A Critique's Hearth's Warming

by spideremblembrony

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Comedy, Slice of Life
Length: 9376

A Hearth's Warming with everyponies least favorite reviewer, The Critique. Even more so since he's feeling a little bitter this holiday season. What a jack... If I could swear, I totally would!

Ah, Hearth's Warming. The best time of the year! Just ask anypony on the street and they will tell you how much they love Hearth's Warming. The decorations all over the place, shining in their eyes. Presents all stacked neatly under their tree, begging to be opened. And the overall spirit of the holidays, spreading joy to everypony you would meet.

The day is Hearth's Warming Eve and everypony is gearing up for what is the best holiday of the year!

Well, except one pony. Yes, one pony is not into the holiday spirit. The Critique. Not surprising though. He's kind of an ... well, this is a story for everyone, so I can't call him what he deserves to be called, but let's just say it's starts with an 'a' and rhymes with 'glass mole'.

Heck, even his Computer seems to be in the holiday spirit! And she's a freaking machine! So, why the heck can't he be?! What a jerk!

He's rude, he's a hypocrite, he hated Equestria Girls, and he picks his nose when nopony is looking. Ew...

So, why the heck are we focusing on him? Heck if I know. This story doesn't. If I were reading any story, I'd be reading something like Our Gifts by The Descendant.

Don't waste your time with this character. Seriously, just click on the link and go.

Are you still here? You really want to read this story?

Well, aren't you Mr. (or Mrs.) persistent?

Keep scrolling, I'm sure you'll reach the bottom eventually.

You're not going to stop, are you?

I'm running out of things to say here, so I'll just start saying random things in the hopes that you will go away and read something else.

Monkeys mock mildew more menacingly than most mammals.

Seriously, go read something from TheWraithWriter or from Lunar Metal. I'm sure they've got better stories than this one.

You really want to reach the bottom, don't you?

Pumpkin pie preaches proper punctuation for poor penmanship.

Seriously, guys. There is nothing down here. You are just wasting your time.

I'm serious. Go read something from HudsonHawk or Fedorasarecool.

I'm sure they have some great stories you could read.

How long are you going to keep this up? Seriously?

It was the butler the whole time! That's not cliche, is it?

Okay, you guys deserve a little something since you made it to the end. Okay, I'll let you in on a big secret about the Critique. His real name is

Published 2014-12-24 17:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-24 17:30:02 UTC

The Story (Did you seriously expect anything less?)

A dreary feeling hung overhead. The clouds of the Pegasi ponies high above him dropping the continuous snow. He hungs his head, as if the snow itself it pushing his head towards the ground. The scarf around his neck weighing on him. He slunked through the street, making his way down the road following the crowd of ponies. His body rubbing against passersby, shoving their way past him. Wherever they needed to be was far more important than where he was going. Or at the very least, more imperative than showing some common courtesy and offering an apology.

“But no! Why would they have time for common decency when there is shopping to do be done?!” he grumbled under his breath. And it was the time of year when the ponies would be at their most ‘vicious’, as he called it. He could see it from all over the city of Ponyville. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be somepony being a creep.

To his immediate left, a child screaming at his parents for not letting him have the toy sitting on the window seal. The wailing child called their parent all sorts of names that he was surprised somepony so young would know how to say. And the parents? They simply rolled their eyes and continued down the road, not even addressing the problem. Maybe they didn’t want to make a scene, but if he had talked that way to his father, his flank would have a new kind of cutie mark. A bright red bruise. Right in front of everypony if he had to.

To his immediate right, an old couple simply trying to get a cab. A moment later, a cab appeared in front of them. As the old mare took a step towards the cab, a stallion rushed in front of them and took the seat in the cab. He expected the cab driver to say something, anything to the stallion jerk who shoved his way through the old couple. But the cab driver pressed on. The old couple stood by, their mouths hung open. The old stallion shouted at the top of his lungs, calling the stallion something usually reserved for somepony who just shot your dog.

He shook his head, noticing a small child and his family standing not too far away from the old couple. The family slowly made their way down the road, trying to get as far away from the old stallion. The father whispered to the children something. He was too far away to hear them, but he figured it was trying to keep them from talking like his elder.

Great language to be teaching our kids, grandpa.

He understood the old stallion’s frustration, but could he simply restrain himself for the kid’s sake? No, of course not. The stallion continued his rant as if he had just read My Little Unicorn adding nearly every vulgar thing he could think of. Some that, even he, was offended by. Not that he had the cleanest mouth in all of Equestria, but even he knew when enough was enough.

Of course, it wouldn’t have happened if somepony hadn’t decided they were more important than anypony else. That’s always what it was around this time of year. In this city. The mentality of it all made him sick. The mentality of “I’m more important, so I don’t have to be kind” seemed to seep into the minds of everypony around him. It showed itself more often around this time of year.

He took in a deep breath and sighed, irritation flooding from his mouth. Then, if the ponies being jerkoffs themselves was not enough for him, the constant flashing of lights and signs about sales, made them even more crazy.

Every store had some kind of “LAST MINUTE HOLIDAY SHOPPING” sale, which meant that prices would still be high until the day after Hearth’s Warming. The day he planned to shop. Nopony would bother him as he picked 'after last minute gifts' as he called it. And the cost of items would be lowered to get rid of all the Hearth’s Warming items quickly. That was his scheme. Computer told him it was unfair to his Hearth’s Warming list, but he wasn’t making the big bucks like most of his family.

His father was a successful music teacher who never compromised. His mother worked for a big company as a secretary. Easy money there. And his brother? He didn’t even know what he did. But if he and his wife could afford the house that rivaled the size of his library, he must be doing something big.

He had to cut corners. He wasn’t made of money, the library didn’t pay well and with his writing being an utter failure, bringing in little to no income; he had to take every advantage to save. His student loans weren’t going to pay themselves.

So, why was he out in the cold, cruel, unforgiving holiday nightmare that he despised so much? A time of year that seemed to do nothing, but bring out the worst in ponies? Freaking eggnog! he reminded himself.

He grumbled cruel words under his breath as he plowed through the snow, hoof after hoof. Computer had sent him out to fetch some eggnog from the store only a few moments ago. But he knew the real truth of why she wanted him out of the library. It was so obvious he was surprised that she didn’t hold up a large sign that revealed her plan.

But he gave in to her request, humoring her, if nothing else.

As he entered the super center, his heart sank. Wall to wall shoppers on all sides. And more coming in as he navigated the maze of ponies to the grocery section of the store. The chaotic orchestrated sounds of ponies speaking, yelling, crying, or laughing filled his eardrums. It was impossible to make any conversation out. Not that he cared what any pony had to say at this point. He wanted his item and to get out as fast as possible.

He would move forward, but a shopper would cut him off and keep moving, not even seeing him. This is why I hate going out! he scoffed as he shook his head.

Continuing forward, he was bumped into by a large stallion. The stallion continued onward. The much smaller pony clinched his teeth together and growled under his breath “Thanks for the apology.”

Aisle after aisle, his gaze wandered to his left, passing all the dry items, slowly. Ponies ripped things off the shelf. Throwing them in their basket, rushing their pacing down the lane. He imagined they were in a hurry. Some kind of party they had to attend or to tuck their children in for the night, so that they could wrap their presents in secret and claim that Santa brought them.

Did that excuse them for being rude? The Critique, as many ponies knew him, would say no. But they didn’t listen to him. Very few ponies even liked him. Most just ignored him. Even Celestia, or so he had heard, wasn’t impressed with his behavior.

Computer had tried to explain it was his temper, his lack of social skills, the fact that he was a hypocrite, and his pessimistic nature that drove ponies away. He convinced himself otherwise. Something in the universe hated him. A something that’s whole purpose was to make him miserable.

Finally, at the back of the store, the frozen and dairy sections waited for him. He gave a look around. Noticing that most of the crowd was piling up near the dry goods, clothing, toys and electronic areas. That’s where all the chaos was. Well, most. Ponies running back and forth to get to where they need to go, only to be stopped by a slow moving crowd. Some daring idiots would try to make their way through the crowd, shoving their way through, not caring about who he had to push to get the latest toy for their kid.

Critique could only roll his eyes. Good thing you got it done early. Of course, there would always be an excuse. Time. Work. Weariness. It didn’t really matter. Some ponies would go as far as to make up an excuse, just so they would have one.

Fortunately, the frozen section only had a hoof-full of ponies. Still, it was more than he would have preferred. Not crowded enough to be a struggle to make it through the stacks of ponies who sit in front of whatever they think they want and mentally debate with themselves for a minute, even longer, to decide if they want it or not, only to put it back a moment later. But crowded enough to bump into another pony often enough that he felt like he was just a living green punching bag.

Like the group of ponies that bumped into him hard enough that he nearly toppled over. He managed to catch himself as he ran into a mare. The mare glared at him as the child in her hooves wailed out in either annoyance or anger.

The Critique took a step back. “Sorry.”

The mare tilted her chin up with a ‘Humph’ and began to follow the crowd once more, occasionally shushing her child. The fire that sat in his stomach burned brighter. His rage distracted his mind that he didn’t notice his eye starting to twitch. Nopony could get it under control. He knew he was going to flip soon.

Taking in a deep breath, holding his anger back as best as he could, which was like trying to contain a cracked dam rigged with explosives holding back a raging river in the middle of a hurricane with a piece of chewing gum, he made his way to the dairy section.

He stood in front of the eggnog, staring at it, like it was some immoral thing. This is all your fault, you know. The eggnog simply stared back at him, not caring what he had to say. It was just here to be sold and consumed. It was its lot in life and it had accepted it..

As the Critique scanned the rack, he bickered with himself back and forth between what size of eggnog container to grab. Well, if I get something larger, then Computer will leave me alone for a while, he said, stroking his chin. But I only need enough to be out long enough for Computer to wrap my gift and set up her decorations.

She had been nagging him to be allowed to set up decorations for the library. She said it was to make it look more inviting and festive. He didn’t see the point; the library was obsolete with the internet. And his level of decoration was a tree in the corner. That as all that was needed. No lights, no ornaments, just a tree.

He didn’t see the appeal in all the decorations, even if they had guests. They would just be put up for a few weeks and then taken down. Probably got it from his father rigging up the lights year after year. The variety of colors in the Hearth’s Warming lights was only rivaled by his father’s language. Every Hearth’s Warming he would go to the roof and yell out all sorts of profanity as the lights failed to cooperate with him.

One year, the Critique decided to join his father in rigging up the lights. Seeing his father’s frustrations, as the lights continued to tangle, bulbs would need to be replaced, slippery icy roofs, and mother’s constant directions, he was surprised how the stallion was still sane.

He remembered picking up the tangled knot that was supposed to stretch around the entire house. An hour of pulling, tugging, guessing, and cursing and he had only gotten a few feet out of it.

Since that day, he swore off Hearth’s Warming decorations.

Finally deciding on the size of eggnog, picking out a small container to be cheap, figuring the after Hearth’s Warming rush will be more bearable. He navigated his way to the front register.

Like a sailboat on a raging ocean, he felt as if he was tossed around by the passersby as they rubbed against him and pumped into him. He could feel his fire steadily rising into his lungs, threatening to burst with rage.

***

A merry tune played throughout the halls of the small library on the corner of Ponyville. Not a single pony was in sight, yet the lights flickered with such vigor. Something within it was clearly enjoying itself. Or herself.

Computer, as she was referred to by her master, the Critique, allowed the speakers to blow with all sorts of Hearth’s Warming music, lifting the spirits of any passersby. She was as cheerful as could be, almost humming alongside the music. Perhaps it was the melody, perhaps it was the gentle snow lightly tapping on the window, perhaps it was the heavenly glow of the holiday decorations. She could not explain it, but she could almost feel a smile on her face if she had any lips.

But of course, how could she not be? With her master gone, and it being Hearth’s Warming Eve, she could finally have an excuse to set up all the decorations that she had planned. Knowing her master’s detest for the holidays didn’t stop her pleas however. And she knew it would be easier for her to ask forgiveness than permission.

Besides, if he didn’t like it, he could simply remove it all. However, she knew that he would not. He was too lazy for that.

As soon as the door closed behind her master for the eggnog she requested, she began to work on her library. Every door frame was glittering in bright yellows, reds, blues, and oranges. Dangling from the top of every doorway, white streams of lights that looked like icicles greeted each and every guest. Not that they had any, but it did look nice for any passersby.

The tree in the corner, which had been left bare for most of the season, finally had lights coating them, illuminating the corner of the room in a variety of colors. Gold and silver ornaments expertly placed to complement the colors shining off them, never losing sight of the overall appeal.

With a bright angel on the top as the center piece, brightly illuminating the tree. Not stealing the spotlight, but rather being the spotlight for the whole tree.

A bright red skirt with a fluffy white trimming was placed at the base of the tree, hiding away the stand. Perfectly laid against the ground, it gave the illusion that the skirt was the base.

Two velvet stockings hung over the fireplace, accompanied by various branches of holly, all woven into beautiful strands that stretched into a long wave of twigs, leaves, and berries. On the shelf above that, stood the figures of the three legendary ponies who brought the three races together. Clover the Clever, a green maned unicorn mare, a brown wool hood atop her head. There she stood with a happy smile on her face, mouth open, and eyes widened as accepting as her heart was.

An earth pony, Smart Cookie, stood beside her a genuine smile on her face. And finally, a Pegasus, bearing a steel helmet and armor, Private Pansy. Her eyes closed with a smile across her face.

They were all arranged perfectly around a small fake campfire to recreate the scene of their friendship.

More holly hung over her master’s favorite spot, just under the main archway that led to his bedroom. Red velvet bows hung in unison with the holly at the top of every arc. Despite all urges, she resisted the temptation to place any decorations where he would sleep tonight. However, as for the rest of the library, it was all hers to do as she pleased.

And she spared no expense.

***

The cold wind blew against him as he pushed his way to the front door. He grumbled under his breath. His trip back to the library was no less pleasant than his trip from it. The cashier being obnoxiously slow, talking to everypony in line for about five minutes, asking them how their day was, their plans for the holidays. The only questions he felt the young mare left out was “What is your family history?” and “What's your favorite color?”

Of course, it didn’t help that there were several ponies in front of him, with several hundred items. Computer might have said he was exaggerating, but they might as well have had a hundred items for how long he waited.

The mare had made attempts to talk to him when he finally arrived. But his fuse had already been lit. A quick snarky comment about her birth and he was on his way. Everypony giving him a dirty, rotten look as he left the store.

Finally, however, the front door was the only thing barring his path from a peaceful night alone. Well, mostly alone. He opened the front door, being greeted by Computer.

“Welcome home, master!” she cheered, as the music continued behind her. “How was your trip to the super center?”

The Critique gave a wide smile. “Oh, it was great.” A snarky tone slithered from his throat. He made no attempts to hide it either. It might as well have been a rampaging rhino in a busy marketplace for the subtlety he was presenting. “Wonderful! Spectacular! Amazing! Stupendous! It was everything I dream it would be!”

The door slammed shut with his face turning into his normal scowling frown.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. You know that, right?”

The Critique stuck his tongue out and began to speak, his tongue intentionally slurring his words. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. I’m Computer! I’m so awesome!”

Her digitized brow lowered. “You know it is really petty when you do that, right?

Rolling his eyes, The Critique made his way to a short table to his left, which displayed a small knee high tree. He set the eggnog on the table, next to the tree. “Here’s your freaking eggnog.”

A robotic arm came from the ceiling, taking the eggnog off the table. “Which reminds me, sir. Have you been shopping for your family?”

He shook his head as he made his way to his favorite spot on the floor, just in front of the fireplace where the normally purple rug had been replaced with a great red and green rug. “We’ve been over this, Computer. I’m not doing any shopping until after Hearth’s Warming.” Shifting his weight around, he tried to find his old sweet spot. The spot where he would read his books when he was bored during work, as he often was.

“Sir, that is not fair to your Hearth’s Warming list. What happened to the spirit of the holiday?”

The Critique gave up on finding his special spot and decided to forego a review tonight. He had been working all season and it was Hearth’s Warming Eve. He was done. Besides, Computer had tricked him into reviewing Hearth’s Warming stories for the month and he’d had enough of that. “Well, when ponies start getting into the spirit, I’ll start.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

The Critique stood up from his spot and made his way to the kitchen. “Well, when everypony becomes obnoxiously rude for no apparent reason, it’s a little hard to feel the festivity.”

“Do you not think that you are letting others dictate your feelings towards the holidays?”

He opened the fridge. His heart sank as his eyes stared into the blank spot where he usually kept his favorite drink. A grunt of frustration moved passed his lips. “Computer! Why are we out of beer?!”

“I am not going to deal with you while you have a hangover on the most wonderful holiday,” Computer almost cheered the words ‘wonderful holiday’.

He rolled his eyes, declaring to himself that the sooner this holiday was over, the better.

***

The night came sluggishly upon the tiny city of Ponyville. The only way time seemed to pass him by was when he dipped his head into the latest literary crime against pony kind. How such books became published when they couldn’t even spell the word ‘Equestria’ right with consistency was a mystery he was determined to crack.

So far, however, even after months of research, he was still as lost as a butterfly in a snowstorm. Feeling a migraine coming on, he decided to turn in early for the evening.

As he was lying in his bed, the soft glow of the Hearth’s Warming lights shining from downstairs, he wondered how long he would have to bear these Hearth’s Warming decorations for. Computer would certainly keep them up all year if she had her way. But not him. He couldn’t stand them, despite him not doing anything with them this year.

Maybe it was the years of ranting and raving his father did as he tried to rig up the lights year after tedious year.

Looking outside, he noticed the weather changing to a soft snowfall. He put his head back against his pillow, taking in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, hoping for a quick night and a faster Hearth’s Warming day.

Suddenly, a siren came from outside followed by a flash of red and blue lights. Critique groaned as he sat up. “What now?” He reached for his glasses on the nightstand and slipped them on his face. He rolled out of his bed and grabbed his purple scarf from the nearby rack. “I swear if they come near my house…”

“It is not us, sir,” Computer stated. “They are parked outside the neighbors.”

With those words, the library became silent. Not even the Critique’s heart was heard. He could have heard a fly from a mile away with the stillness. Without another word from his lips, he slipped out of the front door, glancing out to the neighbor’s house.

A group of ponies stood outside the house, all in blue uniforms. One of them was speaking to a stallion he had recognized. The stallion was crying, wiping his face. His whole body shook as if trying to hold something back. The officer put his hoof on his shoulder.

Near the front of the house, an officer was speaking to a mare. And around her, weeping at her legs, were three little foals. A girl who looked like she was the oldest. Another girl, only slightly younger and the youngest, a colt. Critique’s eyes widened as he looked at the three little ponies at the foot of their mother’s legs. I didn’t know they had kids. They can’t be older than eight.

Slowly, Critique put his hoof in the deep snow, plowing through it as he made his way to the neighbor’s front yard. The snow placed themselves gently on his glasses, causing him to wipe them away with the edge of his scarf.

As he approached the front yard, an officer came before him, his hoof stretched out. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to stay back.”

Critique stood short of the officer’s hoof. He took a quick glance at the house and noticed a small broken window at the bottom floor. “What happened?”

The officer looked back at the house. “A robbery.” He lowered his head and took in a deep breath. “Took every single thing in their tree.” Critique’s eyes widened as he looked back at the children. “From what I was told, there was over 600 bits worth of presents under that tree.”

Critique looked back up to the officer. “Isn’t there anything we can do? What about a charity?”

With a shake of his head, the officer responded. “It’s Hearth's Warming Eve. There aren’t any charities left.” He took in a deep breath and look up to the moon above them. “It’s not right. Not on Hearth’s Warming.”

Critique couldn’t find any words to say. What could he have said? Words could not have fixed anything. Instead, he turned around, slinking back to the library. The snow feeling like an avalanche as it gently pelted his body.

After what seemed like an eternity of trotting through the snow, he made his way through the front door. Every time he blinked, he could see the brief image of the children crying. It’s not fair. Why them? They’ve never done anything to anypony.

He entered the front door, closing it behind him. He stood at on the front mat, his head dipped down and his mouth open.

“Sir, what happened?”

There was a moment of silence as Critique took a moment to collect himself. He cleared his throat, trying to find the words to say. “There was a robbery.” A moment passed by as he thought of what to say. He could swear the whimpering of the three children were in his ears, making it difficult to think. “All the presents, everything… stolen.”

A beat passed as the words hung in the air like an icicle. The cold and sharp truth. “My Celestia,” a heartbroken tone came from her voice. It was not something that he thought her capable of. However, it seemed that if given a horrible enough event, she could emote through her voice. It was all the more painful that it took the suffering of others to produce such emotion.

“They have kids, Computer.” He placed his hoof on his forehead. “I didn’t know they had kids.”

The dead air stole the spotlight once more as his mind seemed to spin in a tornado of questions and demands. Why did this happen? Where was the justice? How could this happen?

Finally, Computer broke the silence with the simplest of questions. “What do we do?"

Critique lowered his head to the ground. What could be done? As the question festered in his mind, one solid answer presented itself. Despite all arguments his mind had conjured, they were all muted by one choice. He looked up to Computer as she hung down from the ceiling. “I’m going to do some shopping.”

***

Critique’s body shivered as a burst of cold wind brushed against him. The snow gently tapping him on the mane as it fell from the sky. He looked down at the piece of paper before him, his eye shooting down the list. Not a lot of stores still open, he thought to himself as he mentally crossed off another two stores. The stores were closing fast and running out of gifts.

Trudging through the snow, he picked up his pace slightly. His visible breath showing itself more frequently. His mind trying to only concern itself with the gifts he was searching for. He stuffed the list back in his scarf and pushed the shopping cart through the snow as best he could. What I wouldn’t give for a wagon right about now?

The snow made the traveling with his shopping cart a bumpy and shaky trip. If the cart wasn’t shaking from his body, it was vibrating from the uneven snowy roads. It didn’t look like much snow on the ground, but it might as well been several feet tall for how difficult it was. Moving the cart from side to side, picking it up by hoof to maneuver around difficult snow patches. And then there was sudden dips that would grab one of the wheels, causing him to jolt forward and hit his chest against the hoof bars.

He took in a deep breath and pushed forward, picking up the cart to leave the ditch behind.

Filling the cart, were several large shopping bags, all containing various items. He wasn’t sure what kids today enjoyed and there wasn’t much of a variety left. But he knew, deep down, something had to be done.

As he entered the supermarket, the market of his troublesome eggnog, he came to a surprise. The store was nearly abandoned. Save for a few patrons wandering the store, seemingly aimlessly, the only ponies left in the store was the crew, setting up for their close.

Making his way to the back of the store, he glanced towards the toy section, not certain what he was looking. Most of the shelves were bare. Empty spaces glanced at him as if to frown, knowing his plight and weeping that they can offer nothing.

However, a random doll would stand out. He grabbed it quickly and placed it on the top of his cart. A toy car. His hoof swiped it from the shelf. A stuffed bear. With a swift sweep of his hoof, it was in the cart.

It didn’t matter what was in his cart, he simply needed something. A yo-yo, a robot man, a princess doll, and so many other items found themselves in his cart.

Eventually, he just starting throwing things in his cart, not certain if he could afford it or not.

Okay! he stopped himself as he reached up to the shelf for another toy. I think I’ll be okay.

He looked down to the cart and noticed a large pile of toys stacked upon his already overstuffed cart.

With a sigh, he made his way to the front of the store to check out. The mare from earlier was one of the few lanes that were open and he was in such a hurry. He felt his heart rate skip a beat as he looked at her. His words still hanging over him like a dark cloud.

He took in a deep breath and made his way to her line. As she turned her head to face him, her smiling instantly vanished from her face. Not that he could blame her. He lowered his gaze and head as he silently placed toy after toy on the conveyer belt.

Without a single word, the mare began to scan each item. Critique couldn’t think of what to do. His stomach began to cramp. He held onto the conveyer belt, trying to keep himself upright.

Critique made his way to the register and looked up to the mare’s scowling glare. Glancing away, he bit his lip as the sharp pain in his stomach continued to pulsate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The mare looked up, her eyebrow raised. “What was that?”

He lowered his head and gave a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said… what I said.” A flash of his anger getting the better of him played before him. A raging beast that had no real reason to be upset lashed out at the young mare before him, even though she had tried to be friend. Resisting the urge to mentally berate himself, he continued. “I shouldn’t have called you that. And… I’m really sorry.”

The mare stopped for a moment, her bottom lip hanging down from her mouth. A silence filled the air around them. The sounds of the other lane’s buzzers faded. The sounds of all other conversations seemed to be erased from his mind.

He looked up to see the mare giving a slight smile. “It’s alright.”

A slight smile appeared on his face as well. It wasn’t alright. Not even close. But at least, just for tonight, his self-deprecation could wait.

As the mare finished the transaction, she gave him a warm smile and spoke. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

“Happy Hearth’s Warming.” The words slipped from his lips before he even noticed, almost as if it was just a reflex. As he trotted out of the building, his own mind didn’t even catch his own smiling face.

***

Grand Splash sat on his sister’s large bed, next to his siblings. He tightly held the old stuff giraffe in his hooves. The old giraffe was missing of its marble black eyes and it’s yellow coat was darkened by years of dirt, mud, and age that stained it.

He remembered his mother setting him down as he wrote his Christmas list to Santa. How he wanted a new giraffe to replace the one that was falling apart. How he wanted friends for the giraffe. He made sure he was extra good so that when Santa came, he would be sure to be on the nice list.

When they got home from their trip to their Aunt Cinnamon, daddy stepped out of the carriage and told them to stay inside the cart. He wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy playing with his giraffe. He pretended they were out in the large safari, chasing the bad guys and saving the world. In his little world, he was ignorant to what was around him.

It wasn’t until his father came out of the house, until he heard his father screamed his mother’s name that his fictional world crumbled around him. He stretched his neck up to see a large gap in his bedroom window. Around the gap, spider-web like cracks stretched out from the brake.

His mother turned to him and his sisters, telling them to stay in the cart. He sat there and nodded, not saying a word. His big sister turned to his bigger sister and asked what had happened. The bigger sister, Spirited Wind, stood up on the cart seat and leaped off the cart, her hooves dipping into the snow.

He and his big sister, April Showers, stepped off the cart, following their Spirited around the cart. He looked to his parents to see his father holding his mother, whimpers coming from her throat.

Then, the police came. That is when he knew something bad had happened. He started crying. He didn’t understand it all. All he knew was some bad guys stole their Hearth’s Warming presents. But to him, that was all he needed to know.

He thought that bad guys only existed in T.V shows and that the good guys would always beat them up. So, where were the good guys?

As he sat on his bed, waiting for his mother to come tuck him and his sisters in bed, he held onto his toy tighter, as if he knew that somepony would come at any moment and take it from him.

Finally, the image of the dark red unicorn mare came to their bed side, starting on the far right, to where Spirited lay. “Mommy, what’s going to happen to us?” she asked, tears still running down her face.

Splash looked over to his mother as she gave a slight smile. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. She brought her hoof Spirited face and gently wiping away her tears. “We are going to be okay. I promise.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Just get some sleep, honey.”

April was sitting under the covers, her hooves wrapped around her knees. “Mommy, I’m scared.” Their mother wrapped her hooves gently around April, her lips giving a soft shushing sound.

“It’s okay, honey,” she sniffled. It sounded like she was trying to fight her whimpers back. Like she was trying to put on a brave face for them. But no matter what she did, they all knew. Somehow they all knew that it wouldn’t be okay. “Mommy and daddy are right here.”

A thought then occurred to Splash. There was one good guy left. A good guy who could do something.

His mother kneeled down to his side and wrapped her hooves around him. He wrapped his hooves around her and whispered in her ear. “It’ll be okay, mommy.” His mother pulled away and gave him a sweet smile. “Santa will come. He’ll make it all better.”

Suddenly, her smile disappeared under her lip as she glanced away from her son. Tears ran down her face even faster as she took in a deep breath. She looked back at him, a sad frown covering her face. “Honey.” Stillness took over the air as her lips started to tremble. What she wanted to say was trying to escape her lips, but somehow was unable to. Finally, she spoke. “Santa’s not coming.”

Those words hit like a bulldozer. Splash’s heart began to ache as he looked into his mother eyes. For a moment, his mind and his voice became one, asking the same question. “Why not?” He held his little doll a little tighter. “Why won’t he come?”

All eyes were on the mare as they waited for an answer. Time seemed to stand still as they waited for a response from their mother. Finally, she leaned forward and pecked her son on the forehead. “Just try to get some sleep.”

She glanced at each of them, giving a smile. “I love you.”

Almost in sync, they each replied. “I love you too, mommy.”

The mare stood up and marched out the door, flicking the light off as she left. Spirited and April already curled up in the covers, laying their heads against their pillows. However, Splash looked at his doll, tears running down his face. His mind swirled in a whirlwind of confusion. This whole day had been confusing. All he wanted was to play with his new toys for Hearth’s Warming. Now, he would never get to, unless Santa came to the rescue.

But why would Santa not come? Had he not been good enough this year? He buried his head in his pillow, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Please, Santa. Please come.”

***

The snow continued to come down as the Critique struggled through the white wonderland. His cart was overstuffed with toys that he could barely afford, but it was hardly the 600 bits of gifts that he had heard were stolen. Still, it was all he could do. The chilling wind slithered up his body, causing him to pull his head back.

He shook his head, trying to shake the snow from his mane.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from his left.

He turned to see a stallion standing outside of one of the houses on the street. The stallion came up to him, almost examining him, as if he was trying to recognize him. Critique almost knew who it was, but couldn’t put his hoof on the name.

“You live next to that family, right?” the stallion asked. “The one that got robbed?”

Critique lowered his head and looked away. How could this guy know about that?! News doesn’t travel that fast! His thoughts paused for a second as the answer came to him. He arched his brow and nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

The stallion put up his hoof and glanced back and forth at the Critique as he backed away. “Wait there!” With that, the stallion disappeared into the house.

The Critique didn’t have to wait long in the shivering cold before the stallion reemerged from the house. In his hooves, was a small jingling bag. “Here.” He made his way up to the Critique, holding out the small bag. “I know it’s not much, but … I hope it helps that family.”

Silence filled the air around them as the Critique shifted his gaze between the bag of bits in front of him and the stallion with a smile on his face. Moments seemed to crawl by as the snow continued to drop on top of them. Finally, the Critique stretched out his hoof and accepted the bag. “Thank you. The family will appreciate this.”

The stallion nodded. With a wave and a smile, he walked towards his house. “Happy Hearth’s Warming!”

The Critique returned his nod. “Yeah, Happy Hearth’s Warming.” The words slithered from his lips before he could stop them. He smiled for a moment. He almost forgot how much he enjoyed saying those words. Like reuniting with a close friend after so long. Why did he forget his enjoyment?

He shook his head, trying to force his mind back on his job.

As he continued down the road to his library, he was stopped by another pony. A mare stood out in the snowy fields, just outside her house, with a little filly just at her leg. “Excuse me.” The Critique turned to face the mare. “My daughter has something to ask you.”

The mare leaned down to her daughter and whispered in her ear. It was soft, but certainly loud enough to hear. “Go ahead, honey.”

The little filly put one hoof in front of the other, slowly trotting her way to the Critique’s side. She looked up as she presented a boxed up pony doll. It had a large amount of accessories and looked very expensive.

“April is my best friend,” a small voice came from her, as if she was scared to speak any louder. She stretched out the box up as high as she could. “Would you give this to her?”

The Critique eyes widened and his heart stopped. His jaw crept open slightly. Only a second later, he gave a smile. Kneeling down to the filly’s eye level, he agreed to her request. He looked her in the eye and nodded. “This is going to make your friend really happy.”

The filly finally gave a smile. The mother called out to her daughter, her hoof stretched out. With a quick wave, the child turned around and skipped to her mother’s side.

The Critique stood up, set the box in his cart and continued on his way. A few yards down the road, another pony stopped him. They explained they had heard and offered a few bits. A few yards down, another pony. And then another. It was almost as if the entire town knew. He knew it wasn’t his doing. But he knew who.

As he approached the front of the library, his cart had almost doubled in size, just from the town. He made his way through the front door, pushing his cart through. “Computer!”

A screen appeared from the ceiling, presenting itself before him. “Sir, I am glad you are back. I have finished what you have asked.”

He glared up to her. “Yeah, I also noticed you multitasking!” He pointed to the cart. “Care to explain why the whole town knows about what happened?!”

Computer’s digital eyes narrowed, like they had been hurt. “Sir, I-“

Critique shook his head and scoffed. “Never mind. Just get these gifts wrapped!” He made his way to the restroom, where a large red suit hung neatly before him.

***

Shamrock sat on the sofa, tears streaming down his face. Why them? Why my children?! It’s not fair! They haven’t done anything! There was nothing left. All their Hearth’s Warming money was spent. There were no stores open and tomorrow was Hearth’s Warming. All hope was gone.

He begged the police to tell him they would get the ponies responsible, but they explained they would only try their best. And while they are doing their best, what about my children?! He immediately regretted his thought. His body shook demanding penance. He placed his hooves against his face, taking in a deep breath. Several more escaped his lips. No matter how many he took, however, nothing calmed him down. His heart still hurt and his body still vibrated, almost violently.

He was supposed to be the father. It was his responsibility to make sure his family was safe and that their property was secure. And because of some cruel soul, he failed.

His wife, Golden Mane, slipped next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Tears were still washing her cheeks like a river. He glanced over to her and placed his hoof around her. “How are they?”

Golden shook her head, a sniffle escaping her throat. “They’re scared. Confused.” Another sniffle. “I don’t really blame them.”

Shamrock felt his hoof shake uncontrollably. “I should have done something!” His eyes closed as tears came down his face even faster. “I should have done-!”

Golden’s hoof drew him close and pointed his eyes directly before her’s. “It wasn’t your fault!” she screamed. He looked into her eyes, watching pain fester itself in her. Her pupils retraced slightly. The corners of her mouth nearly dropped to the floor. Her bottom lip trembled, occasionally letting out a soft cry.

Silence consumed the house. They looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity as the tears hit the couch beneath them. Shamrock placed his hooves on Golden’s cheek, wiping away her tears as let out another whimper.

He wrapped his hooves around her as their soft sobs filled the air in unison.

Suddenly, their whimpers were silenced by the doorbell.

Shamrock’s head poked straight up as they both stood still for several moments. They gave a quick glance to one another. Their looks asking if they were expecting somepony. The doorbell rang again. This time, Shamrock picked himself up and made his way to the front door. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a large stallion with a long white beard in a red suit. From his throat came a joyous “Ho, ho, ho!”

As he looked upon the stallion, Shamrock knew who it was. His mouth dropped, his eyes widened. It was him. The neighbor. The one pony he would never let his kids near. A pony who’s vulgar language, temper, drinking problem, and lack of respect for anypony but himself, was a poison to all children. So, why was he at my front door?! Of all nights?!

With another one of his trademark laughs, Santa spoke in as deep a voice as he could. “Hello, everypony! Happy Hearth’s Warming!”

A voice then screamed from behind him with such joy that he swore it was the greatest day of that young colt’s life. “Santa!”

As he turned around, two little fillies and one little colt, stood at the end of the hall, smiles nearly overtaking their faces.

The three foals rushed passed their father, making their way to the big stallion in front of them. They looked up to his with excited glee taking control of their bodies, shaking them. “I knew you’d come!” Splash stated.

With a laugh, Santa kneeled, down to the children’s level. They hopped up and down, each of them taking a spot around him like a group of grasshoppers. “I heard three little ponies have been extra good this year.” He smiled through his white beard as he gently tapped Splash on the nose.

He pulled his bag forward, placing it between the children. As he opened it up, various shapes and sizes of brightly colored presents appeared before them. The children’s eyes widened as they released a collective gasp.

“Wow!” April exclaimed.

Shamrock simply stood, his mouth agape staring at the Santa. “Sir, we…”

With a chuckle, Santa stood up and reached into his coat. “Don’t worry! I’ve got something for the two of you as well!” He pulled out a small bag, jingling as he moved it. The bag was tossed in the air, right into Shamrock’s hooves.

He opened the tiny sack to see the reveal it was filled to the brim with bits. Fighting the tears in his eyes, he looked up to Santa and shook his head. “Sir, we can’t…”

Before he could finish, the Santa wrapped his hoof around him and chuckled. “Of course you can! It’s Hearth’s Warming!”

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!” Splash shouted. The three children rushed over to their mother, who was holding her hooves up to her lips, her whimpers cutting in and out. Each of them was holding up a box with their names on them. “Look!”

Golden collapsed to her knees and wrapped her children in her hooves, sniffling. “That’s wonderful!” She pulled away and glanced at them with a smile. “What do you say to Santa?”

Splash rushed to Santa wrapping his hooves around him. “Thank you, Santa.”

Santa just stood. Even through his beard, you could see his mouth was opened and through his glasses, his eyes widened. It was as if he hadn’t expected this. Maybe he never knew what would come of this. Two more pair of hooves wrapped around him as the two little fillies joined their little brother.

For a few moments, Santa still sat, not sure what to do. His brain was still processing what was happening. Finally, he wrapped his hooves around them. A chuckle escaped his lips. “You are quite welcome, my little ponies.”

With a smile from his face, the children rushed back to their mother. They begged and pleaded with her to open up their gifts right away.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled. “You may open one.”

A collective moan came from the three.

Santa let out another laugh. “Now, you three listen to your mother.” The three smiled and nodded as they ripped open the wrappings to their presents. Each of their excited faces nearly skyrocketed as they each beheld a small toy.

Santa stood up with a smile and glanced at Shamrock. “Well, I must be off. Lots to do,” he chuckled.

The children waved their tiny hooves. “Bye, Santa!”

Santa smiled as he opened up the door. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, everypony!” With a trademark laugh, he disappeared through the door.

Shamrock overheard his wife escorting her children back to their bed while she took care of the presents and put them under the tree for tomorrow morning. As he looked out the small crack in the door, he saw him. Santa ripped off his fake beard and took off his hat as he made his way to the library not too far from his house. The stallion opened the door, without giving a second glance at the house and disappeared, like a phantom in the night.

***

The night had moved by too quickly for the pathetic little soul that lied on his bed in the nearly deserted library. The pillow at his face provided little comfort. All he wanted to do the entire day was lay in his bed and sleep the day away. But in the back of his mind, he knew his family would be around shortly. An hour. Maybe two at best.

Not even long enough for a nap.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. He grumbled under his breath. “The library is closed on Hearth's Warming,” a muffled call came from the pillow as he plowed his face into it.

“The library is still your home, sir.” Computer reminded. “Answer the door, please.”

With a growl, Critique threw off his blanket. He stretched his stiff body and hung his head. He reached to his nightstand, grabbing his glasses. He stopped for a moment as he tilted his head, it giving a slight popping sound.

Another knock came at the door. He slipped his glasses on his face and made his way down the staircase and to the front door.

Opening the door, Critique was greeted by two ponies. Shamrock and Golden Mane. The three stood at the doorway, silence overcoming them. “Hello, Copper.” Shamrock finally said.

Critique raised his eyebrow at his name. It’s not a name he was called often nor did he prefer it. Still, he supposed he should get used to it, since that’s what his family would call him. “Hey,” he finally replied.

A beat passed them by. Finally, Critique shook his head and opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”

Golden nodded. “Thank you.” Shamrock followed shortly behind her.

Critique closed the door and looked up to the ceiling. “Computer, drinks for our guests.”

A voice came from the ceiling, slightly startling Golden and Shamrock. “Of course, sir. What may I get for you? Coffee, eggnog, milk or water?”

Golden looked at her husband. He simply shrugged, his narrowed eyes and awkward smile not sure what to say. She looked up to the source of the voice. “Nothing, thank you.”

Shamrock nodded. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

Finally, Critique’s voice entered the room. “Beer.”

“We do not have any, sir,” Computer replied.

Critique knew if he could see her digital face, she would be narrowing her brow, just by her tone of voice. He took in a deep breath and sighed. “Eggnog’s fine then.”

Critique led the two to a small table with a set of chairs around them. “Please.” His hoof gestured them to take a seat. Without a word, they accepted.

A moment later, a robotic arm placed a cup of eggnog in front of Critique. Following that, a large monitor with two eyes came from the ceiling, as if she was joining the table.

There was an awkward pause as the whole library went silent. Everypony was waiting for somepony else to make a move. Golden sat fidgeting with her hooves. Shamrock had his hoof around her. The Critique glancing up at Computer, his eyebrow arched. Computer's screen tilted slightly to the left, glancing at her master.

Finally, Golden leaned forward. “Mr. Copper, we just wanted to thank you-“ She stopped mid-sentence as she took in a deep breath. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Like magic, a robotic arm appeared before her, carrying a tissue.

She took it without hesitation and wiped her eyes. “We just wanted to thank you,” her body started to trembled as she wiped her eyes again. “For what you did last night.”

Critique smiled as he looked down to his eggnog. “Well…” he paused as he glanced up to them. “The town helped out a lot.”

Shamrock took his wife in his hooves. “We…” his lips started to tremble as he took in a deep breath. “We wanted to let you know how much we appreciated what you did.” He looked down at the table. “I know we haven’t always thought you were." He bit his lip "… an ideal neighbor. And…”

“Forget it,” Critique interjected. He knew what he was like, even if he didn’t always act like it. “Just trying to help out.” A beat passed as two ponies sitting across from him gave him a smile. Critique pointed to them. “Just don’t tell anypony.” He smiled. “I’ve got a reputation.”

Golden giggled, a sniffle following after. Shamrock chuckled a bit. Golden finally stood up. “Well, we had better be going. Our children are so excited.”

Shamrock and Golden made their way to the door. Critique stood up and followed them, opening the door for them.

They replied with a smile and a wave. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

He nodded. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.” As they disappeared through the door, he gently closed it behind them.

He took in a deep breath and made his way back to the table.

“Copper?” Computer asked.

He took the cup in his hooves and looked to the monitor. “Yeah. That’s my real name.” He swished around the cup. “Copper Coin.” He looked up at her and raised her eyebrow. “You don’t think my parents named me ‘The Critique’, do you?

“No, I suppose not,” Computer replied. “I do like the name.”

He put his hoof on his chin. “Makes one of us.” He looked back at her. “Why did you tell the town? Why tell them?”

Computer’s fake eyes blinked. “I know you have no faith in this town or the kindness and generosity that is in it.” Her words hung heavy in the air for being as lifeless and as emotionless as they were. “Perhaps this was my way of showing you that you are wrong about Ponyville.”

Critique placed his hoof on his chin, taking in her words. Not a sound was heard around them as he sat, looking across the table. He looked down at his eggnog and smiled. For the first time in his life, Copper Coin was happy to be wrong.

Author's Note

Thank you all for taking a look at the story. Go ahead and give a comment letting me know what you think.

Big thanks to Fedorasarecool, Hudson Hawk, TheWraithWriter and Lunar Metal for proofreading and editing.

For a better explanation on the story and why I wrote it, go ahead and click on the link here and it will take you to the blog that will explain it.

Happy Holidays everyone!