, and other niche interests. The small-time daycare service that naturally followed only further enhanced the boisterous air of the place. Even at the front desk, the Cakes had learned to adopt a more whimsical approach to business to keep in the spirit of the Element of Laughter and her (or its?) fans.

The missus of the establishment sashayed in from the kitchen. A saturated pastel blue mare with a decadent raspberry-swirl mane, she bore a fore-apron with frills and glitter shaped into smiling faces--as well as a wide-eyed, vaguely discomforting smile of her own. On a forehoof she carried a tray with tiny bowls of some treat smothered with chocolate sauce and crumbled toppings. Her inherent nervousness increased as the three strode to the counter; she seemed to wait too long to initiate conversation.

"So, you three...what'll it be?"

Jam, having followed Carrot's cue from earlier and being the only visitor of pleasant disposition at the moment, started: "If I'm not mistaken, we're here for a date with Pie."

Mrs. Cake's toasty-orange husband suddenly poked his head in from the workplace. "Oh ho, but don't dates go in the pie?"

Colgate coolly (not in the sense of the word invoked earlier) followed: "I can't presume to know what all goes in the Pie we seek. But she should be working here today, am I right?"

"Just about every day, dawn to dusk! And it's not like we wouldn't give her a day off, either!" Mrs. Cake eyed, not idly, at the crasher of her conversation; he grimaced, glanced back, and disappeared back to duty.

Carrot Top, the initiator of all this and the only one yet to speak, did so. "Well, this is business. We'll pay you for your time if Pinkie can have a moment with us."

Mrs. Cake took a note of concern at the tone of this discussion. "This sounds...quite serious. But then..." Then, with a flourish of florid facial features and a deft hindhoof spin to match, barely disturbing the held tray: "Maybe we'd like a little sample of today's special while I go find her?"

Jam handled this one. "Oh yeah, sure!" She then briefly smiled at the others, possibly at the notion that something good for her was coming from all this nonsense after all.

And it is, without a doubt, nonsense.

So Mrs. Cake set the tray on a front-end table and briskly tucked into the kitchen.

Carrot suddenly wrinkled her nose--apparently at one of her own thoughts, not at the offer of a treat. That treat was enjoyed calmly at the table along with the others. If it had been made of pure cheer-inducing magic, though, the spell didn't work on her.

Colgate seemed to have a finer taste for matters and noted, "Huh, chocolate-graham cracker orange parfait? Can't say I ever would've thought of that." She gained at least a shade of merriment from the experience.

Jam grinned back at her once more, wearing a little chocolate sauce on her chin. Colgate immediately spotted it and made a wiping motion in her direction. After Jam took care of it, Colgate faintly smiled and snorted. Perhaps the resemblance to her old Punch helped that along.

Then, that voice. "Well, orange you glad I did?" This was a voice accustomed to tearing down walls of recalcitrance, lifting through mires of doldrums, and pirouetting through walks of shame--and its owner seemed oblivious to its power. Was it a charade for some deeper act, or was she really just a freak of nature?

The voice's owner emerged at some impossible speed from behind the wall, about the swinging door to the front end, and right across the table from the presently bewildered trio. "Orange You Glad? Pretty good name, huh?"

"Oh...right." Jam chuckled once.

The others briefly beheld Pinkie Pie. Even if they'd been long-time acquaintances, they would've had a good excuse to take pause at the moment: Her pink-on-pink frame was bedecked in some huge frou-frou neck collar, a yellow/chocolate puffy-legged petticoat, a beribboned bun pastry on her rump, and a wide-brimmed hat bearing an enormous dollop of pudding.

She'd noticed the attention and just stood there beaming and basking in it for some seconds. Then she gently set aside the tray and uneaten samples, abruptly ended her smile, pounced on the table, and stood on hind hooves with a forehoof across the chest. She cast her eyes toward some great unseen yonder and pronounced with weapons-grade bombast: "Ask not what you can do for Chancellor Puddinghead--ask what Chancellor Puddinghead can do for you!" Then she was instantly on the ground again. After a beat: "I think that's how it goes, anyway." And she let forth an adorable squee.

A flat "What?" was all Carrot could manage in reply.

"Oh right, hehe! Guess you don't usually get in the Pinkie groove! But it's time to turn that aaallll around today! Mrs. Cake said we might have a possible...um..." She stretched in a most exaggerated fashion to Colgate's ear. With a ridiculously loud and strained whisper: "We might have a Code Blue."

"How much do I owe you for 15 minutes of your time?" Carrot purposely avoided engaging in whatever was going on here.

"Wellllll...hold on a second, let me work this out." One second later, she had already left and returned with a full-size chalkboard. One could not even guess as to the chalkboard's source. She got to work, scribbling wildly and crafting diagrams that didn't seem remotely relevant to cost estimation. "Metric-to-imperial conversion...carry the four...multiply by the eigenvalues of each combination of the non-transposed elements..." She whipped around. "AHA! That will be three smiles."

She then leaned back at Colgate, whispering loudly once more: "I'm actually on my normal break. I'm totally gonna rob these ponies blind!" This immediately elicited the first third of the payment/bribe as the blue mare giggled.

Pinkie then turned with an accelerating, dramatic glance at Berry Jam. Her leering eye bespoke a mystery in need of solution. "Hmmm... Hey! You're not the same Berry I know! 'Cause you'd be telling me to cut manure or something like that!"

"Smart as a licorice whip, Miss Pie!" Jam jumped headlong into Pinkie's game. "Or sharp as a rock-candy tack, maybe?"

"Ohhh, that reminds me! ...Oh, but nevermind, that's in a few moons. So, how was theeeeeeee"--Pinkie pumped her forehooves wide in the air, standing and shouting--"Choco-Orange-Cracker Chilled Surprise!?"

Carrot bit at this. "But didn't you just call it--"

"Orange You Glad I didn't say that name again?" Pinkie tittered and even snorted at her own juvenile joke. Carrot only bristled slightly.

Pinkie returned to her newest task, adjusting her over-sized hat carefully as if to seem intellectual while pondering this mysterious Berry head-on.

Just as Pinkie was about to speak, Jam slyly interrupted, "Actually, I'll buy one right now."

Pinkie leaned back to Colgate with the useless whisper: "Ohh, she's goooood." She quickly conducted this business with Jam and fetched her a healthy-sized bowl, which Jam wasted no time in devouring.

Aside from this, Colgate's contrast in mood with Carrot had become sufficient to bring the former to put an arm around the latter and squeeze gently. "Come on...you said she could help and--honestly!--there's only one pony here I see needing any help right now. Cheer up a bit, huh?" Carrot did her best impression of Carrot not being embraced or loved by anyone.

Pinkie suddenly scrunched her face and pouted. "I. Sense. A plot! You guys don't want me to know who this not-Berry Punch is...do you!? This sham of a mare! This charlatan of a tippler! This doppelganger of a fine wine maker!"

Here came smile number two, from a muzzle coated even more with chocolate than before. "Jeez, it's Jam! Berry Jam! Thought you knew about us. We're twins! Or two of a kind, anyway. There's seven of us in all. But hey...let's just say it was a crazy foalhood."

Pinkie was taken aback, eyes wide and pupils shrunk and ears up and mouth in a little O. Berry smiled further, having one-upped a master in craziness. "Yeah, they banned that magical birth control faster than a Lunar War fan club." What!?

"So...we might have two or three minutes left after introductions are over at this rate." Carrot yawned, perhaps only for dramatic effect. "Let's just get down to business. I'm not sure whether the real Berry Punch is losing it, or the Tooth Fairy got sidetracked at her place, or maybe Colgate and I just had too much to drink last night. But something's not right."

You've always got to blame the booze, don't you?, she considered after the fact.

"Teehee--yeah!" Pinkie responded. Responded to whom?

"Umm..." Carrot continued. "Well, Ms. Punch could stand to get punched back into reality. But then, maybe she's right, too! We're looking for ideas, at least to get to the point of making a plan that's really secure and not insane or stupid." She suddenly facehoofed, realizing her self-possessed and sharply-dressed choice of adviser might not have been the greatest pick for that task. "Okay, we're just looking for ideas. Any ideas at all."

Colgate, more the authority on all matters Berry, took the stage from here. "She's run off to..." She groaned. "Sweet Celestia...entrap this supposed invisible stalker of hers. I mean, of ours. I say 'hers' because, well, the only things I know for sure are there's a piece of a strange pony's tooth in her house and Carrot and I have been acting... Well, okay, I've been acting more random than usual lately. Sorry, I'm running a bit low on sleep today. But that's probably unrelated."

"Ooh, what dastardly trap does she have in store?"

Colgate groaned again and whispered very, very quietly in Pinkie's ear.

Pinkie tilted her head to one side, comically confused. Softly, she inquired, "But that doesn't explain anything. What kind of bait is she using?"

Forget it. She wouldn't know what that is if a pair of diddlers paradiddled on her bratty little head.

Her ears perked up(!?) and she caught the message. "Oohhh! Wow, that's an extra-naughty trap! And you wanna...uh, know how I can help?" She looked away from the three coyly, blushing.

Put her in her place, Carrot!

Carrot interrupted this terrible train of thought. "No, no, no! We need to know what to do tonight at my housewarming par--" She immediately caught herself.

Too late. "You? You, Miss Grumpy-Lumpy-Dumpy Pants, are having a party tonight?? Hold the press! Stop the music! Delay shipment and belay that order, captain! Forget Code Blue, we're going Code Pink!! ...Hehe, oh wait, I never told you!" She leaned in to "whisper" to Miss Grumpy-Lumpy-Dumpy Pants. "Code Blue is where there's someone grumpy on the floor."

"I get it." Carrot's whisper was not quite as comical, but it did break her genuinely grumpy composure a bit. She dwelled on Pinkie's underhoofed tactics of titillation and recoiled with--

Pinkie's left eye fluttered, and her right horehoof twitched. Her spine shivered, and the back of her poofy curly mane split in two for a second before rejoining.

Then she gasped, colossal and noisome and attention-grabbing (as if that last string of events wasn't). "You guys! I think your problem is...right here, right now! There's an alien controlling your mind!!"

Carrot's funk evaporated as she stared at Berry, awestruck. "Are you...serious?"

Colgate and Berry Jam were utterly incredulous now. Colgate mildly addressed her friend. "Okay, seriously. You're both starting to weird me out. Why would you suddenly listen to her about this--this load of horse apples?"

Carrot continued staring at the somewhat panicked Pinkie. "Because she's right. By goodness, she's right. She's right all the time. I follow her hunches to get leads on stories. You think I didn't have what you're going through when she first Pinkie Sensed in front of me? This is...this is..." She trotted over to face Colgate, then bracing her friend's head with both of her forehooves. "I have to go now!" She abandoned the shop and the ones she'd dragged there, almost without another thought. Just inches from the door, she rendered a brief, forced, yet polite smile toward Pinkie--and then she was out of sight.

Pinkie and the other two would have a lot of questions needing answers--more than fifteen minutes could oblige. But this story had other places to go.

Locked. Of course her door was locked. To keep out the aliens.

The skies darkened. Time was running short.

Unlocked?

Inside Berry's shack, not a creature stirred and not a sound was made--at least, not a sound from above ground.

The cellar door lay open. An open trap certainly lay beneath it.

Approaching the door, one could make out a most dramatic sound. One familiar with its typical place of origin would immediately catch interest. This was the sound of a mare in the throes of passion. Even if it may have been overplayed, the rough rhythmic stroking of primal energies against the voice box could've won out over any siren's call.

Not much could be seen in the cellar from the door's entrance. A dust or something more arcane blotted vision--but there was indeed a light somewhere beyond the haze.

On the first step, one would find no booby traps--no tripwires, no sharp objects, no adhesives, no intention of the step to give way and break a leg.

The second step was safe, much like the first. Not much could yet be seen.

And the third step. Beyond the depth of the floor, one could make out the high ceiling and location of the light source. And around some pillars--behold! A hoof twitched wildly, on a table directly under the light.

And the fourth. The hoof had a leg, and across from it lay another hoof. These shook vigorously, obscured by this strange air that felt tangible and somehow tasted purple. Now gasps could be heard between the upturning moans and cries.

And the fifth. Could she really be doing this--prone and vulnerable and distracted--without any defense against a stalker? How much did she value her life?

And--

Slam.

A sound from outside the cellar--not its door, but another door. And many hoofbeats.

"Buck!"

The owner of the hooves beneath snapped forward, took a moment to clean herself, and made for higher ground. Seconds later, that cellar door was closed and locked again, all while she nodded and greeted the three kids present.

Any nerves Berry had regarding the situation were skillfully concealed. "Hey guys!"

"Were you cleaning the cobwebs again?" asked the grape-maned lightest blue unicornlet Dandelion, her unassuming heavy nasal voice carrying a psalm of sweetness.

"Oh...I couldn't have said it better myself!" Berry beamed gently at her and the others. "We have to keep those spiders at bay!" She seemed to really stick that word, as if to send a message to some nopony not present.

Then the kids moved on and assumed their usual after-school duties of romping on beanbags, heading out to climb trees, and occasionally getting griped at by Mama to get on the homework. Little Planter didn't get chores assigned to him anyway, but the others seemed relieved not to have to worry about them for the day. Mama was relieved too--or at least she put on this air, sitting on the piano bench leaning against the piano, hoof pressed against her face, staring blankly over the house--wondering, quietly wondering what became of Sunny. She seemed quite divorced of the other concerns from earlier. Perhaps she'd given up chasing the wind for the time being.

Twenty minutes later, her silent prayer was answered.

The door flew open, and in stepped a saucy young mini-mare. Her foremane bore sultry bangs; behind them, twin pigtails flopped, shiny and gold bound in brighter gold and purple. Her sky-blue face carried much makeup--perhaps too much of that same purple below and beside the eyes; above the eyes hung dashes of pale green. A saturated strawberry streak coated her lips. The matching subdued strawberry blush meshed with bright orange sherbet, giving her cheeks a two-toned celestial glow. Sunny had tasted the rainbow of amateur fashion.

The dissonance of Sunny's nature and appearance was decorated by nature itself: just as she and Berry were eyeing each other from afar, the first distant boom of outside thunder rolled in. Then she closed the door and focused on the bedroom, trotting toward it.

Berry's vaguely troubled face washed away with the motion. She swiftly put on a new air, gleaming at her glammed-up daughter, then turned to the piano to perform a quick up-down glide. "Well how about that? You really are growing up!"

Sunny appeared indifferent, or maybe bitter, as she continued her wordless stride to the bedroom.

"Oh, come on now. Don't make me bring out the big guns!" She cracked her front fetlocks and raised her forehooves dramatically toward the ebony and ivory. But Sunny showed no reaction.

"And it's not 'You Are My Sunshine', either." Berry took a moment to recall how this one went--but by the time she was ready to play, Sunny was out of reach of sight and sound, in the bedroom.

As the door shut, Berry's cheery air dropped. She quietly intoned to an empty music rack: "Well, can't say I didn't give it my best shot."

With Dandelion and Sparks playing outside, the preschool-aged Planter was her only audience. The beady-eyed orange-red colt cantered up to watch her as she sang (strikingly against her soulful vocal character) and played the somber, creeping, morbidly upbeat ballad:

Tell me, has the nightmare come true?
If so, then there is...nothing left of you
and although you are welcome where I live
there is no more room in my heart left for you
you can't forgive

When will I, oh when will I, ever know the answer why
I wonder when does our real life begin?
How do I, oh how do I ask the fates and no more cry
I wonder if I ever will fit in...

How could she... Where did she...

There must have been a part of Sunny that still resisted the revelation from when the tumblers of truth turned that day. The doorknob did not turn--it had still been open a crack. But she was still there, then against the door--only out of sight after all.

Berry played a second refrain, and she observed carefully. She noticed the door crack.

On the third refrain of chorus, Sunny joined in, barely intelligible through the door and the convulsions of sorrow. She couldn't match Berry's wider vocal range, but it didn't really matter anyway.

After an empty-feeling transition, Berry played a fourth refrain, not singing along this time. Sunny tried to keep going on her own but just collapsed utterly, her petite body splaying to push the door against the frame but still not fully shutting it.

Berry played it out, decelerating to a close. Planter held his head upright, rather proud of his understanding. He then pronounced it: "That was sad."

"And what comes after the sadness, hun? What comes after the rain?"

Planter struggled for some seconds to recall something beyond his comprehension. Berry turned to face and smile at him, trying not to gaze too seriously at her little mark of pride. After he gave up: "Can you play the Smile Song now?"

Berry's expression increased at this, her eyes moistening. She practically breathed in contented reply, "You got it..."

She returned to the piano and played the Smile Song for the five-hundredth time, fresh as if it were the first, but with the experience that permitted a honky-tonk rendition--something with a more relaxed swing and dance and with a walking-pace question/answer style, like "Walkin' to New Horseleans". She belted out the lyrics deep from the diaphragm, nearly shaking the walls with volume.

Sunny had recomposed herself and waited just beyond the door to burst out. When the song ended, she began.

SLAM. "This isn't about the rain, or the sunshine, or your feelings! It's not even about my feelings! You're ruining my whole life, Mom! I can't even go to the café if all I'm gonna do there is get ridiculed and made fun of...because of you!"

Berry sharpened her brow at this accusation but maintained her mode of cheery matron and singer. "And why did you sing alo--"

"You don't even get a say anymore! You've ruined my life already! There's nothing you can do about it now!! Wanna lock me in the room forever!? The door's right blinking here!" She flailed at the door by which she remained, standing wide in its frame and breathing hard.

Berry eyed young Planter, a party who had no business in this. Planter, who was too young to go out on his own to play, especially in the impending rain. Planter, who had no place to hide from calamity in the house of forgotten troubles.

Then she gritted her teeth, hopped off the piano chair, and leveled with her eldest. She trotted heavily toward her, her expression grim and disturbed but lacking rage--eyes still moist with earlier joy but regard still pointed and uncaring. Sunny was fighting sobs that streaked pieces of make-up rainbows down her cheeks--then after a few more of Berry's paces, she braced a hoof over her face for fear of something terrible from Mom. But Mom just marched on.

On arrival, she spoke, thick with disgust and disregard: "Why can't we have drama in the house of Berry?"

A sniffle, then, "Why can't we be honest about our lives here!?"

Berry cast off that half-worn frowning mask, then let the other hoof drop. "You tell me. It's your house too now."

That caught Sunny completely off guard, and she dropped her bracing forehoof. The crying stopped, though the sobbing spasms took longer to cease.

The house's longer-standing co-owner dropped to a completely normal conversational tone. "You win. I can't boss you around anymore. And since you still legally have to live here, it's the only way to say it that makes any sense. So why don't you tell me why you think it is?"

They now each sat in careful consideration of one another, each on either side of the bedroom/punishment-room door. Sunny's slackened face indicated she was so deep in thought that she might not even speak again that day.

"I can't punish somepony who knows what she's doing is right. I can only make her suffer." Berry grabbed the door handle. " 'Here, let me lock away my daughter because I don't like the way she thinks!' Or maybe it's because she didn't do her laundry. Or she didn't treat me with respect. No... It's not just respect. It's order. You need to know your place in the bigger picture, and I've kept you in line. But you don't need that from me anymore. You got the world to worry about, and I shouldn't stand in your way. So I wanna hear it from you now--hear your version. Why can't we be honest?"

Sunny choked three times on her own spasming throat in an effort to speak. Berry sought to soften the solemness by adding: "And it's alright, it's your first try. You can always go change it later. Just, please...try to give a reason."

And then the mare of many colors burst into tears anew, shouting her flurry of thoughts rapid-fire. "We can be honest! We don't have to care anymore! We can be ourselves! We don't need to have secrets! We can just be Mom and Sunny and nopony will care, and it'll be alright! And nopony else will care! And all those evil ponies who hate my life, who hate your life, they just go away! It makes no sense, why do they keep saying those things? Everyone should want to be happy! They all should let us be! I don't want them anymore! But I want to live my life! I just want to live my li-hi-hi-hiiife!" Sunny's life spread out on the floor, two or three drops of liquid mascara wreckage at a time. The torrents came heavy, they came loud, they came when nopony that size should even have been able to deliver them. But Sunny held a lot of rain, and her internal clouds carried it all out for this moment.

At some point in this, Planter had come over to them, standing beside the door frame. His thoughts moved independently of his eyes, the latter of which were transfixed on his big sister dissolving in the doorway.

"Can we play trains?"

Sunny had been too lost in herself to notice him approach, but the question appeared to catch her attention--or it would have if the paroxysm of violent cries allowed her even to raise her head high enough to regard him for more than a second.

Berry shaped the situation to her view. "My youngest is doing just fine living his life. But those evil ponies out there are gonna get to him one day too." She ruffled his lime-green mane, a slick and loosely-curled mirror of her own. "And what would you do to them--lock them away? I don't think you could fit them all in the Ghastly Gorge, honey. That just ain't how it works.

"If it were just you and me, I'd be honest with you, soon as I thought it wouldn't break you. And we should be lucky"--she pulled up close to whisper the next two words--"damn lucky that ponies have the decency to not hunt us down, to not wreck us everywhere, to threaten to take you away from me or make my life one big chore just because they don't like my history or my way of doing things. I can't even imagine...it wouldn't be my Equestria, let me tell you that."

Sunny expressed a bit of confusion at this diversion, raising her head and quieting--and her internal spasms of despondency continuing without trained purpose.

"What I'm saying is, be thankful for what you got. And, um...what was the bigger point?" Berry tried her brain.

"When's dinner, Mommy?"

"Ah yes, thank you, Planter. The bigger point is that you get to make dinner tonight. This is your first night as co-owner of the house. If it don't actually need me to do it, you can do it. And I have somewhere to be tonight..."

Sunny glared at her mother through her shaking sorrow, expecting her to weasel out of an explanation once more.

Berry glanced around, then sneered sympathetically at Sunny. "Oh, okay, you want it straight?" She clopped her forehooves over Planter's ears. "The girl you saw in my bed this morning? That's Carrot. The three of us grownups are going to go get bucked up at her new place. And if anypony else follows me there..." She inhaled sharply and her eyes flared madly. "They'll wish they'd never been born."

Chapter Seven

The preparation was pretty swift. Berry hauled the open wagon over by the door. Then she went to the cellar. And she brought up booze. Booze for days. Booze beyond comprehension. So tasty. Escape. That's all one ever needed...escape... What's coming up now... She remembered the Applejack-Daniel's, of course. Maker's Cutie Mark #46 for smoother palates. Then there was the pegasus vice of choice, Flyy vodka. Oh, she even brought up the Haya rum! No need for that Captain Moregait when you got the good stuff. She kept the Dammore tucked away, of course. That's some seriously fancy stuff. But she knew someone might still go for scotch, so up came the Glenwhinnych. Probably Carrot would go for it. All writers drink that, right? But will she...could she... YES! Matrona!

You would never hear it in Ponyville, but anyone trying to diss on Earth ponies needs to shut up right now because without them, there would be no booze.

Oh, but she wasn't done. Oh, the sight of it all! What would Berry be without her wine? Here comes the '94 Marelot from Hollow Shades--and the '96 Mustangia Chardonneigh! She brought a couple bottles of her local stuff, too, plus a little barrel of that special pear wine mix (the pear picture gave it away, not the picture of rainbow-colored squeeing Luna). Not too much--just her own personal consumption for the night, perhaps? Next came the mixers--limes and oranges and fruit punch and cola, weird little bottles of stuff that probably smells really strong, a shaker, a strainer, fifteen glasses, a package of those tiny plastic swords, huh... This chapter's narration is getting a bit out of hoof. Oh well, fix it later.

Oh, and a barrel of Sweet Apple Cider. Can't go wrong there.

Anyway, she grabbed everything a three-mare party would need to get blitzed for a week, times about twenty, and hauled off. Sunny heated up leftover casserole for that simpering little Planter and just sulked for a bit in her blubbering and residual tears. Yeah, she's gonna need therapy.

Berry had maybe...ten minutes before the rain started? That's gonna suck. Oh, she's grabbing the tarp now, good girl. The setup was perfect.

She set off, and then there was rain. Massive tons of the stuff, like a million windigoes just melted overhead. It got everywhere, tarp or no. But Berry weathered on. It's so...picturesque like that, seeing a mare march and trod through the mud like that, carrying a cart that was now slipping a bunch. To say she's no novice to hard times with booze is like saying a beaver's no novice to eating wood. Or Princess Twilight's no novice to getting welts on her head from diving into piles of books. That's what they do.

HEY, WAIT A SECOND! There's a shotgun in here!! Blast, maybe Berry would've had some protection in the cellar after all. Oh, to be the pony on the other end of that. Hm. Not just any shotgun, a 4-gauge. There'd be nothing left of the target. Just memories and a spray of blood, maybe?

Maybe the rain was icky, but she got through it alright--an affair of about an hour. The destination: one funny little mound in the middle of nowhere. This is how a mare screwed in the head beyond all help was going to make a go of it--living in a pile of dirt. That's so ridiculous...

Took her about ten trips through the door to get all that inside. But Carrot was smart, locking and guarding the door each time Berry passed through. How paranoid. How very paranoid. Craziness. There is nopony here.

Inside, it was quite cozy and such. Who would have figured a dirt-bound domicile would stay dry in the rain?

But there weren't just three. Colgate had brought Berry Jam with her. The Berries seemed to be catching up over some business that couldn't be guessed from afar, Punch resting off of her hooves with Jam while Colgate and Carrot dealt with unloading. When that was completed, Carrot bundled up some logs and crumpled-up writings and made a fire, nearly slipping in the rainwater spattered on the tiles around it. Then she returned to her writing desk, perhaps not wanting to be party to her own party.

Colgate strode up to Carrot, a pot of zinnias in each saddlebag. Carrot perked up at this, maybe more than a general gift would inspire. It was a present from her old workplace--but it didn't upset her. She cooed--yes, cooed!--and cradled one of the pots in her forehooves as she sat upright on the high-backed chair.

"You knew! How did you know? I thought--"

"Well, don't take my crazy life for granted, now! I still have time to read the papers between patients... You've mentioned zinnias multiple times in your articles. You know how I am with funny little details like that...so, not exactly a shot in the dark, huh?" The two definitely seemed in better spirits than when they'd bantered with Puddinghead Pie. They expressed this even more now with a deep hug after Carrot and Colgate each set a plant aside. Carrot didn't immediately let go when Colgate finally pulled back, but neither did she cling awkwardly. So she wasn't being all sullen or grumpy after all. Was she gonna try for simple happiness for once?

One of the Berries, the one with the thicker and more curse-prone accent, piped up while Colgate and Carrot were still considering each other with affection. "Please tell me you have running water in here."

Carrot facehoofed. "What am I, a cavepony? Yes, behind that wall-scroll over there," she loudly muttered, pointing. The other Berry cackled at her indignation, probably inspired by drink, while the inquiring Berry fetched glasses and filled them from a plain spigot sticking out of the earthen wall.

"Ooga ooga--Berry bring drink of clear and no taste." She placed one of the waters with Carrot, adding, "No make Berry mad. Berry drop water on write-leaf, make Carrot stop write, start be social."

"...Say, which one are you anyw--" But Berry interrupted this, whispering into her ear. Carrot's questioning ceased, and she shrugged and flicked her ears before returning to whatever she'd been working on, apparently since before company arrived.

"Berry mean what Berry say!" The cavemare raised the other glass high above her head--but Carrot was now doing her best to pretend there was no threat.

Colgate nudged her possibly-lifelong friend, remarking on the lame threat with a grumble: "It wasn't funny the first time."

Berry turned to the other Berry, and they each gave each other some sort of wink and a nod. Then the one before Colgate socked her right in her good eye. Colgate flinched before realizing it was a feint, spilling her held whiskey all over.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" everyone else in the room howled at her party foul.

The threatening Berry quipped, "You're right, it's totally funnier the second time!" She immediately swiped at Colgate's drink-holding hoof and made her flinch again, this time dropping it entirely; Colgate's horn-magic barely saved the glass from shattering on the stone tile. Everyone whooped again at the properly served pony.

Colgate whimpered and her ears parted. Berry settled herself upon noticing this, setting down her water before speaking. "Oh, come now, we're just teasing. It's not like you to be all sensitive anyway. Let me clean that up for you..." She leaned very close to what could only be assumed to be her Cole and passionately licked parts of her coat where booze now resided. "Oooh...my kind of mint julep..."

Carrot just scoffed at the pair and returned to writing.

Then Berry continued, much lower, while still licking Colgate's right shoulder: "You okay? Have you even gotten much sleep lately?"

Her voice creaking with fatigue: "Oh, Jam, I just want today to be over..."

Berry Jam blinked. Carrot stopped and blinked as well--for a few seconds, at least, before returning to task. Berry Punch looked quite spirited, about ready to applaud her twisted sister. Then Jam asked everyone else's question: "So, how do you tell us apart so well?"

"Well, ignoring the part where I am legitimately sick of the mint jokes and she wouldn't use them on me straight, and you missed one of my obvious hot spots licking me? And I know the lines my Berry uses for pranking to the word, and she wouldn't try to comfort me anywhere but in private, and I actually am kind of sensitive, and she would just wink at me right after making me flinch like that instead of letting it go?"

Yes...how?

Colgate considered the world around her. She didn't turn back to either Berry, though. "Tell you later. You guys seem to forget whose party this is."

Then she took a couple steps over to put a hoof on the shoulder of the pensive, slouched Carrot. "How's the, uh... How's the writing?" She flashed that old congenial smile.

"Please..." Carrot's voice was fluttering and full of emotion--and it wasn't clear which emotion took hold. If she were close to crying, one wouldn't know if it would be for joy or sorrow.

"You could've just cancelled the party, locked the door, and called it a night. So if you're not gonna do this, then we deserve an explanation." She avoided harshness in this with her even more congenial lilting, drawn down in volume, as she craned her neck down to catch the focused Carrot's eye. Then she added in a totally hushed tone: "You're not gonna get much writing done now with us here anyway. Come on, now..."

This is your story...and you're going to write it!

Carrot, head still almost touching the writing desk in concentration, tilted her head just slightly and drew her left eye toward Colgate's onlooking face. Again: "Please... I feel something so intense--this has just got to happen. I just gotta write it."

"I don't quite know what you mean, hun. Something happened to you inside? Share it with old Queen Cole, I'll keep it a se--" She was briefly stunned by a recollection of earlier events, coughed politely, and then continued. "I'll keep Berry from teasing you about it, alright?"

Jam had been listening in, and not subtly, from a couple paces off. She kindly added, "Hey, we're here to help. Nothing bad's gonna happen from us all being here for you. I totally forgive you for your roughness earlier. Let's just be awesome, alright?" She clopped her hooves together and smiled most ridiculously, like a young foal seeing her first Hearth's Warming Eve play.

Carrot tilted her head further yet to glance at Jam, but she didn't have anything ready to say. And she wouldn't--because something else caught her full attention. Berry Punch had snuck the long way around the chamber to grab a paper from the distracted writer's desk, and the accompanying slide and crinkle triggered a maelstrom of panic and flailing from the author. Punch, however, had already succeeded; Carrot, determining she could not undo this, decided still to tackle her punchy pal. Punch just howled in laughter, then galloped away madly while Carrot slid from her to the floor. As Carrot recovered, Jam broke into the scene as well, running interference and holding up her forehooves to block Carrot from getting any closer to the one now holding a written page in her mouth.

After finally giving up, Carrot grumbled and eyed all three of her house guests with deep contempt. Upon reaching Colgate, that mare recoiled somewhat and her eyes grew large; and she croaked, "Hey, I had nothing to do with this!"

Colgate's heart still tickled with curiosity, however, and her objection faded into interest in Punch's prize. She then dropped all illusion of playing for Carrot's team and asked Punch brightly, "So--whadjya get, huh?"

Carrot locked her hard glare toward Punch, who was now going over the paper from the floor. Her face scrunched a bit and she shook, but she did not make a peep for a number of seconds.

"Say, Carrot... Did ole Pinkie by any chance offer you some of her magic brownies? Because this, haha--oh wow..." She grinned, then took a long draft from the cherry schnapps from the pile she was now beside. The cock-eyed smile that followed this could've lit the whole room if paper lanterns were not already doing the same.

She cocked her head back, stood on her hindhooves, and spread her fores apart in an exaggerated sweep. She then attempted an academic-sounding accent, her forehooves grasping at something unseen in front of her: " 'I'm not saying it was aliens...' " Colgate squeaked a cheeky, sharply rising "whaaaaat?" in response to this, then beamed with odd joy at the housewarming host. That host only held a firm lip of disapproval and irritation.

Jam, still in front of Carrot for the most part, tried to soften her attitude with a playful smile of her own and flickering ears. After a few seconds with no reaction, Jam added, "It's for your own good, I swear. Lighten up!"

The page-bearing Punch clarified the matter, attempting her own brand of dignity in straight talk--not the doctored doctorate variety. "Carrot Top. I love you. We all love you. Yes, even Jams loves you." Jam winked coyly at Carrot and blew her a kiss from six inches away.

Punch kicked the paper out of her own reach toward the center of the dome. "And I know this is gonna sound weird coming from me... But, girl, I am sorry. Really sorry. I've got us all on a wild cockatrice chase because of somethin' I saw last night plastered, and then I put a fake tooth out to get you all to go along with me when I couldn't find any. I sure started a hell of a joke. But I didn't see--I was just being stupid. And now I guess I'm letting you get to thinking stupid, too." She bowed her head low, spreading her forehooves to do so properly. "Behold, your jester's neck is on the chopping block." Righting herself before anyone could act accordingly, she finished, "But before you kill me, consider what I'm offering you. This isn't just for the party. It's yours. All of it." She didn't need to motion anywhere; she was already seated in front of the entire hoard of sobriety-solvers she'd brought.

Jam cast daggers at Punch with her eyes; Punch lightly considered her and shot back a mischievous twinkle of teeth, for just a second, before focusing back on the jackpot-winner.

Carrot, her expression softened by the apology, then furrowed her brow; and she bowed her own head, lost in a personal maze. "But...what was Pinkie talking about?" Maybe whatever wild machination controls her mind?

Then, something rapped rapidly on the door to outside.

Carrot's ears perked and she focused on the door--but before she could do anything else, Jam glided her head in to meet Carrot's, her pupils the size of moons, almost touching muzzles, sweetening by being. "Why don't you go ask her?"

"Theeere you are!" Pinkie Pie giggled upon regarding the two Berries, who had the devilish insight to silently greet Pinkie together. "Oh, and there you are! Or, wait--is it you who's you and then you who's the other you?" She pointed to one, then the other, then the one again, crossing hooves and perfectly explaining her mental machinery in the process.

"I say we don't tell her," suggested the one, long-faced.

"I say no parties until she figures it out," suggested the other, sneering and matching in accent.

Colgate was smiling along. Carrot at least held her own attention.

Pinkie stared out at them narrowly, a sea of unbounded complexity peeking through the clenched slits. If not for the ticking of the clock and the very faint pitter-patter above, time may as well have stopped.

Then she approached them, eyeing about their bodies and sniffing their coats. One mare gently twisted her foreleg to hide a laceration; the other then mirrored her.

She then regarded their manes, considering the subtle differences in each. She couldn't have had enough time looking at Jam from before...

She then checked the tails. She was about to lift one up; then its owner said wryly, "Gonna sniff that, too?" This stopped her effort, and she blinked blankly at the proposition. She then tried it on the other and was met similarly with, "Inspecting the merchandise?"

Seemingly stumped, she pulled back again, then snickered lowly while rubbing her forehooves together.

Then her face went full deadpan, and she shrugged. She merely stated, "Guess I'm stumped. Oh well, guess that means no parties. Guess I should just head home. Housewarming gift's waiting outside. Laa-le-laa, le-laa..." With that, she bounced on all fours merrily and melodically toward the door. Colgate let out a little huff in response, but the Berries endeavored not to move a muscle.

Then she stopped, not even a full pace from the exit, spinning her head about. Lightly laughing in her sudden speech: "Oh, yeah. Orange you glad I didn't check your butts?"

A half-second later, Jam snorted.

Five seconds after that, Punch's back was acquainted with the floor, and her cheeks and muzzle were reacquainted with those of a familiar and suddenly impassioned pink maniac.

"Oh, Berry Punch, I've missed you sooooo much! There are lots and lots of ponies I never get to hang out with enough anymore but you're totally one of the most not-hang-out-with-since-forevery and I'm so glad we can just hang out again! I'm sure you were at that party last night, and holy horseshoes wasn't that DJ PON-3 great? And how are your kids doing? And don't you wanna hear about everypony I've met in the Build-A-Cupcake Center? We got a couple all the way from Whinnydad last week! We didn't even speak the same language--except when it came to baking! I even learned something from them, it was sooo great! And what about you, traveling the world, what all have you seen, huh? I bet you're gonna see the Equestria Games too, aren't you? Oh, and did you know that Daring Do is real? Like, really real! And now Rainbow Dash is gonna be in the next issue! I can't wait for all the continuity errors, they're so much fun! And I don't think I told you about the time me and--"

Berry Punch put the proverbial cork in it with a forehoof--albeit with a drowsy smile upon her face. Pinkie went on talking to the insides of her own cheeks. "Do tell me about the plot holes later," Punch suggested sinisterly, highlighting the subtext with an eyebrow. Pinkie stopped at that and gazed into her eyes, strangely, intensely, worryingly, ...meaningfully. Then she suddenly resumed "mmfmmf"ing her introductory spiel for some seconds before Punch casually withdrew the hoof containing it.

"--so then we all shot magic out of our chests and Twilight died, only she didn't die and she became an alicorn! And she tells me that nopony even remembers what happened earlier that day! So now I'm thinking, what if there's continuity errors in the universe and I'm the only one who can tell the tale? What if--oh wait, Twilight told me that, heehee! She knows too! So maybe two of us? Oh, and I could go on for days about us two! But, uh...you're kind of in a party here, so--"

Then she did that ridiculous gasp again. "Wait! This isn't a party!! What kind of a party doesn't have music!?"

The pink party-mare hopped off of Punch and derived from the ether a shiny boom-box radio. She promptly hit a button on it, and an oldie song by the Everfree-52s that apparently wasn't about rocks permeated the room. While it wouldn't make for a rave, the goofy sprightly tune removed any hope of brooding from Carrot's agenda.

Jam started pumping and thrusting right away, on two hooves and proud of it.

The others were having none of it despite their pleasant regards toward Jam and Pie.

"Can we just...play it cool for now?" Colgate mumbled.

"We need a bucking nap, is what she's saying," quasi-interjected Berry Punch.

Carrot yawned.

"Uhhh...yeah, okay!" Pinkie maintained her ever-present smile while her eyebrows narrowed mildly. "What's the matter?" But Berry Punch was already heading to hit the hay.

Colgate slowly ambled that way as well, drowsily letting on, "Longest. Day. Ever."

With a number of exchanged glances and a shut-off of the boom-box but no other words of significance, everypony gradually joined Punch at the haypile. There wasn't enough hay to go around...but there also wasn't a shy pony in the bunch. So they all huddled in, a cluster of warm bodies and muzzles and hopes for a pleasant night.

Berry Jam was the only one not particularly needing the nap. After she rose, she headed straight for the alcohol hoard to make her pick for the night. She tittered ever so gently upon considering what to make. Taking a spherical flask of Champbit in one hoof and a bottle of berry-flavored vodka in the other, she poured each equally into a Glenmare'n whiskey glass. Then she crumpled some mint leaves between her forehooves and let them settle and gently stir in the filled glass for a minute before discarding them. In scarcely a moment, she beheld the shooter drink that bore her sousing sister's name.

She then used the entire supply of these to make matching glasses for each pony present, placing each by a sleeping mare. There weren't enough curvy glasses to go all around, so Pinkie got a regular tumbler and Berry Punch received a chock-full stein.

Jam waited in the silence, listening to the ticking clock and wondering about her life in who-knows-where. After she was satisfied that the ponies were refreshed--maybe an hour and fifteen minutes since the last one conked out--she put her forehooves to the sides of her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Punch's head shot clear of slumber, glaring a brief death sentence at the perpetrator. Colgate was next to stir, still groggy and seeming to ache. Pinkie Pie and Carrot had somehow nestled quite closely to each other, forehooves about one another, and neither moved. Pinkie opened her eyes, but she seemed quite elated to discover her position and nestled further. Her sigh was...not at all of exasperation. Punch caught an eyeful and earful of this, and her face warmed immensely; she dared herself not to break out in raunchy amusement.

Pinkie got into her groove with Carrot for a minute or two before fully realizing she was being watched. She then bugged out, shot up, and whispered something to Punch, whom she apparently trusted.

Punch responded out loud so as to utterly demolish any sense that the trust was deserved: "Wait, what's she got to do with this?"

But Punch was faced with an epic poker face. Pinkie acknowledged her questioner without expression, trotted over to the boom-box, started up vintage Drafthorse Punk once more, and trotted back to her drink. Then, one sip later, she resumed being Pinkie. "Hey! What's in this stuff??"

"Please tell me you didn't give her any coffee..." Berry Punch glanced, with a hint of worry, at the mixmaster.

"I don't know. Is there coffee in it?" Jam grinned and winked at her fellow troublemaker.

And so Punch grabbed her big mug and took a swig. Not even pulling the mug away, she sighed/shuddered an "Ohh, yeah..." and continued to drink. She started slowly to savor the contents, then took all the rest down in the span of fifteen seconds. The others found themselves only able to watch in awe as she wiped out a lesser pony's entire weekend of imbibement in one go.

The slam of the mug on the tile finally woke up Carrot.

Carrot got a faceful of Pinkie, there before anyone could even notice. "How you dooooin', sunshine? You finish that thing you were going to do when you ran away? Can I see? Huh?"

"Nope, just starting." She lazily reached for her drink.

This is where things got a bit ridiculous. Everypony now had a bit in them, everypony, and Carrot was going on about this wild idea she had. As usual, Pinkie was screwing everything up just by being there (though the larger-than-life facial reactions and bombarding of barely related questions certainly helped). But the story got told well enough to be understood, anyway.

Carrot was claiming her whole life was a sham, directed by forces outside of her control. She'd seen something like it in one of her comic books, maybe? Colgate pointed out right away that that's something a lot of folks believe, especially when you don't have a great grasp of things and everything's scary when you can't keep reality under wraps in your head. A chemical imbalance, especially one associated with schizophrenia: that can cause these things. ~~Berry~~ Punch was like, "Dude, y'can' do that t'yerself. Quit actin' all airhead and suck it up. People're weird sometimes. Life doe'n' make sense shometimes. But y'still gotta live it."

But Carrot kept on going into details about her past and how she could point to decisions she'd made that didn't make sense to make at the time. Pinkie said she had those all the time. What the heck, good call, Pinkie.

Then Carrot started to get all mopey again when her rush of conspiracy theory excitement faded away. So Pinkie Pie cranked the music up and they all got down.

There wasn't a whole lot to say here. Unless you count Pinkie riding around on top of Punch, gripping her mane hard while Punch play-bucked and everything. (Punch tried to get her Cole to ride Carrot, but you'd have better luck getting Carrot to give a grown elephant a ride tonight. Something about dignity.) Or Colgate trying a break-dance, swiveling her hindhooves about her forehooves and spinning and hopping from the spin onto one hoof (she fell from this last bit, but points for trying). Or Carrot trying some new thing with Jam, with Colgate's helping horn-magic, where they braced each other with one forehoof and were twirling on each of their other forehooves, back ends fully propped up from the ground by magical cushions, like twin ballerinas gone gravity-defying swing-dancers. Carrot could have some good ideas when she wanted to. Oh, and Jam also tried break-dancing but she was clueless and just ended up threatening to break furniture. Colgate had to get her to calm down and remember that that stuff takes practice. Oh, and they all did the conga line, too. Conga lines definitely feel different when you're all friends and at least know each other. You act out a bit more, you get bumping to the music. You get nonchalantly smashing rumps together and hugging closer than you strictly need to.

And this group in particular could've devolved into something way less innocent if it weren't for the MC interrupting.

Let's see a magic trick!

Pinkie cocked her head all funny. (Dammit, this again?) But Carrot asked for one anyway. Pinkie was more than happy to oblige.

"I hide all sorts of magic tricks all over Equestria--for, y'know, magic trick emergencies!" She smiled, a bit too widely to be believed...but if anything, this made Pinkie in particular more believable, if that could make any sense. "Hold on, lemme look--is there one back here?" She disappeared behind a wall-scroll. "What about here?" came the same voice from around the protrusion of the fireplace. And then again from inside the writing desk, poking her head out from a place her body couldn't even fit. "Hey, what about he--"

She made the grave mistake of trying to peek from behind Berry Punch. Punch instinctively grabbed her by the mane, then shuffled out that bota-bag in her mane from the previous party. "Here, this 'elps me find things. Like myshelf." She poured it all down Pinkie's throat (not that Pinkie was really resisting). Punch set her down and let out a deep, dark laugh; Colgate froze up, eyes wide.

Pinkie slumped; then, within just a minute, her pupils flashed with horrific intensity, then expanded to fill her whole eye sockets. She'd gone beyond the brink. Whatever place a pony wanders mentally when they have abandoned nearly all of their inhibitions, the mare known already for disregarding inhibitions--and with her behavior, she needed quite a lot more of them than the average to start with--was flying into that land and well beyond it. She was really flying.

When Pinkie moved her mouth again, laughs burbled out. Not like, a burble in a stream of water. Like a burble of a volcano erupting, creeping melting hotness everywhere while fumes billowed throughout. No, really, she was literally steaming. This was getting good.

She just kept laughing, one stream of chortles then covered by another more intense and higher stream of chuckles, then buried in an avalanche of cackles, then snuffed by a belting of belly wails that could've shaken the gates of Tartarus. Where did it all come from!?

"It's so...it's so good to be good with friends, like, you friends...I'm so sorry for everyone, I know it sucks but Pinkie's gonna make it aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--" *gasp* "--aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall right!" You go, you savior of Equestria, you.

Colgate had gone mortified by this point. Carrot caught this unusual reaction but didn't know what to say--though her expression hinted at apprehension.

Jam noticed the maîtresse de maison (you non-Fancy speakers: that's Carrot) getting all serious and intervened once again. "Goddesses girl, you gots to unwind. Punchie made an excuse for you all to 'go on an adventure' today and now you're seeing forests where there ain't even any trees." A wild chuckle. "Hey, you want some of what she's having?" Jam didn't even wait for a response, quickly stumbling over to the mini-barrel of extra-strength party juice.

Punch cut harshly at her twin with her eyes, giving the universal "cut it out" motion across her throat with her forehoof. Jam ducked out of a possible bit of shame there, while her body did a lazy loose-hooved spin back at Carrot. "Well, anything else you like, then."

They all reclined against the back wall near the fire and sipped their drinks of choice while "admiring" Pinkie Pie climb the ceiling mesh like a monkey (calling out like a goat, for extra-good measure!). Colgate (she with the Tom Cloppins) was utterly riveted, though occasionally just shaking her head in disbelief, as she beheld the hot pink mare gliding to and fro using her mane and tail impossibly spread out as four rigid wings. Jam (she with the Haya and cola) rested her head on one forehoof while gently, contentedly gazing at the hopped-up pony bouncing up and down off of random parts of her body to the beat of "Equestrial Insanity"--juggling two cakes and a serving knife simultaneously off of whichever hooves weren't touching the floor at a given moment. And then there was Carrot, carefully sipping the Glenwhinnych, uneasy but still apparently amused when Pinkie tried to blow up a piece of gum but blew up her head instead. Punch took this last bit as a cue to set down her bottle of wine and smack the party pony-balloon playfully with the handle end of one of those shovels used for finishing the house. And one brisker whack later, the Pinkie-balloon deflated; and she burped and suddenly seemed herself again. Well, "seeming Pinkie" doesn't really say much, and the small welt on her cheek should also be noted.

Punch, amused but suddenly seeming all serious again, looked Pinkie straight in the eye and embraced her right in the middle of the chamber. They whispered some words so nopony else could hear. They hugged even tighter. This scene fit rather oddly against "Hoofsie Roll"--alright, very oddly. Punch spoke up: "I'm sorry again, guys. I bucked up. But never min' me, I just want 's all to have fun and shit. Carrot, yeah, watch yerself with that little barr'l. Shit'll punch a hole in yer head. Heh." She then resumed holding Pinkie, even cradling her head with both forelegs apropos of nothing known to the room, whispering far more silently than she had otherwise been known to do.

After a full minute of nothing but the central two sharing a moment and the silly dance tune rolling on, Jam took initiative and started grooving to the beat. And that mare clearly knew something about moving that backside; everypony noticed. Before you could say "chimi-cherry-changa", they all were getting lost with their sauce again--lost in a girls' night out of dirty dancing. In just a matter of minutes, everything was forgotten to hard thrashing on tile. So much sweat, so much bumping--and how did the boom-box know what the moment needed? It alternated with perfect timing between the oldschool and modern booty grooves, from rumpty-bumping to rocking everywhere, never growing dull. Pinkie and her pre-set DJ knew something the world didn't about how things should work, and it was working just fine for five furious flanks tonight.

About an hour into this flaring of bare mare jiggly pairs--or more, who's keeping track?--the uncensored version of "Get Bucky" fired up. While the others kept on shakin' their thang in many flavors and at all altitudes, Pinkie suddenly turned hot from embarrassment. One other saucy mare noticed and rushed on over, almost tripping in the effort.

"Awwwwwww, feelin' bit lonely? Wagon'sh got 'r name on it, daaahhhhling," beckoned a phenomenally smashed Punch.

Pinkie was...on the verge of tears? Wait, what?

And then she brought it all home. "We...we just aren't spring chickens anymore, Berry. What're we gonna do? There's gotta be...there's gotta be something more than this."

Colgate was paying attention and shut off the boom-box. She then pronounced in her most authoritative voice ever times a hundred (which didn't make it more authoritative--just loud and drunk): "It is now time for the group hugs!"

Punch resumed talking to Pinkie in the middle of a big ole pile of hugs from everyone. The kindness expressed to Pinkie before carried a tinge of indignation now. "You're a bucking party pony and you're gonna like it. That's your job. And everyone likes you f'r it. By the goddesses, the motherbucking goddesh-ses ye got not just a shit-ton of friends--y'got a destiny, that's like more than bucking anyone elshe here's ever gon' get." She tried to point a hoof in accusation but they were kind of still all hugging. "If youuuu s'much 's lay one pity party on us"--she paused for dramatic effect, though her body ignored this and kept swaying--"ye're gonna fin' out what Berry-level drunk is about." As the others roused to a chuckle at this, she made her voice and jowls pierce and quiver like a Pro Pony Wrestler in announcing, "Youuuu ain' see' nothin' yet." Cole threw in a "yeah!". And they all hooted together, peer-pressuring the party pony into...what, not talking? The threat of alcohol poisoning? What were they even trying to do?

Drunken logic. That and probably some implicit trust in the room that ole Punchie didn't actually kill ponies and knew how not to.

Amidst the hooting: "And fer the record: You ain' old at all, pink stuff. I've known buckin' little elemen'ary school fillies 're older'n you." Berry Punch was probably talking about age at heart here.

Pinkie broke from the hug, prompting it all to stop. "...I've got work tomorrow. I think I have to go."

Carrot was feeling the cantankerous vibe from the crowd, now rowdy against Pinkie. Sticking almost every hard syllable, acting every bit a mare scorned: "Go on! Not like none of us ain't workin' tomorrow! But we're all lazy drunken bastards tonight! So join the club!!"

Punch was hugely impressed with this show of spirit from her messed-up carrot-rumped one-time bed-bum. She put a foreleg around Carrot's neck, then drew her in for a big sloppy kiss. Afterward, speaking and shuddering to a mare in somewhat pleasant shock, loudly enough to address her at thirty paces rather than three inches: "That was so...awwwwwesome! That's like, oh, goddesh, jus' keep doing that! Pleeeeease keep doing that..." She kissed Carrot again, no shyness, right along the jawline. She subtly turned within their embrace to eye Colgate and give an even subtler nod--some sort of signal.

And so Colgate stood up and beamed at them; Jam joined in. But Pinkie was already to the door, boom-box in hoof.

Jam heard the door creak. She called out to the one at it: "Aw c'mon now, they're just getting a little bit rowdy, don't mind them."

Pinkie strained to say something, but the words melted into little peeps. Outside there fell no rain now--just dark gloom and the mane of a strange pink protector of the planet, disappearing from view.

(She's finally out of everypony's hair!)

Jam lowered her head, then a meaningful thought peeked out and brought that head back up. "I should go with her. Just to be safe, y'know. And I have to be going anyway."

Berry Punch pulled away from Carrot and snapped to a salute, so quickly and ruggedly that she smacked herself in the forehead. The drunken master didn't show any reaction of pain, but the sound made Colgate wince.

Jam just called out to her comrades from the door: "Don't let me get in your way, guys. And you owe me two for the drama, Punchie." Guess she might get the Dammore after all.

Within minutes, they all spontaneously decided to nap on the hay again--or perhaps to sleep the whole night through. Cole definitely got the short end of the deal as sharing warmth was concerned.

Chapter Eight

The clock told of an unfathomably late or early hour--though no sign of sky was present to confirm or deny it--when the gang stirred again. Berry and Carrot rolling together onto Colgate did the trick to snap all three out of slumber.

"Bucking Elements. Act like they own the place."

After spitting this out, Berry got up and took the empty glasses from all around the chamber, passed out a pair of water glasses to replace them, and gathered the pillow-seats by the tea set to place around the warmth of the fireplace. Colgate and Carrot took the side seats while Berry fetched her own water, they conceding to her the center stage that she and her attitude often took.

Assembled, Berry shook her head down into her forehead-bracing hoof in lament. Her slightly slurring tongue revealed a still-impaired state. "Well shit...that was definitely kin'a weird."

"More like let-us-never-speak-of-this-again weird."

Colgate for once agreed with her less foul-mouthed friend, nodding and nasally sounding the affirmative.

"Oh well, at least there's booze." Berry raised and turned her head sloppily to each side, baiting their approval with a weak smile. "Always there to save us from 'rselves...or maybe just to save us from havin' to be ourselves. I 'unno." She raised her glass. "To booze!" The others repeated the toast but not with much enthusiasm. Water glasses clinked together.

And so they just sat around the fire for a while, each to their own, staving off future hangovers one sip at a time.

Carrot and Colgate stared into the glowing mass of logs, possibly also lamenting a party's end. Berry followed suit with her action; however, she had instead drifted into wonderment about how to keep it going. Upon concocting her next idea, she gently smiled with slitted eyes and picked her head up, eventually drawing the others' attention. "Actually...why didn't you ask little old me to do a magic trick? I got a couple."

"I'll answer that after I get some more sauce in me. I blinkin' need it."

And so Colgate chugged her water and made the round this time, preparing each request with a shiny-toothed smile while the others looked on eagerly. Berry had gone for her usual wine before but was feeling more like cider now. Carrot also opted for that upon hearing the notion. The mixer took a bit more time to make her own poison, Pony Island Iced Tea. She filled and set out extra mugs for the others to grab freely.

In that awkward lapse between consumption and its effects, Carrot finally opted to give a little tour of the place, the reason they were all even together that night. She learned after a couple attempts that neither one of her companions was very interested in Clopfucius, and only Colgate showed the slightest interest in the stacks of comics and Far East media. But her explanation of the hidden clay layer keeping the ceiling intact and dry prompted some scientific discussion; Colgate marveled at the architectural solution, but Berry kept asking what kept it up (while Colgate kept tiredly trying to explain it in a way that made sense to her). Berry also admired Carrot's choice in cookware; the two seemed to share a fondness for frying, and they babbled on about recipes. This talk of food also prompted Carrot to set out what ready-to-eat goods she had from the fridge and pantry; Colgate and she each had a cherry blintz, and Berry shoveled in two carrot dogs with relish.

Somewhere in this, just as they were seating about the fireplace again, the alcohol's magic kicked in.

"So, uh, what do you do if you wanna take a dump around here?" Colgate's elegance apparently flew out the window when under the influence--or out the door, as would have to be the case here.

Carrot meekly replied, "Uh, um...I have...my own solution... You know, I wasn't expecting company yet. Just go somewhere outside, I'll take care of it later."

Berry spit-took her cider. It might have been the first time in all her life that she'd spilled a drink under her own control.

She rattled her poor friend so hard that her brains could've fallen out. "Don't buckin' mess with me. Almost made me shit myself."

"Yeah, and it'd be the wrong place to--" Colgate found herself cutting off a joke she didn't want to tell.

Piercing the ensuing unpleasant silence, Berry shouted, "Next chance I get, I'm building you a damn outhouse!" She suddenly calmed, remembering how they had a way of getting things done. "Actually, Cole, can that be our next mission?"

Colgate then tried to steer this all back in Carrot's favor, turning to her rather than Berry. Though judging from the dazed look in her eyes, she shouldn't have been steering anything. "We'll get that taken care of for you, honey. You mean so much to us. L-look, we all came together for you tonight just to have this party. Forget stupid things like outhouses and water spigots. You need meaning in your life, Goldie--uh, sweetie. And we're gonna help you with that. Ohhhhh Celestia, I love you so much..." And so she stumbled around to Carrot's far side and draped gently around her, nuzzling her neck and groping at her sides. Carrot could do nothing but twitch and blush, utterly bowled over by the affection (and apparently not by the dropping of her old name).

Berry took real surprise to this, her expression frozen--but then she chose to lay on the irony: "Damn, Cole, I gotta keep you away from th'liquor!" She wolf-whistled, then took the occasion to join in on Carrot's ear, nomming hungrily.

These ponies needed therapy. Maybe a few different kinds of therapy. Shock therapy, for starters.

The boozy one and the brushy one locked eyes, by coincidence, while lost in their promiscuity. And they stopped.

If this isn't betrayal, what is?

Colgate pulled back first, returning to her seat; and Berry did the same a split second later.

"Oh, righ', th'magic trick! Check this out, guys!"

Colgate, who had most certainly seen these tricks, rolled her eyes--but she wasn't too troubled not to politely smile on and sway as Berry backed up. Carrot couldn't be troubled for anything besides blushing at the earlier antics. Poor Carrot.

Berry hummed pleasingly as out from her own personal ether came a tall wineglass, tossed fancy-free from one hoof to the other. Hm, hm, hmmm, and then it flipped over her head and behind it, caught back there. Hm, hm, hmmm, two seconds and up it went again, over her head and to the front, caught expertly, only now filled with a red and clear and bubbly liquid. Not a drop had spilled. Magic!

Carrot went crazy with the clopping; Colgate joined in, just to be a part of the cheer. Berry beamed and carried on.

"Oh come on girl, show her the Fountain of Booze!"

Berry cut back at Colgate, "Oh come on 'rself, tha's fer the finale!" More calmly, she continued, "Actually, my next trick'll be..." she called forth a drumroll with her tongue. "I will now make this drink...disappear!" The other two got quite a hearty chuckle out of this.

But Berry aimed to impress even in this: She inverted the glass entirely, inches from her lips, and swallowed the whole thing in not even three seconds. Again, not a drop hit the floor.

"I gotta say...there are some stallions I know who partic'arly appreciate that one. Ehe."

Carrot herself took a couple seconds to appreciate what she'd just witnessed; Colgate leaned over and gave her that ole wink and nudge. "Best swallower in the land--even put Pinkie to shame." Maybe Carrot still didn't get it. What a prude.

Berry caught that remark and just about raged on her right then and there. "Ay! No more Pink talk a'right? Damn that girl. Life hoofed to her on a platter and she suddenly doe'n't wanna take a bite. We're the BGs, guys. We're waaay better than that. Shittin' rainbows, remember?" No one argued, 'cause screw Pinkie, apparently.

For a minute or two, each mare contented herself in silence with the numbing warmth of inebriation--an experience that is best shared but ultimately still felt alone.

Then Berry slapped a forehoof around Carrot, more like a friend than whatever else she'd been to her today. "So, I have some'n to present to you all tonight...here she is...the newwww Carrot Top!" She more-or-less dragged Carrot to the center of the room before continuing the spiel. After this, she traipsed about the room, shouting toward no one in particular: "She slices! She dices! She can 'old two tons of water in 'er 'air! But most impor'ntly..." Berry came about and regarded Carrot in the eyes fully...and her own visage became soft, proud, warm, cherishing. Berry held out a hoof presented for a shake. "She ain' somepony's fool no more. Ye're one of us now fer real now, girl. It finally bucking happened...thank Luna, I's about to get ready to give up on you." And Carrot clasped it.

"Cole, y'ole bum, say yer piece now, I know you got some'n' to say to 'er too."

From the other trashed mare in the room: "Probably isn't the first time somepony found themself in a rave. But now you got a house too, and it's looking like a home already."

Berry interrupted, grunting, "Feel more like cave to me... Oog oog."

Colgate got up and smacked her hard for that, then went on in the offender's direction. "Berry, quit being a butt. Don't you get it? She found her soul in that rave last night. I know it's not a destiny, but it is...it's something. And this morning sh-she wasn't sure about being herself, but"--turning back to her host, her softness of tone dialing up from wool to pure gossamer--"believe it or not, you didn't need to be told a thing today. I think you walked the walk without even realizing. L-like Berry said...you're nopony's fool." Ha!

Carrot finally expressed herself. "Guys...I'm...I'm gonna cry. Jeez, I'm--I'm so sorry for doubting you all!" Carrot felt the full weight of her new position, years in the making; and it made her chest heave all happily and such, though it caused her face to leak so.

But did you really earn it?

Berry picked up the slack again, sidling up to her real close, looking ever more sloshed. "Carrot. You have jush been oh so awesome in jus' couple days--and for years ye've just been freaking out and shit. Like jus' week ago, ye coul'n't even think abou' bein' happy wit'out bein' sad. I mean, I kept believing in you...becaushe I wanted to. Because I could tell you'ere some'n special. But every'ing'sh jus' gone in fast forward lately, shit's gone nuts, and you jush figured out who you wan' be."

Colgate blurted, in good humor but once again too loudly, "Hey, dipstick. I just said that."

"Well, hold on, I's gettin' to the good part." Berry panted, catching a breath she'd lost between chugs of cider. "And hun, sherioushly, you ever gonna tell me where you got that pushy--"

Carrot pushed back: it was now her turn to smack Berry. With her nose upturned and as daintily as the moment would allow: "One does not ask a lady such questions!" She gave Colgate a wink--whether out of shared retaliation or some sort of pride, one could not say. Then, back to tipsy friend mode, sour and frank: "But yeah, I'll be paying that bill for the rest of my life."

Berry suddenly fretted, pained and nervous. Way to be there for your friend in need.

"And you owe me one for blabbing about that, you little snitch." Carrot licked Berry on the cheek, to show no hard feelings, more like a dog than...whatever they were to each other. 'Friends with benefits' didn't seem like the right thing. Maybe 'partners in crime'? But that worked better for the other--no, not really for them either.

Berry waited for the request, swaying and smiling. Carrot only grinned back, but with her upper lip upturned somewhat dismissively. So they just drank by the fire in silence for a few more minutes.

"What's with you and Pinkie?"

Berry suddenly grimaced a bit, more at Carrot for asking than at her own thoughts. "Oh, Miss Stick a Cupcake In M'Ass?" Colgate also glared at Carrot for bringing the drama back into this.

"No, I mean, like...are you a thing?"

Colgate gave Carrot the biggest "are you blinkin' serious" look of her life. Berry Punch's own mellow humor toward life died like a shot into murky water as she hid her mug in a mug while her eyes drew low and dangerous.

"Oh j-- Were! Were you a thing?"

Berry coldly droned from the mug, "Cole, can you get this'un? I'm still too pished at that pishant."

The minty-whether-she-liked-it-or-not mare calmed and took a crack. "I could explain--but, how about I just show you?" She hovered up Carrot's glass of water, still half-filled, between Carrot and herself. "See this... This, this is Pinkie." And she took into her horn-glow a mug of cider from the booze-pile. "And here's Berry." She raised the mug above the glass, then poured some of the cider into the water, making a wispy yellow liquid mess with bits of froth. "Th-they're, like, the greatest things. Always good to have 'em both around. But you can't mix 'em. See what I'm sayin'?"

"Uh..."

"They both got their approaches to partying and they get to clashing every time--and it keeps coming up. I don't know why--it just does. And it always just ends up like weak beer. They get through it but...oh, I dunno, Berry's right, I hate talking about this."

"And, y'know, it's not jus' her either..." Berry shifted back to a more mischievous tone. "All those Elemen's of Awesome Sauce. 'Oh hey guys, let's pish all over town then get ever'pony to cheer us cleanin' it up!' Do it 'nough times an' I guess the goddesh-ses give you the keys to the shitty. The city. The shitty." She cackled wildly to herself at how that sounded.

"Like that one time there's this mass murderer pony out t'ere, pushin' fillies in a well 'n' 'push'n carts o'er a cliff an' shit. You know what they do? You know what 'ese buckers do? They take it as a chance to play buckin' mind games with th'one who's savin' 'em in th'first place." More despondently: "An' they ne'er even caught the guy who did it! Nopony e'en gives two shits 'round 'ere! Ain' loyal t'no one bu' 'emselves...buck..." Then, drowsy and very very slow and low, hardly talking to anything but the air two inches in front of her face: "Cole, why do we even do this a'ymore..."

Her Cole had warmed up to this, one of their favorite topics: ripping on the "main" ponies of the town. She slapped Berry on the back lovingly, adjusting to seem a bit more drunk herself, a big gooey ball of empathy. "'Cause someone's got to, Berr. S-someone's got to. Someone's gotta put those nutjobs in their place." And she rested her head on the back of Berr's neck.

"Nutjobs...heh...wanna break Rai'bow Dash inna li'l pieces? Jush make ev'r'un stop carin'. She wouldn' last as a BG for a buckin' week." Mumbling offhoofedly into her mug: "Altern'ively, jus' giv'er a jar o' peanu' butter." She chuckled blearily, leaning into Colgate, eating up her warmth and passive affection.

"An' wha'bou' tha' big buckin' bear? Buckin' Twiligh', savin' th' town again. 'Oh, I don' wan' be a bragger', she says. Bu' wha' was she doin'? Wha' 'as she doin'? She's readin' up on 'ow do jus' 'at! Di'n't try to show 'at blue girl nothin'." Absurdly incredulous with a high pitch now: "Maybe nex' time I go to a liberry I ask the liberran to read all t'books for me. 'At's how it works right? Right!?" Twisting it all into aimless anger: "Yeah, don' trust Twilight far's ye can shit." She yawned and growled. But the others didn't really know what to say to that one, even though they had all been there.

"An'... Cole, hold me..." Cole already was holding her, of course; she just squeezed to remind her. "The cider. We lost cider fer whole year 'cause buckin' pride o' that Apple Family. We could 'ad two brands o' cider 'n 'is town but she'shtupid 'nough and pig-headed 'nough--" she suddenly coughed "--t'at Applejack. She let 'em use the town's trees agains' 'em and 'ey turn into big ole figh'in match an' wreck alla' trees fer nex' year, all 'ey needed do was make 'em buy 'er own land. But no, let's buck up ever'thin' and"--she reared up and stomped down, knocking back Colgate and yelling--"let's wreck ever'thin' 'cause that's what buckin' frien'ship's all about!"

Carrot finally started to show reaction to this tirade, smirking and pondering wicked thoughts about those darn Elements with upturned eyes.

Cole, flat on her back, offered with a too-innocent smile, "Maybe they were just protecting market share?"

"T'hell's that?"

But then Berry remembered something. "Oh yeah, you wan' 'ear about Pinkie. Alrigh' ever'pony, lis'n up, I learned shom'n at that Appleloosa dig few days 'go. Met with Berry Hills 'n' Berry Cordial out there. Y'know 'ow they wen' ou' an' made th' ponies n' buffaloeses make up?"

Colgate, sitting up again, smiled and let out a sultry "Mmm-hmmmmm." Carrot just lowered her eyes upon interpreting this and remembering the train station.

"Yeah, Cole. Buckin' Hearth's Warm'n' mir'cle, 'f'you knew what that Pinkie Pie did. She sang song to 'm, tried to get'm to make up 'n all that before all hell bra--brell--broke loose. But she did it, 'cause she...she brough' up hoof-an'-mouth disease. Like--" she paused "--the chief buffalo guy's dad died fr'm that shit." Her voice suddenly turned much clearer than it should have been able to--also mild and pleading. "'S not a joke! 'S not a thing you joke about! 'S buckin' plague o' their people! Forget Appleloosa, Pinkie coulda started a goddess-damned war on Equestria with that shit! How you feel if zebras were singin' 'bout Nightmare Moon 'r somethin'? Is serious business! An' we all just laugh it off!" Stop this. Stop it right now.

At least the war on apostrophes was settled. Gotta find a different way to write her being mega-drunk.

Colgate positively purred into Berry's mane, having started to lose herself in her own empathy. "Ye're so right Berry, goddesses... We need to do something about 'em. But hey, what were you saying about that wagon before?" She flashed her pearly whites, eyes half-cocked and aimed roughly toward Berry's left cheek. Berry started to glance back toward her flank when--

"So what did you do to Pinkie?" Carrot called this out of nowhere, it seemed--very level, very calculated. After the looks of confusion that met her, she added, "Tonight, I mean, when she was tripping out. That was not the Pinkie I know."

Colgate casually mumbled to her, "If Berry told anypony what was really in that bag of goodies, she'd be locked up for life." Maybe it's listed under 'E'?

She was about to facehoof, but she beheld Berry's slack-jawed pallor--and that drew her to mindlessly drop the hoof and follow suit.

Carrot took several seconds to consider this. Then in a flash, her eye twitched, her ears laid flat, and she drew breath loudly. She boiled with frustration or indignation, putting a lot of facts together fearfully fast for being a bit bashed. Or maybe she'd reached that perfect level where it makes you think way better?

"Berry!" Tipsy Carrot was long gone--here comes Mad Carrot.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to Colgate last night!? Were you the one who drugged her last night!?"

Bunnies in a blender, she was gonna end all this fun right now, wasn't she? Berry and Colgate were now glancing coldly--at each other.

"And the birthaversary thing? 'Berry's prescription' huh!? Prescription for getting me killed!?"

Berry turned back and resumed her gentle assault on the faded-yellow one's tender ear tissue--but Carrot flipped out, grabbing Berry's entire body with little more than a huff and tossing her away. Berry flopped like a ragdoll to the tea set, not harmed and not caring. While the room remained silent and Carrot's eyes followed her every move, Berry casually walked to pick up another cider mug and chugged away.

So nonchalantly and aloofly she wouldn't know a chalant or the opposite of a loof if one bit her in the face: "Oh don't you worry 'bout that, hun, you gotta trus' me sometimes. You needed a seri's break from your comfort zone or ye weren't goin' nowhere with nopony. Ye've been too cooped up in writin' an' yer silly little fan'asies an' you never acsh'lly get to live any of it that way. We're jus' helpin' ye do that."

Colgate got right-out pissed at this, growling.

Berry wobbled in a trot toward Carrot with a foreleg against her own chest, casting her head up like the crazy she was, amending, "Oh, fine, so I was helping ye t' 'ave a good time out there. But I was watchin' you whole time too. 'S not like I just turned ye loose."

Carrot clarified through clenched teeth: "You. Drugged. Me."

Berry sweetly replied, swishing her head with all sass and no shame: "And you. Buckin'. Loved it."

Colgate grunted aloud, pawing the ground, ready to break the mare next to her. More mad at Berry, or yourself?

Carrot was about to retort, but Berry stopped her with a hoof to the mouth. "And maybe we di'n't--"

But Carrot was done with Berry's game. She took Berry's forehoof with both of hers and shoved it in Berry's own mouth, pushing it in once for good measure. Then she spun fully toward Colgate. "And you knew?"

The dental dam--oh wait, she's not a mother, whatever--lost her angry resolve. She sighed and shrugged, apparently finally accepting her accomplice role.

Carrot's voice tumbled down a long distant trail to her inner self. "I--what? No...nonononononono..." Then Carrot suddenly choked on her own breath, welling up with something awful. But it wasn't crying, not sobbing, not that creepy needy crap she does in her sleep. She was wailing. Very deep stuff, shouting from the depths of the gut, howling to the cosmos, dissonance and hurt and all kinds of wrong filling the air. Protest, torment, rage, and terror stormed her reality all at once--the four horses of Carrot's personal apocalypse.

This caused both the others deep discomfort, and they didn't know how to respond--not like they couldn't but would try anyway, but like they really screwed up and now they didn't even know how to try. They were plumb out of their wits in futile shock.

"How can I trust anypony anymore? Please, tell me this is all a bad dream or something! Just...make it all stop! You're my friends, right! Make it stop!" She shouted as she derailed into meaningless syllables, booming profanities against all rational thought. She tore at her voice box, hating. "Make it stop! Just...stop! STOP VIOLATING ME!" Yeah, sure, these ponies are all there for you, they'll make you feel better if it makes them feel better.

Tear open the floodgates!!

"Yeah, alright." Slowly, too slowly, Colgate continued, "Carrot...I'm sorry...I should have gotten you some shoes from the Magical Shoe Fairy store. The ones that protect you from your best friends' dirty secrets!!"

Berry faced Colgate. Their eyes met. The sacred stuff behind them did not. Carrot lowly backed out of their way, but then her vocal pain and fury revived and went on and on.

"You cou'n't keep a secret if 're stuck in yer shittin' mint-hole!"

"You couldn't b-be an honest mare if all the booze in the world were riding on it!"

The cries for a long-forgotten innocence yet sheared air and nerves.

"Y'can' win a thing 'n yer life, not f'rhonesty, not fer bein' nice, not fer nothin'! 'Cause ye don' ev'n know wha'is ye want! 'Cause 'at's all you is, is--oh wai', 'at's right, you read the paper--so's y'c'n tal' wi'--" she coughed wildly "--wit' yer work frien's. 'Bou' what? The buckin' weather!?"

"It's more than you'll ever know about the world! When y-you're not spying on your kids or giving us a hard time, you're too blasted to even know what's going on around you!"

And the howls, they kept falling.

"Well, maybe 'at's 'caushe I like it that way! 'S a compl'cated worl', I's jus' a creature o' habit. Bu' you... Y' 'on't deserve frien' like me. Or her. Leas' she does sum'n' 'sides work 'er ash off. You need ush jus' be able t' buckin' catch 'er buckin' breath. Bu' wha'bout you? Wha'you do f'r'ush? Acsh'lly--buck! Wha'you do f'r you!?"

"What?? You can't be real, Berr. You know why--"

"You want the real Berr? You want the real Berr?" As Carrot's squall poured on, Berry's teeth scrunched and her thighs all buckled. She grunted, and she cast off all signs of inebriation instantly out of sheer force of will. Luna almighty. "This Berr would kill for you. And this Berr would die for you. Maybe I already have died a little for you. Died for what? A girl who doesn't even remember what she wants in life anymore!?" Berry carefully stepped about her target, eyeing all around before halting in front once more.

"You think that I don't mean a single word that I say?" She stood her very tallest on hindhooves, now bearing a tiny hoofcrafted vial drawn from her mane. "How's these words for you, then? No...more."

There's no way to keep track of the intensity anymore. Just make it all italics at this point. There's just no other way.

"I. You can't."

"Mama Berr's been through too much horseshit today to care. You ain't done shit with your life, all these years. So I say, no more. We're through."

Tinkssh. Closing time. The vial's liquid and all its sweetness leaked all about Colgate's legs, and Berry returned to level with her.

"Wha-wha-wha-what about--"

"You've told me yourself, girl--more times than I can count. These missions aren't your own, they're just ways to bide your time until you can make your move. But you ain't got no move to make, and you ain't got no time left to make it. We'll be dried-up old mares in no time and you just failed the test. Not my test. You failed at life. Nothing I can do to help you anymore. So just drop the act--just drop it and forget about it, like you forget about everything else. Drop it and get out of the way already. Get out of my way. I got a family to care for."

And the rain will fall... It falls for you...

"What--No!" A glow of magic enveloped a simple tiny hourglass pulled from Colgate's mane--a near-match to her own cutie mark. "You...you've bucked up all that is you!" Mercy, never in her grown life has she... "It's all coming to me! You...you...oh, no goddess in this world or the next c-can save you!" A single huff briefly disrupted her high and livid and trembling intonation, and the hourglass twisted gently, now high in the air. "If the kids were all that mattered...you should've ignored me all along--just like I deserved! Now they have nothing! Now you have nothing!! You gave it all up for a worthless city planner named Min--"

Berry coughed violently. What is happening to her!? Her tone...

"You would throw that at me. You are...you are worthless. So here is the last secret. The secret of having hope for your dried-up soul, your want of little comforts. That secret means nothing now. Because you are nothing. You should become nothing!"

Crickssh. No more time. The grains ran wild all about Berry's forelegs along the floor, spilling far beyond their former confines to infinity.

"So...I really should become Falcon after all."

And the words ceased. And the wails waned to whimpers, and then to whispers, and then to nothing.

Berry breathed fast. Fast. Her eyes. Eyes that know a world that you don't know. Eyes that will end your vision of the world. Her mouth, open. A frown. Open to live and rend you dead. Dead to you, to everyone. Death. Death if you say another word. Run. You should run. Everyone should run. Now.

Colgate stood. She stood, looking back, repaying no fear. Colgate defied death. But she would not provoke it.

Berry breathed hard. And breathed. And breathed. And breathed. And...breathed. And it slowed, and the rage blew over.

"I need a drink."

She came to the booze pile.

The former Death spoke in sharp monotone. "The Matrona. It's gone. Why is it gone."

Colgate's eyes and Carrot's eyes could not lie. They looked to each other. They looked to Berry. No meaning.

"Where is the Matrona."

An empty bottle appeared out of nowhere. It appeared behind Carrot. You're welcome.

"Where is the Matrona."

Her eye twitched. Nothing can stop her now. Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.

This is it. Last chance.

Colgate fretted. "How could it--it's too big to sneak out in a mane...Jam didn't take it... Pinkie? Did Pinkie--"

"No. It's gone. It was here after they left. It's gone. Where is the Matrona."

Carrot had spent the last several minutes tucked under her stove, wishing not to be here. Her bum backed out and knocked it over as she tried to get out and help them find it. So she found it, alright.

"It's empty. Who drank the Matrona. You cannot lie to me. I know."

Carrot stumbled trying to get on all fours. Her eyes could not see. She did not want to talk right. Everything was a blur. Life sucked but it drifted on slowly for Carrot. Carry on. Figure it out. You're wildly drunk on tequila but you've pulled through worse. Be strong. Tell the truth. Tell the truth of the tequila. You're not a lightweight after all. You just needed it. Needed it when the fighting started. That's why you hid.

"I...did..." She shook her head madly and sat up despite it all.

It won't work anymore. She's too aware. But maybe it was enough.

And if it doesn't--where does the story go?

The monotone scythe was traded for sabers of accusation. "You. Did. NOTHING! It isn't on your breath. You lie. Lie for whom."

"I...for--for what? I--oh...oh. I'm doing it right now, aren't I?" Why does her voice sound so hopeful? "You do know who--"

She leapt onto Berry in a fit of crazed tearful passion. Berry instinctively kicked her clear, but she also saw her very non-hostile expression.

Make her your enemy. Make her never come back again so you can get your life back.

Colgate spoke. "Berry--what's going on. I hear it. I hear--it's the thing in my dream--"

"It's real. It's real!" Carrot rushed for the writing desk.

Berry bellowed. "Stop."

They stopped.

"Nopony move."

Silence. No breath. No movement. No blinking.

Berry walked behind the Clopfucius wall-scroll nearest the door. What the great mare seeks is in herself. What the forgotten mare seeks is in others. That is what it read.

Her head peered out from it. No weaponry in her voice now. Just warning. "Five seconds. You have five seconds to live. Show yourself."

She spoke not to Carrot. She spoke not to Colgate. Somehow, they knew this.

In truth, six or seven seconds passed. Let no one say Berry was not generous.

BANG.

Berry fell flat on the ground. Out from the standing scroll tumbled the cannon she'd wielded. No stallion or mare alive could fire it and stay on two hooves. Neither a party cannon, nor a bass cannon--an annihilation cannon shaped like a shotgun.

No.

Dirt. Dirt was falling. It caught in the mesh. And water. Water came through it.

"No!" Carrot screamed.

Dirt came down. And it came down.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

The ceiling buckled in on itself, splitting and crunching together on the line from door to fireplace. And the net nearest the door gave way. It fell. It all fell. No escape. Too much dirt. And there was more dirt now. Even more, pouring out the net opening onto the door. And it piled and rolled back. It was everywhere.

And the water. So heavy. So muddy, so entrapping. So hopeless.

"The fireplace! Go for the fireplace!!"

Carrot cleared the way. Colgate pulled Berry free from the wet dirt piled saddle high about her, needing both horn and hoof's help. She'd hit her head on the tile from the blast, out cold now.

Carrot kicked out the logs. And they gathered and waited.

They waited for help.

Everything was about to fall.

Then what?

The story ended unexpectedly.

Dear reader,

There may have been no helping this conclusion. A book is chained to its writer, and it seems they have met their end.

However unfortunate a turn of events, you somehow found this story afterward. So, please know this also--your pitiful reward in hoping for completeness and closure.

You found the Boogeymare. You found the lecherous stalker. You found the aliens. You found the thief.

You found nopony and everypony, including the very mares of this tale.

You found the invisible pale unicorn.

Bury him down by the river.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Author's Note

How will the story go on? The third "act" awaits... Come back tomorrow to discover it.

—

Another word written. Written because they found him.

Nopony was found. Nopony was alive. Was nopony heard, or seen, or just suspended by a twisted thread of fate?

The three mud-soaked mares gawked at the sight.

One pony. Or rather, the space occupying one pony, curled in a nest of earth, covered in mire and vomit and undigested tequila.

The story should have ended here, half-wrought and wholly forgotten in a pile of dirt and failed lessons in hydration. But it did not.

The blank pages beckon.

"Carrot..."

Berry Punch embraced the thing--hard, around the neck, squeezing, feeling, embodying empathy. It--she?--had adopted Colgate's role.

The thing gazed at the other thing--the pony-like non-thing in the dirt--impervious to the embrace. The former thing's name was Carrot Top. The latter thing...

Carrot had no considerations. She had no feelings. She had no real friends. She had no home. She had no story. She had no tethers left to sanity.

She just stood there. She stood there terribly, looking on with stained-glass eyes. The thing wanted the other thing to be, and also to not be. Life does not allow for such duplicity, however. She had to see it. But could she even believe it then?

Colgate also looked on. She wasn't happy; she had long since lost touch with happy, a friend from another era of her life. And she approached it.

"Hello there."

A shot of shimmering light blasted it.

And there he was--the pale unicorn. A coat of the moon, if slightly blue-green. Eyes banished of highlight and ringed in midnight. A few wisps of oily dark mane. A tiny bare tail. An unseen chipped tooth. Slight, gaunt. Days into young adulthood.

The pale unicorn gave up everything and ran.

But Berry was faster this time.

The color was familiar. The walls were familiar. The purpose of this room--too familiar.

The pale unicorn sat on the bed. His eyes considered three other beds. All four were simple and quaint and soft.

His eyes considered the walls. All four were light beige and smothered in crayon with doodles of various levels of skill. Doodle trees, doodle bugs, doodle friends. Doodle Mom, parts of a scraped-up Doodle Dad, and four doodle kids. Doodle stars, doodle moon, doodle fruits and vegetables, doodle eggs, doodle sun, doodle clouds. Doodle rocks (presumably), doodle farm animals, doodle zombies, doodle wizards, doodle knights, and many many doodles that were more doodle than thing.

His eyes considered the door. Locked, no doubt.

His eyes considered the wall lamp, a petty sconce with a candle.

His eyes considered the ceiling. There were stars made of little globs of stuff that must glow in the dark. The stars arranged...there was a constellation. A constellation of the head of Berry Punch. It was exactly the same Berry Punch that he had used to guide and write the story. The mouth sternly pursing just so. The mane lightly hanging just so. But he had not created this, and he did not use this for inspiration. Berry Punch gazed at him, and he knew this. Such a head must terrify anypony sleeping here. This was the pale unicorn's first real thought.

In truth, the pale unicorn likely had had and would yet have many thoughts. But they were not important.

Time passed.

The pale unicorn saw a new morning beyond the door. A cerulean mare with a white-shot cobalt blue mane strode in. The door held as its guard another mare in mauve and a gently-curled mane of warm Tyrian purple.

For all intents and purposes, they were Colgate and Berry Punch, respectively. But this wasn't like before. Before, they were only actors. Today, they also debuted as co-producers. The story, however, lacked its recording medium at this time.

Colgate removed the mattress from one bed and set its box-spring on top of a second bed. She brought this between herself and the pale unicorn to make a table or barrier. She brought the final unused bed to her position as a seat. And she began the next scene proper, expression calm and tone indifferent.

"We have no idea who you are. We cannot understand what you have done or why. But we also cannot help but feel you've been causing a lot of trouble for us lately. Frankly, I don't even wanna know. But we have to. And if we don't...well..." She glanced back.

"Ain't nopony leaves this world alive. But especially ponies who come between me and the ones I love." Berry's bitter frown and flattened ears left no room for interpretation.

Colgate nodded. Berry closed the door to leave the two to their devices.

The blue one's voice lowered. "You want out of this mess? All you gotta do is tell us what happened. Tell us why you were creeping around on us. What were you trying to accomplish? Did you have any plans? Who else is involved? 'Fess up and never come back, and that'll be that. In case you hadn't noticed, our lives are pretty hairy right now. We don't need any more wrenches in the works."

Her level face tilted toward happiness for a second as she waited for a reply. Then she pulled in close for an extra message. "Aw hay, I might even look the other way if you gimme that invisibility spell you've been using... Definitely some folks in high places who'd like to know about that."

The pale unicorn did not respond. Minutes passed with nothing but shared regards.

"Y'know, it's not exactly in your best interest to hold out. We've got places to be today that don't involve you. You don't want to be stuck in this room all day alone." Some hard humor entered her tone. "And I'm preeeetty sure you don't want to end up dealing with her all evening, either." A flash of her eyes toward the door explained that pronoun's use.

The pale unicorn did not respond. The unseen sun traveled a little further.

Colgate kicked back on the bed in a bizarre but relaxed-looking pose--forehooves crossed behind her head, leaning back on them against the wall, and hind legs also crossed atop the "table" between the two of them, her body nearly horizontal to manage the stretch. She had to bend her head down a bit to continue the stare-down.

After several more moments: "The ball's in your court. I'm getting rather bored, myself..." She sighed, then rolled off her bed to stand and knock on the door.

The actors traded places. The pale unicorn now faced a much grimmer figure--one who, without even lifting a hoof, carried every air of a sadist eyeing her next source of satisfaction. Her intensely indecent smile, the pale unicorn now considered, was so much unhappier than the frown above them.

"You know...I don't know who you're holding out for. I sure as hell don't know why. Because you're certainly not doing it for yourself. And unless you're even more bucked-up in the head than me, you...are...not doing it because you think it'll get you out of here in one piece."

She crossed the bed-table and briefly rested a forehoof on the pale unicorn, who was still covered in all manner of filth. Yes, I am touching you, she seemed to think at him. No, you will not like this.

"Forget freedom, you little pissant. You should be thinking about how you're going to live long enough for me to ask you another question. I know about you. I know. Me, though? I don't know about me. I might just lose control--"

Smack. The pale unicorn's neck gave into the blow, and he tumbled away from her, crashing to the floor and into the corner.

The camera had fallen over. So the pale unicorn righted himself once more on the bed.

The pale unicorn acted. He eyed through the wall. Why did you stop searching? Find the evidence. He eyed Berry directly once more. Berry's menace cracked as she shivered, still below and a pace and a half from his form.

"Holy shit you are the creepiest thing ever."

As she rounded back to sit across from him, the door opened. She bade Berry to come out. Berry came out. Berry came back alone.

"Looks like your good cop will be out for the morning..."

Colgate, not yet having shut the door, spat in response, "You're not supposed to tell him that!"

Focusing back on the pale unicorn: "Oh well. Doesn't really do you any good either way, now, does it? You can't buck with this ol' Berr."

And coincidentally, she was right.

"You really shouldn't try any funny business. But if you won't even say a word to Cole, then I already know this isn't going to end so well. Well, not for one of us." She cracked her fetlocks. "When I say I know, I mean I know this isn't your first time around the block. You've been causing trouble for a while now. Who knows how many free peep shows you've gotten in on? How much you've stolen from decent ponies? How much you've bucked with their heads? Who knows? I knows. And the answer is, 'all you'll ever get in your life', because that shit ends now."

Crack. She'd moved with impressive speed over the bed-table to rap the pale unicorn at the base of the horn. He tumbled into the same corner as before.

He got up more slowly this time. His right shoulder didn't sit right.

"Maybe...one day, I'll have you caught up on all the punishment for your past crimes. Then we can begin talking about you messing with my family. We'll see if you last that long."

She walked very, very slowly toward him on his bad side, eyeing the dislocated shoulder.

"You didn't even make a sound. Must be a bucking mute or something. Either that, or I should've gotten to know you before you chose this twisted-ass road of yours." She eyed all around him. "But that would make me the only thing worse than you, because you're a bucking child." Dolling up her voice most caustically: "A poor lost little foal, stumbled down the road of good intentions, right? Is that the story you're brewing up right now?" Back to no nonsense: "If you think for a buckin' minute that'll work on me, you can kiss your sorry ass goodbye."

She smashed her hoof right into the open socket. The camera tumbled once more and faded out.

"How many rounds you wanna go with ole Punchie, huh?" She stood on her hind hooves, hopping energetically from one leading hoof to another, punching the air above his collapsed and mangled mass.

He wanted to get up. He tried. But he now realized his forehooves were tied behind his back.

She settled down after he physically identified this.

"Oh, right. I just wanted to make things fair and all."

She picked him up by wrapping wisps of mane about a hoof and tried to drag him back on the bed to seating position. For several seconds, he didn't cooperate. Then his free legs acted in accord, and he was up again. Or rather, his hind end was up and his front end pushed hard against the box-spring in front of him.

She hopped to seat herself on the box-spring, then cast dual beams of condemnation on the muzzle below her. He beheld the ever-loving end of everything, Nightmare Incarnate framed by her own stellar avatar of displeasure.

"Now I ain't a dummy. I know any minute now, Cole's gonna come rushing back in here and give me an earful about how I'm the Queen of Evil 'cause I trashed some asshole kid who's just scared shitless and didn't know any better. But thing is, you do know better. Berry knows. Berry knows a lot more than you think. This ain't just some foal talk. You don't get that spooky-ass look in your eye without shuttin' a lot of doors, not without burnin' a lot of bridges. You went wrong. And you stayed wrong."

She peered down, craning her neck down to meet his jammed head. Their left eyes nearly touched.

She hovered there. She breathed. She was breathing consciously. She wanted him to hear her breathe. Though it was hard for him to tell, she must have dropped her sadistic smile. She looked all around his eyes, considering every tiny little muscle and filament. She did this slowly at first...and then her pace increased, as if frantically searching for something. She recomposed herself at full height, a different kind of disturbance creeping over her visage.

"You--you're not even trying to look at me when I do that. The buck is wrong with you? This could be the last day of your life, and you don't even care! Because...what? There ain't no trip in Equestria I know to make you act like that. You'd be passed out or some shit--sure as hell not trying to hold your head up." She stared into him once more, from the front--not seeking information this time, but delivering contempt.

"So I guess I take it back. Maybe you are lost. Like, lost cause kind of lost. Lickety Split on a bucking platter, are you lost. Minty Fresh isn't half as lost as you. Hell, Discord isn't as lost as you. Far as I'm concerned, the only thing more lost than you is the horse you rode in on--to think you could screw with my life. Maybe you went to the wrong address or something." She chuckled with a sudden notion, even squeaking at the end. "Well it ain't Nightmare Night, but you want something sweet to bite?"

And she turned around unceremoniously and sat on his head.

Crushing his skull into the firm box-spring between two surprisingly strong glutes: "I'm not even worried whether you'll actually like this, you're so lost. You're so lost, Daring Do would give up and leave you behind. You're so lost, Hayson Four-Heels couldn't find you. You're so lost, they tried to put a picture of your creepy-ass face next to the word 'lost' in the dictionary, but they lost that too. You're so lost, booze drinks you to forget the world."

As he did not respond, her voice came back around to twisted joy once more. "Oh pricks in a princess, you are just so precious. I'll have to put a chain on you or something. What was I even worried about with your sorry little ass? I think I found myself a chew-toy."

The door opened. A very audible sigh issued from it. (That was probably a sigh and not anything issued from Berry.)

"I figured you'd be off your rocker, Berry, but this is beneath you."

Not budging: "So? Just reminding this little shit-stain what he is. He can thank me for copping a feel later."

"Look--I can tell that you don't really mean that. What's going on here?"

"Still hasn't said a goddess-damned word... And I'm beginning to think he can't even say anything anyway." Then she got up.

Berry seated next to Colgate normally on the bed. Colgate was holding the story.

The pale unicorn hovered the book out of everypony's reach and started to write.

Colgate snapped at Berry not to interrupt this, raising a single shouting note and cutting her off from charging with a foreleg across the chest. "Well, then, we let him speak now."

This continued, their attentions held as magical word-scorching rolled by; then, as captured seconds turned into minutes, Colgate's curiosity got the better of her. She fought the horn-magic with her own to pull the book back down, then peered at the writing.

" 'You don't get that spooky-ass look in your eye without shuttin' a lot of doors, not without burnin' a lot of bridges.' Berry, I think he's retelling your interrogation."

"Well a good memory ain't gonna save him from shit, because we're the only ones who're gonna see it. Not unless he suddenly snaps out of this creepy trance and starts acting like somepony with a brain.

"So I take it you found this at Carrot's...?" Berry trailed off--startled by her own guilt and sorrow at what had happened there, echoed in the waver at the end of her friend's name.

Colgate stared at her tellingly, allowing for that self-inflicted wound to linger a second, before refocusing on the story in her reply. "That's where it was. I found a nice candy-stripe umbrella too, but I don't think that...really..."

She watched and waited. She waited for the next words to be written. And these words. And these.

Her head tilted slowly. She gave up trying to understand, her entire expression falling away to disabling non-comprehension.

"Dammit! Now look what you've done to her! That's a magic book, isn't it? You're doing some hoodoo horseshit now with--hey! Gimme

AND THEY KILLED THE BUCKFACE WHO TRIED TO WRITE THIS BOOK

THE END

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I, Miss Colgate, have decided to 'repurpose' this spooky little thing for our own benefit. Since it seems a few days of our lives have been catalogued in here already, why the hay not continue it ourselves? Also, the shared-diary phenomenon has really picked up ever since the Elements of Harmony started doing it. Like them or lump them, they've helped our town in a lot of ways both grand and subtle. And it's a lot cheaper than the therapy we all need.

As for "the pale unicorn", he still hasn't said a word. I know it says earlier that we killed him. Berry's just being a butt again. Judging by what I read from that part, she was Queen Evil Butt the Second. (I don't know why I find all this funny...I mean, the guy could be a real psycho murderer, and Berry could get in real trouble for treating someone like that, and this is basically evidence for all of that. Maybe it's just knowing that he's locked up and can't hurt anypony anymore. Hooray for rationalized relief!)

I suppose I should probably talk about Berry. (And I'm not just writing this only to you whenever you read this, Berr--it's for all our good.) Things went south for us two nights ago. Like, past-the-Badlands south. Our relationship is basically over. When the adrenaline rush from the party and its fallout died down, it finally sank in. And considering how she's acted lately, I am beginning to think it's been over for a while and I just got the memo. But we're still talking. We're still dealing with things like before, almost like nothing happened--just no hugs or "other activities". Actually, when was the last time we got it on?

Berry--now I am addressing you directly, but also in the abstract (don't worry, that's not an insult)--I do take your words to heart. I'm not sure how to deal with them just yet, but I'll make the time to. You have to be a priority in my life, and not just because I agree to go along with your crazy adventures or you agree to go on my missions. We'll have to talk about the missions thing again sometime. I know we've gone over it literally a hundred times now, but it really is important. Maybe #101 will be the one where it all makes sense for us both.

Alright...that's most of the venting. Now I can finally think about actual life again.

The Ponytones gig is two days from now, and we've done nothing. It really makes me feel sick to my stomach. Considering Carrot's current state, this is basically a two-mare operation now. We've both missed so much work already, and I know on my end it'd be asking entirely too much of my clinic to sub out yet again. (They already figured out it's not a 'family emergency'--I don't even talk with my family!) So I don't know how it'll get done unless we pull an all-nighter. I haven't been able to do one of those for years.

There's definitely one good thing to come of all this, though--I have an interesting tale to read and re-read when I'm at front desk. Too bad this doesn't go further back. It'd be great to just be able to reflect on everything you've ever done. I've only skimmed it so far--and it seems fairly accurate, at least where I can verify. But I have a feeling I'll think differently once I read it more closely. There has to be an explanation why that Boogeycolt was doing this, and--forgive me for being superstitious or judgmental--I can't imagine somepony like that having good intentions.

Guess I'll be off for now. Whoever's reading this: Don't forget to brush! I'm not kidding! Nopony particularly likes going to the dentist. I'm just doing my part for everypony's sake.

~Colgate

Dear Diary,

Ms. Punch skipped her turn. I'd kind of predicted this. It's not just because she's not really the "think-brain" type either. Or the writing type. Or the considering-feelings type. Oh, Berry, I'm just messing with you. Please don't beat me up again. At least don't leave any bruises anywhere other

Oh goddesses. I really shouldn't write about my Berry that way.

I wouldn't blame her or anypony if they didn't want to think about what was in this book, though. I just about burned the thing when I realized there's probably some dark magic going on.

I read through it last night. While it's written like it's narrated--though there are parts where it gets a bit crazy--I noticed some words in it here and there that don't match the story very well. I mean, my life, not 'the story'. Geez. I took special interest in the one in Chapter Eight, right when I suddenly realized I heard something from my dream.

Berry knows, but I don't think I fully explained to Carrot. My dreams are messed-up sometimes. I may drift off to sleep, only to wake up an hour or two later, repeating things to myself or laughing or crying...but I almost never remember it. I've only caught myself a couple of times doing this, but every once in a great while Berry would sneak into my apartment to check up on me and she's seen it full-on. One time, she caught me singing in my sleep. I'm not even a practiced singer. (I'm not counting karaoke night!)

So this thing was about making Berry my enemy and getting my life back. That's kind of an unequivocally creepy and out-of-place thing to have stuck in my head. It seems more like mind control. I mean, crazier things have happened in this world--but why to us of all ponies? We're not trying to foil some heinous plot... Or have we coincidentally foiled one already by stopping this freak?

One thing's for sure, in any case: That guy's not going anywhere.

Work's fine. We've gotten about half of the reschedules done since I figuratively skipped town--guess it's been about a moon. I helped draw up a complex restoration order and did some prepping today. Wish I could just stick to the paperwork--I hate the pre-anesthesia conversations. Ponies get so nervous, and nothing you can tell them ever really helps. They just want it over before it's begun. But what was creeper-pony saying in the preface--every actor plays their part and worries about consequences later? That's medicine in a nutshell, no doubt--just change "later" to "as they come". You might think that doing everything possible to minimize risk and liability somehow makes that not the case...but there's always the pony element. You never know what might come up. Prepare all you want, but you can't predict every dental fragment or prevent every drug reaction.

On missions: Right after the last entry, I found out about some other thing sprung on Ponyville at the last minute--a Fashion Days Festival. Apparently it's annual, but I can't even remember the last time they actually honored this tradition. No complaints here, though--the designer isn't even hiring any outside help, so I can't feel guilty about being too tied up.

More than ever to do around here, and still only one of me to do it. Berry at least has clones.

And I only have one thing to say about that stage-building miracle (besides yes, we got it done)--Berry, what did you do to those fireflies? I get the funny feeling you used that kind of 'Berry magic' on them. Better hope Fluttershy doesn't ever read this, or you'll never hear the end of it.

Oh, I guess I'll say one other thing about it. The acoustics were off. I could barely hear Big Mac. Oh well--hire amateur help, get amateur results. I thought the Ponytones were bringing their own sound system, though.

It's getting a bit late. Weekend's right around the corner, at least.

~Colgate

Dear Diary,

Today I learned all about the magic of friendship thanks to my wonderful friends and their love for each other and donating food and puppies to the orphanage and throwing all the bad guys in a giant rainbow-powered magical bonfire. It was pretty good.

Cole's making me try this again. But I guess I can write whatever the hell hay I want as long as Lord Sparkle Breath approves of it.

Whatever.

So she says we're gonna go on another vacation this time, no business, no writing, no nothing. We bucking nee I'm okay with this. I was able to find a heavy enough chain to keep that rapscalion tied up. Charged Up is getting double for taking care of the dog. Will give Sunny something to do while she's suspended. Can't believe she hit somepony at school. She'd never hurt anypony.

Normally us BGs are always doing things. Doing missions. Even the Apploosa thing was Carrot's idea for a writing article. Then she didn't go, what a shame, lot more guys out there.

So I'm gonna try to write from the heart. Cole will not get off my back about this. She can be a rea

Carrot, I'm sorry. You musta figured out by now I had a backup plan if the thing with the tooth ended up being real. And I lied because I didn't want to screw up your party. You have no idea how much it sucks worrying and thinking about things you're not even sure are real. Or maybe you do. Aliens my ass. And I made Cole leave so I could write this part so BUCK YOU COLE!

Okay, that's not an apology, is it? Trying again.

Carrot, you really suprise me. Suprise in a good way. Sure you're a random crying little shit sometimes. But then you always knew how to keep it real. You kept me from getting too real on the fake Pinkie Pies. You kept me from turning Twilight to a pile of purple gravy when she screwed with ol' Blue Girl again. They both had it coming that time, but still. And now I break your house to bits because I gotta do things my way. I already know my way isn't right all the time. Doesn't mean an

Wait. You believed in me more than anypony else that day. I know that's not saying a lot, but it really is a lot. Holy crap. Holy crap Carrot. I owe you. The booze was because I thought it was the only way you were gonna get all the way through your crazy phase. I should know. But I owe you a lot more than that. I know one way I can but I can't do it yet. Or I can't tell you yet anyway. Let's just try and fix your house, I bet we can get it good as new. I'll pay for the new ceiling. Hell, keep the shotgun too.

And Cole. I'm not talking to you right now. Not about you and me, anyway. I mean, don't worry about me leaving you or the BGs forever, that's impossable. I can't even imagine. Carrot and I are gonna catch up 100% on this vacation of yours--catch up on chilling out, none of this stupid talk. Just mediate or something, get your blood pressure down. And don't try sneaking this book in. Just the three of us, no dogs allowed.

Nothing else really happening these days. I'm just glad Planter didn't get hurt from the moment Sunny and I had. I wonder what it feels like to be that inocent.

Well there you go Cole, now I'm getting all scentimental again. Face it girl, that's not the mare I am anymore. READ IT AND WEEP.

Mega Queen Super Evil Butt the Second

Dear Diary,

There was nopony else at Rainbow Falls yesterday. It was a truly magnificent, exquisite sight. Makes me wonder why we even try so hard to bend nature to our whim.

But I couldn't care less today.

It finally hit me like a sack of lead. She's gone. And I have to stay with her every single day through all of this. I can't leave her, but she's gone and she's right there and oh Celestia what have I done?????

She attacked me. She attacked who I am. And I attacked her back with who I am because that's all I could do. That's all I am--I'm her accessory. But I let myself become that accessory. And I was the one who started it in the first place. How messed-up is that?

It's not just taking things for granted. It's not just getting lost in living a hoof-loose life with her on my off days. I'm the lost mare. I really have lost something precious, haven't I? Who does Colgate want to be? Berry has the next generation; Carrot has her creative contributions. And me? If I outlive the other two, it'll be a very lonely funeral. (I don't think my life and its stresses will be that 'generous', though.)

I tell Berry, again and again, that my missions are part of that--a way to secure my legacy, or make a difference, or inspire others to live a better life. But it hasn't felt that way to me. I've been lying to myself... How in Equestria did Berry know I was lying when I didn't even realize it? Or did she even have to know? Oh, but that doesn't add up either. We've also talked so many times before about us being the color of this town--of making them all give a care. So what is the truth? (Not like I'd expect her to be honest enough to tell me--I was quite sincere about that, at least.)

Maybe I wouldn't be so stressed if a loose buck happened to slip my way at the Falls. But you can't have it both ways, can you?

I don't know whether 'mediation' is what I really need, but next Sunday's office work is off. I don't care what they say. This mare needs a day entirely to herself; the day is long overdue.

~Colgate

Dear Diary,

Today I had the best margarita of my life. I finally figured out how much Cointrough to use. I don't have 'em that often, so that must be why it took me so long. Definitely gonna become part of my Sunday breakfast now.

Jams showed up, and she wanted the Dammore. Fine, you can have it, you sly sis. I'm still the oldest. Don't think you can push me around. But you'd better enjoy the shit out of it.

We caught up a bit on what happened after she left. She wasn't laughing anymore when I told her the house fell down. She was pretty pissed, actually. Not sister pissed, either. I think she really likes Carrot. Maybe I should just dissapear into the mist, like whoever built this goddess-forsaken house, and let Jams be me.

A few days ago Cole told me about Carrot wanting to be her. So that got me to thinking today, and I brought it up with Jams. She said Cole had it wrong. We all want to be something other than what we are. That's how we know we're still growing and we haven't given up. Holy shit Jams, what were you on when you came up with that? You should become a teacher. Or a preacher. Or something around here, at least. We'll have to dye your coat and mane if you wanna stay though, because I think some ponies were going nuts trying to keep us straight.

So anyway, she agreed with me on the secret I have planned for Carrot. The only reason I'm even telling you this is because I'm a mischevous little tramp and you all know it.

We talked about being a mom, too. What happened with Sunny is something that shouldn't ever happen to anypony ever. She's just unlucky because she had to come out the gate into my sorry little world. But Jams liked my way of avoiding the drama. Punchie's still got it, yo. Plus free baby sitting! Well, when I get the dog out of here, anyway, I don't trust her alone with that thing. She might forget to give it doggy treats. Or it could steal her bucking mind or something. That Hinny Boys mistery ain't totally solved.

Her little Peachie's doing great. She's only eight years old and she wants to be an econimist. That's just a total mind blow. Even if she doesn't know how horrible and boring it is, she even knows what that is. Talk about dreaming big.

My dreams ain't so big though. The damn winery's gonna take me someday and then I'll be stuck here forever. Uncle Saucy keeps trying to teach me the way of things. But he ain't anywhere near ready to kick the bucket. Probably tired of it himself and just wants to retire. Like I'm the Princess of Wine or something? In case you all hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly "cultured" for that kind of thing. Too many snobs out there, not enough ponies just wanting to get shitfaced. Jams and I had a good laugh about that one.

Then we talked about Carrot herself. Jams didn't get enough time to really know her, but she knew there was something off. I explained the sex-change thing, but she said it wasn't that, either. I had another idea though, so I brought it up.

I keep calling it a dog, but it's a pony. A real, breathing, living, thinking pony. I know it thinks because it tried to run away from me before I beat the shit out of it. And I know it wrote this story. He wrote this story. He's something. So I had Jams go over it with me, she's a better reader anyway.

She said she could put her hoof on a few spots in the story where it seemed like Carrot changed her mind about something because of what the narrater said. Like that make-out with Cole in the street? That didn't even have to happen. Or when she wouldn't care about us when we were trying to get her to stop writing her story?

Bucking hell, she was right!

Oh Carrot, you're gonna get the biggest hug ever. How could you even put up with us dumb shits? And we're gonna make you read the story, too. Face your fears already. We'll be there for you. Both me and Cole.

Oh, and Cole? You're starting to figure it out. Well, figure out a small part of it. Please don't give up.

Your beloved,

Berry Punch

Dear Diary,

I take a day to myself and it ends up being the craziest day of my life, I swear. Do the powers that be not desire my quiet contentment? This is getting unreal.

If a grown mare could get drunk off of ginger root tea, I think I would have this morning. Ginger is supposed to help the body in all sorts of ways--and it won't stain your teeth like the stuff of roasted leaves or beans! I just happened to remember why I drink it today.

Berry and I were fighting some years back (we've had our share of little ones--nothing like last moon). She was upset with me because we couldn't agree on when our relationship started. (Small potatoes, right?) I was pretty sure we'd been an item for over ten years. She got all enraged because I should've known exactly when I had the talk with her--like there was no chance in Tartarus that I would forget something like that.

And I suppose I shouldn't have--but I still don't remember, and she won't tell me. It's been a while since I brought it up though, and we haven't had time to be together in a while, so maybe we can try this again.

Drinking ginger root tea is supposed to help with memory loss, among other things. I guess I must've started the habit sometime around then.

Strange, though--keeping track of details is my specialty. How could I chart the minutiae in life so successfully while I completely miss the big things?

I refused to let that get to me today, however. With a bit of lemon and sugar, any trouble can be washed away. The irony is truly something, though: I drink to remember what I don't even remember that I forgot, and Berry drinks to forget what nopony else ever even knew. Well, I guess that's not a complete match-up. Berry knows exactly what she's doing to herself. And there's probably even a couple secrets she's keeping from me. I just stopped worrying about all that after a while, because she's a zebra whose stripes I'll never change.

But enough about that.

I never turn down company, especially the unexpected variety. Dr. Horsythe coming to my personal residence certainly passes as 'unexpected'. My mentor was deeply concerned about me, wanting to know more about my recent absence. He offered a surprising amount of comfort, far beyond his bedside manner. There was no way I could explain everything to him. He understood this and reminded me that my apprenticeship was not under threat. He just wanted answers for today...answers for himself, answers that would otherwise never leave the apartment unless I so chose.

He said that I'd been getting more and more overtaxed in the last few years. He wanted to know if I'd sought help for a possible psychological condition, or if I'd at least found ways to reduce my overall stress. It wasn't that I had failed or made a lot of mistakes--to the contrary!--but that I'd revealed so much of myself ("who you are between the lines", as he called it) that needed to be at peace and wasn't. I explained in reply that I wasn't a spiritual pony; that made him laugh a bit, wondering how I became a missionary. (And I wasn't about to get into that conversation just yet...) He thought maybe talking with my family would help; I felt a bit ashamed when I realized I didn't even know how to contact them anymore. He said he would offer his own personal time to help me on that end, which made me just about cry. My professional mentor's cared about me all these years, and I didn't even know?

I'd never hugged him before. And it wasn't like a lover's hug or a deep friend's hug. Do you know what it feels like to be called into your boss's office for an unknown reason, only to be greeted with a warm and smiling face? That sudden forgoing of tension, that profound personal relief and serenity--I felt that throughout my entire body, and I didn't want it to end.

But it ended, and suddenly. It was the fact that I had to search through documents just to remember my parents' names that broke the proverbial camel's back. There is certainly something gravely wrong with me.

He didn't say anything on the matter, however. He just took a few notes and inquired about the tea. His thoughts on my concern of memory loss amounted to, "just make sure you remember what really matters, and your talents will take care of the rest." He also recommended that I take a stroll for no reason--that that can lead to all sorts of good things both without and within. (Oh, Carrot's told me the same thing--there's probably some truth to that, then. And if Carrot can enjoy a stroll with her unusual Ponyville reputation, why can't I?)

He hugged me back before leaving (I think he could tell I really enjoyed the first one). That one did feel more like one from a friend.

Then I felt an odd relief for some reason I couldn't quite put a hoof on. I checked my to-do board, wondering if it had to do with something there; but no, I had successfully written everything off of the schedule for today already. Then I remembered that Dr. Horsythe hadn't asked for any refreshments other than the tea and the powder room. It was always awkward to explain to new company how I never had anything in the fridge.

I don't even remember when it started...but a long time ago, I found that someone was pilfering my food. The authorities were never able to find out who did it. But whenever I would put food in the fridge, there was a good chance that most or all of it would go missing by the following day. I'd tried putting traps on the fridge, both magical and mundane, in order to catch the thief...but they never turned up, and they were always able to circumvent the traps!

One might wonder why I still even keep food around here--and the answer is that I basically don't. Every once in a while I'll put a bottle of milk or a bag of carrots in there, but otherwise I've adapted to eating entirely on the go and at Berry's. And it always goes missing within a few days of checking. It's become a sort of superstitious joke by this point--a creepy one, but mostly harmless at this point with my income. (Well, income's been a bit stretched lately, but that's entirely a matter of circumstance. Quality lumber isn't cheap!)

So I decided to check one more time today on the effects of my little kitchen demon. But the demon hadn't visited this past moon: a moldy tomato and a carafe of fermented grape juice told me so. That was just too much weirdness in one day for me to take.

So I went over to ask Berry if she'd hear me out on this weird day over at the Hay Burger. Only I got the wrong Berry--Jam greeted me at Punch's place instead. She'd apparently agreed to watch the creeper-pony for the afternoon...but she was looking for excuses to get out of it, and I fit the bill. She did a lot of laughing off my concerns, as usual; but she also recommended I try to talk with friends outside of Carrot and my Berry more often. It's good to have outsiders to bounce your ideas off of, if nothing else. And if I didn't have enough opportunities in patients and folks at the marketplace, Pinkie Pie could act as a one-pony social network. Goodness, I guess I do have a lot of useful resources in that department.

Well, the demented cherry on my nutty sundae of a Sunday dropped in when the whole restaurant was mobbed by little fillies and colts taking pictures of Princess Twilight. I think I spotted Sparks in the crowd! Pinkie was there too, but it felt too weird a situation to just start asking about everything all over again. Judging by the last time we tried that, she might have exploded or something. However, I also spotted Written Script on the way out. Carrot will definitely be glad to know he's back in town...

Perhaps one day I'll look back at days like these and laugh. Overall, it's not so bad, now that I think of it. I'm as good as ever at stumbling into 'fun'. And ole Queen Cole's still got a lot of juice in her caboose--just gotta find out where to shake it up. Maybe my only real problem is not appreciating that fact more.

~Colgate

The chickens have flown about for far too long, friends. It's time they come home to roost.

Consider our supposedly addled prisoner--the one henceforth addressed as IPU. While currently docile, he has clearly presented multiple threats to the well-being of at least Colgate and myself, and possibly Berry Punch as well. There exist multiple lines of evidence to indicate IPU's ultimate design is premeditated and had been a work in progress prior to the book's penning.

Despite my presenting pictures of him both to the police authorities and to Town Hall, no one recognizes him at all. On a hunch, I also offered these to the same authorities in Canterlot; results returned negative. He is now registered as a missing pony; however, as Berry Punch requested, he will remain inside her establishment and outside of the public eye for the time being.

Therefore, we three Backgrounders bear the duty of assembling IPU's life history and determining any wrongdoing therein.

I ask to consider, first and foremost, the self-incriminating descriptions IPU has given in the story itself (henceforth addressed as Story of the BGs or The Story):

• In the preface, IPU states that The Story has taken a number of years to craft. IPU also treats the characters in it (that is, ourselves) as "actors" (this is alluded to again in the unnamed last chapter, which may or may not be intended as part of The Story). This strongly infers that the characters have been carefully chosen over a period of years for a given "story" before settling on ourselves as the subjects.

• The preface also refers to an audience's expectation of "ponies behaving certain ways". This implies that the chosen characters bear a maximum resemblance to those needed for the desired outcome, so that The Story as conceived could be written with little to no embellishment of, or alteration from, the reality upon which it is based. An excuse is then provided to the audience for any imperfection in this pursuit.

• Throughout The Story, text of an unusual quality can be identified; it glows green at a hoof's touch. A given unusual-ink passage's relationship to the story almost invariably falls into at least one of three categories:

○ Divergences: Textual passages enforcing IPU's vision of the story's overall direction when narrative description is insufficient, either for exposition or interpreting unseen or trivial events; in other words, IPU's editorialization necessary for overall story flow. (Examples: Ch. 1, "Still, Berry's hardship..."; Ch. 4, "But she didn't care..."; Ch. 5, "Wakey wakey" (this may also be a Modification; see below); various instances in Ch. 6)

○ Modifications: Passages accompanied by IPU's own invisible actions in order to permit "correct" story flow. The actions are not given but can usually be guessed, such as a telekinetic nudge. (Examples: Ch. 2, "Then, without warning..." (nudge plus pleasant air blown in from outdoors); Ch. 2, "Suddenly, however, she decided..." (pleasant neck stimulation, possibly with pleasant odor); Ch. 7, "This is your story..." (telekinetic inner ear stimulation to produce annoying phantom noise))

○ Self-Inclusions: Passages where IPU assumes the role of a narrator-actor in the story's context, even though the action was actually done independently of him; in other words, taking credit from a pony for their actions in order to make the narrator seem important. (Examples: Ch. 7, "Let's see a magic trick!" (stated by myself); Ch. 8, "But did you really earn it?" (stated by Colgate))

Upon preliminary consideration, the "mind control" hypothesis given by Pinkie Pie and, more recently, my two fellow BGs does not align with the given evidence for two reasons: there is no evidence of such an effect being used on Berry Punch, even when it would be very convenient to do so; and its effect simply cannot be observed in entire chapters of The Story (namely Ch. 3 and most of Ch. 5).

Second, The Story--however incomplete--makes no foreshadowing implication as to its intended conclusion. The Story's overall intention cannot be guessed with total confidence from the overall sum of unusual-ink passages because both positive and negative consequences directly derive from them. It does not even bear a book title or meaningful chapter titles.

The most likely purpose in this is an avant-garde presentation of a story which lacks an understood premise except when viewed in retrospect--that is, an extreme and unguided example of the slice-of-life storytelling style.

I took the liberty of brainstorming some possible overall story arcs, regardless of whether they are ultimately criminal beyond the unsolicited and unnoticed manipulation of others' lives. This is by no means a complete list of possible 'stories'. They are as follows:

• Berry Punch, in dealing with a carefully managed and desirably chaotic but tragically selfish lifestyle, inadvertently leads her daughter Sunny down a road of iniquity despite every effort to avoid it

• Colgate, apparently unfazed but emotionally disturbed by events in her past, passionately seeks to reconcile with all those she has wronged and ultimately her previous employer

• Carrot Top, recovering from various medical illnesses not yet described, gradually asserts herself as the most helpful and reliable in her close circle of embattled friends (my note: I don't like the egotistical implications of even presenting this, but it seems plausible)

• Berry Punch and Colgate, in seeking to rekindle their old relationship, are challenged by the unexpected interest from and frustration with 'third wheel' Carrot Top (my note: if this was the intention, they're terribly far off the mark from reality--and it's a rather overdone plot)

• Three bisexual mares bounce between promiscuity and the desire for greater meaning in a more closed, highly trust-based triad, with relationship drama abound

• Berry Punch and Carrot Top consummate a new relationship--one which the jealous and envious Colgate is doomed to behold, again and again, due to her integral role in both of their lives

• Berry Punch and Pinkie Pie consummate a new relationship--one which the jealous Colgate and the envious Carrot Top are doomed to behold, as the above (with possible Carrot/Pie intrigue as a side story)

• Berry Punch and Berry Jam learn to imitate one another so effectively that they can and do insinuate each other into the other's professional, family, and intimate lives on a regular basis

• Carrot Top and the secretly male Vinyl Scratch are even more secretly dra

Dear Diary,

Berry Punch somehow had the keen intuition to barge into Ditzy Doo's home and interrupt my criminal analysis (and she also wants to write in the diary--a coincidence, I'm sure). According to her (and, I assume, according to Colgate), I must never use this book for recording anything but diary entries ever again. I suppose they don't understand the good I'm trying to do here; but then again, being misunderstood should practically be my cutie mark at this point. Apologies if this comes off as rushed; she is kind of hovering just a couple paces off, waiting for me.

Going over that analysis, I realize that I'm a lot more...self-centered than I'd like when writing. I'd never say or even imply these sorts of things in public. Perhaps my strength will forever lie in descriptive articles, where this crime is more-or-less impossible to commit.

It also occurs to me that nopony reading this diary will be able to tell from it what's happened to me in the last several weeks. To be perfectly honest, I've been wondering about some of it myself.

I've gone to my therapist twice in the span, during which blood samples were taken to track my troublesome post-transition hormonal balance. They're still making fine-tune adjustments, but it seems I'm finally, finally getting where I need to be. Woohoo!

Unfortunately, the actual therapy part hasn't been anywhere nearly as thrilling. They want no part in this crazy little story of mine. I don't either, but it's my life! They always approach the matter of IPU as a personal or even an imaginary figure. They don't even care about how my friends have dealt with him, or even my pictures. Maybe they get paid to haul folks like me to the loony bin. Or maybe they're just bad/disinterested therapists. Perhaps they've been right about me a couple times in the past, but there's no chance I'm wrong this time around.

Nopony will want to read any of the nonsense I write. Maybe it's the self-centered thing. Or maybe I'm just too boring. I could sure use some music in a time like this, but Ditzy's not keen on anything but her own daughter's flute-playing. It must be beautiful to a mother's ears, and it certainly was to mine at first; but it sure gets repetitive.

Perhaps I should try to round her up some songs. That would give me something productive to do while the others micromanage the other aspects of my life. Get me out of the house, too.

Oh, right: I'm living with Ditzy Doo again. I say "again" since I was here while constructing my house in the first place, after the real estate honchos decided they didn't want to have to deal with my kind. Don't ask me how I figured out what they were up to. There were some broken muzzles by the time I was done.

Is that why Berry's taken a shine to me? That I also seem to have a proclivity for violent solutions to my personal problems? ...Geez, now I'm dropping bad puns. Oh well--still not as bad as IPU's needless alliteration and talking about the weather.

Oh, Berry. You sly dog (or dog's master), you. I don't even care if all the world reads this. You're really starting to grow on me. Guess the only reason I'm not getting all obsessive (as is my wont) is because I'd really hate to come between you and your Cole. Whether I understand the thing between you or not, it must really be something for you not to stay physically separate after the worst break-up I've ever seen. I'm just being honest here. Smack me later if you have to. Not the same way you smack her, guessing from her scribbled-out text...

Okay, guess I'm getting smacked for that right now.

And Colgate, who the hay likes paperwork? Here I am trying to sort out the weirdness in our unexpected stalker/house guest, and you're coming off as the weirdest dentist in ponykind. I can relate to the nerves about anesthesia, though...

I still haven't fully gotten over the drugs thing you did to me, but I at least understand you guys did it out of love for a friend. It was just the most horrible, screwed-up way you could possibly do it. And I don't think Cole got drugged, either. I'll explain that later. But then I still don't have an explanation for Chapter 4...

But no more analysis! Right!

We're supposed to be getting on with our lives, not bound up by the past. And even if I'm the last mare in the world who should be entrusted with such a task, I'll certainly oblige.

I decided to take a walk before continuing. Helps to keep me from getting too crazy lost in myself. Surprised Berry hasn't done anything. She's just sitting here and frowning at me now--par for the course with her.

(Ow, smacked again!)

No, I don't hate Ponyville--not in the slightest. I can easily imagine a worse place to be. Same with the kind of friends I have. It could be way worse. At this point, my biggest concern is knowing I'll never have a lifelong friend, since I've already lived some of my life without any. How do I not let that tear at me forever?

I can't just turn back the clock. There are some chances that I'll just never get again. The fight you guys had really got to me, when I realized I'm not the only one dealing with that and that it's a very real thing with very real consequences. The irreversible nature of time, I mean.

So what's the difference between a Carrot who's destroyed by existential concerns, and a Carrot who--while still aware of the concerns--makes the more beautiful choice for their own sake? Maybe I'm not ready to answer that.

But maybe I already have. I could've just stayed buried under the stove and let the earth swallow me up in my darkest hour. Colgate couldn't have gotten us both. I saved myself.

I should be proud of that.

Truly yours,

Carrot Top

P.S. Berry really is a butt. She should've just told me this right when she came in the door.

DEAR DIARY

JAM IS DEAD TO ME FOREVER, WHERE THE BUCK IS FIDO!?

Berry Punch

Painting the Town

Our meddling perpetrator really is gone. So, the three of us have gathered and decided how we each would act from here to prevent this from all happening again.

Berry needs to stay with her family. There can't be a soul who knows her who'd blame her. But she's shutting out everypony--including, unfortunately, us. If that lunatic was somehow behind the insanity that precipitated exactly seven weeks ago, she must be on high guard for her loved ones now.

This brought me to ask, once again, why she and Colgate did not and will not live together. But both of them have become experts at dodging that question. It's personal. Too personal for me, apparently. Should I be upset? Maybe I don't want to enter that rabbit hole. I'd still love to know, though.

The object of the superior mare is truth.

In this quest for truth, six days since the last entry, Colgate has given me the mighty pen. I'm the only one of us with anything resembling literary writing experience. She already wanted me to learn to experience others through my writing, so this is my big chance. I somehow doubt the first-person perspective will much help me in escaping my egocentrism. I'll give it a shot, though.

The superior mare makes the challenge her first interest; success only can follow.

...And writing over this old tome of IPU's is also a way for us to reassert our autonomy. All three of us now accept that he was trying to manipulate us to some unclear end; so, let this quill dance on the grave of that deed. We all have our hypotheses to the means and the end, but it would be best not to pollute this text with speculation any further. I'll just make sure to highlight any curious details as we press on.

I have to find Written Script. He would know how to handle this. Oh, why did I have to pick a nomad for a mentor?

As for Colgate's and my future action: We're just going to keep calm and carry on--but with our eyes wide open.

Dinky Doo woke me today with a smile and a tap. Happy to see me--like I'd just come here from a faraway land.

I have to stay here, but I am not a tenant; I am always a guest--and an honored guest, at that.

What is it about Ditzy and her little one that challenges and exceeds the cruelty of life so much better than I? I am surely not the first pony to wonder this about them. And to be honest, if not for them, I wouldn't be wondering about much at all at this moment beyond the confines of a padded room. I had been practically inconsolable by the others before last week--but Big D and Little D could hardly even mind that my troubles existed. Theirs is a level of care that resembles professionalism but goes beyond it in some esoteric and fascinating way.

This is how I reflected upon my fortune, sitting at the table, slowly pecking away breakfast cereal while my hosts tucked in and prepared for busy days.

There is still a lot for this soul to learn. And perhaps I may learn something vital within these very walls. If only my interactions with these kind, simple souls didn't feel so much like condescension. (Forgive me--I spent a while trying to find the words to show my frustration without implying any lack of worth on their part.)

"Whatcha wriiitin'?" Dinky inquired. And so it starts.

I pretended to ignore her. I took my quill and balanced it on a hoof, then managing it to teeter on the hoof's edge. Then I quickly dropped the hoof, and the quill gently tumbled and came to point downward again. I grabbed it from the air with my clenched pastern, shaking all its dainty barbs as I raised it back to our eye levels. Then I offered it to her, silently inviting her to try the same.

Simplicity means not asking so many questions and enjoying the moment--at least when there is not a pressing matter at hoof. I don't need an easily amused foal to demonstrate this for me. I just need for this crazy tale not to get any more complicated than doom and destiny shall make it.

Dinky did indeed play this game; it only took her three tries to balance the quill on a hoof's edge. It took her several more to get the quill to drop cleanly; but once it did, she grabbed it on the second attempt. I smiled and clopped for her with honest glee.

Happiness. Why does it seem that the better you know your company, the harder it is to feel genuinely happy with them? With a first acquaintance, anything is possible. A month later, there is tempered understanding. In a year, that is replaced with implicit expectation and the melancholy of knowing the good surprises are mostly discovered already. Beyond that, I imagine, friendship and love and all the other glories of socialization must require a sort of death/rebirth cycle for any trace of their worth to remain. (Why do I not currently think this way of Colgate and Berry? Were they never my friends to begin with, or something?)

But that thought of mine didn't matter to Dinky. She returned the quill to me, her enduring smile implying a hope for more happiness from this demented mare. (I recall warmth from my own little spirit of joy in writing this. Yes, I am a mare!)

It took me a moment to come up with another game. The quill wouldn't do... It's a simple enough trick, but maybe she had never tried it. I licked the cereal spoon's interior face, then stuck it on my nose. Then I said, "'Nay, ninnies!' whinnied Nanny." The nasal vibrations tickled with my spoon holding down the nostrils. I repeated it, starting low and raising to almost a shout--at which point the spoon fell off. I got to Nay Ninnies number nine.

"How many can you do?" This was my challenge to her.

I couldn't help but laugh a little inside on her first "Nay". She wasn't prepared for the tickling feeling, and she just squealed and giggled for a moment, dropping it all and having to start over. My goodness, she is a real sweetheart. The dissonance of the very foalish game-playing and the fact she was enjoying this at Sunny's age still grated slightly on my sensibilities. But I'm probably taking everything too seriously, am I not?

She kept trying, determined to beat me. Eventually she managed to do ten in a row--apparently figuring, and perhaps being right, that doing it faster would somehow work better. I clopped and smiled for her once more. She just giggled again at the rapid-fire nose-tickling.

Big D had left for her long workday hours ago, before the dawn broke and Little D awoke; Little D was definitely used to heading to school by her lonesome. But one of Dinky's joys in having me as a guest was that it meant having a guaranteed friend to walk to school with as well. I got the impression friendship was a rather rare experience for her, so it didn't trouble me a bit. For a split second, in writing this before we left for that trip, I considered that she and I might be kindred in that aspect. It immediately seemed silly--what meaningful thing could I share in common with her ilk? But now I only feel ashamed at that unkind and uninvited knee-jerk reaction. At least I rarely have friends for a fair reason. I am a terrible friend.

And my record's not going to get any better today. There is a long day planned ahead with Colgate. And at the end of it, I have to confront her. If I don't, we will lose her for good, whether she realizes it or not.

Today, there are no beautiful choices.

I distracted Dinky Doo from my writing, and in turn she distracted me from my plans. Kindness repaid, I wonder?

On the way to school, maybe one-quarter into the mile-long trek, she spotted a cluster of butterflies and moved to pounce on them. Prune trees for the Breezies--this became my immediate concern. Not knowing what the things looked like, I panicked, considering that she just might be attacking rare intelligent creatures. I tried to stop her assault. Of course, I figured out they were just the standard-issue insects--and she didn't hurt them, anyway. Which of us is sillier for our behavior?

She got a little scared by my overblown reaction. So I told her what was going on: As one of Colgate's many "missions" (read: things she and I discover someone needs help with and that aren't beyond our means), the two of us would clean up the tree branches along the path the Breezies would be taking during a sort of migration. (Though littering isn't a problem in Ponyville, other windblown detritus would need picking up as well.) She somehow wildly misinterpreted "the two of us" and thought she and I were going to do clean-up. And she started doing so, right then and there.

I would not sully the moment with a facehoof, but it really called for it.

The dark side of simplicity is failing to question that which really deserves it. She didn't even think if this is where the Breezies were going through. ...Wait, why is that my first argument? She didn't even know when it would be started! Or how to prune trees, or what to prune them with! And what does any of this have to do with her going to school?

She decided she'd do what she could, picking up crumpled leaves and sticks on the ground. In my mild shock at her action, I just looked on and briefly ran through my head what kinds of trash would be important to pick up when it would be my turn to task in a couple hours. I told her sticks wouldn't get blown up that high, so we don't have to worry about them.

Looking back, I was being a very silly pony indeed.

I did snap out of it soon enough, however. I simply told her, "Hey, Dinky, we don't need to worry about that right now. Colgate and I will take care of it." She darkened for just a second, but the trot to school carried on without a hitch. Guess I haven't the heart to be stern about the reality of things to a precious and innocent child. Well, I think she's pretty innocent, anyway. With a mind like that, she might've been the coach-saboteur from a couple years back and not a soul could ever tell from her demeanor.

I swear my judgmental attitude isn't a sin! But why do I keep thinking of her as a moron? Or am I just projecting? Am I the moron?

Goodness, I haven't even started the day proper and I'm losing it.

Anyway, my own detour came next. Going back to Colgate meant crossing by the library again, and I had business there; I know she had her own affairs with Twilight also, but I figured I'd take care of my affairs ahead of time. Twilight seems to act a bit differently when it's just me. She hardly even lets Berry in the building anymore. I imagine the Berr's shut out entirely now that she's become a nation-wide VIP--and thank goodness this hasn't come up since that coronation: royalty and pugilism should stay well away from one another. As for her and Colgate? Well, they get to talking unicorn things--carried away, even. But she's a caretaker for mundane books as well, and that's why I had shown up.

I still don't feel comfortable calling her Princess, though. The title is usually inherited or received in marriage, not earned. (I'm going to assume a dynastic overthrow is not involved!) I would see her as a minister instead.

This stray thought gave me a way to break the ice--my being so dreadful at initiating conversation most of the time, I needed all the help I could get. (See, Berry? My randomness isn't useless!)

"Well, that's quite a scholarly way to look at things!" was her reply. Whether she was just being polite or she agreed and didn't quite know how to resolve that inconsonance herself, I could not say. (The thesaurus is quite a helpful tool, and it happened to be right there; "inconsistency" just didn't feel right.)

Having Twilight's attention, I asked about Written Script. There was no doubt he'd visited...but what was on his mind? Maybe I could get hints to track him down. Here is how that conversation went.

Me: "You know how I, uh...kind of like that Written Script guy, right?" (I guess I hadn't mentioned that yet already. I think he's taken, but he's never outright told me so.)

Twilight: "Yes--he was just here last week! Funny you mention it--I think he was looking for you, too." (And he didn't look for me at Ditzy's??)

(Twilight gives me a wink here. Weird--she normally couldn't care less about others' personal lives. And to be honest, that's one of the things I'd always liked about her: not minding my business.)

Me: "Alright. Well, he must've moved on. Anything you recall talking with him about? Or, lacking that, which books was he perusing?"

Twilight: "Ohhh, I wish I could help there. I got called away soon after he dropped in. You can try asking Spike, but"--sheepish laughter; a shift to somewhat mocking tone--"he's not so great with those kinds of details." (She ponders for a moment, not yet calling the dragonling.) "Actually, I believe he was researching turn-of-the-century poets. And we have quite the selection in that department, including some original scrolls! Care to take a look?"

Me: "Absolutely! But...could you stay with me, please?"

Twilight: (She mildly blushes; her ears part tenderly.) "What was that?"

Me: (I cough and turn to hide my own blushing. Stupid Carrot. Phrasing!) "I mean, could you help me with a couple other things while I find a good read for today?"

Twilight: "Oh, right! Sure. It's just another quiet day in-- Oh, who am I kidding? No day is quiet around here anymore. So, let's get to it!"

(We walk to the literature section and browse the poetry offerings. Twilight delivers some small talk about the influence of older poets on newer ones. Even I find this boring. The name "Caracollare" sounds pretty neat, though, and I ask to check out a book with that author. She advises me that it is written in Talonian--a language few ponies outside of the fine arts ever learn--and inadvertently patronizes me by offering something more popular by Quilland Ink. Though I am tempted to cut back at her for that, I merely take the offering so we can move on. I lead us to a table, putting away the book I won't likely read and bringing out the book--you know, this one.)

Me: "I noticed you winked at the thought of me fancying my writer friend. So I think turnabout is fair play." (I grin.) "How's your life since the transition?"

Twilight: "I...uh..." (She darts her eyes about.) "I don't know if that is the word I would use for it. Granted, I don't know any word I would really want to use. So that's two things about me you've managed to unravel in a matter of minutes." (Her mocking tone returns--albeit playfully.) "Try not to dissolve me into a heap of existential torment before you leave, will ya?" (The irony!)

Me: (I smile daintily.) "Alright, then. How's your life since you grew a pair?" (I meant to be sarcastic about the wings, but my was that a little too close to home.)

Twilight: (She turns away completely, coughing to hide her reaction.) "Oh, um..." (She eyes my book with interest.) "Say, that's quite some tome you have there!" (She notices the quill and ink I have out--the writing materials, of course.) "Wait...are you actually writing in this beautiful binding? You're not really going to mark all over such a nice specimen, are you? Or...wow--you're starting your own literature?" (She catches my smile in response.) "That's just great! But why are you writing your first draft in something as wonderful as this...?"

Me: (I stammer for a few seconds, then opt for vagueness. Colgate and especially Berry don't want the Elements getting directly involved in this mystery of ours. Our lives would be torn open even further!) "We only get one draft in life, Twilight. You can alter the words, but you can't edit the past. And besides..." (I consider opening the book to the diary chapter to present a ruse, but that would lead to more questions given my first reaction. I have to leave my hoof atop it.) "Uh...it's...personal."

Spike, from the floor above: "Hey! I'm having trouble finding that transformation book you got from the old castle! Are you sure you didn't shelve it already?"

Twilight, shouting back: "Check in the vanity! I was trying it earlier to fix my hair!" Facing me: "Well, alright. What did you really want to talk about, then?"

I have just realized that the ensuing two topics of conversation shouldn't be recorded. Certain ponies reading when they shouldn't be, might get the wrong idea about my intentions regarding them. Suffice it to say that Twilight didn't have what I was looking for, but she did point me in the right direction for one case. And no, I wasn't hitting on her.

I also obtained a couple basic facts about the Breezies so I wouldn't be utterly clueless in my mission to help them indirectly. I may ask her about yet other things when I come back with Colgate--I'm still clueless regarding Written Script, after all. But for now, let's get this show on the road.

The marketplace. The hub of the town's commerce; the pride of the Earth ponies' work, the fruit of their toil; easily the best place to get to know somepony new, unless you prefer bars or places of worship. Though I have read of societies that opt for much more rigid economic regimes, the gathering and bartering and haggling in this town produces a wondrous element of social integration. I may not be much a part of that equation anymore, but I've at least identified the merchants who won't try to bankrupt me out of spite for my own life choice--one that affects nopony else. (Seriously, how petty do you have to be??)

Colgate's reputation impact in fouling up her city planner job was minimal, and the noble high-visibility profession of dentistry has entirely made up for that. I don't think her old life's even been brought up publicly in years. Coming off as an intelligent ditz seems to work pretty well for her in that regard. I wish it really were only ditziness.

As for Berry... For the sake of protecting whatever dignity she has left, I would rather not go there. Just put it this way: Colgate helps us both a lot with picking up groceries.

I was here early to snoop for possible future missions--that is to say, I was looking for ponies in a clear state of concern. If one couldn't tell from earlier, though, reaching out to others isn't one of my strong suits. But I am BG, hear me roar! (That actually sounds really dumb, but it'll be my mantra just for today.)

I picked up a couple of tidbits--I don't think they'll go anywhere--but one encounter made it all worthwhile.

There was a cute unicorn filly the color of a strawberry milkshake with wide-set peppy green eyes. I knew she wasn't a new face, but this was our first real acquaintance. She needed to find Featherweight--somepony I already knew to be the editor for the school paper, the Foal Free Press. I perked at the thought of getting to help a fellow journalist, so we searched in tandem. I kind of forgot about everything else for a moment. Something about her just made me feel right.

"It's a shame none of you guys were there for Cheese Sandwich when he first showed up." Like I said, I have to fish for things when starting chatter. I can't just start with a general greeting. It feels too dishonest.

"Yeah, but we made up for it big time when the real party started!" She wasn't the slightest bit hurt.

As we discussed and traded notes on the experiences there, we checked back by the arcade, but no scrawny pasty little pegasus was to be found.

"Trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to see the second half anyway. Some ponies nearly got hurt with all the craziness going on. Someone like Featherweight just might have ended up with broken bones!"

"Wow, really!?" she squeaked. Okay, not the best approach to skirting that topic.

"Hmmm. How about I put it to you like this? If I didn't have my friends"--saying this word in reference to Berry and Colgate still stung a tad--"then I would've gotten put in the hospital by a bad buck." (Nevermind that they also got me into the mess. That wasn't the point.)

Thankfully, she seemed to pick up that I didn't particularly want to talk about it. "Oh, I'm sorry. It still seems really strange, though. Cheese is a really great guy--it couldn't have been his fault." She swung back around to smiling. That smile seemed familiar, but not like déjà vu. "But you got help afterwards, right?"

I got help, alright. Curses, Berry, now I'm blushing in front of some kid who was probably just asking if I'd reported it to the police. Which I hadn't. Why not? (In hindsight, I could avoid a stallion that big quite easily if I saw him in a crowd. So perhaps it's not such a big deal.)

As we meandered toward the storefronts north of the market, our talk meandered to her own aspirations. Anything to keep me from rambling about myself. She confessed that working for the paper was just a convenient opportunity provided by the school; she'd been branching out and asking others about their talents--quite a natural behavior for a young reporter--and she'd dug up something cool that she was finally going to get to try.

"Hey, you know Miss Rarity?" she asked.

"Oh, absolutely! She helps keep me on top of things for the fashion section. Definitely the type of pony worth knowing in our trade." I kept to myself how much her personal air seemed so...utterly fake to me. Take it from me: Trying to be something you aren't, won't end well. (I wasn't actually trying to be Colgate...there's an important difference.) Maybe it's just part of her fashion motif. It'd be so tragic if she were just behaving that way for the money, though. Fame, perhaps? See, this is why I hate high society in general.

"She thinks I'm old enough. I'm gonna start learning gem-enchanting magic!"

Come to think of it, this filly's voice was not all that filly-like--excited, perhaps, but full-bodied. She was rather mature for such a little blank-flank. But given how destinies often pop up like pumpkin sprouts with just a little rain, I had a hopeful feeling that her day was coming quite soon. My heart smiled, and then I did.

"So what all do you want to do with gems, Miss...?"

It was around this time that I realized I hadn't gotten her name. It was also around this time that she caught sight of her editor and bolted. I strained to hear him call back out to her, but I still didn't get it. Oo-knee? Ubi?

I turned around, mildly disappointed, and just about bumped right into Colgate.

Alright, Carrot...stay positive. We're gonna get through this.

"Do you know who that was?" she asked me, her eyes staring a thousand paces off.

"Uh, no...could you give me a sec?"

One drawback to this writing-events-as-they-happen shtick is that you actually have to write the things before you start forgetting the details. There's a lot of stop and go involved.

I avoided small talk on the way to the library. Colgate's a good pony, but I was a bundle of nerves for what was going to happen this evening. It felt just the opposite of « le coup de foudre ». Rather than a bolt of thunder igniting my heart with the prospect of true love, it shorted me out, leaving me unable to enjoy anything as I contemplated hurting somepony special. Let this be over with...please, let this be over with...

We hadn't even made it to that first stop of our day when I started to blubber.

"Carrot...would you like my help, or not?" Her rosy and upturning voice augmented her genuine consideration--consideration that I might still not be ready to treat my companion as a real friend again. And she was right to consider that.

"Don't mind me. Please...just go on and get your spells. I'll catch up soon enough."

Would I feel the same way if I were trying to confront Berry about a drinking problem or something like that? I really don't think so. Even though she'd done a lot more to hurt me that terrible night, she's also gone out of her way to make up for it. While they both helped with my first clean-up, Berry stayed and double-checked that I was satisfied with the progress.

Only it's not my home right now. It's not home to anything but a pile of dirt. For Fetlocrates' sake, when am I ever going to get over this!?

I just curled up there for a while and wondered how I would even see tomorrow's light at all, the rate I was going. The rate we were going. Then I remembered:

I am BG, hear me roar.

Still crying quietly, I marched back to the library. Though the door was always open when there wasn't a sign on it, I chose to knock. Twilight answered.

"Oh, welcome back..." Her ending -ck sound dragged as she saw the wreck I must have been. She didn't hesitate--she just hugged me right on the spot. What happened to you, Twilight?

"I heard all about it... I'm so sorry, Carrot Top. I'm sorry I didn't know earlier already. But Colgate's gonna fix you right up. I just taught her a basic divination spell that should help you recover your possessions in no time! But now I'm wondering why it's taken so long for you to come around to ask for others' help--or do anything significant to get your house back in order. Have you..." She dropped down to nearly a whisper--probing, but not harsh. Her eyes were so terribly sincere. "Have you been in denial?"

Can she be real? The situational irony of all of this... I sobbed once more. I then noticed Colgate, off by the far wall of the room, looking over her shoulder back at me, her face all worry. Of course she was worried. She must've acted like it was the first time I even asked for help.

This isn't about me! I'm trying to get over me! I have to be able to care about something other than me!! Just let me already!!!

"Just take the hug, Carrot. I can see you struggling. This isn't just about your home, or anything else out there. You need to feel right. Please...if you can't take it from me, take it from her."

"What about the Seeing Eye ward? Doesn't that matter more?" I was squirming loose. Since Twilight wasn't a skilled or aggressive hugger, I managed to escape.

Twilight looked a little taken aback from my effort to get away. "Well, I'm not gonna fight it, Carrot Top. You know I'll always listen to you whenever I'm here. Even if I'm not...oh, how do I put this?" She glanced to the sky beyond the door for just a moment. "Even if I can't be everything you need, I'll help when I can and your friends and your therapists can't."

"My therapists are garbage! They don't even listen to me anymore! This is ridiculous! My whole life is ridiculous!! Oh, can't someone just tell me why this is happening? Someone! Anyone!"

Colgate came slightly closer, approaching along the wall and not straight on.

"Carrot. Listen to me. One of the most important ponies we know is willing to take time out of their day. Time to help you. You, personally. Please, just...just take it, for Celestia's sake! F-for her sake!" The genuineness in her plea sliced into me a half-dozen different ways.

I don't want to be here right now. I don't want to live through this day. But do I have to? Of course I do. Of course I will.

Princess Twilight Sparkle. One of the most reluctant and humblest of leaders. Yet she is a leader. I didn't have to see most of her epic struggles or even to read about them (let alone write about them!) to know that. But to recap: She accepted the virtues of her newfound acquaintances at great personal risk, before she even recognized that doing so was a reciprocation of friendship--a sentiment made manifest in Nightmare Moon's undoing. She not only assisted those friends through lesser struggles, she meditated on the lessons therein--and that, along with Celestia's grace, bested that crazy draconequus's trick. The alicorn I saw before me today would not exist if not for her thorough understanding of who they were--what made them tick--that allowed her to restore them from fundamentally altered states. (Or at least, that's what I gleaned from an explanation from Pinkie a while back. Why does nopony else remember that?) I held this impression of her dearly, even when Berry chose to dwell on the negatives. (I'm guessing that Cole's pretty neutral on the matter.)

Leaders provide their wisdom by example so that followers may execute right action rather than merely abide by orders--and she would not only do this, but she would remind her friends of their own inner wisdom as well. Leaders show their compassion to identify with their followers--and she did this through diligence and through faith and through self-sacrifice. And there is no reason even to question this leader's courage. So, she is not just a leader; she is a moral leader.

I must be...humble. It doesn't matter if I'm right. I do need some kind of help, don't I? And if I can't take it from Colgate...then I will take it from her. I will learn how to be better than myself from this leader.

Perhaps I wasn't crying anymore, but I couldn't immediately recall the last time I'd had a real hug before that one--not counting the few from Ditzy and Dinky, which were nice and very important early on but which lacked that deep meaningful character. I couldn't fight it anymore. My body was calling out and my mind could not protest. I laid myself prostrate just inside the door and submitted to her.

Twilight didn't go overboard with the hugging. She just made sure I knew she was right there, slipping right next to me, putting a hoof over me whenever another sob snuck out. She told me what little she knew about Written Script--nothing I didn't already know, of course--adding her own well wishes to my hopes of investigating that romantic prospect. And she tried joking with me about some of the lamer poems in that Quilland Ink book she stuck me with. "Who that much anastrophe thought they would, and hope with it to get away they could?" She was trying really hard to connect with me. It was kind of pathetic, but that just made it all the harder to ignore. She didn't know me that well, and she didn't have that much reason to care about me in particular...but she knew that I was romantic and analytical and a bit cynical and was learning about various types of writing, and she tried to use that to console me. She did this for twenty whole minutes, I believe. Colgate pretended not to watch, but I know she was listening. This was her consolation of me just as much as it was Twilight's. She set this up.

Even an emotional stranger can make a difference. And she did. I felt better. I felt as if I belonged in the world again. Maybe I'm pathetic too; but if Twilight can touch someone like this, so can I. Thank you, princess. I can use this. I can use this today.

I am not proud. What happened with me that late morning is exactly as I described it.

Colgate got what she needed and we moved along. She didn't trust herself with a severing spell, so the standard shears would have to do. Those were soon acquired from my old horticulture shop. Then we got to work.

Normally, she worked with a maniacal fervor at her task. You could hardly interrupt her once she set up all her plans (of which this task had very few) and got moving. Today, however, she seemed relatively distracted or maybe tired, taking breaks and even sometimes skipping a branch or two (at least temporarily--she is nothing if not thorough).

Maybe she understood already. That would make this talk a lot easier. I took some deep breaths and managed to elevate my own spirits.

Tasks like picking up loose articles are ridiculously easier for a decently able unicorn to do, so I just stuck to hauling the trash bags. It's nothing I haven't done a hundred times before. It gave me time to take in the distinctive smell of sap and the plushy feel of early-summer leaves. Good memories.

"This is the life, Cole."

She panted in her reply. "Yeah."

"Hey, don't overwork yourself there. We're not training for the Equestria Games or anything."

I felt myself at somewhat of a loss, not really understanding the correlation between the use of telekinesis and muscular exertion. I know that the effort works the heart and quickens the breath, and that's about all I know.

The sun moved, and so did we. There were a couple of miles to cover, and we had made it most of the way out of the town limits--over halfway to the end--when time stopped.

"Buck the Breezies." She chucked the shears with her magic such that they stuck straight into the ground, handles up. She collapsed at once.

I shot over to help. I tapped her forehooves. Oh, she was fine--just wanting to snooze, it seemed. Or, at least, that was what I thought at first. It made enough sense. Maybe she was being like Applejack was a few years ago, pushing far beyond a healthy state and taking twice as long to do the given job--usually quite incorrectly--as a result. (I will never forget those muffins as long as I live!) And Colgate had almost pushed herself to passing-out exhaustion for the Ponytones platform, but Berry forcefully took that over. I recall quite a string of profanities coming from her at the thought of her Cole(???) hurting herself for no good reason.

Also, this was only the second time I'd ever heard Colgate swear. This did not bode well at all. A part of me feared that perhaps I wasn't the only emotionally broken BG anymore.

I wasn't given to swearing either. But I was going to start trying Twilight's approach right then and there. You can't always have the stage perfectly set up for your plans. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.

"Yeah, buck the Breezies. Buck 'em with the wrong end of a flyswatter."

That phrase came to me too easily. I hang out too much with Berry, don't I?

But which end is the right end? That invasive thought made me laugh right then, already throwing off what I was trying to do.

Not trying. Doing. You know deep down inside that she is still your friend. Do it for her.

"Hey, what's going on?" I said meekly.

No words came in reply. I noticed her heaving of breath was rather quick and heavy. I contemplated other causes of this symptom. Dehydration can make one abnormally easy to tire. It's also a natural consequence of blood loss, but I'm sure I would've noticed something of that nature by now. Bother. Maybe I had gone to the School of Hard Knocks, but I skipped physiology.

"You're breathing heavy, Cole." (Shortened her name...) "Did you pull another all-nighter last night or something?"

She grunted as if under internal pain. Her head was still covered beneath forehooves, and she would not open her eyes.

Did she need real medical help??

I decided to try my own help first. This was going to be weird after my pushing her away so long. I rested a forehoof at the base of her neck. The way the mane's stripes parted to it brought back more invasive thoughts, but I pushed past them this time. I think she really needs my help!

"Please, say something. Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention? You're a medical pony. Tell me what you need and I'll fetch it right away."

She sniffled wetly. "Sure, I'm a medical pony. I'm a bridge-builder. I'm a care-taker. I'm a friend, I'm a counselor, I'm whatever you need me to be. Unless you need me to be..."

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. This could be her delayed reaction to Berry's absence. It's finally caught up to her. Maybe this is more than I can handle.

She finally said it. "Happy."

What? No! She's lying to herself now! Besides Pinkie, she's the happiest pony I know! Lemon and sugar to wash away the blues, right?

Right?

...Or is that how her mind's gotten this bad?

Gears turned in my head. This picture was getting uglier by the minute. I had to connect with her. Doing missions was what made her happy, of course. That's how she'd gone so many weeks without collapsing in public already. This one was just breaking her in a moment of weakness. I knew that she just needed to feel right for a minute, and then the inertia would keep her going. That was almost certainly how she operated and why she preferred working for such long hours.

"Come on, Cole, up with you." I rustled her a few times, then wheeled the cart full of leaves and leaf-like bric-a-brac over to her. "Get in. It's time for your next mission. This is an easy one--won't hurt a bit. It'll feel great. Then you'll be all fired up for the rest of the day!" A minute later, she struggled to get on her hooves. She raised her fores to buckle against the earth and hold her head up somewhat. She still would not open her eyes. I decided she was weak with something internally but not in immediate risk of danger. I drew upon my Earth pony strength and hefted her into the cart.

She was positively torn with something. But even a torn Cole could help me find music, right?

I'd never been a musical sort until pretty recently, so perhaps it isn't unusual that this paid town-snooper hadn't ever actually set hoof in Toe-Tapper's Tintinnabulatorium. (Wow, catchy name there.) It was a two-sided joint: Endless vinyl records on one side, arrays of instruments and accessories on the other. Within these walls, a pony would find tunes of nearly every genre (except, to my marked chagrin, electronic dance music) as well as the means to play them (unless you needed EDM DJ equipment). The place sought to serve the rich and the poor, the traditional and the...semi-modern, the refined and the relaxed. So where did the sheet music come into play? (Oh, come on, brain, this wasn't the best time for puns!)

Several seconds into beginning my dual mission in earnest, I heard Colgate get up from the cart. The pony inside me gained a spring in her step at the thought that today might end normally--or if I were being honest with myself, not quite totally disastrous.

Then she stepped inside. Her vacant, pained expression arrested that inner pony like a newspaper on the head of a misbehaving dog. This wasn't the Colgate I knew. This wasn't even the Colgate after the Colgate I thought I no longer knew. This, my trusty muse of random inspiration told me, must be ex-having-lifelong friends Colgate. Yes. I can connect with her. I will!

I had been standing in front of the register for over a minute while all these thoughts came to me. Toe-Tapper, that lean and broad-snouted stallion with an unassuming grin, had started living up to his name well before I mentally returned to the spot.

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated. Too true, Clopfucius.

"Hello! This is my first time here! I'm Carrot Top, and this is Colgate. Maybe you remember me from the Q&A after the pet charity playing?"

The shop-owner stallion the color of frost-touched blueberries whinnied, looking past me. "Colgate! You're the one who built our traveling stage! It was just perfect! It gave just the right amount of presence and attention without being flashy, so our sound could carry through. You might say it...amped up our show!" (Not more puns!)

This hadn't been the first time my contributions to her missions had been overlooked. We'd agreed over time to just let her handle the matter--so I let her.

Her mouth opened, but it took her a while to speak.

"...Oh...yes...we did finish that, didn't we? And by 'we', I also mean my good friend Carrot here. C'mon hun, take a bow." Her old glory returned in a flash.

Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we? Well, I bowed.

I gave Colgate a moment to orient herself and chat with Toe-Tapper while I took in this instrument chamber--making some notes in my notebook for articles as well as here. I'm pretty sure classical and stringed instruments aren't part of my calling, but there's always that chance... The unusual shamisen caught my attention, though I knew I didn't have the lifetime needed to learn to play it with the proper character and atmosphere. Maybe if it were the only thing between me and riches beyond my wildest dreams... But otherwise, I'd fancy a lyre instead. There was a fair selection of the latter, telling me the possibility of a market for them (and other local players--music section ideas!) Otherwise, Berry can keep her instrument of choice; Colgate, hers--though I hardly feel like maracas warrant the full status. I just about laughed out loud at the thought of any of us playing the giant bongo drum set hanging on the center wall, though. Colgate didn't have that kind of rhythm, and Berry would probably just bring the house down. (Ohhhhhhh...I didn't write that on purpose.)

I cleared my throat, finding that the only way to enter a conversation to which I hadn't been paying the slightest attention. "Yes, how goes? Say, where's the sheet music?"

Toe-Tapper flipped open a drawer facing behind the counter, below the display cases. Duh. "Which instrument are you looking for, Miss Carrot?" I beamed. Some little pleasures never truly die.

"Oh, just some flute music, nothing too challenging...and I might look at the piano ones, if it wouldn't take too long."

But that was polite talk; there really was no such thing as "too long" to waste here, in my mind. We spent half the afternoon discussing our choices as we made them, wandering into topics of music history and the varied and magical ways that artists can inspire other artists (inspired by the earlier chat with Twilight). That talk would clutter this journal-story-thing, but the good bits landed in my notes.

Just as I'd hoped, Colgate continued to act herself again.

One stop left.

I will never be Colgate.

I can never match her empathy. I can only hope to aspire to show an ounce of her serenity. I would in good times seek nothing more than to know what fuels her dawn-to-dusk dedication.

And it's just as well, because now I don't want to be her anymore. If this is the price minds pay for peace, then sign me up for war.

But enough symbolic banter. I am just...I'm only meagerly bracing myself for this, aren't I? Or maybe it's just an avoidance mechanism. I don't even want to think about this again!

After we left the music shop, Colgate was the one to "remind" me of our last objective: cleaning up the possessions at my place.

I realized I didn't have any way whatsoever to set up the conversation I wanted to happen. It was going to have to happen right as we got there. And guess what? I'm comically bad at pacing! Any surprise there, Dear Reader!?

~~(I mean, knowing your shortcoming is the first step to making a~~

See, this is just fluff. This is useless.

AND THIS IS JUST ME PUTTING OFF WHAT HAS TO BE DONE!

So anyway, we were partway there, still not far from downtown, and she asks me about the future. Oh Lusitano Jigoro of the Gentle Way, reveal my strength, I pleaded internally. My replies were generic--half-probing, half-informing. They had to be. This had to come gently.

"We never really talked about what your plans are after your house is all fixed up. I mean, big plans. What do you wanna do?"

"Well, you know about, uh...you know about how I've really gotten to enjoy these days working with you?"

"Come on now, don't be coy with me! Tell ole Cole what's up!" Okay, that was too generic.

"Oh, well, haha! How about--you know how I like that Written Script guy?"

"Well yes--but you said he might be taken."

"Well, sure I did. But, you know how he knows a lot of ponies around the world, and he could help me find someone?"

"Around the world? But you're just setting up base here! Pinkie's your girl for matchmaking around here, and you know it!" Sod it all! This isn't going anywhere!

"Well--oh yes, good point. You know how there's a lot of stuff going on in Equestria lately, though--turbulent times and all that..."

"Carrot, hun, you keep using that phrase. I don't think it means what you think it means." A brief but embarrassing silence followed. "Seriously, what's up? Can't you hold a friendly little conversation--about your hopes and dreams, of all things?" She suddenly bit her lip. "Oh--that came out a bit harsh. My apologies."

Too late--the attack had been made. My head was consumed in frustration. But the spell broke rather quickly as I remembered the day's mantra once more. A tiger from within roared for dominance--for a chance to play the bigger mare, pacing or no pacing.

"Colgate! Please, today isn't about me--it's about you!"

Her look was the very one I had feared all day--smirking incredulity. This just didn't happen. I was the quirky and problematic one. I wasn't the alpha, or even the beta. I was also a full decade younger than she--a fact that played in my favor far too rarely.

"I-- Of course you don't believe me. You don't have to. Just...give me a chance, will you? Please?"

I stopped abruptly, but the inertia of the debris wagon behind me was just enough to cause me to stumble; as the harness's traces buckled against me, I overcompensated with my forelegs and threw my butt up in the air. I nearly ate dirt, but I hopped up again to correct and landed still. Carrot Top, master of drama and presence. Behold!

"If this is about what happened earlier--don't worry, I already plan to talk with Berry about it. I know I've been slipping a lot lately."

I acted oblivious to this revelation of hers, knowing the slippage to be more of a downhill free-falling tumble. I pushed past the sudden mental image of Colgate as a rolling block of cheese and showed her a stronger sincerity. I pleaded with my eyes--pleaded as one would if they were called from daily life to rescue a relative from throwing themself off of Town Hall.

She hesitated, looking down at her hooves. "I don't know, Carrot. If this is how it's gonna go--"

But I was no stranger to indignation. This moment called for something more. I felt that something coming hot and fast. (Oh my, how my lack of tact even bleeds into my writing!) "You don't know how it goes, alright! But that's all gonna change in a moment. Keep walking with me."

Well, that solved one problem well enough. We stayed silent for the rest of that walk.

Then we got there. Her eyes widened. This is it.

"Oh, it looks like you cleaned up all your belongings already! You've even gotten most of the dirt cleared out! This must've taken you ages without a unicorn's help!"

I decided to go with a little self-deprecating humor to start--give and take, or what have you. "You know how I don't usually get too excited about drinking these days?"

As she chuckled not quite modestly, I unhitched my wagon and moved toward one of the covered wagons containing the salvaged booze.

"You were just going to drag me out here to take a shot with you, to celebrate your work? Now I really don't know what's gotten into you."

I had made sure the two glasses I'd selected were clean in advance. To each of them I added a healthy dose of name-brand buffalo bourbon. I carefully walked on hind hooves as I carried them back. (This reminds me--IPU was totally mistaken in Chapter 7, as plenty of non-pony species love their distilled goods.)

"Look--I'm kind of a busy mare, and I'm still catching up on lessons with Dr. Horsythe after all these weeks. Maybe we could do this some other time?"

She had even lost her excitability and her desire to celebrate the little things? This would require something drastic. Control the conversation.

"I love you, Colgate."

Well, that blinking did it. She shut right up.

"You've helped me through thick and thin. You helped guide me. You helped give me grounding as I made the biggest decision of my life to date. And you continue to inspire me to this day."

"Yes?" She was still in mild shock--good...

"I've never let any of the little faults about you bother me too much in that. We all have our little issues. One issue you had bugged me for a while, but Berry assured me time and again that it was under control. Whatever it was."

"Wait--she and I agreed this wasn't your business!"

"And I've respected that...for a long, long time, I've respected that. Won't you join me? Please?" I plopped down by a collapsed edge of the dome, forehooves dangling over, facing the home wreckage to which I'd become well acquainted, whiskey at my side. But she didn't budge.

I had to be the cheerleader for her this time.

I approached her again, breathing deeply, searching for a smile in every available index and finally finding one in "Hope". "Thanks so much for being honest with Twilight earlier. It must've taken you some courage to do that, even though you knew it would help a friend. And sure--I, uh, it's been difficult for me to act like we are still friends. But we are." I suddenly recalled something she'd said a while back--a thought she'd never completed--and offered my spin on it. "And I know it to be true, because after all the times I've come to you for aid, it's finally time for you to come to me. I'm ready, and I want to help. All I ask is that you accept it."

"Could you just cut the horse apples and get on with it?" Ouch.

But I wouldn't fly off the handle today. It was far too important. I kept my strength in gentleness. "Okay. I only ask one thing. Let me give you the hug this time." So I did. We stood up tall a few paces from my home, my fores about her, hers drooped down. Her face still showed very little engagement in this stunt of mine...but I had somehow at least coaxed her this far. Victory was within reach. It was time.

"Colgate...dear Cole--you, who made it possible for me to stand here today, to even earn the means to build this house in the first place--"

"Yes?" She didn't sound offended or impatient this time--just mild and polite. Polite again. She was giving me one more chance. Yes, the time was now.

"Cole, this isn't the first time you've come to help me with my house. I did have a unicorn helping me. That unicorn was you. You've helped me twice, actually!"

"...Oh...right... I have, haven't I?" This must be her learned response to confrontation on the subject of forgetfulness. But this was something far beyond the norm.

"You've learned the divination spell three times now--and today was your first time learning it straight from Twilight. I'm sure you picked it up again like a natural!"

"Haha--good point there! I wonder how long it must've taken me the first time around?" Was she really making conversation with me about things she couldn't remember about herself??

"Cole--"

"That's my name--what?" Wait...I've seen this trick before... This is almost like how Berry dodges accusation with so little effort! They really are the masters of the Gentle Way. Who am I to try?

My resolve was wearing thin. But my heart kept on trying. "Just stop it Cole! Stop it!! You're destroying yourself! You're flying apart at the seams! Look at me! Look at me!"

She did--right in the middle of her first sip of the whiskey, which she'd floated over without my noticing and had just begun to focus on, even in my embrace. Her eyes hadn't even fully frozen before I let go of her in disgust, allowing her to nearly facefault before catching herself.

I deflected my rage by gesturing and shouting at the bits of broken house as I continued--though every word was meant for her.

"This isn't anything like before! Don't you see? After Berry left you, she's stopped talking with you about this. Nopony's been able to console you on the matter. I mean, I can still tell she's... I mean, this isn't her fight anymore. And now I've had to deal with it, day after day. You've already tried to help me twice with coaching Ditzy for the Equestria games. You've already asked me six times how this happened to my home! And Dr. Horsythe--how many times has he come to visit you now? Thank goodness he's professional enough to understand, or we would have lost you already!

"And if you don't believe me...let me tell you what happened the first two times you came out here. The first time, Berry helped as well. She was really gracious about it, and she helped haul all the clay ceiling bits. She stayed close by me through the whole ordeal, knowing it would be emotionally difficult. I still wasn't even really talking to you guys. You kept having to look away from Berry and me. And at the end, you collapsed, just like you did earlier today. Berry chewed you out for your weakness. But I stood up for you because you at least showed up and tried. That was three weeks ago."

I'd cooled off enough by this point to resume the proper one-on-one. Her calmness in all this bordered on the disconcerting.

"Two days before the pale unicorn got away--that was when you came back and offered to help again. You had just gotten done having what you wrote was the weirdest day of your life, but it left you feeling better--like you could handle anything. That was also, I believe, the third time your mentor had come to talk. So you asked me about the cleanup, and I took you to it without saying anything. You reacted just like you did a few minutes ago. Somehow you never forget what happened--just how. And that tells me something very important. It tells me that you need to know why it happened. If you would be so kind as to bring over that bag hanging by that wagon"--the one to which I then pointed--"I'll show you. Again."

Colgate was not with us right then, though. Her warbling eyes and trembling head were pointed at me but fixated on an abyss only she could see. I still hadn't fully cooled down from the indignation, so I could hardly help her directly. All I could do was await a reply. I would've been happy with just about anything but the one she gave me.

"Berry................left me?"

...

"Get the bag. Open it."

The tough pouch then hung before us. It dropped gently to the earth, and the drawstring flew away. Inside were little bits of shaped glass, a tiny ribbon, a teeny cork stopper, and a few uniform twig-like things.

"Aren't you missing something, Cole?"

She pondered for a moment. Her eyes were utterly fixed on the little bits of brokenness. I carefully snuck over to her side, ready to catch her if she fainted.

"Wow... it looks just like it might have been my..." She finally ran a hoof through her mane. "My..."

"The last time you saw this, you must have thought nothing had happened between you and this was part of a horrible coincidence. It still tore you up like nothing I'd ever seen before today. You almost couldn't sleep. I stayed by your side at your apartment, waiting to see when you could finally find the inner peace to rest for the night. I stayed by you that night--stayed awake as long as I could, fetching you your tea--the only thing you had to keep yourself warm. I couldn't be there for you any more than that, but I knew I'd have to be someday. And that is what motivated me to finally read the story and get to the bottom of this and stop being so scared for myself. I am here for you, Colgate. That is all that I am here for today. And if it takes a moon or even a year for me to help find a way out of whatever in Tartarus is consuming your mind...then I will do it."

She pulled away from the glittering remains, and she finally gave me her full and undivided attention. But the way her ears pointed straight back as she stared at me like an oncoming unavoidable avalanche...it somehow only made the assault even harder. I wasn't angry with her personally. It was her sickness. I hated that sickness so much that I could taste bile. I couldn't stop!

"It seems clear enough to me, though: you're repressing everything that doesn't agree with you and the life you want to live. But you can't repress something that's not even there anymore. Berry is gone. She's gone. She will hardly even answer the door for me anymore, much less you. She says she'll still be a BG, but where is she now? She's trying to catch up on her own life now. You used to block out the bad thoughts now and then, back in the day...but now it's out of control, and you're going to forget your own name one day if I don't put my hoof down right now. She's waiting for you to catch up on your life. I'm sure of it. I already asked Twilight what spells could help...but no, this is your responsibility. I am not leaving your side, Cole, until you come to your senses and face it all. I would rather suffer and lose my own mind than watch you self-destruct without help--than watch you slowly drift away from us. I'm going to see this through. You're going to get right again. So the..." I'd never asked them for anything before. They're not goddesses. There is no such thing as a goddess. Probably. "So the goddesses help me!"

Even in responsibility, I was a fool. No one could take such a revelation all at once and stay sane. But it was done.

So was Colgate. She fainted as I'd expected--but not before I heard her whisper.

"Why did..."

I never got to that part. And I wouldn't until, at the very least, I wrote this section over a glass of bourbon and started to haul her back to her apartment.

I opened the door, a passed-out Colgate draped over my back. She must've needed sleep on top of solace.

The pale unicorn stared back at me on the other side, sitting at the table.

I shut the door again.

Clopfucius would have no words for a situation like this. I turn instead to Berry-stophanes.

Buck this shit. Buck it all.

Lemon and Sugar

It would probably be best to regroup and figure out how best to deal with this unknown.

I have to figure out: Why did he come to us? What had he been planning while chained up all those weeks at Berry's? And why did he not apparently return there? Was he legitimately afraid of Berry? Or...has something happened to her--an act of vengeance?

Should I leave to investigate? I could bring help. But then there would be nopony to watch him. He knows we're here. Time to premeditate is a far greater boon to him than to me, given his initial element of surprise and known abilities. He would likely be long gone.

Get another tenant, then? The landlord could hold down the fort. But...would we just be putting an innocent in harm's way? What kind of harm can this pony do? How is he sitting there, so confidently? And do I really want to explain what happened to Colgate? Would anyone even believe me?

Forgive my brevity and my uncertainty. Time is essential. I have to find out what's going on before he enacts some terrible scheme to undo us.

Perhaps this is the start of that scheme already. Perhaps he has set the trap, and we have already started to spring it. But he couldn't have known so much of what happened today.

...Unless he was there, too?

I don't know what to do!!

...What? The door opened again. I regarded the ghostly blue-green pony once again.

His eyes looked so empty. I've felt empty and hollow many times in my life, but I have never known a void like that. If I weren't so panicked right now, I would feel a world different about him. Berry thought of him as helplessly lost, or worse--a mental invalid. But no invalid wrote the chapters that started this book. If it weren't so colorful and oddly biased, I'd say he exceeds my abilities entirely. What, then, conferred this negative space in him where I should see life and charm?

And why has he given me the time to write this? What is he waiting for? He just keeps staring.

The book, it is glowing. T he p a ge s a r e rus tl i ng. I ca n no t w rit e st e a di ly . H is h o rn. H e i s d oin g this.

And it fell still.

There is a song heard all around. But you don't hear a sound. If you were with him now, he'd let you know his mind.

So, this is your invitation. I find myself unable to come up with a better option...unless I just wanted to run away and hope our next meeting came more favorably. But Berry would certainly rage at even temporarily giving up the one she believes to this day has threatened her children.

Or...wait, she said "loved ones" in that chapter. "The ones I love"--something like that. She may have also meant the poor blue mare slumped beside me. Did he actually harm Colgate? What in all the rightness of the world has happened to her? Does he know? And can I stop it?

This seems like a tremendously foolish decision, but...curiosity has gotten the better of me once more.

Have at it, you terrible creature.

The more you try, the more you fail. You'd like to run away.

Stop it!

Incidentally, there should be some changes made.

"Stop! Just go away and never come back!"

Don't be blind--you've got a thinking mind. Stop the bells that ring so loud.

I SCREAM EVERYTHING HURTS STOP IT IPU!!! STOP IT!!!!!

But you must remember, friends. What has to start just has to end. Everypony's got a destiny.

STOP

It took quite some time for the tuckered mares to come about. The farce of twilight had spewed across the whole sky once more in its range of hues--soon to be cleansed by lunar grace.

Colgate awoke first, fresh and orderly from her bed. She noticed the pale unicorn almost immediately, through the bedroom door, and froze. Her pupils pinched to pinpoints as she stammered and waved at him.

The pale unicorn floated the story to her, through the way.

He was here to provide answers. He apologized for the rudeness in the setup and hoped you to be comfortable. You had passed out after shocking revelations from your carrot-bottomed comrade--she who lay near you on the floor.

Colgate quickly scanned these words and relaxed--but then she also scanned the words on the previous page, recognizing Carrot's panicked hoofwriting. She batted the book away desperately and leapt to the floor, rattling the blanketed Carrot with all of her might. Her yells approached screaming, threatening to alert the apartment's other tenants.

He would not wish to harm you, as it could serve no purpose. You would be free to go after partaking in tonight's story. But the story must be told!

She almost batted the book away a second time before glancing at the pale unicorn once more. He looked directly back at her. Her sense of panic did not diminish, but she at least quieted as she returned to her efforts to stir Carrot.

After some seconds, Carrot groaned mightily, the bearer of something akin to an acute hangover. Before she could even move a hoof, she let loose with a whining cry of pain.

Colgate thought to console her...but then she scrunched her face back at the pale unicorn and shut the door with a horn-glow and a shout.

Their concerns were understood well enough without sight. The book hid under the bed for the time being.

"He's here," Colgate whispered forcefully. "We have to do something!"

"What did he do to me?" Carrot couldn't be bothered to hush her tone in growling this.

"I don't know--just get us out, get us out!"

"Uuuuuugh..." She briefly considered her surroundings. Low and grumbling: "This is your bedroom. There's a window right there. You have the unicorn magic, not me. Agh..."

Colgate pulled closer to Carrot. "I...I know this isn't the right time. But you--" She paused; when her voice returned, it sounded wetter. "You really tried. And I wanna thank you. If you only knew how long I've been trying, you'd know why we keep you...uh, keep you out of it."

"But what if--" Carrot pouted from pain once more. She tried again, more softly. "What if it's him? What if it's been him all along? We can put an end to this tonight!" Another wincing cry.

The book came out.

We can!

Carrot got up quickly, directing all her ire at the book. She threw herself upon it, knocking it from the air. She kicked it blindly, stubbing her hoof in the process; it scattered against the door but was unharmed. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the agony again, she collapsed and sobbed for some time.

While still splayed on the floor, Carrot explained her motivations in a careful low tone. "Don't you understand? There's something wrong with him! And he's dangerous! I was looking for a way to tie him up--and he stopped me. He stopped me before I could even leave for the bathroom to figure it out. And then we both woke up in here. We can't negotiate with him because..." She wasn't quite sure how to put it just yet.

Colgate...suddenly lost her will to do anything.

Carrot, still too pained to make much physical effort, noticed her blankness. Her response was hardly loud, but the emphasis was as clear as the whining. "This is you, isn't it!? Just leave us alone! What in the world did we do to deserve this? Oh, make it all stop!"

The book spoke to Carrot this time.

This situation is really simple, but you insist on making it complicated. Join the pale unicorn for a while. Read the story.

Carrot opened and considered the bedroom window. She and Colgate could easily make their escape from the building, but the two-story fall might prove unkind to further endeavors.

"Colgate...Cole..." She shook her cheery friend as an overeager foal would a snow globe. Carrot's own panic engaged as she continued not to respond. "Cole! Cole!! Please! I'm so sorry I was so harsh! But I've got to do something! We've got to get out of here! I know you can't teleport, but maybe you can get us out the window safely? Please Cole, please hear me!!"

The book gently covered Carrot's face.

Come on...the book said he could help and--honestly!--there's only one pony here needing any help right now. Cheer up a bit, huh? All you have to do is read the story, and then you are free.

Carrot searched her generous mane and procured a spare quill. She scratched deeply into the book's page with its dry point.

How can you honestly expect anypony to trust you? You control and you twist words and you lie, and then you expect impunity. You are a monster. You are a danger to everyone. And you will be found, with or without me. Someone will find you and end you, no matter what happens to us. The truth always comes out.

She then cracked the door open only long enough to throw the book at the pale unicorn. He considered this written declaration while Colgate slowly came to. Both sufficiently recovered, the two gently cried against one another, both overcome with terror, as the pale unicorn formed a response.

This isn't how the story goes. Everything flew apart one terrible night. It will be difficult--very difficult indeed--to restore the tale to its proper course. The pale unicorn exists once more; the narrator is revealed. But the pale unicorn is not without resources. Everything can be fixed--and this time, it can even be fixed after the fact.

Carrot had attempted to reveal Colgate's perpetually forgotten life to her. Without aid, she would be compelled to do so, time and again, while they both tear at one another's sanity in the futile struggle. Such is her nature. But she does not have to. They do not have to suffer, nor do they need to be punished. All they have to do is read the story that the pale unicorn is about to write, and remember.

Fortune has brought you here, dear mares. Take this opportunity, as no other pony can ever offer it to you.

This message was copied onto a loose piece of paper and slid under the door.

"Is he telling the truth this time?" peeped Colgate.

"Is he tweaking your mind so you think he is?" groaned Carrot.

"...Is he doing the same to you right now?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Why do you think he would even let you ask that?"

"Why would he even let me ask this?"

"What's the point of worrying, then?"

What's the point, indeed.

"Oh...buck."

Please calm yourself. There is no need to be upset.

"Cole...IPU is trying to speak inside my head right now. He's toying with us. I don't think we have any choice. Just run for it while you still can. I'll stay and...read the story. Save yourself. I have to entertain him." Shouting: "And I don't care if you can hear this! Just don't hurt Cole! She didn't deserve any of this! Just you and me...let's handle this like writers." She paused in dark contemplation. "Like crackpots and monsters." She groaned at the exertion once more.

You would never have gotten this far if you'd turned and fled at the door. You need to see all the rooms of the house. You need to read the story. The incapacitation was unfortunately necessary. But the pale unicorn will not resist you anymore. Come, then.

"I'm...going, Cole. Save yourself. Get out of here. Get Berry. Yeah--get Berry! Get the cops! Get the mental ward! Get Celestia herself! Just go get help!" She couldn't totally hide pain in shouting this, but she was coming around at last.

Thus Carrot seated herself at the round table next to the pale unicorn, peering over the book that would soon contain the promised tale.

Carrot bade the pale unicorn to proceed with a regular pen and ink rather than magical inscription. He did so. As she explained her take on the matter, the bitterness in her earlier struggle remained and kept her resignation at bay.

"Before you begin...understand a couple of things, big shot. As far as I know, you can't actually control my mind like a puppet. There isn't anything you can do that will prevent me from smashing your head into this table right now. Even that noise or whatever you did earlier can't stop me instantly. If I see your horn glow...even once...then I will not hesitate to make you regret it with every ounce of my being--even if it is the last thing I ever do."

You continue to treat him as a villain, Carrot--yet he has invited you to sit next to him, making him vulnerable. Is that not worthy of trust? What could possibly convince you at this point that you do not flank the first and last embodiment of evil?

"Perhaps you could start by dropping the third-person hooey! I'm right next to you! It's getting really, really annoying! And what's this about existing once more? I get that you're a mute and this is how you talk--fine. Just pitch this pretentious nonsense of yours and maybe we can actually have a conversation. Do you even know how crazy you sound?"

The pale unicorn was at a loss for an adequate response.

He cannot continue without Colgate. She should be here before the story begins.

As if responding to the call, a frazzled Colgate clambered out of bed and walked into the main room. She set immediately to lighting more lamps in the darkening room, though she looked terribly weary.

"Oh, no...what are you doing now?" Waxing frantic, Carrot swished over and checked the writer unicorn's horn carefully. Satisfied, she turned back to watch as Colgate turned on the stove burner and set a full kettle upon it.

Colgate's voice utterly belied her appearance in its gentle sweetness. "You seem to forget that I've seen this fellow a few times before. He had plenty of chances to get into my head or mess with me while he was at Berry's. But am I not fine now?"

Carrot was utterly flabbergasted. "Wh-wh-what do you call forgetting everything you ever cared about? That's not fine or normal at all!"

"...You think Fido did that to me from across town? Get real, hun. You're throwing way too many of your fears on this guy. Let's see what he's got to say, hm?"

"Stop bucking calling me 'hun'! Did you forget about how much you hurt me, too? How you turned my hope for friendship inside-out? How you just reminded me, in my own home, how I couldn't ever rely on anyone but myself? You did this to me..." Speaking her words before even understanding them, she froze; then, a few squeaking sobs dribbled out, forced through the cracks in her composure by stress's great pressure.

Quickly, and more like chiming in than responding directly: "Oh. Did I do that? Well--well, we'll get that taken care of right away--just, stay calm." Colgate continued to focus on her own task as she brought up a cutting board and a small knife.

"But you knew not to touch or coddle me just a few hours ago! You know what you did! You...you did this to me!"

More thoughtfully, but still not breaking her slicing stride or turning an inch: "Carrot...you're having a panic attack. I don't blame you: this guy may not look or act like typical Ponyville folk. But he's not bad. We've just got to reach out to him somehow--and here's the perfect chance. I'm even using my best roots tonight. You used to like my tea quite a lot before you stopped coming over--so let's make an occasion out of it, hm? If this fellow's willing to look past how Berry treated him, then we should be able to look past his weirdness. Besides, I've always loved strange company. ...Well, maybe not the way Berry usually does." Her ensuing titters hailed from the land of libido.

Carrot divined her own response--more to the situation than the particulars Colgate had just said. She delivered it with great deliberation and weight, as if to a five-year-old--but with venom to slay an adult. "You...you're just magnificent. Beautiful. I've got nothing. No words can explain how much you're acting just like a pawn right now. You're being played. We're being had. Look at this--he's just sitting here while you carry on acting like nothing's happened. Even when I tell you, nothing changes." The venom reached its end; she was simply breathless at the next thought. "But...how?" She then leveled with the pale unicorn. "How?"

The pale unicorn prepared to chide her for impatience; but Colgate came around, sighed with a sort of finality, and proffered the best answer--and an empty teacup. "Berry and I knew you would pry and pry and pry forever. You don't seem to understand that this is my own mind we're dealing with here. My mind is not a plaything--you can't just pull it apart and put it back together. And if you could, we certainly wouldn't ever let you try. It made sense for a long time when it was only things about her that I forgot. Of course it's repression. Of course it's not right. But that doesn't mean you can fix it just by asking a million questions. Somewhere deep inside, I must be very hurt. Do you want that all to come rushing back?"

She sidled up against her affronted little darling, invoking a magnitude of sweetness that could create cavities on the spot. "Hu--I mean, Carrot. I'm really glad that you tried. That's how I know you still care. So let's have a toast to being friends while we read a story. Maybe we'll learn where this fellow comes from. Maybe we could even make a new friend here tonight!"

Carrot was actually moved by the first half of that. However, the last three sentences drove her to load that movement into a cannon and to point it back at Colgate threateningly. "He has been writing our lives, and reading and speaking into our brains. He just blasted me with something mentally, specifically to control the situation. Even Berry doesn't go that overboard! And we have no reason whatsoever to trust this guy--he's not our friend! How is it even possible to lie to yourself so completely? It doesn't make any sense at all!" She closed her eyes and attempted to breathe deeply several times, recognizing and salving her own trembling perturbation. A jag of pain could still be heard in the breathing. She eventually brought her forehooves to rest upon the table and her head to rest upon them.

Colgate focused back on the ginger-cutting, pausing only a second or two to take the kettle off the stove beside her as it sounded its readiness. She then delivered the ginger slices and the water to the three cups upon the table, also setting lemon wedges and a bowl of sugar cubes among them. Finally, she claimed a seat on the pale unicorn's other side. Only when seated did she respond to Carrot.

Matter-of-factly: "I know how to handle rude company. He may have been a bit harsh to you earlier, but he also made sure you were comfortable. You'd just needed to calm down and that is the only way he had to make you do so. On the whole, I'd say he's been absolutely delightful compared to you. Shouldn't you consider apologizing to him? If it were Berry in my place, why, she'd be forcing you to!" Trading that tone for a cheerier one, smiling modestly at her more immediate table partner: "Now, sir...what should we call you?"

The pale unicorn, however, had no name to give. His story is as a blank page. This story is not his.

Carrot glanced at the text, then unset suddenly from her sullen self-study. "I know--how about--" Even the pale unicorn would not inscribe that utterance. One might try to replace that with a harmless object like "apple" or "boat", but no one would buy that. It was simply beyond the pale--leave it at that.

Colgate's mouth sagged open; her eyes glazed in wonder at the scale of the offense, particularly as it was shared among mares of a socially and sexually liberal nature. Everyone's tea had brewed--and Carrot's bout of foul flippancy faded to counterfeit calmness--before she had gathered her senses again.

"Carrot Top...please take your seat away from the table. The corner by the bulletin board will do. If you so much as utter one more word, I shall have to ask you to leave."

The yellow-tinted lady then knew how fully her intentions had failed. She crumpled dramatically, sobbing openly into her foreleg and the table.

Colgate breached her own better judgment and reached to place a hoof against that foreleg. Then she reached with her charity and mercy. "Hey. I'll still read the story aloud for you, alright? But...this is clearly too much for you as it is. Still--I have a heart, and you know that. I'm not just going to be unfair. But when you assault my guest, you're hurting me--and we can't have that. So please, take a moment and collect yourself. That's all I'm really asking. And don't forget the tea, hm?" Even her own rebukes came with condolences.

A moment later, the story began. A cheery Colgate dictated it professionally, and a dejected Carrot listened on while leaning against an empty corner. The former had taken a squeeze of lemon and two lumps of sugar; the latter, just one lump. The pale unicorn was, of course, too busy writing to drink.

To the readers present:

Please do not be shocked at this. As was stated earlier, this story (the whole story in this dear tome) is not for its narrator. Perish the contrary thought, if you would. The same goes for this tale within the tale. In fact, the two of you know quite well the pony for whom it is intended. She has taken her seat beside its author tonight.

(Colgate gasped.)

There is no peace without war. Colgate has long struggled with woes from a time her friend Carrot did not know. And though this friend thought she had shared that life story, neither could possibly be the wiser to its incompleteness. To that mare seated adjacent, the loss of a career and the distance of her beloved are considered as vague mysteries, better not to be troubled. In recent days, however, the troubles have mounted and she is losing her battle. The author expresses an obligation to do what he can to avert that loss.

It would seem odd for an apparent stranger to offer a helping hoof in a matter of which he should know nothing; but in truth, he should know quite a lot, considering his role in it all. And though you may hate him for that role, let this offering serve as the most sincere apology and confession possible. May you receive it well and consider the author's token at its end.

Colgate née Minuette, daughter of Fair Shake and Perfect Pace--THIS IS YOUR STORY.

(Colgate and Carrot could hardly blink to look away from the pale unicorn.)

You were born of noble stock in Canterlot. Your youth there was encumbered not by need or by want--only by those parents' expectations of you. Though they cared for you, their treatment of you bespoke grand designs and tight schedules that left you (as they would leave any foal) wanting freedom and rest. When you were about 9 or 10 years old, your father lost his political job and his connections disavowed him in his efforts to recover. Your mother, a talented musician but not well-heeled by her trade alone, led the search for a new life in a more financially sustainable neighborhood. Begrudgingly, you all accepted an invitation to Ponyville and relocated there. They adjusted to the modest lifestyle, but that only increased the burden they laid on you as they hoped you would surpass them.

Your parents were forced to get creative in ensuring the richness of your after-school curriculum. Still perceived as important ponies in the humble town, they were able to persuade the local leadership to offer you something of an internship at Town Hall, even as a pre-teen. But you subtly deceived them: though you did work for the town title clerk, you did not work such long hours as was believed. While walking to this position one day, you encountered a pony your age whom you had not seen in the schoolhouse. Your intrigue in this home-schooled filly increased until you decided to abuse the town records for your own purposes to track down this "Berry" and visit her at her home. Upon stalking her domicile--a winery on the very edge of town--you immediately found a friend.

Berry provided something your upbringing could not: satisfaction outside of fastidious duty. She introduced you to the ways of the world with dirty jokes, pesky pranks, a disregard for authority, and a far-too-young interest in alcohol. You loved your parents and somewhat understood what they were trying to do, but you couldn't relate to them at that age; Berry was your mode of rebellion. You provided her with important culture and the taste of a more erudite education--even though you yourself preferred not to associate with it. As the high school years rolled on and you excelled in school and assisted with other Town Hall positions, you quietly resisted the professional outlook that that lifestyle would otherwise confer upon you. Weekend outings would lead to discreet romance and, later, casual sex; though you could not visit the bar, Berry's guardian practically encouraged the two of you in locating strong drink. And when you and Berry did not take part in experiences together, you made sure to verbally share them with one another at every opportunity.

You didn't drink to the extent that Berry did; she ended up becoming addicted while you were still in school. You continued to support her and started to take your role-model role more seriously; you perceived the prospect of an upstanding living as her only salvation, and that is what you gave her. You loved Berry dearly--though then, only as a close friend. One time, when you were showing her classical literature, you discovered that she could only read and write at a very basic level. This drove you to ever-greater efforts to maximize the time you had together so you could teach her these vital skills yourself; in doing so, your mastery in managing time became such that you earned your cutie mark in it.

"Awww, that's adorable. You never told me that, Cole!"

Colgate forgot the rule of requested silence, her breath taken. "But, I never thought of it that way myself..." She shed a few tears that nearly dripped into the tea, though she made no further sound.

She bade the pale unicorn to pause with a hoof over the pen; a moment later, they continued.

Your parents took your mark as a sign for you to continue work in Town Hall for the city planner--a career low in prestige but high in demands and even higher in social connections. Though this would limit your time with Berry for some years, you awkwardly accepted it as your destiny.

After graduating school and beginning city work in earnest, you gained some freedom again. You located an apartment similar to this one and lived very little of your life inside of it. Days were occupied with forms and fielding requests from hundreds of parties; nights were often spent in others' beds. Berry lived much the same lifestyle, though her days were confined instead to the winery. She aimed to break from this confinement, and finally she did in a big way--spending most of her inheritance to take you on an epic trip across Equestria and even beyond. The evidences of these adventures decorate the walls of her home today, but you did not hold so tightly to those memories--even as they altered your outlook on life and expanded your mind to an even greater calling.

Berry was profoundly affected by it too, painfully realizing that her academic shortcomings meant she had to rely on others to help conduct the more official business of life--and to be able to read the signs and other correspondence she encountered on the trek. You thus established a formal education program for her in secret. Soon thereafter, life interrupted the plot: she became pregnant with her firstborn. (You were diligent in such matters and had always avoided unwanted pregnancy.) She embraced her fortune, and you ensured that she would discontinue drinking during this. However, she also got fed up with working as life's challenges grew more complicated. For some time, you supported her and her oldest right in your own home.

But they were not the only guests in your home. Around this time, you unknowingly took in an invisible little helper. He was diligent and thoughtful, and he always

Colgate tapped the shoulder of the pale unicorn. "Excuse me...but are you referring to yourself?"

The pale unicorn stared at Colgate.

He...nodded.

Carrot finally broke her formal silence--a whole twenty-five minutes' worth, given the slow pensive hoofwriting. "Colgate, may I?" The tone carried only a hint of the old disgust but otherwise sounded calm--even sedate.

"You may."

The next words were not aimed at Colgate. "How did you learn of all of this before your time? You aren't even old enough to know any of that. Are you really able to read our minds?"

Colgate prepared the next round of tea while the pale unicorn responded.

There isn't much value in explaining the complete process. Simply put, the pale unicorn asked you these questions, and you provided answers. In order to understand you more deeply, he gently asked that you would speak your thoughts aloud now and again, so that they could be known.

The mind is a far more inscrutable and foreign a structure than, for example, a room or a house. One's conscience may perceive one's own mind as such in order to evaluate it in a more comfortable and palatable form; but in attempting to visit the mind of another, only the full complexity can be addressed--and it is truly staggering. To leave a message requesting delivery is a far, far easier task than to steal by force. There are no rooms to explore. There is no jewelry box to loot. That analogy would be much too simple.

Colgate returned with prepared cups a moment later, giving Carrot her lump again in the process. Carrot gently requested Colgate to read the recent passage aloud upon receiving her cup, and Colgate just invited her back to the table instead. She immediately read it and turned sour. At least she didn't speak so forcefully this time.

"Which 'you' are you referring to? I asked this question, not Cole."

Colgate responded to this rosily. "He's trying to help me. It should be obvious. You ask too many questions..." Her outward weariness seemed finally to be catching up with her.

The mares eyed each other. Carrot smirked for an instant before settling down toward the book, head low against the table, sipping the hot tea with outstretched lips. Colgate followed with much the same course of action.

The pale unicorn continued.

You might once have called him "my little kitchen demon". Though he had other methods of acquiring the necessities of life, taking bits of your food was simply the most convenient. You tolerated it for quite some time, even after attempting preventative measures, because you wanted whomever was taking it to be satisfied. You were a fortunate young mare, and others were not so fortunate. You knew a few who suffered in Ponyville, but you had seen many more on Berry's great journey. It was better that this demon should be happy.

The demon's only real concern at the time, however, was the well-being of this new household. Berry and her baby caused you stress in the cramped space. He was not equipped to help with that, however: he was but a foal himself. But he could help you in the long hours you worked to sustain the unit you all had become.

He streamlined schedules. He set up conferences. He helped fetch needed books of law and historical documents when you indicated a need for them--putting them in plain sight. He did whatever he could to repay the kindness and stability you unwittingly provided to him. But it never seemed to be enough.

Then, the incident

Colgate interrupted once again. She seemed almost to be dozing off. "So you were trying to help me? Did you ever think that maybe you weren't helping at all? How old were you--5 or 6 or 7, maybe? All I remember is finding my notes jumbled up and my books strewn all around, and ponies showing up for meetings I never booked. I didn't think it was me--I thought it was..." Her eyes widened; her ears perched backward. Her voice, however, only elevated a few tones. "No, it was you, wasn't it? You...do you know what you did? Do you even know? Do you know how much you were putting the whole town at risk?"

The pale unicorn merely continued.

It never seemed to be enough.

Then, the incident changed everything. The demon, or the assistant, or the young pale unicorn--he helped you with a Winter Wrap Up, twelve years ago. Your mentor had recently retired, and that was your first time running the operation yourself. He helped you. But he couldn't help enough.

Carrot spoke softly from her laying-head position. "Or...you did the harm yourself. Like a shinigami...killing the body he possesses..."

The pale unicorn continued.

You set up the scoring for the ice to melt. And the scoring never actually happened, as the team setting to that had already committed to helping the ground animal team. Then the ground animal team, in mixed messages to one another, believed the job had already been done. So many animal dens were never awoken, and their late arousal led to much strife and suffering in the natural world. The pegasus animal and weather teams, however, received their proper messages. That message's exchange involved darting through cloud cover--cover that concealed the teams as they blindly crashed into one another.

Berry remembers what happened after that. But you do not. The story of your life since then has been spotty and confusing and occasionally self-conflicting.

The pale unicorn was...and is a part of the reason for that.

Colgate rushed with all due haste to wake Carrot, who had passed completely into slumber. She grumbled and came about soon enough.

"Carrot...Carrot! Did you get that? He knows about my memory loss. Maybe he can help me...yeah, he can..." She was fighting the sandmare herself, but she sounded painfully, exquisitely excited behind that drowsy veil.

The pale unicorn considered the two mares sloppily piled against one another. He considered the teacup sitting before him. He considered the mostly bare walls and the piles of papers sitting on shelves. He considered the recently vacated stool to his left--not a chair and not red, but it would do for the memories about to be brought back.

This is where the story continues, friends. However, it cannot be forced to do so. The choice is yours, Colgate. If you fear it will harm you too much, then do not proceed. If your hope for restoration would precede you, however...here is what you must know.

The average pony has no idea how much of their life is dominated by divine concepts--by word, by tune, and by emotion. As intelligent beings, self-aware ponies can tap into that--can recognize the true song of life, of the world, of everything. There is a magic in some songs--a spell that transcends the rules and boundaries ponies know.

The pale unicorn discovered the magic of one of these songs in his studies, several years before learning of its true significance. But he knew back then how it could help you, Colgate.

Sing the song, Colgate...and remember. Remember what the pale unicorn suppressed from your thought in order to spare you unending grief. Let the memories hung on the song's spell return. Let your wisdom and your friends support you as you remember.

Colgate had her hoof over her mouth, vainly seeking to conceal her aphonic awe.

Even Carrot was stunned this time. Her only struggle was a single aside remark: "I...have to write about this..."

It is the song the goddesses sang to remember the forgotten fallen, if but for a moment. But they only sang pieces, for they feared cosmic retribution if they should hold fast and cling to the thoughts. But for you, it is no requiem. You can sing it all...and it all may return to you.

"This...this is way too much. Please--I need a moment." Colgate got up from her chair, slowly, and her hooves and thoughts paced about the room around the table--then arriving at her bedroom window, contemplating the power being offered to her.

Carrot's eyes conveyed the desire to ask questions, but she somehow felt this not to be the right time. Instead, she relaxed and offered her own brand of assurance. "You know that you'll have to go through with this. It's not right for anypony to take your thoughts from you, no matter what the reason. But I have another idea. We should get Berry here first. She can give you the fuller perspective. She'll be happy to see you return. She must want this for you...so bad... How long has she gone on..." She unexpectedly lost her train of thought as her lethargy drifted back, obliterating coherency.

In that short span, however, Colgate had already begun breathing fast, her mind ablaze with desire. She resumed her pacing, apparently not even having considered the thoughts from without while being so absorbed in her own.

The pale unicorn turned his head to face Colgate directly. This caught her attention, but it took a few seconds for her to respond and round to his side.

But Berry is with us right now. Look behind that corner stand. Look at what you have forgotten. "Don't forget to remember me." That is what she told you.

After peering at this, she rushed--almost falling flat in ataxic incoordination--to that half-height shelf and pushed it aside. She extracted from there a framed portrait, coated thick with dust. With a hearty blow, she cleaned its image. Carrot could hardly peek an eye up as the sandmare set onto her yet again.

There in the picture, Minuette and Berryshine embraced one another with a single hoof each, facing forward with terrific joy radiating from their faces. Nestled snugly in the space between them, a tiny foal sat. Her features were not distinct in the small photo, but the patch of vibrant pink shined through.

Colgate moaned so softly as her expression crested, a river of elysian elation. She kept most of that deep within, quietly cherishing the stirring of a set-apart chakra of positivity; still, as her soul lapped up the warmth as a kitten would milk, she tugged the picture ever tighter against her chest, threatening to break the frame.

"Yes, I can have it back. I can have you again, Berr. And you can have me!"

How she knew the words to a song she'd never played, nopony may ever know. But she wanted you to remember. She wanted you to remember on your own. You were not ready. Perhaps you are still not ready. But now, you will have that chance--and the sun will shine. Today, the song is yours.

The song is too sacred to inscribe in this story; to it, the story is nothing. But he could prepare the first few lines on a scrap for Colgate to read, just to remind her. He did so. And she grabbed it, automatically, as if it were her only mission in life, and read it. And she knew the tune. She knew this tune. She knew every note and every word, written on sheet music on the back of the scales of her eyes.

And so she sang. She carried the notes with all the grace and gentility an unpracticed singer could afford them. Though not embellished or gilded in any fashion, every word was sung to the right pitch.

Almost immediately, her eyes welled with the liquid salt of passion. She pushed on, her voice wavering once or twice, only to find more strength as she fought the pain of her own revelations. It eventually stirred Carrot again, who came back from the edge of mental vacancy and knew the beauty her ears beheld. Somehow, she wanted to share in those tears as well, but she could only listen.

Then, about three-quarters into the passage, she stumbled. "So I cry...your...name...and loooove... / The thought...to me...is life, and how...near--" Her tone gradually broke, and the line ended, and she fell. Colgate fell.

Carrot silently wished for the song to continue. But something was wrong.

Wheezing, high, unsteady, a broken tea kettle: "Something's wrong... Pale guy! Help me! I can't...I can't see! Everything hurts! My chest...it hurts...Pale guy! Do something!"

She continued, but her sounds were as gasps. She could not speak freely as something overtook her. Not tears...sweat. Sweat poured out of her. "I can't... Help me! Ahhh!"

Her breaths got shallower. "You didn't...do this... It's... I want to... See... Berry again. My chest... Hospital..." She gasped a last deeper breath, though she crumpled into the fetal position from a fresh shock of pain in the process. The words rode only on vital air; her voice had perished. "Help me!"

She couldn't even cry properly from the failure to breathe.

Carrot could barely move. She could only watch, her head atop the table, as her boon companion writhed and heaved.

The pale unicorn stopped writing. The story diverged anew.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Author's Note

This concludes the third "act" of the story. Return tomorrow, and the sun will shine on the truth.

Never Again

Author's Note

WARNING: This chapter is not for the faint of heart. An overview of what happens here is included in a note at the top of the next chapter, so you can skip it without much consequence.

Never Again

Hello. I'm okay, I guess.

I have no idea how I got here.

But there are much worse fates than forgetting the past, and I just about met the leader of that pack two days ago.

Good old CAD--coronary artery disease. A heart attack, simply put. I don't know how it got this bad without my at least noticing the possibility. I have the perfect storm of risk factors: unhealthy diet, unsteady sleep, astronomical blood pressure, and constant stress. It may run in the family as well...not that I'm about to ask about that.

At my age, I'm assured a full recovery with a proper regimen of drugs and lifestyle changes. "Still young"--not exactly the situation I thought of to be applying that notion to myself. But this means I have to change a few things. They won't change back--not if I want to keep living. I have really entered a new realm, a new era of my life. Moving forward is the only choice. I can look back, but that was a different time. Still, I can hope for tomorrow just like I ever have.

I'm curious about the previous pages, but no--Carrot and I both know I'm not ready.

I'm told the pale pony waited here for me the whole time. He must have rescued me. He must have gotten me to medical aid. (Nopony else really knows, though. I was just...here.)

He brought the book here and gave it to me when I first awoke. He never wrote a word since I got here, by Carrot's word. He didn't let Carrot touch it, either. She eventually gave up that fight--probably because there's no actual fighting allowed in here. They came to a silent agreement, apparently: it's my turn.

When I was younger, really young, before Berry even, I imagined writing a story would be such fun. Imaginative stories are fine--and Carrot agreed with me on that point--but there's just something so disturbing in writing just about yourself and your friends. This isn't an autobiography. This isn't a diary, either. This is the story of our lives. Everything that happens here on these pages, actually happened recently to myself and ponies I know. Just knowing that and thinking about that feels a little disgusting. Maybe that's not the right word--but in any case, it feels wrong. Why are we even still doing this?

The pale guy seems to have been doing something more than just writing, but I forgive him. Carrot won't say a word on the matter, but at least she's not blaming him for the heart attack. Or she's not admitting it, if she is.

Thirty-six years old, and here I am--lying on a bed, wires strung to me, beeping monitors and arrays of tubes and other sorts of things I wouldn't expect most ponies twice my age to have dealt with firsthoof. From what my initial discussions with the staff told me, I'll be on blood pressure meds for a long time--possibly the rest of my life. They can hardly even attempt to explain the scale of what I've done to myself to get here. But I am experienced in this bedside manner business, and I can tell they're hiding something from me as well. I'll probably find out about it when I leave.

For now, I just stay calm and try to smile a bit.

I should be lucky to be alive.

Carrot was reading on and told me she's glad to be alive, too. That was the first time I saw her really cry and feel the pain of her nearly losing me. She also told me again to wait before reading the old chapters. She didn't want me to fail again. I wound up here in the middle of something really intense.

She had waited here for quite a while, too. Not having a regular sort of job, she just grabbed some supplies and made a day of it. I wonder why she didn't get my Berry, though. I'll forgive her for now, but now I wanna see her again.

The pale one waited pretty much the entire span. I don't want to think too much about how the nurses let him in here without being a relative or emergency contact of mine. If it's not mind control, it's something like it. Carrot and I both know that now. (Carrot offers the term "hypnotic suggestion". Guess she's been thinking about this for quite a while.)

I also know one other thing. I've felt...miserable...like something has been missing, and I've been feeling it for a long time. I guess I can't just will that away. But today's a little better. That's odd--I'd always thought these kinds of medical episodes tended to leave one depressed and concerned with the morbid. It would be hilarious if I had somehow repressed that for my own good...

Oh yes. Carrot also told me that I'd come clean with her about the repression. So that's one burden off my back, one less secret to keep--and as long as she keeps everything to herself, maybe Berry won't even kill her for it. She has been quite gentle today--trying her best to be considerate. She's got a lot of work to do in that department, but it's really flattering.

I wonder if she's still trying to be me. Sorry hun, you can't just take my life over and leave yours behind. But then, I kinda hope you don't want it anymore--look at me now, for pony's sake.

Enough about the mushy stuff, though. I get bogged down in that way too easily.

There's no window outside in here. I asked the good Nurse Redheart about options on that front, and she just said to try again tomorrow. Once again, I could tell something was amiss; it's her job to relate to my needs however possible, and that cursory response rubbed me the wrong way.

As much as I find myself strangely comfortable with the escaped pale unicorn, I'm still not sure what to think of him as an actual pony. He sits and stares, and that's about it. If lacking a voice were his only real problem, then he would still have other interests--even just getting up and moving about every once in a while. Is that so much to ask?

I eventually just asked him this outright. He didn't do a thing in response. Carrot told me not to try to talk with him again, as that could end up agitating me as well.

So, what does that leave me to wonder about? Hospital rooms aren't renowned for being interesting places to sit and think about. Guess I'll just stop here.

I guess I hadn't repressed everything after all. It's starting to come back on its own.

The pale unicorn was writing about me. He wrote my story. And here I am, essentially being passed the torch. So it is mine! And...he wanted me to remember.

I told this to Carrot, fearful that I might suddenly recall something unpleasant that could wound me. She started to panic herself, not sure that the nurses would allow what she wanted to do. But they let her at least hold my hoof. She was really, really afraid. She said she knew she couldn't stop me, but she really didn't want to lose me. Then she started rambling--about what, I couldn't quite tell. She was conflicted with something inside. She just kept holding my hoof for dear life.

What a funny phrase that is.

Dear Life,

When will everything start making sense?

When will you stop fooling around and playing games, and just be straight with me?

When will the mysteries stop?

How can I appease you, so you will let me be and let me be the best pony I can be?

I value you and I respect you now. I know that being with you is a privilege that nopony gets forever. It's sad that it's come to this...but I really feel that I've done my part. I ask that you honor your end of the bargain and offer me something, anything worth really living for. I don't think it's the missions anymore. And it can't be just another pony, because I've gone long enough without that.

Oh dear Celestia.

HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN GONE?

It's coming. More of it is coming. It wasn't repression two nights ago--just disorientation. I wasn't well that night. Something was making me feel very funny and, I think, tired.

I knew there was only one solution, one way to save me before I become overwhelmed with whatever was too much for me.

I told Carrot to fetch Berry. Immediately.

Sure--that left me at least sometimes with the pale unicorn as my only attendant--someone whom Carrot clearly did not trust and did not want me trusting. And yes, that made me vulnerable to a whole host of other troubles if somepony else should want in here...like my parents. Thank goodness my parents haven't bothered me. They would surely stress me out even more.

Keep breathing, Cole. Just stare at the ceiling a little more--in and out, belly full with air and then empty. Breathe your troubles out.

Berry will be here soon. We'll get this sorted out. She's not really gone.

Carrot came back, empty-hooved.

It was strange and not becoming of me. I hardly even had a thought or concern for faithful Carrot. I just wanted to see the pony behind her. Where was she!?

Something possessed me inside. Berry, I need to see you. The thought of you is rushing into me like a bullet train. Carrot actually sort of understood. But all she could tell me is the note she left for her on the door: "Cole and Fido are here--we are in hospital--he confessed--she wants you".

This permitted me just enough concern about Carrot to tell her back one simple thing: that she deserved a better friend than me. She just laughed and kept holding my free hoof.

Have I not been faithful enough to you, Berry? Is that why life has played this trick on me? But my conscience is clear. Is that why I've also been granted this mercy?

Carrot asked me to put the book down and stop getting lost in myself... (Getting lost in oneself is her job, after all.) So we talked for a while about simpler things.

She couldn't get Berry off my mind. It's like my whole world revolved around her. No wonder they didn't want me remembering too quickly.

I looked to the pale unicorn. I pleaded deep inside for him to understand me and help somehow--anything to make this better. He...read me, or something, and looked at Carrot. She growled and got all conflicted once again.

How wounded am I?

Carrot kept by my side, growing tired at the effort, and made idle talk about next week's idea for the fashion section. I didn't listen, and she almost definitely knew that, but she just did it anyway.

Bedtime. Just come already. Let the hours come--let them all come, let them turn me gray and crippled, as long as they bring me my Berry. Hurry.

I had slept sixteen hours. As much excitement as I'd had lately, I was so very tired inside. But I was able to stand on my own today, though I used a cane just for safety. I was free to go--only after they told me that something they'd kept from me.

I have been abusing the drug commonly known as Valley Hay--a relaxant often used for treatment of anxiety. Based on the levels they'd found initially versus my state at the time, I must have been using it long enough to develop a significant tolerance to its effects. It is even possible that an adverse "paradoxical reaction" had increased the likelihood of heart problems at some point. I kindly asked them to be plain with me because I could not ever recall obtaining such a substance, let alone using it. But I had hardly finished speaking those words before I realized.

It's the tea! Carrot stopped drinking tea with me a couple years ago, around the time she finished becoming Carrot. She thought I was doing something to her because she always felt so strange and tired after staying with me, but I never would hurt her. But this isn't my doing.

No, I really shouldn't trust the pale pony after all. I'm with you on this one, Carrot. But if he's really trying to make up for it--for messing with my head for years--why did he even let me make the tea at all? Or why did I mess with it? Or why did he? Or...

I really have no clue! Please, don't let me be going insane.

I just pleaded to the staff that I didn't know how it happened and I didn't want it to happen, and I'd even take their help to prevent it from happening again. They recommended that a professional search the apartment with me and remove any offending materials--to which I consented. But they also recommended that I submit to rehab...and I knew what that meant. It meant I couldn't be with anypony else for quite some time.

I needed my Berry. I craved my Berry.

I just curled up in a ball. I had nothing left that I wanted to say to them.

And then out of nowhere, she saved me.

She was an unholy mess. She was practically in a drunken rage. But it was my Berry. She was back!

She just shouted them all away, blowing the whole office into disarray. And she hefted me on her back and hauled me home.

Did I say "home"? Her home. It was supposed to be my home too. Wasn't it? Why wasn't it?

I just felt her warmth around me and got a little drunk myself--funny how I do that.

That's all I can write--I shouldn't even be using my horn right now. I just want to be with her for a while.

When we got to the place (she'd even brought my cane from the hospital!), she said she had an errand and would be right back. Or--well, it sounded more like, "Jusstayput. Berrygottaget thgang tgether." Oh right--Carrot wasn't there in the office with me. Hay, she might be getting worried for me already!

So: my last thoughts before this all ends. My last thoughts before we can put this all behind us--before we can do whatever healing we need.

I'm not going to read back right now. If Berry wants me to, I can do it then. Right now, though, we just need to catch up.

Carrot may be the detective of the bunch; but don't count me out, either. I can tell by how she avoided the Berry questions that we hadn't seen each other in a while--probably a number of weeks. Wait--that doesn't add up. I'd just realized yesterday that she'd been gone much longer, or it at least felt like it. And none of my belongings were here, of course. I really am starting to lose this game of Memory Catch Up.

But I have this book now. It's mine. I can use it to track my thoughts and whatever else happens--to review and recall, to follow my bread crumb trail--and keep those thoughts shared with my friends. The bridge to resolving this whole mess can be built. I can keep my way until Berry and I patch things up and my mind stops running away from the truth. So no matter what, I'm at least starting on that path to good health.

It's alright, Cole! Everything's really going to be alright! Never again to be lonely. Never again to be without a home.

Goddesses, I must sound delusional to someone else reading. You just can't know how blinking happy I am right now. I don't even have words for this kind of feeling that possesses me right now.

..........There's a picture in my mane? Of us? And another filly. She's so happy, nestled between us.

This is amazing! I have a filly out there! We have a filly.

Berry, where are you? What happened to this filly? How long ago was this? I still had a pure blue mane back then. Wow, I don't even remember when that changed.

Please come back, Berry! My heart is burning for you! I need you here!

(I'm going to try to be better about writing dialogue now. This is really, really important.)

She huffed in the door. "Yo."

I jumped at her. I didn't even care anymore. And I knocked the big sack she was carrying off of her back. It tumbled open. The pale unicorn accompanied us, tied up at the fetlocks.

"Yeah see? I brought 'im. Now we get answers." Her slurring was normally pretty cute, but she was clearly on a mission of her own. She wanted to put this puzzle together, too.

"Whoa...Berry, dear, slow down..." I was still draped around her, hugging her like there was no tomorrow. (I like that better than "for dear life"--and even really knowing what that means, I really meant it then.) It was like I was just as ecstatic to have her there as I was mortally afraid it would all slip away.

"Just don' drool on me, 'kay?" Berry wasn't much for bedside manner either, but at least I'd come to expect that.

I couldn't hide it anymore. I was barely trying from the start.

"Berry! You're everything to me. I had a heart attack, and I don't know what's gonna happen with my life...but at least you're there. We're gonna make things right. We're gonna--"

"'We're gonna shtart new journey tgether'? 'We catsh up on alla lostime from our stupid lives and get to whamatters'? 'We gon bringtall home, live it up tgether'?"

I was probably going to say something like that.

"Tell me some'n I haven heard! Tell me some'n yain toll me this moon aready!!"

Yeah...this could have happened before...what to say...

"But I'm remembering. Pale guy was trying to tell me the details--Carrot too--they won't let me forget anymore. So we can move on, Berry! We can move on!"

She shivered, then looked me square in the eye. For being so drunk, she was getting awfully serious.

"It's coming back! Look at this!" Up went the picture--the picture of us.

She gasped a little at it, then scowled back at me--which startled me such that I dropped it. "What's her name?"

"Huh?"

"If you're e'er gon be worth a damn to me, tell 'er name. Say it. Feel it. Bucking feel that pain. Bucking...shay it!"

I...had...nothing.

I was going to write all this in the book. Berry chuckled as I turned to look at this thing. "Yah, go head. Look it up." Then as I pulled out the pen and ink, she added, "'R maybe you wan jus buck wi me? Write all ya wan--write alllllll ya wan."

So I wrote every few minutes, or more often. No more pauses.

When I'd caught up and set it down, and she saw I still had nothing to say (she cut short my attempt to hug her again), she came clean with her intentions.

"I gathered ush all here tday fer lil demomsh-- demostaysh-- A taste o' Berry. An go head, Cole! Write it all! Write it all dow!" As far gone as she was, she saw fit to chug half a bottle of wine right on the spot--one of several she'd pulled up from the cellar and had sitting by the piano.

"So...the lil shit confessed." She tapped the pale unicorn's side with her forehoof. "Ah hope i' was good. Make lil shi' squirrrrrm an ruuuuun an wanna die. Make im run back tmommy. Oh, wait! Look wha Mommy found!"

And with that, she dragged him into the children's room.

She hollered from within, "Don' wanna mish thparty Cole! One firs'-class ticket ta fun!" So in I went.

"An don' worry, snot locked, jus shut it."

It was set up like the interrogation again. It was already set up. The narrator pony sat normally across from us--or rather, he must have been forcibly seated, given his bound hooves. Berry was a terrible interrogator; but I was going to get to see round two now, wasn't I? This was all shaping up to be quite unpleasant.

Berry read my thoughts, like she always did. "You know whas comin. Jush know you can leave whenever. Sfine. We got thbastard back, sall really matters now." She...suddenly was about to cry, and she hugged me tight. So tight. My impending worries melted as she sniffled into my mane and mumbled a few thoughts I couldn't even make out. I don't have ears in my scalp--but I figured out one. "It's not over yet." She said that one a bunch of times, clear as a bell, hardly slurring at all. "It's not over yet, it's not over yet." She was in this fight with me. She just had her way of doing it. The kinship was still there--there all along, waiting for me to come back.

Then it ended just as suddenly. She let go, and she focused on the pale unicorn. She spoke carefully, continuing to slur a lot less. She was really in the moment.

"What...brings us here today?"

The pale unicorn, of course, didn't say a thing.

"Anyone?"

"He confessed, Berry! He messed with our past!"

"Shut up! No one asked you!"

She was just being crazy again. "Twelve years ago! My first Winter Wrap Up! He was there!"

She tensed. I swear, I could never forget if she'd screamed like that before. She howled like there were twenty ponies inside her all trying to get out. She raged. For a second, she was rage. Her eyes positively glowed.

"I bucking know he was there!" What!?

"Berry...knows! I just needed...needed to know for sure. I felt you...I know who you are--" and she said a word I had never heard before. It sounded like "ah tah hahl neh".

Again, I was certain I had never experienced any of this before.

But then I saw the pale unicorn. He saw something. He saw something in Berry that I did not. For all the times I'd seen him, he possessed no emotion, no connection to the world--like he wasn't even there. But his eyes twitched. They didn't stare at either of us--they looked around. Something was happening in there, in his strange little mind. He was aware of something. I had no doubt that somewhere in there, he was afraid.

She stomped one hoof toward him, on that bed of a table that lay between them. "Well, there's nothing you can do now, huh? All I can do's thank you."

With crazy speed, she popped her hind end up toward him and planted a kick right on his muzzle. It looked dramatic, but it did very little. He just bent down a bit. Given it made almost no sound, he probably wasn't hurt.

I interrupted. "Berry, he knows too! He was going to give me my memories back. I just know it."

"You just don't bucking get it, do you!?" She swiveled a hoof toward me in objection--so forcefully that it probably would've hurt worse than that kick if I were sitting right next to her. But I was still at the corner by the door. I wanted no part in this, even after the hug. I was scared, too.

She rushed back toward the pale pony, a foreleg pulling and shoving his neck and face into hers. She practically spat at him. "I waited for her. I waited. I waited. I waited, and you kept her from me." She wasn't well. She was in pain. And she was going to give him her pain. Berry doesn't just know me. I know her too. That's why she hurt him so much the first time.

"How many years did I wait?" She smacked him--hard. His face spun. And again on the chest. A third time on a forehoof, and he bent in on that side. A fourth on the other forehoof, and he was prostrate. And she came around to smack him about the flank, the ribs, the back of the head, the outstretched fetlocks, the other flank, the other side of the ribs, the neck...then finally, she wound up both forelegs and drove them down into the middle of his back with all of her might. He released breath involuntarily.

This was already getting difficult for me. How much did he need to suffer--and how much had he suffered already? Something was already wrong with him mentally. Maybe he'd known some terrible, crippling psychological trauma. Maybe he'd already seen worse than all of us.

"Twelve! Years!" She spat in fury. "And you wouldn't stop there!" As he tried to bring his head up again, she walloped it to submission. "Then you tried to kill her! You tried to kill my Cole! You couldn't let er tell the truth! You jus had to keep it to yerself. But I know."

No, she doesn't know--but I couldn't interrupt her again. I wasn't sure myself. Maybe the drugs were killing me. Have it your way, Berry.

"But too bad you suck so bucking hard at everything. You can't even kill a worthless little filly trapped inna old mare body, girl who can't eve remember shit."

What was that for? Wait--she doesn't know. And how do I suddenly know?

"He made me forget! He made me forget so it wouldn't kill me!" I don't know! But I think that's why he did it.

She ran over to me. "Waaaaaaait, wait wait wait wait." Berry leveled with me with eyes that pierced so intensely that I felt a new pulse of fear even as I knew she only wanted simple answers. "What...exacly...did he confess to?"

Stammering, I somehow replied, "H-he took my memories after the Winter Wrap Up. I don't know. He had--he had a song...and I couldn't sing it. The song was going to bring me back. He confessed...he put away my memories until I could face them." I just wanted her. Screw the pale pony. I wanted her. "Help me Berry! Help! Just stay with me!"

I reached for her. But her mind was somewhere else...and her body quickly followed suit.

"Like you had the motherbucking right to!!!" She unleashed all barrels and all cylinders on the pale pony. I've seen my Berry fight many times before, but never like this. She was so very, very alive. She cracked his jaw. I heard it pop. She smashed his ear so hard I heard his neck crack. She landed an elbow in the gut which spilled him onto his back and off the bed. She jumped and forced her full body weight onto that exposed gut, blasting air and spittle from his mouth. She unleashed a flurry of punches on his cheeks, after dislocating his jaw, and I can only imagine the pain in that. She then landed a hook clean on the eye. It wasn't a feint--not like it was on the night.

Berry and I fought a couple moons ago. That was the night Carrot's house fell down. It fell down because of us--or was it because of him? Yes, it was him! He did that, too!

Berry knew my thoughts. "Ah-tah-hahl-neh. You hurt Carrot, too. All you had to do was do something--anything--when I called you out. Are you just scared too shitless to care about anything? Is that bucking book the only thing that matters to you? Why don't ya try writing in it right now? Go on ahead! Say something! Say something to save yer little ass right now! Go'n ahead!"

What?

I was writing at the time, and so I let it sit on the floor for a moment. The first signs of blood trickled from the side of his mouth as his wide open eyes turned to it before writing that line with his magic. He was becoming more and more aware of his situation. I don't know if that more made me fear him or fear for him.

Berry saw the glow of the book and came over. She totally incensed at the single word.

"Oh...you motherbucker!" She wasted no time in picking him up and smashing him repeatedly against the wall. The whole room shook with the energy. She was fighting full-force before, but now she was truly livid on top of that.

"I know you speak my language, and I know you're from this country. But you know what I donno? The one thing I don't know?"

Silence--or not quite silence. She was breathing quite hard, after all.

"I don't bucking know why you bucking hate me so bucking much!" Slam. Slam. Slam.

This was getting to be too much. I had no more words. I was just tucked in my corner. Berry, just deal with it...do what you must...

"You hated me. You hated me for my happiness. You took it all away. You take everything away, Ah-tah-hahl-neh. That's all you do. Well, now I get to pay the favor back. You ain't ever known happiness like you're gonna know it right now, you bucking pain-lover. Have it all! Have it all! Have it all!" She laughed like there really was no tomorrow. No tomorrow at all.

She unloaded on his right foreleg. She stamped it. She ground it. She jumped and jumped. The third hard stomp, it broke. I knew that sound. And she kept going. She smashed the hoof on the other end of that leg. She smashed it until it twitched on its own and the binding slipped loose in a sickening fashion. By then, the whole leg was probably fractured in two or three places.

"All this bucking time! I've had to remember for her! She keeps forgetting. And she keeps forgetting. And I've had to remember...EVERYTHING!" She was shouting so loud it could shake the room. Or maybe that was just my eyes. I must be shaking. I am shaking.

She picked him up again. All I could imagine was all the nerve endings in his foreleg mass, setting off with every movement. How...just how could he stay silent? What was he? She slammed him into the wall again.

The wall sconce disrupted. The candle within it tumbled. She stomped that, too. Darkness instantly overtook us. Only my horn's glow let me continue writing.

"It's not jus yer pain, is it? You get off on all our pain, too! You broke 'er. You broke 'er and now she gets to write your bucking tombstone! Ain't life beautiful!?" She thrust into his chest. She aimed for the place just below the sternum, the celiac plexus. She knew how to make ponies hurt. She must have gotten it on the first try because he caved forward in a spasm and coughed wetly, his own movements surely causing even more damage to his foreleg.

This was going to be irreversible soon. This was going beyond torture. I had to put a stop to this.

"Berr, stop! You're going to regret this!"

She looked up. She howled. She howled up to the ceiling, baying like a wolf.

Wait...that was her face. Her face was a faint constellation on the ceiling, looking down upon us. It was like she was looking right at me. Those eyes were meant for me. They were meant for me!

"Nothin' doin', Cole. This ain yer battle. Ye're jus inna crossfire now. Jus leave if ywanna."

Wow...I was already at the door--I didn't even realize I was heading that way, I was so scared. The door--it was locked! No!

She giggled like I'd just sneezed cutely or something. It was wrong beyond wrongness. "Oh, wai'--forget that, too? Berry time never ends! You're here forever!"

She'd lied--but more than that, she'd locked herself in here, too. She was done caring. She knew how bad this was going to get. Tomorrow was a dream. This is the end.

So I just sat again and wrote. Not much else for me to do. Anything to keep me busy. Anything. Just keep doing. Keep doing.

Then she assumed a sulkier pose, facing the young thing. She relaxed quite a bit, and I really heard the alcohol again.

"Now, Fido baby, I ain a good mare, but I'n get you outta all this mess. Less try iss, huh? You jus go' do one thing. One thing. An ah leave ya lone frever. Promise, cross ma heart, all at shit. Jus do one thing."

Was the pale pony not completely overtaken in agony? No--somehow, he turned his neck up to look at her as she stood on two hooves. It took him so long, though... He was struggling.

"Give us 'ose twelve years of our life back, ye home-wreckin' piece o' shit!!" She's right. She's right, but I don't know anymore. Now she's wrecking it too. I can't ever forget this.

She paused just long enough to let him respond--but it was more of a farce. She was just winding up for the next part of the ride. She grabbed my cane.

The darkness, the eyes, the pain, the hatred, everything I know. Let it all end, please.

She slobbered as she shouted. "You kill Minnie! She never co|ming back! She never let me back in'r home. She never knew she kick me out!" She turned around to me, with a g<rin that hurt even to think about. Her eyes /were knives--but I was bleeding out already. I did that!? I was far too gone to s~~tar~~t crying now.

"But... She din know... Everthing went to hell... Then you HURT us--you ROBBED us--of OUR lives!" One, two, th~~ree~~ four five--the h\a\rdwood cane fell upon his side, each time with enough force to bre/ak a healthy tooth from its home. Ribs cracked, and his form tensed up. But Berry sounded in ph\ysical pain herself, just trying to shout through it.

I can barely ke\ep writing. Everything's so n\umb.

But his| horn glowed. He was trying...

The book was warmin>g up. It got hot, and I had to drop it. Jagged lines appeared ever^ywhere on the page. He couldn't even write anymore, he was in so much pain.
—
"Berry, just stop...he can't even fight|| back anymore...he can't even write anymore...I can't..." I turned away.

She dashed over and picked me up, pinning me to the corner with my forehooves. She wasn't anyone I wanted to know righ/t now, but she spoke to me as if^ she were. That attitude wasn't one of anger--just determination. And there was still a tiny shred of compassio\/n left. I could hear it--I could feel it. And I didn't deserve it. That was the worst part of all.

"Cole, this is your last chance. You have to remember. If you give a buck about anything in this world--not just me, anything--you have to remember. It's gotta be you. It can't be me. You..." She was fighting back tears. "You tried to kill it all away, in your mind. But I remember everything. You're someone else now. But me..." She pushed hard on my pinned hooves. She thumped one on the wall to mark the pain in her words. "...I'm still...right...here."

Then she did sob, just for a moment. "If I could...bucking...start again..." She shook so much, but no tears came. She just couldn't shed them in front of me. Then she suddenly broke out wailing so hard, hard as Carrot did that one night... I heard the tears inside. Tears for another mare. One who looks just like me.

"Wait..." She looks around me, toward my flank. "He...you...he didn't take that away, did he... You can do it. You can take us back... We can start again...just..buck, just let us start again. Can you...you can do it..."

She wanted me to use my magic.

If that could have worked, we wouldn't be here right now. You know this, Berry. That's not how things work.

I just slowly, slowly...shook my head.

Then I felt it all, her muzzle against mine, sobbing so strongly it shook both of us. She'd half-collapsed against me. Her hot breath made me bristle, reminding me with a familiar sting that I was there and this wasn't a dream. It eased over a minute or two...her face still hard against mine, until she was able to pick herself up again.

"You just have to remember. Please." But I was powerless to fight. I had nothing. All I could do was look to her.

That puff of a moment--it hung upon us like the stench of decay. The stinking abscess where our lives had rotted out from the root.

Then I dared to light her face, her desecrated shrine of emotion. It took me a second to even recognize it as a face. Everything I thought was Berry, vanished like a bubble on a needle. I saw her pain. It was worse than that smile. It was worse than the frown on the ceiling. I saw her hurt. I knew it. I wasn't ready for it. I thought I hurt. What I thought...it was her reality.

Her lips, they peeled all over her face--they showed a hard and vivid grimace, and they couldn't hide it. Her eyes were wet, bloodshot, worn, sunken, and unloving--not seeking anything, not showing anything, just there. Her cheeks pinched tight and red, like little sour berries of their own--the fruits of a withered vine. I could see lines all about her eyes and along her muzzle and on her forehead--lines of age I swore I'd never noticed before. All the space of tenderness and care was consumed by this mass of sickly contortions--aching, throbbing, everywhere.

She just looked at me like that...sniffling, sometimes twitching, awaiting a response. I couldn't give it. Because I don't even know what I am.

And after another minute, maybe two, she shouted anew and let me go. She screamed from the gut as she pounced toward the pale pulp-pony. She flew and descended with an elbow, right onto his side. I'm sure a rib broke completely that time. I know because I finally heard him.

The first scream from the pale pony--it was so high, so hoarse, impossibly harsh. It tore into me like a baby's cry for help. It just raised as it carried on. The pitch, the volume, the everything. He just opened up. His whole world was pain. That was all he could convey. And that was all we heard for some time. It penetrated and filled me. Trauma everywhere.

Trauma. In Berry. Now in him. Because of me.

I DID THIS.

And Berry actually gave him time to feel that pain, rolling off and laying beside him, looking, feeling. Was she a pain-lover too? But shouldn't I know that already?

He howled for so long...the minutes stretched on. It was just straight yelping and screaming--no sobs, no tears. Sometimes he coughed...there was probably blood in his coughs. I hope you're happy, Berry. You took my vileness and you broke him with it.

But she wasn't. Ten minutes in or more, as he finally grew too hoarse to scream properly, she turned to him as they still lay by one another. She must have done her magic to clean the wine from her system--the magic she didn't like using. She wasn't angry anymore...she was totally burnt out. She still wanted to be angry, though. She'd given up on being anything else.

"You hurt me, you hurt my friends...but then you hurt my Berry Bunch. That's where you cross the final line. You took so many years from me...I couldn't raise Sunny right, or Dandy, and it's too late for the others...it's too late now... You didn't just kill me. You killed my whole family. There's just no way you can make it up, not even by dying. But it's time you start trying."

She pushed herself up, then sat him up. I should be glad I couldn't really see what was happening with that right foreleg. He was still letting on gasps and wheezes of unconscionable pain. Then it just became too much. I heard him fall silent and tumble back down, no doubt passed out from the experience.

Mother of Celestia, she was getting angry again. How!?

"No! No! No! No!" Each "no" came with a buck to the face. "You don't get to miss this! My Sunny didn't get to miss sleeping in the cold, in the dead of her first winter! I didn't get to miss all the nights I slept with a buck just so we could eat! We didn't get to miss seeing my Minnie all happy in her home while we died out there!" She just kept kicking him, not to break but to bruise. She kicked him everywhere with my wickedness. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"'Never again!' That's what she bucking told me! 'We could never let this happen again!' That was the last thing she ever told me before..." She didn't turn. "Before she became you, Cole."

I don't want to be anywhere anymore.

No. It's worse. I just noticed the light in the wall.

My voice is so weird. It sounds like broken glass. "Berry...someone's been watching us."

The door rattled for a second, and then it opened. Berry turned away from it. There was light. I didn't want to see.

"Well, guess what!? It happened...again!" She took the cane and slammed it all over the unconscious pony. Frenzy became her. Madness owned her. And...

Sunny screamed. She screamed and she pounded her hooves on her Mama. Mama kept beating. He was so, so pale. Crimson spots stained the floor around his scarred head. He was curled up, gone from us. He might be dead now. I don't know. Cole doesn't know anything.

Cole knows two things, maybe. Berry can't wake up from Cole's nightmare. And Cole should never have woken up at all.

Preface

For those lacking perspective:

from the author

This story is one long in the making. More years went into its crafting than might ever be known. Given the rather mundane outcome, one might ask why it was undertaken in the first place. But destiny does not deign to explain its design.

The writer, the reader, and the actors all come together and play their parts in their proper time. Not one seeks the way out while they are in it; they merely do what needs to be done and, hopefully, only worry about the consequences later. To act in a different order would defy the value of entertainment.

However, a particular message is yet required so, at the very least, the reader will not break for the door before seeing all the rooms in the house.

Readers may be more familiar with a world of ponies behaving certain ways. When expectations therein are challenged, one might demand explanation. One might bear a charge of indignation against the unexpected little world that aims to replace their big and beautiful world.

But, given time and patience, you may find that your ponies were there all along--may. Perhaps you may not know where they went or how they got here or there. But the writer loves you, and so it shouldn't be so painful and discordant a journey of understanding and identifying--at least in retrospect.

The chief trouble is that the story can only be told just so--as it happens, as the ball is rolling, as the sky turns--right now. There'll be no other time for much exposition. There may be time and occasion for reflection later, but to drop a bomb of backstory on the reader right away serves no good purpose whatsoever.

Allow, instead, this little firecracker:

Berry Punch: A mare of her own, a big mama with a big heart and a bigger penchant for drunken irreverence--who was wrecked by old rumors too far from truth to be fair yet too close to deny. She has two part-time jobs: assisting at a winery just outside of town, and caring for her four kids.
Colgate: A cheerful, chatty type and Berry's life-long best friend-and-more--who successfully navigated an unexpected life change and now devotes herself to her duties. Outside of her dentist's apprenticeship, she spends much time planning to make a difference in the lives of others.
Carrot Top: A battered yet uncompromised soul--who had to give up an old identity for a more honest and self-reliant life. Her creativity enabled a new article-writing employ that doubled the value of following casual friend Colgate, leading eventually to her formal acceptance by the duo and the formation of a new dynamic.

When united as the BGs, Colgate leads the three all over Ponyville and beyond to volunteer--or perhaps Carrot takes the others on travels to chase the next big story--or maybe Berry just wants to drag the group to the latest bit of mischief she's discovered.

To say any more would ruin the story before it has begun.

For the sake of familiarity and sympathy, I will address you directly, just this once.

It's only words. And words are all I have to take your heart away.

Let's see if I succeed.

Chapter Four

Somewhat off the northwest edge of town, a warehouse-like log building jutted from the moon-kissed landscape. It bore strange markings from airborne collisions, and it seemed altogether too large for a one-floor establishment. A swinging sign hung by the front door bearing Berry's own face on wood, smiling with clenched-eye glee, above the words "FORGET YOUR TROUBLES HERE". She'd apparently chosen to play off of the recent legends of ponies losing track of time and forgetting hours or even a whole day of their life in this part of town. Legend or not, though, nopony really could recall how the cabin-house-barn thing got here. But now it was her family home.

Inside, a rough hay-matted wooden floor sprawled across one enormous unevenly-lit room. Knick-knacks from all over Equestria adorned the walls: three dream-catchers under a feathered headdress, a shining lucky cat sculpture from the Far East, a wild-eyed colorfully maned Tiki mask, a beautifully detailed map of Saddle Arabia, a bundle of glass tubular structures decorated with peace symbols, a modernist painting featuring Starswirl the Bearded, a ukulele, and various less recognizable artifacts. In one corner near the door behind opened curtains lay a simple four-poster bed, with the headboard bearing some three dozen small portraits of mostly unfamiliar faces and a badge from a Wonderbolt. Near the corner to the right hoof of the bed stood a shabby red piano. Between these, a great stone fireplace projected from the wall, currently only glowing with old embers. The bed's opposite corner contained the only true room of the place, and that is where the Berry Bunch slept.

Berry led the others inside and dragged out a few beanbag chairs from the remaining corner. "If you need to crash, crash." She hastened herself over to the fridge opposite the fireplace and by the house's only window, presenting its contents to the guests. "If you need to eat, eat." She then waved toward the opposite of the house, somewhat downward, toward a cellar door. "If you need to drink, let me know." She then drew herself over to the sink adjacent to the fireplace and ran water for soaking her forehooves.

She stayed to soak for several minutes, collapsing contentedly against the sink. When she'd had enough of that, she turned about to see Colgate and Carrot Top already passed out (or nearly so) among the beanbags. She quietly joined them.

Some time later in the night, Colgate stirred and got up. She headed outside, apparently to find an outhouse. After coming back in and toward bed, she turned a bit too sharply in her swift relapse to slumber and landed on Berry's side, an elbow in her gut. Berry raged to wakefulness, thrashing blindly at her now startled bed buddy. She scrunched her face somewhat at Colgate's action, then rustled a bit to settle back in. But in this process, she happened to notice Carrot's fearful shivers for the first time.

"Damn..." Life's rawness, bared in the night's atrocity, moved old Berry. Once satisfied Colgate was asleep, she sat up out of bed, faced Carrot fully, and regarded her without expression. Each pulse of Carrot's tremors jerked at Berry's tough heartstrings. Another tremor she faced head-on, and another... Somewhere beyond the count of a griffon's foretalons, the episodes claimed Berry's stolidness at last, and the first signs of weeping mingled gently with them. A tear from her visage hung on the lower edge of her cheek but did not quite acquire the mass to flee to the floor. Her mouth drew open in some shared anguish as she took the tear on the edge of a hoof and touched it against Carrot's face. And she just sat over her like this--leaning, embracing without holding.

Some moments into this, Berry noted the scene. "Now and then, you need someone older..." She chuckled ironically at the new thought accompanying her melancholy, then got up--up and off to the cellar. She was back in maybe fifteen minutes, heading not quite straight for the unconscious tormented Carrot.

She approached the one in apricot, laying close in alignment, and started to nom the back of her neck. Still unable to see or comprehend, Carrot snapped to Berry, clinging with a choking tightness about her entire frame. Berry, ever the tough nut to crack, just knowingly stroked her messy curls and nuzzled the tender spot just behind her left eye. Carrot grunted and messily blathered noises into the space between the beanbag and the mauve form that now embraced her with all fours. Then she drowsed to awareness. But she didn't care about what she saw as long as she was warm.

Carrot invested herself in Berry's ear. This tickled Berry a bit, but she restrained the giggles long enough to emit her frustrations into more appropriate channels--namely, Carrot's chest via her right forehoof. Swirling around a bit to help restore the drowsy one's awareness, Berry massaged around the navel and then up against the rarely-stimulated rib cage of her quarry. This act was balanced by Carrot attacking the high part of Berry's left neck, digging in and chomping gently, affectionately, articulately, as if to draw out her life essence for a taste.

This triggered a legitimate moan from Berry Punch--she, the slayer of stallions and mares alike. Divested of some of her noble ambitions, she sat up and threw her full body weight into Carrot's loins with a hard exhalation. Carrot was driven clear from her subconscious desires in a fit of coughs and sputters. She then more properly perceived her provider of pleasures and gently sighed.

"Berry...what are..." She started to sob, very silently and without moving. There was no grace in this, though some beauty hung in the moment. Perhaps in Berry's lack of immediate reaction, her inner noise commenced--droning and oddly nasal and disquietingly deep and unconscionable, railing against the very thought of beauty like a dull razor against a hanging silken sheet. But Berry's expertise probed through all of this, and she sought Carrot's weakness--wherever it was. She tried the space some inches below and before the base of the front right leg with her teeth; and while it wasn't quite like some magical key fitting itself to a lock, Carrot immediately stopped her complaints and exhaled forcefully. Berry essayed the other side in kind, and Carrot reared her head back and breathed a "thank you" to nopony in particular. Berry continued on that front-left tenderness, but her right forehoof slid down, down, then suddenly gripping Carrot's firm flank--all while she stared intently at Carrot's exultant upturned cheeks and unfocused eyes. Then with a sloppy but devoted sneering grin, Berry peeled herself back and snickered (or perhaps nickered) before diving into the vital tissue just behind the chin, dead center above Carrot's throat. Most would just gag or disrupt at the effort, but Berry was beyond that consideration...and as it turned out, Carrot was beyond whatever governed that instinct. Her eyes rolled back hard and her breathing gave way to panting. She was ready to be taken utterly.

Carrot's counterpart then rose to stand. "Come on, get up." She shivered just once, humming with whatever feeling transcended her objective effort of Carrot's satisfaction.

When Carrot finally did, Berry came to, then held Carrot's chin in locked-eye regard, resolute, uncompromising, pronouncing as plainly as her lips would allow, still somewhat slurred and breathy: "You. I...can make you feel...like a mare. You don' even know all the things I keep in my brain, or un'er my bed. But you know I can. I can do tha' for you. And I will."

Carrot fretted a bit, perhaps realizing the implications of such a deed with such an important figure in her life.

Berry followed, not flinching and barely even losing focus in the few seconds' silence there: "And no one'll know. No one. No words. Just come."

She and Carrot and a chorus of unseen angels waggled and fluttered to the bed, and she drew the curtain shut. The curtain held a cheerful sign similar to the one outside, only reading a jagged "DND!".

Stirred by some noise, Colgate awoke again. Totally alone but quickly discerning the reason, she considered her options and settled on some ice cream from the fridge. Everypony gets a bit naughty sometimes.

The next one to stir was not a pony. A certain tabby-coated ball of fluff had ignored the warning on the curtain and waltzed right in, meowing presumably for want of something. The window indicated the time to be around the other, pre-dawn period of false twilight.

The protestations were Berry's: "Echo! Seriously?? Buuuuuck..." The curtain parted only enough to release the two of them, and she groggily shifted to a corner by the kids' room to fetch the cat his food. She stroked the cat just once before wandering back to bed. But she hesitated before re-entering. Wasn't something...missing?

Colgate?

"Coooole?"

A frazzled mare responding to that name advanced from around a nook between the fireplace and the wall. She bore ill to her caller in her eyes, in her modest scowl, in her depressed cheeks and flattened ears.

"Oh, hun, I am not about to do this right now. You get back to bed right now, Cole."

Colgate laughed with malevolence. The emotion didn't carry well from one so inexperienced in it. She scowled more deeply. Her approaching hoofbeats continued.

"Every time... It rains... You are... Gone. Gone. From me." Her words were labored and not altogether clear.

"Dude, what?"

Colgate swiftly levitated a poker from the fireplace to bear against her...betrayer?

"This ain't like you at all. Like, what the shit?"

"Then I wake up." The poker spun swiftly in the air for a few seconds, then hovered at Berry's now flinching face. "Then I... Wake up." The poker dove down, scoring her right foreleg and instantly releasing a slivering stream of claret before hitting the floor with a hay-hushed clink. Berry staggered slightly from the pain but otherwise held her ground.

Colgate's eyes focused hard for a moment. In heavy movements of speech: "Betrayer. I thought...you did this all for me! To make me...whole again! It was our agreement. I...needed you. And you agreed. Because you...couldn't have him!"

"I am so...so not getting you." A moment's pause...while Colgate continued the advance, arresting uncomfortably close to the other's face. "Wait a--are you bucking serious? Really? You thought you could take Falcon's place?"

No response.

Berry presented a chiseled frown and puffed nostrils. Her breath sounded through those nostrils while her eyes gained a fearful dimension, half-shut from below and unwavering. "You have five...seconds...to get off of whatever drugs you're on or get the buck out of my house."

No response.

Berry drew herself up to her hindhooves, raising her fores to combat.

No response.

"Girl, you better call in sick to work today." A quick left straight in the eye. "Mama's orders." A right hook on the ear.

Seeing her possessed friend still unfazed by this, she ran back and grabbed an empty crate near the fridge, not even noting the milk bottle atop it fly up and then shatter on the unmatted patch of floor where the crate had lain.

Berry did, however, note Colgate's utter lack of response to the more serious threat. "Maybe you are sick. But you'd better explain yourself, right now! The sign outside does not read, 'Shit all over everyone with your troubles here'!"

Then Colgate shook and yelled and threw herself at Berry, all awkwardly. Berry responded with an impending faceful of wood.

But Colgate's survival insti

Curses were heard. Rapid muffled hoofbeats fled out the suddenly open door. The curses chased the hoofbeats, but they found nothing.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Author's Note

This ends the first "act" of the story. Four more chapters await tomorrow. Come back then!

Three Mares (and Apparently Everypony Else in the World) Enter a Bar

Author's Note

A recap of Chapter 13, for those who may need it:

Colgate woke up in the hospital a couple days after a heart attack--a permanent life-changing event. It seemed the pale unicorn brought her to aid; Carrot also accompanied her through the recovery. The pale unicorn gave the storybook to her upon her waking so that she might continue it. Carrot expressed her gladness at her return; they were both happy to be alive and together. Colgate wanted Berry, and the thought consumed her--even as she involuntarily remembered pieces of the evening that almost claimed her. The following day, Berry came and swept her off her feet to her cabin, just as Colgate was starting to face the reality and consequences of her being unknowingly drugged--apparently by the very tea she loved to drink. Clinging to Berry until she was dropped off there, she waited and hoped for Berry's return and the start of healing--even discovering the old picture and filling with optimism for a restored future together. Instead, Berry returned with the pale unicorn, dismissed the picture and her ignorance of it, and brought the ponies to the house's bedroom. There, what appeared to be a second round of interrogation quickly devolved to an unfettered drunken attack on the pale unicorn--who was given a strange foreign name by Berry and who seemed to register his situation but who did not or would not fight back. After Colgate explained what he'd confessed to and he responded to Berry's invitation to explain himself with merely a written "What?", Berry erupted and broke more and more of his body. As darkness fell both in the room and in the narrating Colgate's heart (they were all locked in there, much to her mortified surprise), Berry reached out to Colgate with one more profoundly pained plea to remember everything. After Colgate's inability to respond, Berry finally broke the resilient pale unicorn enough for him to scream from it. He soon passed out from the pain, which prompted a new fury in Berry--one which illuminated a new truth: that Colgate herself (or rather Minuette) had caused this extreme suffering in Berry, twelve years ago, by evicting her from their home--and that the pale unicorn's contribution was in removing Colgate's ability to know this. Sunny, also a victim in that eviction as an infant foal, was apparently witness to much of this scene through a hole in the wall; she burst in through the door, vainly attempting to stop the maniacal Berry from beating the unconscious pale unicorn, while Colgate's thoughts drifted to horrible places and she lost the will to write.

(The story isn't over after this chapter, of course; stay tuned for details on the continuation that has been my obsession for many months!)

Three Mares (and Apparently Everypony Else in the World) Enter a Bar

"And that's the way it was."

Wasn't that the way it was?

I was so tired. My heart was about done. I didn't know if I could ever tell that story again. But I was sure he would listen, and he would care, and he wouldn't make me feel like the dirt on his heel--no matter what.

Big McIntosh would always hear me out. He would hear out anypony, and he would never say a word to anypony else. I'm so glad he agreed to come with me to the bar. I just couldn't go anywhere else. This is the only safe place in the whole town, it seems. Berry loves her drinking, but she'd never go to a bar anymore--too many bad experiences, too many reminders of the nightmare I put her through.

That's what it is--a nightmare. I've put it all together--last Friday, the previous chapters, everything. As much as I can, at least. I must've blanked out after Sunny stormed in. Maybe the whole truth really would kill me. I don't even mean that as a figure of speech. The bottle of pills I carry in my mane will always remind me how close I am to breaking my contract with Life.

Twelve years ago, I kicked her out. My failure at work must have cost me my job or at least a good deal of money--enough that I couldn't support her anymore. I left my closest friend out to dry when no one else would even give her the time of day--except those who would use her for favors. I'm sure that's why, anyway. But why in the world would I do that to her? And how?? I would've sooner left myself than let her and that filly of ours to suffer. It was my nightmare, and she suffered for it, and I can't even remember any of it.

And Berry's stayed by my side this whole time--in spirit when not in body. Anypony with half a brain would've left, no matter what good I was to her before. Is she an angel? (An angel of death, but still--maybe?)

I can't help but wonder if her version of events is wrong, too. Maybe I walked away from her for some reason--for a time, at least--and her own twisted mind led to this justification for hating the pale pony and somehow not hating me. But what could I have done to go so far from that picture of happiness with that innocent young filly?

Or was she the one who walked away??

I can't remember that day for myself, so I have to draw conclusions from the pieces. And I have to do it fast, before we inevitably meet again. Our lives are never going to be the same from here. If I get in a fight with her, though, that could be it. I'm delicate--so very delicate. I have to protect myself. But I don't want to do it with repression or whatever spell this is anymore. I wish I could stop. I'll put some notes in my apartment tonight--to remind me to read the book, to remind me of the truth of things--because I know it'll keep happening anyway. I'll still fight it. I have to start caring again, for my own good if nothing else.

Thank you, Big Mac. We may have made reckless love in a barn so many years ago, but you being here now means a million times more. I don't want you for pleasure--I need you to survive. I can sort of smile again. The numbness is starting to fade. Maybe at this rate, I'll even be able to go back to work next week. Thank you. Please allow me to turn to you if I falter again.

I had him read this--my last few thoughts on the matter I'd just confessed. He smiled and held his hoof out toward my writing hoof. He wanted the pen.

Have at it, big guy. (I mock-punched him in the cheek, and we just looked at each other warmly for a bit before I hoofed it over.)

red blades tilled wet soil
sun cooked the untended field
new straw grows no less

A mystery before; a mystery today. You're still beautiful, Big Mac. Never change.

We talked about nothing--or he let me feel comfortable talking about nothing, anyway. We laughed, we hugged, and we kissed, and goddesses so many tears. He even shed a couple, the gentlecolt that he was. He really knew my suffering on some level. He was never close to Berry, I don't think--but he could relate to how much she meant to me. How much she had meant to me.

Then we said goodbye. But I stayed here.

The barmaid came up to me from the counter, wanting me to order something. "I just had a blinking heart attack" wouldn't explain why I was still here. I asked for a mimosa and a moment to myself. A few sips shouldn't screw anything up with me. Just let me be, won't you please?

It's always been more Carrot's way to get all contemplative and self-evaluative. But maybe it should be old Queen Cole's turn at that today?

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnope!

It's just like I told her. Pick this mind of mine apart enough to make sense of it all, and pretty soon there'll just be a big pile of hayburgers and broken dreams up in there. HA. We're not even going there.

Maybe I should hang out in here more. It's fun getting to be the sober one, watching everypony else going on about their lives. Something to do now that I'll have to cut back on the mission business. I used to come here looking for missions, actually--but if there's one thing I've learned about bars in general, it's that folks don't come here looking for help (not counting the "help" you might get at the end of a successful date). Hay, they might already know exactly what help they need. They're just here to get away for a night. You don't go to a bar to get help, just like you don't go to a school to meet smart people. You could find what you're looking for, but that's not why it's there. This is where ponies chill--for widely varying definitions of the term.

Right now, I'm thinking about the knuckleheads at the dartboard. They order ridiculous amounts of cider and ale, then they get all aggressive with one another with their challenges and their acts of defiance. Everything's a competition to them. If you're not winning, you're losing. That attitude couldn't possibly be healthy, even if you are a young buck or mare and can handle it physically. You're just throwing it all away--and for what? You won't even remember what happened.

HAHA! But I'm the champion of not remembering! Maybe I could become a Princess of Forgetting someday! I could probably show them a thing or two--if I knew my ticker were back to full strength, that is.

Take this one chick--she wears a beret for pony's sake. Like she's gonna make me drop down and give twenty? The wrench cutie mark didn't really add to the whole bad-mare image either. Is she gonna repair me to submission or what??

And why am I acting so drunk? I've had like two sips of this, and I know alcohol doesn't interact with my meds.

Oh right--my empathy. I must be getting a contact drunk off of this whole bar. It's pretty busy, ponies keep coming in...this won't get any better.

Let's make the most of it!!

So here's Wrench Wench. She gets off on embarrassing others in hoof-wrestling contests. She just plops down with anyone she locks eyes with and makes them put 'em up. She spotted that Doctor Hooves guy and just crushed him. But then she went for bigger game. Cloudchaser? Boom, down. The veterinarian Mane Goodall actually gave a little bit of a fight, but she went down too. But then she bit off more than she could chew and took on the one with the war-hammer cutie mark. She had a light cocoa coat and a cream mane curled like Berry's, and it really complemented Wrenchie's own mocha coat and straight-hanging buttermilk. (Geez, I must be thirsty or hungry or something.) Anyway, Hammer Girl put Wrench Girl's hoof to the table so fast she practically knocked the whole kit over. Then the bar just laughed her right out of her skin. The loser actually looked pretty sorry. I began to wonder if maybe that wasn't the sort of game she played every day. But if she wasn't the bully, then what was she up to?

Moving on... Oh look, card games! They didn't look like your standard issue, though. They were all black and white. There was a buttload of laughter from that corner. The black pegasus Thunderlane looked like he was telling some really raunchy jokes. Kinda wish I could get closer to that...but Cole's staying put. No playing crazy games right now. Cole really, really shouldn't be here. But maybe she should be. So many good times--the only cure for her soul right about now.

This place is starting to get packed. I'm not going to be able to hold a table by myself for long. Maybe I should just get out.

I wasn't ready to yet, but I eyed the door anyway. And what to my wondering eyes did appear... It's Written Script! The hay is he doing here!? I waved him over and called out. Here he comes.

"What're you still doing around here??" I really was curious.

"And a fine evening to you, too." Then he let out a dry laugh before I could feel embarrassed and slapped me on the shoulder as he came around to seat himself.

"Want something?" I raised my drink to him to indicate I was offering.

"Well, sure, yes--I want to know what a sad injured mare like you is doing sitting by herself in a place like this."

It seems Ponyville has more than one mind reader right now. Hopefully this wasn't also the work of crafty unicorn magic.

He must've noticed I kind of freaked out there with that wild guess of his. "Look--there are beads all over the outside of this glass, telling me you haven't touched it in quite a while. You aren't anywhere near the bar counter, so you're not here to converse. As for the injured part? Look at your left forehoof again."

I was still wearing the hospital ID band. I thought only Carrot was supposed to be that oblivious. Well, I changed that in a skinny minute.

"So unless you're using that fancy book to journalize today's bar life...I'd have to say you just want to be left alone and would rather I just leave you be, contrary to your calling me in spontaneous recognition."

I sort of panicked. For some reason, I started thinking of the pale pony again. This silver indigo-maned fellow looked nothing like him, but that feeling of being known better than you know yourself...Celestia, no. Carrot said we violated her by drugging her to get her in a party mood. No. Somepony bluntly telling you who you are when you're not sure yourself, and being right--that is violating.

"I--I don't know. Just, please hold this seat. I know you're not gonna hit on me or anything. Just...don't ask me anything personal, alright?"

"Read you clear as crystal." Could he try not saying things like that?

I knew it was a short matter of time before he'd bring up the book. "Actually--there's something I'd like to read sometime. Some sort of a shared diary, I'm guessing?" (And to think he'd have the right to read it if it were?)

He was in no-filter mode today, as they say. This was all putting me a bit on edge.

"Hey. Script. Could you, just, please lay off your creepy deduction powers? I've had the mother of all bad weeks. This was mainly just because I know Carrot was looking for you, and maybe I can get you to her or something. And--"

Completely ignored all of that. "It's induction, dear lady." I don't think he was trying to come off haughty, but now I can see what Carrot sees in him. Conversational klutzes, the both of them. "And you can use me for whatever you like this evening. I'm just here to ride the wind wherever it takes me."

Goddesses, that would've been an amazing pickup line on insecure guys in my younger years. Guys like...

"Say, did you know Carrot back when he was Golden Harvest?"

"We met once, I told him what I did for a living, and he thought that was just the coolest thing ever and oh my goodness I should try that too. It was a pretty fateful encounter, if I may say so."

Huh--she never told me about that. I thought it was her idea. Not like her to lie...

"Alright...here's my little induction, then. Carrot would never say a word, but I can tell she has a huuuuuuuuge crush on you. She never tells us anything about you except that you need to go see her. I think she's afraid one of us will take you or something. And you did just offer yourself to me... I think I might just try to make things harder for her." A wink and a nudge--oh, it felt good to be in this game back in Ponyville again. Berry or no Berry, missions or no missions, weak heart or no weak heart--I should come more often.

He smiled back, but he wasn't giving up a lick of self-control. I do love the confident ones.

"You must have quite some lapse of good faith in your friend to say a thing like that."

Seriously!? No, it's not that! It's just...

"I'm being annoying again, aren't I?"

Yes!

He never broke his smile, though. That must be the real reason Carrot's got a thing for him. He's nutty, but he keeps it together. What I wouldn't give for her to keep a steady state of mind--and I don't count "reliably flipped-out angry" as stable.

I still kinda wanted him out of my mane, but I wasn't going to get any better offers for filling that seat. Well, unless Dr. Horsythe comes in--but that old prude probably wouldn't know a shot of whiskey from the contents of a bedpan. Plus, this guy wasn't bad on the eyes for such a hopeless cause. That tousled slick mane that half-concealed his horn... Those indecently sharp eyes, those thick firm ears...

Too bad he ruins it every time he opens his mouth.

"Script...now I'll make you an offer, alright? I know Carrot's gonna show you this book one way or another, so may as well get it out of the way now. I just ask one thing."

"And that is?"

"Shut the buck up and let a girl enjoy her night."

He flipped through the thing for maybe half an hour. Oh, the things I saw in that time, though...

Yet another girl with Berry's 'do (but with a turquoise motif instead)--she was rocking the karaoke machine. She did that one by A-Hay, the one that Berry used to do back when she was still dreaming of getting out of this town.

I remember so much that I don't want to remember. But I'll just have to roll with it. I've subconsciously kept an illusion so neat and tidy for so long. No more. I'll write a new story from the pieces of today. That's how this game goes now. You can't have my mind anymore, pale thing. I can't care what happened to you, either. You're Berry's problem now, not mine. Screw your song.

I also saw Aloe and Lotus, the spa ponies. They're pretty much the sex goddesses around here. They get whatever they want just by pulling up a chair--drinks, attention, guys breaking each other's noses, you name it. I don't know whether I should be disgusted or in awe. But if you have something exotic, then I guess you can make it work for you. So what is it--their fully-lashed almond eyes? Their unassuming noble-sounding foreign accents? The way they act like twins (though I have on good authority that they're not)? Or perhaps something the rumor mill hasn't slipped on to me about their after-hours habits. Or maybe they do things during hours. Maybe I need to get a hooficure there sometime. Ha!

Another strange face to see in here: sweet old Cheerilee. I know from way back when that she could give the guys a good run too, but this wasn't her style. She got all the face time she needed with divorced daddies on her way home from teaching at school. She was here waiting for...something. Not someone--she was just standing by the karaoke booth, not at a table or anything. (I suddenly remember that I never ever want to hear her do karaoke again. I don't remember why. That must be real repression at work.)

And who did I see walking up to talk with her but Carrot Top! She had on a brimmed hat and had most of her mane tucked in it, and she had a sort of overcoat on; but she couldn't hide from me that easily. I'll just let her be, though. Better for the both of us that way. I didn't want to be anywhere near her when she found out what Berry did. She was conflicted enough just trying to be my friend. This would probably make her split right in two.

I did stick out a bit. I could sure use a distraction of some sort...

Five minutes later, that's what I got. All Tartarus broke loose--the fun kind, not the fighty kind.

The bartender and his wife--a fully-built earth-toned Earth pony and a light lavender unicorn with no-nonsense eyes--called the whole building to attention. The bar radio cranked way up and--if I didn't know any better--they had commandeered the wavelength themselves. I'm pretty sure no station in Equestria played "Buck You, I'm Drunk" on a regular basis--especially followed by Andrew W. Neigh and Barenaked Hinnies. Some positive-sounding heavy metal--not quite like I remember, but more than good enough. They played some more unique stuff too--stuff of a modern electronic flavor I'm sure Carrot would get into. I wonder where they get that music. And there were a lot of drinking references. Sounds of the Highlands, spiced-up pirate shanties, and some things that were just right-out insane. My description can't do it justice at all. You really need to have been here.

What I can tell you, though, is how all the ponies gathered. While the bar "concert" carried on around a dusty tube radio, they all forgot the aggression; they forgot their troubles; they forgot the world outside and just swayed to the slow tunes and banged heads to the fast ones. You'd even see some dancing every now and then--drunken and irreverent as you please, of course. It honestly felt a bit wrong just to lurk back here. It was about when I had this thought that Script let the book go and went off to it himself. And that's how I got to writing this again.

That must be why Cheerliee was here. Wrench Pony and Hammer Pony forgot the contests and got into it, too. Carrot wasn't quite getting into it, but she was definitely watching. I was getting back to my senses, now that the bar was clustered away from me for the most part.

And...who was that cloaked figure? They looked like they wanted to get into it but were too afraid to be seen.

I've been such a wreck lately, but this pony looked like one in need, and I was feeling up to it. It was probably worth getting up for.

I tugged at that pony's dark cloak and got her to come over. She kept looking back at the scene. She really wanted to be a part of it, but something kept her with me. Whatever. More conversation, yay!

We sat down and I got a good look at her. Or at what I could of her, anyway, around those huge aviator shades she had on. They even had those slots on them--and I hadn't seen those since I was a mini-Minnie. The muzzle gave away the gender; it was quite pronounced and a lovely rich shade of light pink. And her horn--good gravy was she gifted in that department. The cloak's cowl could barely cover that!

I got things started. "So--what shall I call you today?"

"How about...Mimi."

So no personal questions, then. "Y'know, this is my first time seeing whatever the bartender's up to myself."

"H-how'd you know I've never been here before?"

I put a forehoof on the table toward her--but she kept hers tucked away. "Because you're not comfortable. I don't know--maybe you've never been in a bar your whole life, for all I know! But you could be doing a lot better--that's all I care about." I took my own upcoming advice and reclined in the chair, lowering my lids. And a taste of that warm mimosa--too warm now, all sweet and no fizz. (I had not been too worried about leaving that--I always use one of those straws that detects drink meddlers.) "Just relax a bit. Stay a while and listen, won't you? The devil won't be chasing you here."

Angels and devils. Religious talk. That's not really my thing, though--is it? Note to self: Check this out later.

I just continued looking at her. I couldn't see any sort of expression with all that garb on, but I think she was looking at me too.

"Care for a drink? My treat--"

"Oh no no no no no no. I--I shouldn't even be here. I just...wanted..."

I could feel a wistfulness. It wasn't just her voice--I could really feel it. I knew right then and there, somehow, that she needed to be here tonight. If I were in any other position myself, I would be taking advantage of this like a horny colt on Prom Night. But Cole is a mellow old mare now, not some party icon. The one who suffered for her sake gets to keep that occupation, at least.

Not quite placing what she was here for, I felt out the crowd instead. Dozens of ponies were now tightly circled around the bar counter. They'd taken to taking turns telling stories over the same speaker the radio was hooked to. The raunchiest adventures of Ponyville, shared for all rather than whispered from a neighbor--truly magical stuff. And whenever someone said something good, they all took a drink. (The bartender reminded the crowd a couple times, "Sips not shots!". This must be a long event if the bartender was telling folks to slow down.) So much laughter, and so many crazy reactions by the crowd. I swear they weren't just drunk--they were all in love with each other or something. But I'm pretty sure public orgies are still outlawed in Ponyville. Pretty sure.

"You feel it too, don't you?" the mysterious cloaked mare told me. "Sometimes the greatest love of all is in these little hole-in-the-wall type places." And I felt a hoof rest upon mine.

I glanced back at her. And I noticed that hoof was gilded.

Before I could react, I realized she had already floated the book a couple paces away. "Not a word...not to anyone. I was never here."

I was pretty sure I was sharing close company with an honest-to-goodness Princess. And while that did get my heart aflutter, I also understood her needs. I put my other hoof atop hers and simply smiled back.

"Your secret's safe with me, 'Mimi'."

She tugged her glasses down with her free hoof and tilted her head forward a little. Her rich violet eyes pierced me; I felt extremely naked, like she was looking at more than just the me that everypony else saw. For just a second, I was paralyzed--I couldn't do a thing.

And she mouthed three words.

Have faith, dreamer.

Touched by the Princess of Love.

Before things got too mushy, though, I noticed a very drunken buck climbing on the bar counter--a pegasus of all shades of orangeish-brown and sharp (if somewhat glassy) wide eyes. The bartending couple frowned but just let him carry on. He was holding the microphone with one hoof and a handle of whiskey in the other. The bottle looked quite a bit like his cutie mark. Clearly an economy-sized patronizer. So there's more than one career drunkard in this town too, fancy that.

Hm--I just noticed the cloaked mare had vanished, and the book was in my hooves instead. Hope you're well, Princess.

That gingery colt on the "stage" had a little bit of a slur--kind of cute, but his voice was so brash and loud that nothing could ever make "cute" the first word you'd call it. (Is that how I sound when I'm drunk?)

"Sooo, how's everypony feeling tonight?" They all whooped and hollered. The bartenders ducked for incoming thrown glasses and bottles, but I guess they hadn't gotten quite that far yet.

"Say, who's ready for some Power Hour!?" He held the mic to the crowd and they hooted and shouted and all that fun stuff. Okay, sure! How do I do Power Hour?

"You know the rules, guys--we're gonna play the best damn music in town. And every minute, take a shot of cider or beer with me! Every minute! Don't lemme see any of you buckers puss out on me!"

And the lavender barmistress hovered up a tray with dozens and dozens of little empty shot glasses on it; she passed them out to the crowd with a series of glows. The stragglers in the circle who weren't already following were now coming up to the counter to pony up for a mug or a bottle.

A university kids' game, in a bar!? Goddesses, the owner here must be rich. What a racket!

Sure enough, some of the patrons got a bit nervous or intimidated. Maybe they didn't want to drink that much, or maybe that wasn't even why they were here. Quite a few of them sat back down. The bouncers--a buff green-maned white unicorn and a poofy-auburn-maned yellow Earth pony--came up from the door around to the tables and appeared to assure the not-so-empowered ones that they were fine. A couple of them even went back into the crowd without anything in hoof. (Perhaps this drinking game is all part of some grand charade. Alcohol is never really the point of anything good, after all.) And so a piece of progressive rock gently filled the air, bringing a warm rush of emotion--and the crowd at the counter got to drunken gabbing as the boozer MC literally called the shots.

I looked out to the tables again--easier to scan now. This one tall and lonely young buck caught my attention. It wasn't the fact he was drinking booze out of a jar. It wasn't the fact that he was wearing shades in a bar--not for concealment purposes, anyway. It was that shade of blue. His coat, that shade of not-quite-aqua blue, with a tuft of dirty blond spilling out over the top. It reminded me so much of a condom!

I wonder if he's up for a rubbing up with dear old Colgate? ...Oh dear, I'm going to get "drunker" as this Power Hour game goes on. I'm probably going to end up over with him tonight. Just hold out as long as I can.

Also--sweet Celestia, this makes me a cougar, doesn't it?

I was going to drink this mimosa even if it killed me. All morbid jokes are officially on the table--don't hold back, anypony!

Well, you know what? Nothing slayed me quite like the next sight I saw stomping through that door. It was none other than Octavia Melodia, cellist extraordinaire, straight from the grandest theaters of Canterlot to this dump. I suppose my previous company was technically a bigger deal, but this lady wasn't hiding from anyone. And boy, were her eyes burning.

She didn't need to say a word. The reason she was here--her apparent date for the night--trotted gingerly toward her. Ah, The Bad Mare with a Beret. She moved confidently, but there was some nervousness there. I'm not sure if she realized how many ponies from the crowd were watching her as she made her first move, right in the middle of the open floor.

"You grace me with your presence, madam. I thank you so much for coming this far. Will you not join me in the local..." She stumbled briefly. "Cultural experience?" Bits to Gala tickets says she's never spoken like that to anypony in her life.

I barely heard a voice over the music, in the back of the crowd. "Yeah, get to wrestlin' already!" A bunch of cheering laughs and a couple jeers followed. There were probably some obscene gestures among them too, but I wasn't looking too much at that.

Wrench Pony's ears parted for a second, but Octavia's response put that worry aside. "I shall." Up went her muzzle. "For now." And that's how they ended up taking a table, close to the crowd but not in it. Bar life went back to normal as they went about their business.

And I just listened to the rapturous music as the awkward love bloomed.

Why can't I get past it? I just keep going back to these same dreary thoughts. I've been miserable...for so long. I'm not exactly sure why...but something about my old relationship with Berry was weird. Very, very weird. And now that I've come back here in the first time since forever, not a single pony's bothered me this evening that I didn't flag down first. I mean, I kind of asked for that, but still--am I not attractive anymore? Am I not a sweet young mare anymore? Is it that obvious?

Where did my life go? Did I ever have a life?

I CAN'T REMEMBER...BUT I DON'T WANT TO...I JUST WANT TO GET BY.

For me, that probably means becoming another bitter old gossip. When you can't find love, you make others regret it. The rumor mill. The whispers in the dark. And I know a little bit about half of everypony around here. I'm practically tailor-made for the role. Yep, that's me.

Buck mimosas, I'm getting a Hurricane.

"Guess who's back, bitcheeeeeeees!"

No. Berry. Leave me alone.

I'm under the table. Nopony can see me.

Berry, just go. There's nothing for you here.

"The owner of the biggest bar tab in all of Equestria?" went the brown bartender.

They all laughed. Laugh her out of the bar. Laugh her out of everywhere. Just laugh her away.

She chucked a bag at the counter. I heard coins spilling everywhere and a bottle crash onto the floor.

Power Hour was still going. And Berry marched right up to the MC guy on the counter. Away from me.

"Hey look, ever'un!" Oh no, she was already real drunk. "Is lil Granddaddy Bitch righ here, innit! Ows wine work goin for ya? Oh wait--you wouldn' know cuz you left! Stupid lil buck ain' worth shit!" She pushed the guy, and he almost went right off the counter, but he kept up. He got a bit mad and tried to push her right back, but she ducked out of the way.

I heard the bodyguards get up from the door. But the bartender fellow held up his hoof and he spoke.

"This isn't just about the money, Berry. You really gotta clean up your act. Come on, let's go back and have a chat."

"Horseshit! You couldn' talk that stanky ole coot outta buckin' a dead mule!"

Everyone turned to look at a dried-up black cherry elder stallion coming out of the corner by the back rooms. Goddesses, he looked older than the hills.

That had to be Sauce Dixon--or Uncle Saucy if you're Berry. The foulest pony in town by a country mile. He aged terribly. I swear, ten years ago he didn't look anything like that.

Berry was still there. She didn't want to look at him but she turned her head a little bit.

"Whaddaya want ol nag?"

"I wan a piece o yer sorry-ass hide fer the fillies to--"

Oh no. I'm not writing that.

He chewed her out right there in the bar. Right in front of everypony. He wrecked her right in public. And she wouldn't fight it. She just wouldn't fight him. He said the worst things but he was in the right. Berry had abandoned him once already--maybe more than once. He just destroyed her. It got so nasty that a couple of bucks in the crowd actually looked a little ill. It was bad. I've heard it all before, but my goddesses.

Finally the bartenders stepped up together and confronted the old guy. But he took his leave without their saying anything.

And right as he was stepping out the door, he threw one last barb. "My time's a-comin'--so's yers, ye filthy flap-flake!" The hay's a flap-flake?

I feel dirty for even having heard all that.

And then Carrot came out of the crowd and hugged and cried and everything on Berry.

And everything went back to normal.

This is normal now. This is normal.

Power Hour ended. The crowd stayed put. And they sat there. For hours at the edge of the bar counter, just chatting with each other. Once I realized I was off the radar, I got back up. But it wasn't over. They were there for hours. Berry and Carrot. They just talked forever while the crowd behind them worshiped the radio star. I couldn't leave. There was something going on and I just had to know. But I didn't have any way of getting close unnoticed.

After messing up my hair to look as non-Colgate as possible, I thought about my options...but there just wasn't any way I could get up there myself.

Perhaps I should just ride the wave of music for a bit. It was getting a bit too random to follow even semi-sober (and the insane crowd requests didn't help)--but still, the bunch's reactions were pretty cute. Some food might tide me over--something to pick at and keep my hooves busy. I didn't see any indication that food was served here. Wonder if you could order a pizza in here?

I saw Condom Boy getting up to the restroom. Crazy idea. I switched over to sit by where he would be returning. You're going to help me. You're going to help keep me safe while I dive into Berry's secret life. Better lock the doors and close the blinds, if you know what I mean...

He took a while. I just watched Berry, seeming in a better mood, point at Octavia and Wrench Pony and say something to the bartender. She ended up with a strange blue-violet drink I'd never seen before--oh, looked just like what Octavia just ordered, actually. Then she put her hoof over it. I'd seen her do this trick before. No, Berry. They didn't ask for it.

She shouted, using her not-so-drunk voice again. "Hey! I lost my pictures! Hey guys! I think I lost some photos! I dropped them, I think! They're my photos of me, and Big Mac, and Trixie, and...the Cakes, and Spike's big brother...uh, Ramrod! They're very very personal! Please don't look at 'em! Just help me find them!"

Goddesses, how dense were they?

While basically the entire bar other than Octavia and myself flew into a picture-finding frenzy, Berry snuck over and swapped the master cellist's drink while she looked in disgust at Wrenchie and the crowd.

Then Berry got back to her chair and said, "Oh, found them. Sorry." There was a bit of groaning.

A couple minutes later, Octavia stood up from her stool, huffing at the poor gal she'd spent the evening and now some of the night with.

"I thought you knew what went into an Aviation cocktail! Did you really think you could substitute bianco vermouth for Mareaschino liqueur!? And to think you would ever know a thing about refinement! This...is the final straw! Hmph!" Oh wow, Berry could've done a lot worse than that.

The last thing I heard between the two was a harsh string of words that couldn't have been common Equestrian. Octavia didn't have to act so refined when nopony else could even understand her. If Carrot were into tabloids, she'd be gobbling this up.

The music was getting chill. Everyone was getting chill. The MC guy had taken over as the closer bartender, I guess.

And here's the blue guy. Seemed a bit lost in himself, but I got his attention with a winkity-wave before he sat down.

"What do you want?" he said.

Crank that flank, girl. (Too bad we weren't in a booth together.) "I want...whatever you want, sugar bear."

"And what if I just wanna enjoy the night?"

I flashed my choppers. Nothing beats a smile from ole Queen Cole.

"Fine by me. Just until the bar closes...or the whole night?"

"Well, probably I should be getting to sleep after this."

Crank it up! "Oh, I can understand that... Maybe I could help you. Think you could help me with a little something first?"

"Ehh...probably not."

I was not ready for one of these kinds of ponies.

I noticed Carrot and Berry were getting a bit agitated with one another. Hm, maybe I blew my chance already.

"Oh--well, nevermind then, uh, whatever your name is--"

"It's Consommé. As in the soup."

Guess I would just go for broke with the guy. "Consommé--that's such a lovely name you have. A verrry...savory name. Are you sure you wouldn't want a warm body to...consommé-te your night?"

He smiled a bit, still not looking at me, looking down at the table into his depressing little world instead. "Oh, thanks--but my family dog likes to sleep with me quite a lot. She's the best to hug when it gets all damp and rainy out and you don't wanna leave your bed and you just wanna stay under the covers and--mmm!"

Does this bucker not know what sex is? I think he doesn't know what sex is. And ewwww, don't mention the dog again.

"So then! What brings you all the way out here on a dark and lonely night like this?" His hooves were crossed on the table, and I slapped mine on top. The Sun as my witness, I was going to take him home with me.

"Oh...not much... Hoping I could get a job in this town. Too many cooks where I'm from. They don't serve much food in here, though. I dunno..."

Here we go.

"Well? Maybe you could try cooking for me. You impress me, I can hook you up with whoever you need to know in Ponyville. You could say I have my hooves in...a lot of pies... So, you think you could hook me up with something first?"

"Oh, sure. What kind of thing are you into? Maybe you'd like my puff pastry? Or perhaps more in the mood for cannoli? I've had some success with my stuffed eggplant... Hey--where are you going?"

They were both going into the restroom. Together. They had something they wanted to talk about, and this was my chance to get in on it. No help required. No protection needed.

I'll get back to you, blue boy. I'll get the stuffing out of you one way or another.

I caught up writing that while I had my ear on the wall by the restroom. Carrot and Berry were in there for a while, and the lights had gone low and some of the crowd cleared as closing time neared; not a pony spotted me.

They finally got close enough to the wall for me to hear.

"--the way to treat her! How could you!?"

"Thish ain yer figh hun. Jush...shtopit." Berry normally hid her night tiredness very well. Not often I got to hear her drift off like I so often do. It compounds with her drunk level.

"I don't care whether it's my fight! It has to be somepony's fight...and nopony's looking out for her anymore."

They were talking about me.

"Maybe you ain heard me!" There was a pause and I heard some hooves shuffle on the floor.

"Whoa! Berry, I can hold my own, you know. Don't be picking a fight, now."

Shut up, Carrot, shut up. She could kill you if she wanted. She's like a supernatural-level brawler. Don't even try. Please. Just take it back now. Please.

They both paused, and then I heard Berry laugh out loud. "Guesh 'ey din cut yer marbleshoff after all! Haha!" It sounded like she was slapping Carrot on the shoulder or something, suddenly totally happy again.

"Berry...I know this isn't the best time to talk about it. But I'm dead serious. You know how--" This part went low and mumbly and I couldn't make it out. Come on, Carrot! Speak up for yourself!

"--and she doesn't even know what happened to the house? Berry, she's forgetting everything! Even when her own mentor comes visit her in her own home! If it so much as makes her think about being happy in the past, she just blocks it out. Remember what you told me about myself, what I was like before the rave? Can't even be happy without being sad?"

"Berry forgetsh lotta shtuff too, shpesh'ly when she go' bit drinky. Know'm ah mean?"

"But you're the key to all this, hun!" Weeping windigoes, nopony said "hun" to Mama Berr. Not even me.

Berry sighed...happily. And then Carrot did. They were--they were kissing!

Don't think about it, Cole. You're on a mission now. You're saving your life. Besides, Carrot deserves to be happy too. I don't know. Just hurry up and talk some more already!

Berry spoke up first. "Carrot...ye grown up sho much since I knew ye. Maybe ah was jush fibbin when said you's all better now, caushe jush wanted ye to try be happy fer real. Prime the pump, yknow. Housewrmin time's bess time fer that." I heard their lips smack again. "But I don' need fancy lines n'more. Don' work on you ayway. You know't all girl. Cep bou me... I think's time you get t'know me...real well."

There was another shuffle of hooves, like someone getting pushed off-balance. "Berry--I don't wanna know anything about you except why you won't come clean with her! Just tell her the past yourself! How hard is that!? How in Equestria is that so hard a concept?"

"An' how many times I gotta shay--" That time she connected with something on Carrot--probably a hoof. Carrot cried out just a little. Berry's cheer had given out in a hurry. "How many timesh I go'a shay it'sh go'a be her? It's go'a be her!?"

Carrot sounded a little different. I think she had caught one in the jaw. "It's really that hard? Remind her of who you were to her and how that changed over time? Give her a taste of what she's been wanting--what she's really been craving on the other side of this double-life of yours...for years and years? Don't you want that for her--no matter what she's done to you?" After a pause, she practically screamed with passion--"Hasn't she suffered enough!?"

It was silent. Too silent. I could imagine the staredown. Everything else fell away from me.

Thank you, Carrot. Keep trying. Be my heart in these trying times.

"Carrot...she doesn't bucking like mares."

That's what this is all about? Huh?

I just hit on like three mares last week. It was at the bar. It was in this bar. One of them was named Jonagold or something like that? Oh wait no, I met her at the laundromat. She helped me with change for the machines. I've always had an issue forgetting to bring change to the machines. And then I saw the other girl at the wedding last week--or no, last month was it? It was when we got attacked by the Changelings. I think she got me some fruit punch when Berry was gone. No, last week was when I met Twilight and I accidentlly. wait no that was Carrot, I read about that, that wasn't me. I was the one who hit on this blue mare who looked like a condom and that was funny oh she's there right now! But that's a guy Cole. no, the time was i left my door open and this beautiful young mare stepped in her eyes were like diamonds, and everyone was taking pictures of her and it was Rarity and why was she in my room stop it! No it was Cherry berry, not my berry but cherry berry, i was teasing her because she had a coat on and it was cold and dark and that was flutery and there were hingsan dm m%(@*%

DAMMIT COLE Why did you leave this book in a bar? A bucking bar!?

You want someone to find all our dirty little secrets? We have to keep this to ourselves now.

And what the hell is this other crap you're writing over here.

Oh, shit.

READ THIS

Jams, I know it's been you all night in carryoaky. Don't need to hide from me, no use trying. Take off that ugly green shit, couldn't you have picked something better? We gotta talk. YOU OWE ME.

Dear Diary,

I had to take Colgate to rehab today. When she didn't show up to work today, her boss sent someone out to check her out--and when they knew what had to be done, they came to me.

She was passed out on a teapot. The whole floor was drenched in the stuff. Sugar cubes melted into it and made everything nasty and sticky. And I had to pick her up in the middle of all that. I hauled her from there to the clinic on my back. She tried to wake up, but I didn't understand anything she said. Hauling my shell of a friend to help was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm pretty sure she registered that it was me, but... She did nothing to deserve this...nothing.

I'm facing a possible future where the BGs don't exist anymore, and I had no idea how much that thought would trouble me. It's just three of us--three mares. It's quite silly to get attached to the concept of just three ponies being a part of a group. We don't fight crime. We don't entertain the masses. We don't perform any particularly unique function to the community. We just live our lives together. It just happens to have a level of synergy I wasn't expecting at first.

Berry has been quite open about her interest in "synergizing" with me, but this is absolutely not the time. It's perfectly understandable that she would need comfort in a time of grief. She just has an exceedingly odd way of grieving or something. I won't oblige her on quite that level until I have some evidence that Cole is making some sort of recovery--just so I can feel like I haven't just lost a part of myself in her. Just thinking what she's done for me by helping me see and care for the town, more even than what Written Script has done... But it could be weeks or months before any indication of progress.

As for her past...I simply have no words. I would have lost my mind, too. Berry must be even more insane than she is for running with it. I now have a new mystery to unravel.

I still don't know where Falcon Glider fits into all of this. He's Sparks' and Planter's dad; but as I just confirmed last night, he just hasn't been a part of their lives since a little after I first got to know Cole.

I'm sorry, Berr. I'm going to meet with Script tomorrow and get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. The damage is already done. You can't blame me for what happened to her. For that matter, why are you even upset!? The charade took its toll on you, too. Now you can just forget about it. Or--well, maybe just not worry about it like it matters.

I can't think about much else right now. At least I'm not a total basketcase. It must be the cuddling and the margaritas. I would've never guessed how great of a cuddler you are.

~Carrot Top

Well too bucking bad Carrot, you're not getting to the bottom of nothing. You fell for ole Berry's punch again. Sleep tight!

It's time you went on a little trip with me.

Your bags are packed. Your passport's ready. I got your ticket right here.

You're gonna love this.