Smoke filled the dimly lit cabin. Dismay was written across Luke's saddened face. He could not believe that he had messed up again. Peels of laughter wafted through the open window. Why was Luke burdened with this special problem? It's not like it was a choice. Luke was born this way. From a tiny colt, forward, Luke had spent his life hiding what inevitably would come out. The pungent aroma of his latest offering served as a horrible reminder of his uniqueness. He glanced out the window at the normal, bright, healthy ponies and wished he could be like them. His parents, Buffador and Gentle winds had always said he was special.
But he was at a loss as to how to see himself as anything but a big, stinky failure. Suddenly the door opened.
"Hello? Is there anyone in here?" Said a quiet voice. Who could that be? Someone here to mock me? Thought Luke. "Hello again," persistently. "Is anyone there?"
"What can I do for you?" Said Luke meekly.
"I heard there was a pony here that might be able to help our village."
"Really?" Said Luke. "Is this some kind of joke?" The mare shook her head.
"No, I wish it were a joke. But I've come in hope of finding a solution to the devastating famine that has gripped my village. After years of mistreating our land, we can't get crops to grow. And our herds are hungry. We're told that fertilizer is the only answer. Is there any way we can talk you into coming to our village and helping out?"
"What can I do?" Asked Luke.
"Come to our village and..." The mare looked off awkwardly. "And do your thing... You've heard the expression one pony's garbage is another pony's treasure?"
"Do you think it could work?"
"I've heard of it done." Said the mare.
"For the betterment of all, I'm gonna try." Said Luke. The mare and Luke walked out of the cabin, only to find their exit blocked by the herd of obnoxious teenage ponies.
"Where do you think you're going?" Said the biggest hoodlem.
"I guess I'm trying to turn lemons into lemonade." Said Luke.
"Well you're not goin' anywhere freak." Said the rambunctious ponies.
"My mother told me ther'd be days like these," Said Luke. "You shall not keep me from helping this poor village. And he started towards the gate. Immediately he was stopped by a line of adolescent jerk-off ponies. Luke took a long look, and reflected on the years of ridicule he'd lived with. He reared up handsomely, small nuggets falling from his back door. "I am what I am!" Said Luke. And I'll do what must be done." Charging forward, the wall of horses scattered in an attempt to avoid the flurry of manure cascading and windmilling in a frenzy from the fury of Luke's advance. Luke broke through to the other side. He looks back and sighs, "Oh, what a relief! Where is your village, and how long will it take to get there?"
"We have to go through the Arseface mountains, then through the valley of the cows."
"Lets go. If you really think I can help, I'm yours. I'm tired of being made fun of." With that, they headed down the trail.
Just when they arrived at the village, a herd of hungry ponies charged to meet them.
"Where have you been Vigialouchi? We thought you were lost. Have you been off on one of your hare-brained schemes? You worried us sick!"
"I had an idea that might help the village."
"You are filled with silly ideas Vigialouchi. What is it this time?"
"I heard a legend where a village was fed by the droppings of the mighty pony."
"Ughh. What nonsense do you speak of? You should be punished for even saying such a fowl thing."
"No, let me try! I know you think it a silly idea, but the legend says clearly that our escape lies in this ponies unique offering." The crowd gathed and talked amongst themselves. After a few anguished moments, the lead says,
"What do we have to loose? Give it your best shot." Luke gathered a look of determination and paced to a nearby tree, grabbing the bark with his teeth and ripping it from its housing. He munched satisfyingly.
"Eww!"
"Apparently my palate is unique as my curse." He started chewing frantically. Soon the trees were as bear as the butts of the famished horses, and Luke headed for the fields. On and on through the night, Luke continuously, heroically ate and did what came naturally in field after field. At sunrise, the clouds burst forth, soaking the fields and enriching the topsoil. Tiny buds sprouted, reaching their tiny heads towards the sun, almost speedily attempting to elevate themselves from the pungent earth.
The village woke with screams of happiness, the youngsters running joyously through the fields, careful not to impede the growth of the ever-greening crops. The leader approached Luke.
"Our heartfelt gratitude to you Luke. One mans garbage truly is another mans treasure. Those who laughed at you before should see you now. In all you glory. We will always remember you as the savior of our village. Thank you for having the courage to be who you are, and doing your thing."
"I have to give some thanks to Vigialouchi, who found me when I was down and saw that I had no reason to be. They say the darkest hour is just before the dawn. And in this case, that proved true. Long live this village."
