Golden Harvest - Babysitter

by SpigotOfTheFrigate

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Derpy Hooves, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sparkler, Dinky Hooves, Other, Carrot Top
Length: 12508

When her best friend asks her to do something, Golden has no choice but to say yes. However what awaits her as trial like no other she has faced. Babysitting!

Babysitting, the very word makes your butt cheeks clench. At least it does if your Golden Harvest. But when her best friend asks her to babysit she bites the bullet and agrees. After all it's just one night. Even she can handle that, right?
Wait, what? She's sitting for the whole week? Uh oh.

Rated teen for foul language.

Published 2014-12-13 16:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-07 19:21:28 UTC

Day 1

There are certain fundamental laws that exist in the multiverse. For unknown reasons certain nodules of truth float through existence shaping all of creation. While not exactly ironclad these strange and often nonsensical rules exist. Time travel accomplishes almost nothing. Henchmen become less powerful when working in groups. The password is almost always swordfish. Sandwiches taste better when cut diagonally.

And of course all harrowing experiences are preceded by The Long Walk. Heroes had to cross the battlefield to face their nemesis in single combat. Rebels and outlaws were escorted from their cells to the gallows. Employees had to walk down long dramatic corridors to face their bosses. Variations even existed for different species. The Long Slither, The Long Flight, The Long Skip, The Long Swim, The Long Crawl, and in one truly bizarre case The Long Up-Beat Dance Sequence. But regardless of dimension, time period, or form of locomotion used; right before pivotal moments The Long Walk waited to greet the intrepid hero and help them build a suitable level of tension.

Currently in a small but colorful world, in a small but colorful town a pony was taking The Long Walk.

Her name was Golden Harvest, though most ponies knew her by her much despised nickname Carrot Top. She was walking up the main road of Ponyville, leaving the comfort of her farm far behind to face one of the most dreaded trials she had ever been forced to weather.

Babysitting. The very word sent a shiver down her spine.

Of course most ponies met babysitting with a range of emotions, from a little excited to slightly annoyed. But most ponies were not Golden Harvest. Golden was not a social pony. She had many interests (carrots, farming carrots, selling carrots, cooking with carrots, thinking about carrots, eating carrots, drawing pictures of carrots, rolling around on big piles of carrots, etc.), but none of those interests really involved ponies. She didn’t hate ponies… most ponies anyway. She just harbored a general dislike of socialization. Mostly because she wasn’t very good at it. She was a sourpuss and about as subtle as a burning sledgehammer. Add to that an almost prodigious ability to cuss and just the subtlest hint of a mean streak to form whatever the logical opposite of a social butterfly is.

But there was more to it than that. For deep down on some fundamental level Golden was scared of ponies. They just seemed so fragile and complicated. The wrong word or phrase or look could enrage or utterly devastate a pony, and she had no idea what would set them of until she had already hurt them.

So she stuck to her strengths. Like carrots. Carrots were simple. She planted them. She watered them. She weeded when necessary. Then one day (after properly apologizing) she harvested them. She didn’t need to worry that this carrot may have had a traumatizing experience with water and wouldn’t want any. Or maybe that one was ideologically opposed to her fascist oppression of weeds. Or Celestia forbid one of the carrots may have gone through a messy break up with the sun and needed to be grown in the shade. Hell, carrots were mellow enough to be brutally murdered by their caretaker and just sort of except it.

Carrots were simple, ponies were complex. Children were fucking nightmares. They were raw, chaotic bundles of emotion, never showing any modicum of self-control. If they were happy they were bouncing of the walls singing ecstatically. If they were scared they were shivering under their blanket. If they were sad they were balling their eyes out. And they could be swung to any of these emotional extremes with only the slightest prodding. In fact Golden made it a steadfast rule to avoid foals whenever possible.

But her rule about foals had been trumped by her rule about friends.

Unsurprisingly Golden had few friends. So the ones she had she planned on keeping. As such she had an unbreakable rule to always help her friends when they needed it. So when asked by her best friend to babysit she overcame her near phobia of kids and said yes. Then Ditzy Doo explained she would only be gone for a week and Golden very nearly throttled her.

A single night was one thing, it was a few hours and the kids would be in bed for most of it. Heck she might even enjoy it. Dinky and Amethyst were practically family. But a whole week of looking after her best friends little sisters was just tempting fate. Something was going to go wrong. Horribly, horribly, horribly wrong.

The damage however was already done. Ditzy was leaving tonight, couriering a package to the Crystal Empire. And with her gone all the responsibilities of legal guardianship would fall squarely on Golden Harvest’s back.

And so Golden had left the comforts of hearth and home far behind and took The Long Walk to her friend’s one story cottage.

And as she approached her doom Golden did her best to keep calm.

Just calm the fuck down, she thought to herself, a few days won’t kill you damn it. I mean yeah most kids are… awful, but it’s Dinky Doo and Amethyst Star, for shit’s sake. Dinky’s nice enough, I mean she’s way too fucking smart for her own good, but she’s quiet at least. Just give her a book and she’s good to go. And Amethyst is a teenager, that’s basically an adult. She’s hormonal as all get out, but at least she… I actually don’t have a good counter argument for that. She paused as she briefly considered going into hiding. Oh stop being a fucking pussy! It’s babysitting for Luna’s sake! Any asshole can do it, all you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t set themselves on fire or whatever.

Golden snapped herself from her attempted pep talk as she neared Ditzy’s front door. Taking a deep calming breath she lifted her hoof to tap lightly on the door. Then, because Golden could learn from past experience, she braced herself while folding down her ears.

Suddenly the door burst open and a grey blur bowled into Golden with what could only be described as excessive force. Golden slid several inches backwards as she felt the air crushed from her lungs by a vice like hug. All the while wincing knowing the worst part was still coming.

“CARROT TOP!!!” Ditzy yelled with slightly more volume than a pony should be able to produce. And yet the ear shattering scream bothered Golden only slightly less than her nickname.

“Hey there Ditzy.” Golden struggled to say, her normal southern belle accent squeezed out of her voice.

“Thank you so much for doing this.” Ditzy somehow managed to chirp earnestly.

Golden could only shrug awkwardly, muttering a quick “It’s not a big fucking deal or anything Ditzy.”

Then Golden caught a glimpse of her friend’s walled eyes narrowing. That wasn’t normal. Ditzy was tough as nails, it was how their friendship had survived since childhood. But Ditzy didn’t do anger. She was more or less in a state of perpetual pep. So her unintentionally adorable attempt at an icy stare was a giant red flag to anyone who knew her. Golden was proud to say she knew Ditzy better than anypony alive, so she knew almost instantly what she had done wrong.

“Sorry,” she said looking anywhere but at her friend. “It just sortta slipped out.”

Ditzy’s countenance completely flipped at the apology. The huge smile that spread across her face was slightly more infectious than your average flu, and Golden was powerless to stop her own grin from forming.

“I promise I won’t cuss in front of them.” Golden said as much to herself as to Ditzy.

“Yes you will,” Ditzy giggled. “All I ask is that you do your best.”

And she really meant it. Other ponies might not, they’d say “do your best” as a euphemism for “do it as well as equinely possible.” But Ditzy always said exactly what she meant. Golden’s best was good enough. Knowing that her friend trusted and valued her filled Golden with a mix of pride and affection that she rarely felt. It was a feeling that was worth all the carrots in the world. Well a vast majority anyway. Maybe sixty percent.

“Come on in, I’ve just got to say my goodbyes.”

Stepping into Casa de Doo was an enlightening experience. Golden didn’t know who it was that said you could tell everything you needed to know about a pony by their home, and it didn’t really matter who said it because Golden thought that was bullshit. She thought that there was something to the opposite thought process though. There was just a homey vibe to the house that perfectly encapsulated Ditzy and her family.

The living room was a warm, calm, robin’s egg blue. Large windows let in plenty of sunlight and gave the room a lovely view. The brick fireplace was flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Each one was stuffed to the brim with books on every subject imaginable. Ditzy’s mother, Stanza Star, had spent her life collecting them. All three other walls were plastered with photos. Ditzy’s father, Dusty Doo, had a passion for photography. Most of them were of his family, though a few were from his work showing exotic plants and animals from deep in the Everfree Forest.

Resting on the mantle were three solitary items. On the left was a brass badge. The words Everfree Rangers and the number 177 were just barely still visible, but you could still read it if you knew what it said ahead of time. On the right was a small book. Its lilac cover was just beginning to fade, but the gold leaf type was still clearly visible. It read The First Flight, The First Spell, and the New Seed. A collection of poetry by Stanza Star. Squarely between the two was a picture of a young park ranger and an aspiring poet/librarian locked in an eternal embrace.

It was incredible the way Stanza and Dusty’s presence seemed to linger over the house. It was almost seven years since either of them had so much as laid eyes on the house, and yet it almost felt as if they were just in the other room. For Golden it was a source of ambivalence. She didn’t know whether to be impressed that Ditzy had managed to preserve their spirit, or sad that she hadn’t been able to move on from them. A small part of Golden was jealous that Ditzy’s relationship with her parents was so strong, but Golden knew that made losing them all the harder.

All of this added up in Golden’s mind to a giant minefield. If she said something stupid Ditzy would forgive and forget. But in the world of babysitting it was one gigantic pitfall she had to avoid like the plague. She knew all too well that a tough family situation could make even the best ponies a little crazy. And it could turn children into monsters.

Currently the two potential monsters were wrapped in their own little worlds. Dinky was on the floor in front of the hearth. She crouched over a large book, staring morosely at the pages without really reading. She was radiating a degree of hopelessness that only a child about to be separated from their mother (or surrogate mother in this case) can. Amethyst on the other hand was lounging on the beat up old couch, an aloof expression on her face as she sketched on a note pad held in her magic. She was clearly in the “I am too old/cool to be sad” phase of adolescence.

As the three sisters said their goodbyes Golden sized up her charges.

Ok so start with Dinky. She’s kinda like a little Ditzy. And she’s sad. She thought quickly.

No fucking way genius! The sad foal is sad! They’re gonna rewrite the Celestia damned textbooks after this gets out! A small snide voice spoke from the corner of her mind.

You’re not helping! And if you dare say you’re not trying to help, I’m going to beat seven kinds of shit out of you. So if it was little Ditzy how would we cheer her up?

We usually would just walk her home and let Mrs. Star cheer her up.

Ok, how did she do it?

She’d make muffins while we played in the living room. Oh and after we left she talked to Ditzy about whatever made her sad.

Well we suck ass when it comes to baking muffins. And talking about feelings.

We were good at getting savagely ass-blasted in shoots and latters.

That game was bullshit, it was dumb fucking luck that decided the game. But winning did usually make Ditzy feel a little better.

But she’s not the real problem, is she?

Well how’d we cheer up teenage Ditzy?

We didn’t she cheered us up.

I don’t mean to interrupt, a third voice interjected, but you should probably stop referring to yourself as a “we.” Also Ditzy’s trying to talk to you.

“Carrot? Are you okay?” Ditzy was staring at her, golden eyes full of concern. She was flanked by her younger sisters. She had a wing draped over each of them in a sort of protective hug. Dinky gladly leaned into the hug very near to openly crying. Amethyst was a bit more awkward, torn between the comfort of the embrace and her own pride.

“I’m fine, what’d you say.” Golden said shaking her head to banish the unwanted voices and thoughts.

“I told Dinky and Sparkler they’re in good hooves, right?” Ditzy said seemingly oblivious to her friend’s mounting anxiety and her sisters’ melancholy.

“Ummm… Yes?” Golden’s answer lacked conviction in the same way a desert might lack water.

“Excellent!” The lone happy pony in the room warbled while smiling brightly. “Now, I love you.” She said while leaning down to kiss a forlorn Dinky. “And I love you.” She said planting a smooch on a cringing Amethyst. “And I love you.” She said before giving a shell-shocked Golden a quick peck on the forehead. “I’ll see you all in a week, too-de-loo!” And with a loving glance back at her three favorite ponies Ditzy was out the door and gone for what was sure to be a long week.

As soon as she was gone the room completely changed. All the warmth seemed to flee, and an awkward silence settled between the three ponies like a big, cottony wedge. They all just stood there staring blankly at each other. Seconds crept by, before maturing into minutes. Finally when Golden could take no more she cleared her throat and spoke.

“So-” Bang! She had barely formed her thought before the door was opened with enough speed to cause a miniaturized sonic boom.

“Sorry I forgot my suitcase.” Ditzy said scooping up her luggage in her mouth. “O-ay oo-e-oo fo ree is ime.”

And just like that Golden had gone from square one to square zero and back to square one again. Not exactly the best start. But she had learned life was tough and you had to take advantage of every opportunity you got. Going from square zero to square one was a step in the right direction, and Golden would be damned if she didn’t ring every drop of worth out of that “momentum.”

“So-” Golden began mustering all her remaining confidence.

“I’ll be in my room.” Amethyst said before curtly turning towards the hallway and sauntering away.

Golden’s nerves were already frazzled, and being interrupted twice in one minute strained her already bad temper. She actually had to bite her tongue to keep herself from yelling. Not even that could stop herself from staring daggers at the teens back.

Deep breath, Golden. You knew she was gonna be the tricky one. She’ll come out when she’s hungry. Just focus on Dinky for now.

“Well Dinky, looks like it’s just you and me.” Golden said forcing cheer into her voice and a smile onto her face.

“Mm-hmm.” The young unicorn said without even bothering to look up from her own hooves. The expression on her young face could only be described as terminally glum.

“You uh, wanna play a game?” Golden was almost begging. This was the last lifeboat on the S.S. Babysitting. Sink or swim.

“No thank you.” Dinky walked slowly back to her book before plopping down to read once more.

Sink it is then. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. Three minutes into babysitting and I’ve already fucked it up. Way to go dumbass. Just get out of here before you something else happens.

“I’ll just go get supper started.” Dinky didn’t even look up from her book.

Golden shuffled to the kitchen, tail between her legs and head hung limply. At least cooking always cheered her up. Maybe, just maybe, she could win them over with food. Some pan-fried carrot-dogs and this whole endeavor could be back on track. She’d be in a better mood, and while it might not be the muffins with a side of love they were used to hopefully the girls would love her cooking.

She began to set out her ingredients. Flower, yeast, salt, water, and a dash of honey to make her buns. Pickled cucumbers, a sweet union, some vinegar, a veritable army of spices to make her relish. Homemade mustard, and ketchup. A few potatoes to mash and mix with milk and butter as a side. Lastly six fresh, fat, juicy carrots were pulled from her saddlebags to anchor the meal.

And then she started to cook in earnest. Golden may never have had the grace for dancing, but by Celestia she could cook. In one movement she set water to boil, oiled a skillet, and began to knead the dough. A blink of the eye and anyone watching would have missed it. And it went on like that. A slice, a mash, a sizzle, and a pinch of this or that. That was all it took for her to transform a motley arrangement of seemingly random produce into a beautiful, if admittedly simple, meal.

She looked upon her creation feeling a smug sense of pride. She may not have been able to do much as a babysitter, but damn it all if she couldn’t cook.

Dinner is served bitches. Suck it! Golden’s victory dance was an energetic mess.

Then she looked at the clock.

It was two-thirty.

Golden hadn’t literally shaken with rage in several years, but that streak died right there and then. Still conscious of her promise to Ditzy, she bit her foreleg hard enough to draw blood. A low, menacing, but thankfully muffled growl was all that was able to escape her mouth. Any passing telepaths however were treated to a litany of profanities, curses, and more than a few blasphemies.

I took almost two full minutes of attempts at deep breathing for calm to return to the kitchen. Golden poured herself a large glass of water to wash the tastes of blood, fur, and rage from her mouth.

This is gonna be a long fucking week.

Day 2

In the fields surrounding Ponyville there was a certain farm. While this farm may not have been unusual, it was certainly atypical. For starters it was tiny. It was comprised entirely of a single field that had been crudely divided into thirds in order to allow for crop rotation, an over grown herb garden the size of a bathtub, a barn that was closer to being a shed, and a house that was closer to being a shack. If asked, most ponies around town would say its name was The Carrot Patch. Some others would say it was Carrot’s Patch. A few older farmers would say it was the Forsaken Acre, because of its supposedly cursed soil. The farm’s owner usually answered with something along the lines of, “It’s a farm, why the fuck would it need a name?” Then she would usually shoo the asking pony off her property.

If it sounded like a rundown, piece of crap, farm only the most desperate of ponies would buy, that’s because it was. And yet Golden Harvest, the farm’s owner, had literally hospitalized the one pony stupid enough to say that around her. She loved everything about her little farm.

Most of all she loved the solitude it provided. Small fields meant she could operate the farm by herself. A small house discouraged guests. Her nearest neighbor lived almost two-and-a-half miles away, and that was still a little close for Golden’s liking.

The seclusion gave her plenty of time to do her favorite things, like farming. Not a day went by without her tending her fields. She would methodically and patiently plow, sow, weed, and ultimately harvest her precious crops with a tenderness usually reserved for parents and children.

Unfortunately if the isolation had a downside it was that it allowed her to develop some bad habits. As an example some time ago she had begun to talk to herself. Of course she justified it by saying that talking to the carrots helped them grow. In all honesty though she suspected ranting at carrots still wasn’t the strongest indicator of mental wellbeing.

“And then I just sat there for four damned hours with my hoof up my ass.” She ranted one Monday morning. It was day two of her babysitting adventure and she was not pleased with how the first day had gone.

“So I remake the whole fucking meal. And I mean it was some of my best work. Celestia herself could have eaten it, and she probably would’ve loved every bite. But do they care?” She asked the unsurprisingly silent carrots. “NO! Dinky just sat there playing with her food, and Amethyst… urgh… she just downs her fill without a word and runs back to her room.”

“I’ve never been as grateful for goddess damned public education as I was this morning. A few hours alone is exactly what I needed. I’m serious though, just a little acknowledgment. That’s all I wanted. Is that too much to fucking ask for?” She cried to the heavens.

“Eeyup.” Came the heavens deep masculine reply from behind her.

In flash Golden pirouetted with a majestic cry of “Luna’s left teat!” She found herself face to face with a gigantic red stallion. She had only ever known two ponies that size and color. Being that he was a stallion it could only be her cousin Macintosh.

Now she actually got along pretty well with him. He was a quiet, dependable, and patient stallion who was more than willing to look past Golden’s flaws. To him they were family, end of discussion. That being said he was still just childish enough to love pushing Golden’s buttons. So him sneaking up on her was something he did all too often. And so he shouldn’t have been surprised by her reaction.

“You mother-fucking, eye-gouging, cock-sucking, pain-in-the-ass, douchebag!” She said delivering a punch to his shoulder as a form punctuation. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on somepony when they’re farming!?”

“Eeyup. It’s jus’ funny.” He said with a chuckle.

She slugged him one more time just for good measure. That was a mistake. Macintosh had muscles like iron bars so punching him mostly resulted in a sore hoof. She stood there for a few moments, fuming. Finally she sighed heavily, sat down and began to rub her temples.

“You’re such a dick. Did you come by just to bother me?” She asked exasperatedly.

“Thought I’d come check on ya. Do a little eavesdroppin’.” He said with the same little smirk he always had when teasing her.

“So heard about my little assignment, did you?” She couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow. “Couldn’t help but wonder just how bad I fucked it up?”

“Thought I might be able to help.” His smirk disappeared. He moved and sat down next to her. Golden couldn’t help but to like his presence. It was familial, fraternal even.

“Wanna take’em off my hooves?” She asked halfheartedly.

“Nope. But I think you did alright.”

“Bullshit.” She couldn’t help but give him a skeptical look.

“Did you know Applejack’s allergic to pears?” He asked staring up at the sky.

“No,” an evil grin spread across her face “but that’s good to know.”

“I found that out when she was nine. Ma an’ Pa were in Manehattan visitn’ Aunt an’ Uncle Orange. Granny went into town to run the cart in town. I was left in charge. Made AJ a fruit salad. Thought pears’d be a nice treat, since we didn’t have’em too often. Had to rush to the hospital with her own my back.” He threw a foreleg over her shoulders. “So if nopony went to the hospital I think ya did fine.”

“Guess my standards are just a touch higher than that.” They shared a chuckle. “Got any advice beyond don’t poison them, oh wise babysitting guru?”

“Be yourself.”

Golden laughed a cold, hard, and humorless laugh.

“I mean it. Ditzy and I had a pact after our folks passed. We met once a week for almost five years. We still meet ‘bout once a month. One of the first things we learned was we couldn’t replace’em. We could remember’em. We could honor’em. We could do right by’em. But that was all. We had to move on. We had to do it our way.”

“Never knew you guys were so close.”

“Eeyup…”

The silence filled the air between the two of them. It was the silence of the outdoors, which turns out to be rather loud. In the distance birds were singing. Nearby a cricket was chirping. All the while the wind rustled every leaf on the farm. At the same time it managed to catch the roof of Golden’s shed and produced a somber atonal whistling. The two simply sat there for a moment of silence, lost in their thoughts. Until Golden finally spoke.

“Do you remember the day we got detention?” Golden finally asked quietly.

“Which time?” Macintosh asked back equally quietly.

“The first time. When we got into that fight with each other.”

“Eeyup.”

“I can still remember when we first got there. Old Mr. Lecturn sat us down, locked the door, and said that he wouldn’t let us go until we reached some sort of understanding.”

Macintosh’s smirk returned with a vengeance. “Eeyup.”

Silence settled once more between the two as they reminisced. After a few seconds Golden reached out and punched her cousin again. This time though it was much lighter, little more than a tap. It was a friendly hit, a bizarre substitute for a more intimate display of affection.

“Thanks… asshole.” She said with as much tenderness as she could stomach.

Macintosh gave a small incline of his head.

“Now you better get back home before Applebitch realizes you’re gone.” She said with a smirk of her own. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons.

…

Dusty Doo and Stanza Star hadn’t been able to leave much to their daughters when they passed. There was the house of course, a small collection of books, a few cameras, and a decent life’s savings. But they left behind something that was often overlooked, the appreciation for silence. Stanza, being a librarian, grew accustomed to it while she worked. Dusty spent days at a time in the Everfree Forest, listening to beasts growl, birds cry, and the wind moan. He learned to appreciate a little peace and quiet when he returned to civilization. Some even said this mutual attraction to calm doldrums was what they first saw in each other.

Even all these years later Golden could never understand it. Quiet was nice but silence, real silence, was… boring. It wound her up, and eventually she snapped like a cheap watch spring. So the one time she had decided to splurge in her frugal life she bought a rusty, old gramophone and few records. She found music a great way to kill time.

And so it was she was about halfway through B.B. Rex's Live & Well, when she heard the front door of the Doo household open. She opened her eyes, got off the couch, and faced the new arrival.

Golden had to stop herself from chuckling at the sight of her. Amethyst looked like a sheep who had just stumbled into a den of wolves. An uncomfortable, fidgety, nervous sheep. She was obviously thrown off her game, which is exactly what Golden was going for. Music was never a big part of Amethyst’s life. Ditzy sang on occasion and Rarity would play some classical piece or another when they were working together, but it was nothing like an old diamond dog crooning about all that is wrong with the world.

“Uuuh… hey.” The teen said testing the waters.

“Hey yourself.” Golden said as neutrally as she could.

The two simply stood there. Sizing each other up.

“So, as you may have noticed yesterday sucked.” A small part of Golden relished in the sight of Amethyst’s eyebrows rocketing upwards. “Now I sure as… heck… don’t want the whole week to go like that and I’m pretty sure you don’t either. So we’re gonna see to it that it doesn’t.”

“Really? And just how do you plan to do that?” Amethyst said skeptically. It was clear that Rarity’s mentorship was rubbing off on her. She said every word with a crisp and airy socialite accent. She articulated every word with a jeweler’s precision.

“By talking it out. We’ve got half an hour before we have to pick up Dinky from school. So we’re gonna clear the air. Everything’s on the table. What’dya say Amethyst, mind helping me keep this week from ending in tragedy?” Most ponies at this point would hope their plan was going to work. But Golden had stopped buying into the whole “hope” thing when she was younger. She was going to make this work. To her a square peg could absolutely fit in a round hole if you’re willing to push hard enough.

“So I can talk about anything?” Amethyst asked. Golden nodded. “And you won’t be mad?”

Golden paused as she thought through her answer. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, but you’re free to get pi- that is, mad right back at me.”

“Then first things first, you need to stop calling me Amethyst. No one calls me that. Not Ditzy, not Rarity, not Dinky, not my friends, not my teachers. Everypony calls me Sparkler.” Amethyst said in what was very close to being a tirade.

“Sorry but I hate nicknames.” Golden explained in a matter of fact way. Much to Amethyst’s confusion.

“Why?” She asked in an absolutely bewildered tone. “What possible reason could you have to hate nicknames of all things?"

“Well, because you are who you are. And ponies can’t change who you are just by changing your name. Or something like that.” She said with ever declining surety as she tried to explain her dislike of pseudonyms. “Plus I hate my nickname.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Golden waited for Amethyst’s response. Eventually she realized it wasn’t coming. She had to say something.

“Okay. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me not to do this, but I’ll try calling you Sparkler.” She said feeling her bile rise.

Sparkler seemed under impressed with the concession. After a few moments she spoke up again.

“I’m too old for a babysitter.” It sounded more petulant than she had probably intended.

“Ehhh…” Golden couldn’t help but roll her head dubiously.

“I’m almost sixteen. I can look after myself, thank you very much!” Sparkler declared, puffing out her chest in adolescent pride.

“Being fifteen means you might be able to take care of yourself. You could probably even fu-” Golden paused as she caught herself. “I mean, you can probably look after Dinky too, but being a teenager means you’re still young enough for a safety net.”

“And you are supposed to be my safety net?” Sparkler hissed venomously through gritted teeth. “Ditzy trusts you more than me!?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?!”

Then Golden had a crystallizing moment. She hadn’t thought of that. Why was she here? Ditzy may not have had tons of friends, but she had more than just her. Almost anypony would have been a better choice. Rarity got along better with Sparkler. Cheerilee got along better with Dinky. Macintosh was more patient than she was, Time Turner was more fun, and Redheart was more nurturing. Lyra and Bon-Bon were even trying to have kids of their own. And yet here she was in defiance of common sense. What did she have that they didn’t?

“Oh.” Golden muttered as it all clicked for her.

“What?” Sparkler said now thoroughly perplexed.

“I think I got it.” Golden explained before motioning toward the couch. “Let’s sit down.”

Sparkler followed cautiously to the sofa, before sitting down next to Golden. She made sure to leave plenty of space between the two of them.

“Look Ditzy does trust you. If she didn’t someone else would be here.” Golden said plainly.

“Bu-” Golden forestalled Sparkler’s response with a raised hoof.

“Let me finish. If Ditzy thought you needed a sitter she would’ve asked somepony, anypony, else. I think this is about me.” That got Sparkler’s curiosity if her expression had any truth in it. “I’ve got a little sister, Beta Keratin. I love her. More than I can say. But… well my mom and I… kinda hate each other. So if I’m lucky I get to see her twice a year. It’s… well it’s… tough. Damn tough.” Golden had to pause for a moment. Damn tough didn’t come close to describing the pit in her stomach that formed whenever she thought about Beta.

“Part of me thinks this whole thing is just Ditzy’s way to help.” Another lull came after that. Silence would have filled the air if not for the dulcet but forlorn guitar of B.B. Rex.

“It won’t work. I wish it would but it won’t. I’m not Ditzy, and you’re not Beta.” Golden looked intently at her hooves. She was lost in her self-pity when she felt a hoof on her shoulder.

“We could still try.” Sparkler almost whispered.

Golden’s only response was a calm and dignified “Bwuh?” Sparkler shifted a little before going on.

“What I mean to say is, I love Ditzy, and for whatever reason Ditzy loves you. So we should at least try to get along, for her sake.” Sparkler said with a small hopeful smile. In that moment Golden saw something. She saw the same toothy grin Ditzy seemed to perpetually wear. The same one Stanza had passed down to her. The same one that Ditzy would pass on to her own children one day. It was a strange thing to notice, but it was comforting in a way.

“So how was school today?” Golden asked a little cheer returning to her voice.

“It’s… fine.” Sparkler said evasively suddenly finding the windows very interesting. A devious little smirk formed on Golden’s face.

“Ah, “fine”. Wanna fill me in?” Golden asked in a sickly sweet voice.

“What do you mean?” Sparkler asked guiltily avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“Well,” Golden began as she walked over to the gramophone and flipping the record to side two. “When school is “fine” it’s either grades, or a boy.” She said throwing a knowing look over her shoulder. Sparkler meanwhile was busy trying to hide her blush.

“So what’s his name?” Golden asked like the smart-ass she was.

“Ralli Cart.” She said hiding her face in her hooves.

“Dog Cart’s son?”

“Yes.” Sparkler said as she trotted into the kitchen. As she did her horn flared to life preparing herself a glass water with her magic.

“And?” Golden said following her.

“He’s an earth-pony with a midnight blue coat, a glossy black mane, and these icy grey eyes that you’ve got to see to believe.” Sparkler said a dreamy glaze plastered on her face. “Not to mention flanks you could cut diamonds on.”

Golden’s grimace came fast and hard to her face.

“Too much?” Sparkler asked her blush intensifying to critical levels.

“A little. So have you asked him out yet?”

“What?! No, no, no, no, no. I can’t just… just…” Failing to finish her sentence Sparkler instead sipped her water.

“Sure you can. All you do is walk up to him and say “Hi, mind if I cut a few diamonds on you a- I mean flanks?”” Golden teased.

“I’m serious!” came the indignant reply.

“Me too. If you want something in life you have to fu- ahem, take it. What’s the worst that could happen?” Golden asked.

“I could get rejected!” Sparkler practically shrieked.

“So?”

Sparkler was floored at that. She just stood there with a gaping maw and eyes the size of dinner plates.

“I’d be humiliated, a laughing stock, a… social pariah!”

“For a few days. Then someone else will get there turn.” Golden spoke with the wisdom of experience.

Sparkler paused to think things over and Golden held her tongue. They stood like that for a moment. Golden was amazed at how cozy the silence was. Just a few minutes earlier it would have been an awkward one, now though it was comfortable. It could have gone on much longer if the record hadn’t finally ended.

But end it did. In one last glorious cord that some managed to say more than it ever had on any previous playing. It spoke of the past, the present, and the future. Of absent friends and first loves. Of summer winds and winter snows. Of chances yet untaken and opportunities lost to the flow of time. Not a bad job for three notes on a cheap, battered, old record.

“We need to go.” Sparkler said when the music finally faded.

“Huh?” Golden said still half lost in the music.

“Dinky? Picking her up? From school?” Sparkler said with a demure grin.

“Oh fuck!” Golden cried looking at the clock. Then she froze, every muscle tensing and sweat beading on her brow. She had finally done it. It was a critical moment in time. Golden could practically feel the timeline split in two. All she could hope for was that she ended up in the timeline where everything worked out.

Sparkler snorted. Then she chuckled. And finally she was guffawing loudly. Then Golden joined in and the two laughed the whole way out the door and down to the road. Eventually the two calmed down.

“Ameth-” Golden started before she caught herself. “Sparkler?”

Sparkler stopped and turned to face her.

“You’re a good mare in a bad world. Don’t let anypony or anything say otherwise.” She spoke while doing her best to pat her back with any degree of grace.

“You’re not at all bad yourself,” Sparkler replied giving her temporary caretaker a short, affectionate nuzzle. “Golden Harvest.”

Golden gave her a disbelieving look. It had been so long since anyone had called her by her proper name. She couldn’t help but put a little pep in her step.

And so it was that the two of them walked to the schoolhouse, ready to face whatever fate had in store for them. At this point most ponies would be hopeful, but not Golden. She had something better than hope. She had confidence, and a new friend

Day 3

Tuesday was a market day in Ponyville. Every week between the time the farmers woke up and everypony else did the town square was transformed. First came the farmers setting up all sorts of carts, wagons, booths, and stalls to sell all sorts of fruits, vegetables, flowers, and grains. Then came the swarm of kids on their way to school. They spent the few bits of their allowances on a treat to go with their lunches. After that came a small lull. A few ponies showed up, the stay at home parents and the few professionals who managed to get the day off. Eventually the shop owners and day laborers would take their lunch break. They would fill the market to capacity perusing for groceries and a bite to eat.

But that was just a reason for going to the market, but not the reason. The reason was the gossip. Gossip was the favorite pastime of all small towns, and Ponyville was no exception. On this particular Tuesday the rumor mill was in full swing. The stories and scandals were zipping through the grapevine like the busiest of bees.

The ponies working the mill were doing the complicated dance of trading bits for produce and tale for tale. They would form small groups and share the word on the street. Then they would disperse to the various vendors and make their purchases. They’d get a few tidbits of information and then regroup to share with the others. It was a well-oiled machine that insured everyone knew who did what and to whom.

Being a bit of a slow week for gossip the townsfolk returned to their favorite topics. The mayor’s dating woes were prominently discussed thanks to her recent and disastrous date with Filthy Rich. The weather workers were once again grumbling about a strike they would never go through with. Berry Punch was back on the wagon and everypony was just thrilled to hear it. And of course there was the Odd Couple. The close friendship between Ponyville’s most cheerful mail-mare and its crabbiest anything was a source of near endless speculation.

They proved to be the perfect storm for gossip. Neither of them were well suited for simply answering any questions about their lives. Ditzy Doo was too flighty and too quixotic to be of any real help. She would happily answer any questions you asked but the answer often left more questions behind her wake. On the other end of the spectrum was Golden Harvest. She was too sullen and too withdrawn to answer any questions at all. Since pressing the issue with one ended in confusion and the other ended with several large bruises the good ponies of Ponyville were forced to make their own answers.

All of this was completely over the head of Golden. She knew that the market was as good a place to get the skinny as anywhere else, but it was singularly uninteresting to her. It was there and so was she. That was that.

She only saw two reasons for the market’s existence. To get foods and to get bits. Much to her chagrin the latter of those two goals was more difficult than it had any right to be. She grew good food. The best carrots this side of Canterlot, possibly the best in Equestria. Most ponies just didn’t love carrots enough to buy them consistently. There was also the other problem. With limited bits to spend ponies naturally felt more inclined to give them to their friends. This shrunk Golden’s consistent customer pool to an embarrassingly small droplet. This lead to more than few complications in her life.

“It’s fucking strong arm robbery!” Golden shouted. The pony she was shouting at had a stony, expressionless visage only years of haggling could developed.

“I’ll say it again. Pears are out of season. I don’t have many to sell.” Pyrus explained slowly working to remain calm. “Scarcity drives the prices up.”

“Bullshit! You’re just being an asshole.” Golden said while jabbing an accusatory hoof at the stallion. “Or maybe I should grow less carrots and “drive up prices.””

“You’d certainly have to throw fewer of them away.” The stallion muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Golden hissed.

“I said the pears are five bits apiece. If you want five it’ll be twenty-five total.” Pyrus said quickly.

“I can do the math.” Golden muttered darkly as she took her coin purse out of her saddle bags. She counted her bits. Then counted again. Could she really be down to that little money? A second recount confirmed her poverty.

“Just forget it.” Golden said turning away.

“I’ll take them.” A sugary, androgynous voice said from beside her.

Turning to identify the speaker Golden found herself face to face with a cream colored earth-pony sporting a pink and indigo mane.

“Bon-Bon?” Golden gasped at her friend’s sudden appearance.

“Yes it’s me. That was twenty-five bits?” Bon-Bon confirmed and confirmed again as she handed over a princess’s ransom for the pears. She then unceremoniously dumped them in Golden’s saddlebags. Golden was flabbergasted at that. She blushed in embarrassment and muttered a quick response.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I know.” Bon-Bon said cordially. “Care to walk with me for a bit?”

“Sure.” Golden said falling in line beside her friend. She made sure to shoot a dirty look over her shoulder at Pyrus before she got too far away.

The two moved at the slow, languid pace Bon-Bon set. Of the few ponies Golden had ever thought of as a friend Bon-Bon was the toughest nut to crack. She was the perfect mix of sweet and sour. She could praise and scold with equal skill, a talent that was often lost behind her prodigious confectionary talents. Her disappointed gaze had forced many a young foal to return a stolen piece of candy, only for it to be given back after they apologized. In Golden’s mind Bon-Bon was that rarest kind of pony. A pony born to raise and care for children.

That in itself was enough to ensure Bon-Bon’s motivation was beyond Golden’s comprehension. But there was more to it than that, she could never really understand why most ponies did what they did. What made Bon-Bon such a peculiar friend was in how they became friends. Most of Golden’s friends had a defining moment were they became her friend. Bon-Bon on the other hoof had simply been around. Until one day Golden realized somewhere along the way the two had become friends.

“What do you need the pears for? If you don’t mind me asking.” Bon-Bon said her earnest curiosity shining through.

“A friend of mine has a… weakness for them.” Golden explained snickering at her own joke.

“Ah.” Bon-Bon remarked, her tone knowing.

“The fuck is that supposed mean?” Golden asked with a side long glance.

“I just question the wisdom of throwing so much money away to annoy Applejack.” Bon-Bon explained as if she was talking to a child.

“You mind reading bitch.” Golden was dumbfounded. It wasn’t the first time she had suspected Bon-Bon of having some sort of ESP. She always seemed to know what was going on. Even, and especially, when she had no reasonable way of knowing what she knew.

“I’m no psychic.” Bon-Bon chuckled. “I’ve told you time and time again, if you stay in the loop it really isn’t that hard to figure out what’s going on in a pony’s head.”

“Bonnie look, pumpkin futures!” A perfectly timed shout came from galloping unicorn.

“Usually.” Bon-Bon muttered to herself. The unicorn came skidding up to the two earth-ponies holding a small stack of papers. Her name was Lyra, Bon-Bon’s longtime girlfriend and Ponyville’s resident lyrist.

“Squash Casserole is offering a great deal. By buying them today we can save fifteen bits apiece.” Lyra explained joyously in her sing song voice.

“I see. How many did you buy?” Bon-Bon said obviously leading her lover. Lyra contemplated the inch thick stack of papers.

“Too many?” Lyra answered and asked at the same time.

“Bingo.” A bit of ice crept its way into Bon-Bon’s voice.

“So CT, how’s things?” Lyra said desperate for a subject change. Golden closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Carrot Top was already a demeaning enough moniker, shortening it to “CT” was just a slap in the face.

“Fine.” Golden grumbled.

“Sparky and Dinks run away from home yet?” Lyra asked with a cheeky smile.

“Lyra!” Bon-Bon said aghast delivering a quick hip check to her ladylove. “I told you not to bring that up unless she did first!” Her whisper was just loud enough for Golden to hear.

“It’s actually going pretty damn well.” Golden said matter-of-factly.

“Really?” The two paramours asked in perfect unison.

“Really.” Golden said before murmuring, “So much for being in the fucking loop.”

Golden’s friends were speechless as she kept walking. Eventually they arrived at Golden’s wagon and she sharply flipped the closed sign to open. She then quickly fished a half-dozen of her choicest carrots and passed them to the still amazed Bon-Bon.

“Color me impressed!” Lyra exclaimed. “I thought for sure you’d have fled to the heart of Zebrica after the second day.”

“Well thanks for the fucking vote of fucking confidence.” Golden said darkly.

“Well childcare isn’t exactly your… primary skill. No offense.” Bon-Bon tried to be delicate with her hot headed friend.

“It’s not so tough. The first day was a piece of shit, but yesterday I sat Sparkler down and we reached an understanding.” Golden explained.

“Did you just call her Sparkler?” Lyra asked in the same shocked tone most ponies reserved for questions like “She’s a guy?”

“Like I said we reached an agreement.” Golden began to pack her cart back up when she felt a hoof jab her in the ribs. Turning she found a dumbfounded Lyra poking her.

“Who are you and what have you done to Carrot Top?” She asked in a grave tone. Golden gave her a withering glance that could set a lake to boil.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Bon-Bon said inserting herself between the two.

“Shoot.”

“What about Dinky?”

“What about her?” Golden asked more than a little lost.

“Did you have a talk with her too?” Bon-Bon asked in her “you have forgotten something and I don’t want to be rude and just call you on it” tone. A tone she used embarrassingly often in her social circle.

“I didn’t need to. I passed the buck to the middle sister.” Golden said as she got the hitch on her wagon ready.

“What about today?” The tone was back with a vengeance. “Aren’t Tuesdays and Thursdays when Sparkler goes to the Boutique to work with Rarity?”

“Oh shit.” Golden whispered as the realization hit her like an avalanche. Lyra couldn’t help but snicker at her expression.

“At least we know it’s really her.” Lyra joked pausing for laughter that never came.

“What the hell am I going to do?” Golden groaned electing to ignore Lyra.

“You’ll be fine.” Bon-Bon said soothingly.

“No I won’t. I wasn’t even good with kids when I was a kid.”

“The trick is to stay positive.” Bon-Bon ensured her.

“Hello my name is Golden Harvest, I don’t think we’ve met.” Sardonicism always came easy to Golden.

“You don’t have to be that upbeat.” Lyra offered her two cents.

“Lyra I really don’t need your shit right now.” Golden sniped back.

“I’m serious. It’s like when you first start drinking. You can go from zero to blitzed in one shot, but as you get older it takes more and more booze to get drunk.” Lyra rambled while staring into the middle-distance. “Kids are like that. It doesn’t take much to be nice, or supportive, or thoughtful in their mind because they haven’t really built up a tolerance yet.”

“That actually makes sense.” Golden said taken aback.

“The key is to try. Children can pick up on your intentions even if your execution is lacking.” Lyra said squinting in concentration.

“Where did you read that?” Bon-Bon asked teasingly.

“Parenting for Dummies.” Lyra answered obliviously.

“Anymore advice?” Golden asked in an unimpressed voice.

“School ends in five minutes.” Lyra said glancing at the clocktower.

“Damn it all to hell!” Golden shouted.

...

By the time Golden arrived at the school she was a sweaty mess. She had towed her wagon at full speed under the ever watchful eye of the sun all the way from the center of town to her farm on the farthest outskirts. When she reached her farm she quickly detached herself, before throwing a tarp haphazardly over her livelihood. She then began her sprint back across the town. For a moment her world was ruled by the pounding of hooves, the whipping of wind, and the kicking up of dust.

She ran as if Nightmare Moon herself was nipping at her heels. She ran as if the fate of all the world depended on her speed. She ran as if she intended to run herself to death. All to arrive only fifteen minutes late.

Her tardiness ensured the school was next to deserted. If she was thirty seconds late most of the students would be gone. After fifteen minutes the school looked like it had been abandoned years ago. Golden knew at least one little filly was still inside the schoolhouse though. And she was keenly aware that it was her fault.

As she approached the front door Golden took several heaving breathes, desperate to get her breathing back to normal before she stepped inside.

Fortunately she was given a little more time to do so. Unfortunately it was because a pony stepped outside to meet her. The pony was a mare a few years older than Golden. She had a plum colored coat and mauve mane and tail. Her eyes were a pale green and her face was currently sporting an ironically cheerless frown.

“Hey there Cheerilee.” Golden said guiltily looking anywhere but at the teacher.

“Hello Carrot Top.” Cheerilee said her voice neutral. “We need to talk.”

“I know, I’m sorry I’m late. I got held up at the market.” Golden wheezed, speaking a little faster than her lungs could currently support. Cheerilee sighed shaking her head.

“That’s not the problem.” Cheerilee said sitting down heavily, leaning back against the sun warmed wood paneling of her school house. “Dinky is in detention.”

“Pull the one of the other ones it’s got fucking bells on it.” Golden couldn’t believe it. When she was younger she was a delinquent, in and out of trouble on an almost daily basis. As she got older she ended up in a small circle of friends, each one more of a trouble maker than the last. All except for Ditzy. She was the good kid in the group with a perpetually clean nose. From the way Ditzy bragged about Dinky, Golden assumed her to be exactly as well behaved.

“I’m afraid I’m not joking.” Cheerilee said sternly.

“What’d she do, pass notes during class?” Golden asked in disbelief.

“She got into a fight.”

“Bullshit!” Golden almost shouted. “What happened?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure. Neither she nor the fillies she got into a fight with are talking.” Cheerilee patiently explained.

“Don’t give me that crap. You may not have seen what happened but you’ve got to have some ideas.” Golden got in her face. Something she knew instantly she should not have done. But she didn’t care. In her mind Dinky was Ditzy 2.0, and no one was allowed to mess with her friend.

“Please calm down.” Cheerilee said refusing to budge. “When I said I don’t know what happened I mean exactly that.”

The two simply stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to break first. It was a classic battle of wills. Golden was as stubborn as a pony could get, but at last she had met her match. Cheerilee was a teacher, and as a teacher she dealt with stubbornness on a daily basis. In doing so she had developed the one skill more powerful than obstinacy. The power of patience.

Golden stewed for a few moments after she realized her inevitable defeat. She gave a frustrated huff before spinning around and plonking herself down next to the teacher. She vented her frustration with a few deep breathes. After only partially succeeding Golden tried once more to get some information.

“What can you tell me then?” She asked doing her best to remain calm and collected.

“I really don’t know as much as I would like.” Cheerilee answered her tone carrying a little gratitude for Golden’s self-control. “The other two fillies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, have a tendency to pick on their classmates. But for them to end up in an actual fight, and with Dinky Doo of all ponies, is not something I expected.”

“Do you know how it started?” Golden said remembering the many, many fights of her past. They all had one thing in common, somepony always threw the first punch. She wasn’t sure what difference it would make. If Dinky was the aggressor Golden would hardly be in a position to give her a lecture. If Dinky was the victim... Golden hadn’t truly lost control in a long time. It wasn’t a prospect she savored.

“The only thing I know is what the other students are saying.” Cheerilee said with a deep sigh. “I don’t know how reliable my little blabbermouths are though.”

“What are they saying?” Golden said getting impatient.

“They’re saying Diamond and Silver were picking on Dinky. Then they said the wrong thing and Dinky just… snapped. Before you ask I don’t know what they said.” Cheerilee said cutting off Golden before she could begin. “I’m afraid this leaves us in a bit of a pickle though.”

“What’d you mean?” Golden asked warily.

“When a student ends up getting into trouble, especially trouble like this, I like to work with their parents or legal guardians. But with Ditzy out of town…” Cheerilee let the silence sit between them, her implication clear. Golden simply sat there staring into the distance, mulling over the situation.

“I could talk to her.” Golden said stoically. Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” Cheerilee said sizing up Golden. It wasn’t easy to shock a pony who made their living looking after children, but Golden so rarely did things that were easy.

“I could talk to her.” Golden repeated. No I couldn’t. Why am I saying this? This is a terrible plan.

“I suppose Ditzy did leave you in charge while she was gone.” Cheerilee chewed on each word as she spoke.

“I can handle it.” Golden assured her. You lying bitch!

“I’ll go get her.” And then Golden was left alone with her thoughts.

What the fuck was that? Shit, maybe Lyra was on to something, I might be possessed or some shit. ‘Cause I didn’t want to say a word of that. So much for “just don’t try so damn hard and you won’t fuck it up.”

When Cheerilee returned she was not alone. Next to her was a downcast Dinky Doo. She was shuffling, staring solidly at the ground in front of her hooves. The evidence of her fight was clear to Golden’s experienced eyes. There was a slight rumpling to her coat and her mane was messy despite the clear attempts to fix it. Her right cheek was a little swollen. On the left side of her neck just, below her jaw line, was a Power Ponies bandage. It was all very nostalgic for Golden. One thing stuck out as different from her own experiences. Dinky’s eyes were red and puffy, with obvious tear tracks in her fur.

“Hey Dinky.” Golden said sympathetically. She had been there. She had done that. If she had any money as a kid she would have bought the t-shirt. She began to get a little worried when Dinky didn’t even look up. She glanced at Cheerilee who simply nodded before turning and going back into the school house.

Golden wasted no time. She quickly bent down and relieved Dinky of her saddle bags. She slung them over her neck before lowering herself onto her belly, her side to Dinky.

“Hop on.” Golden whispered in what she hoped was a nurturing voice.

Dinky finally looked up at that, her eyes wide with confusion. “Huh?”

“You look like you could use ride home.” Golden said smiling at the little filly. Dinky nodded glumly and climbed up onto Golden’s back. She immediately snuggled down into Golden’s back, making Golden acutely aware of every hair that came into contact with the filly. She also couldn’t help but notice how soft Dinky’s coat was or how much warmth her little body created.

Golden set off from the schoolhouse at a slow walk. She was no stranger to hauling things on her back, but she was still careful. This was by far the most precious thing she had carried in her life. So she went slow and steady, continually throwing glances over her shoulder.

A few minutes passed before Golden felt Dinky shift her weight. She scooted up Golden’s back until eventually she was mostly resting on her shoulders. Then she buried her face in Golden’s orange mane.

Golden knew what was happening before she even heard the muted sniffles and sobs. She let Dinky cry for a bit. Ditzy had once told her that bad feelings needed to be gotten out, and Golden was more than willing to defer to her wisdom.

And so Dinky cried, and cried, and then cried some more. After a while she finally seemed to exhaust herself. Golden slowed to a stop and craned her neck to face her young ward.

“It’ll be alright Dinky.” Golden did her absolute best to sound motherly. Doing so of course meant doing her best Stanza Star impersonation.

“No it won’t.” Dinky moaned pitifully. “Ditzy is going to hate me.”

“Aww, no she won’t. Ditzy doesn’t have it in her hate anything, least of all you.” Golden explained.

“But she said I should never hit another pony. And now I hit two ponies.” Dinky persisted coming very close to crying again.

“She’ll forgive you. She loves you.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Dinky asked quietly her eyes once more filling with tears.

“I’ve known Ditzy a long time Dinky.” Golden said calmly. “In that time I’ve gotten into a lot of fu- …fights, and I hit a lot more than two ponies. She forgave me every time.”

“So if she forgave you, then she should forgive me?” Dinky rationalized slowly retreating to logic as her safe place. Her face still looked more than a little sad, but there was a glimmer of hope in her gaze.

“Exactly.” Golden said as she started walking again. Dinky still seemed quite a ways from happiness but it was a start. She just needed to finish the job. That was easier said than done. Golden only knew two things that could consistently cheer her up. One of those things was currently in transit to the Crystal Empire. That left one option.

“You know what always cheers me up?”

“No.” Dinky answered her voice heavy with curiosity.

“I listen to music.” Golden said proud of her cleverness. Her gramophone just kept coming in handy. Some jazzy little album and Dinky would be smiling like a fool. Problem solved.

“Will you sing me a song then?”

It was at this moment Golden almost swallowed her tongue. She hadn’t thought of that.

“I’m not much of singer.” Golden said backpedaling so quickly she almost started walking backwards. It was her opinion that singing should be left to singers. Seeing as Golden had little to no rhythm and was slightly more tone deaf than your average rock, she definitely did not think of herself as a singer.

“Please.” Golden made the mistake of looking back at Dinky. She was an adorable filly, and with her wide eyes full of hope and desire she was impossible to resist.

“I guess I can try. I can’t promise I’ll be any good though.”

As she finished speaking she closed her eyes. Picking the right song was easy. She knew instantly the best song for the moment. Replaying the song in her head proved similarly easy. She listened to the introduction with her mind’s ear. A clarinet did a small improvisation on the main theme. It was a happy, bouncy sound specifically designed to put smiles on faces. Golden let the melody fill her. She did her best to time her steps to the tempo of the song. Then she began to rock ever so slightly from side to side. Enough to get a feel for the swing of the song without being enough to dislodge her passenger. Finally the clarinet ended its solo with a fading trill, and the lyrics began.

"Grab your coat and get your hat.
Leave your worries at the doorstep.
Just direct your feet,
To the sunny side of the street.”

As she sang Golden did her best to monitor Dinky’s reaction. Much to her surprise the young foal seemed to be enjoying the old song, even this particular rendition of it. She had even begun to bounce along with Golden’s swaying, doing her best to hum the melody.

“Can’t you hear the pitter pat.
And that happy tune is your step.
Life can be so sweet,
On the sunny side of the street.”

Golden had sung on occasion before. Every so often she would be alone and feel the need to belt out a few bars. As a child her teachers had often used songs to help their students memorize facts. According to her friends, she had once even given a stupefying performance that had consisted of equal parts the Equestrian national anthem and I’m Your Penis while properly shit-faced. None of that was even close what she was doing now. Now she was singing for an audience. It was odd. She felt less as if she was singing and more that the music was simply working its way through her. Some ancient, powerful, benevolent spirit was channeling its essence through her, all to cheer up the small foal on her back. And for the third time in under an hour the question of Golden’s possession was raised.

If this is what being possessed is like it isn’t all that fucking bad.

“I used to walk in the shade,
With my blues on parade.
Now I’m not afraid.
This Rover’s crossed over.”

Then Golden did something odder still, and that was saying something. She bucked her body upwards, launching Dinky skyward. Part of her mind screamed out in protest. Dinky was fragile both emotionally and physically. She really needed to not be dropped on her head. Another part of her mind pointed out that she had managed to catch her just fine, and Dinky seemed to love it.

With her most daring act of cheering up behind her Golden dropped all sense of moderation. She began to sing at the top her lungs, filling the air with subpar but enthusiastic music. She wondered if anypony was around to hear her. Then she realized she didn’t really care, or as she would say she didn’t give a fuck. One pony was listening and she was the only one that mattered.

“If I never have a cent,
I’ll be as rich as Rockefeller.
Gold dust at my feet,
On the sunny side of the street.”

As the song ended Golden’s fears and worries came scurrying back to her. Did she sing well enough? Was it the right song? Was it even the right thing to do? Should she just have left Cheerilee to deal with it? Had she just sprung Dinky from detention early without even realizing it?

Instantly the doubts were banished by the sounds of clapping hooves. Dinky looked positively ecstatic.

“That was amazing!” Dinky shouted. The look on the young unicorn’s face was enough to let Golden know she had done well. Plastered on Dinky’s face was the same smile Golden had seen Ditzy wear a thousand times before. The same one Sparkler had sported the day before.

“If you think that was good you should hear an actual singer do it.” Golden said as she trotted down the path; looking like the cat who had not only eaten the canary, but most of the other small pets in the house as well.

Advancing Dinky’s appreciation for the classics was high on Golden’s list of priorities. The first thing she did when they arrived at the old homestead was set a Louis Hoofstrong record to play. Dinky on the other hand immediately set out to do her homework. Golden had to admit it was a little awkward to hover as Dinky did her work. It’s not like she needed help. Golden also couldn’t help but reminisce to her own days of doing homework, or more accurately not doing it.

When she finished Dinky set about getting a board game for the two of them to play. Golden surprised herself by being disappointed when Dinky passed over the battered, old copy of Shoots & Ladders. Instead she fished out a garishly colored box with the name Candyland splayed across it in candy-cane letters.

Playing Candyland with Dinky proved to be informative if nothing else. Dinky may not have talked constantly, but she came close. She shared any and all information that she found interesting. Apparently ancient Manechuria issued paper money. The delta symbol represented change. The Everfree Forest had been a national park for one-hundred and thirty-six years. In between the random facts Golden did manage to pick out a few snippets of information about Dinky. Her favorite color was yellow. Her best friend was Bon-Bon’s sister Twist, and her favorite color was pink. Dinky didn’t have a favorite class because she liked them all.

Eventually the game ended and Dinky let out the victorious cry of “I win!”

“You sure did.” Golden bluffed. If she were being totally honest she hadn’t really been paying much attention to the game.

For a while the two simply sat there. It was a silence, or at least as close to a silence a one could get with a brassy trumpet solo in the background, but at least it was a comfortable silence. After a while Dinky spoke up.

“I really am sorry I got into a fight.” She said looking for some comfort from her caretaker.

“I know you are. And you learned your lesson right?” Golden said back to her. She was glad Dinky was as smart as she was. It meant this could be the beginning and end of her “fighting is bad” lecture.

“I’m not going to hit anypony else.” Dinky said proudly before giving a small dejected mutter of, “Even if they are just bullies.”

Golden had to frown at that. Something about what Dinky said hit her ear wrong. When she figured out what it was she knew she had a much more difficult discussion ahead. It was a lesson that few ponies ever really learned, even if everypony should have learned it at some point.

“Did Ditzy ever tell you the story of how she and I became friends?” Golden asked as she began to pack up the game. She made sure to take her time. Conversations like this one were always easier when you could do something as you spoke.

“No.” Dinky said, shaking her head. Golden wasn’t surprised by this. Ditzy genuinely loved her friend, but she preffered to remember the moment they became friends as opposed to the first time they actually met.

“The first time we met I called Ditzy names until she broke down and cried.” Golden forced herself to say. It wasn’t a moment she liked to remember much less talk about. Sometimes things just needed saying.

“Why?” Dinky face showed a mixture of confusion and betrayal that Golden couldn’t stand to look at.

“Because I was a bi- …bully.” Golden said matter-of-factly. “But you need to understand I wasn’t just a bully. My parents never liked each other and I got caught in their crossfire more often than not. By the time I got to my first day of school I was a mess. I was a lonely, sad, frustrated kid who only knew one way ponies ever cheered themselves up. So I lashed out at every mothe- …pony who got in my way. This drove everypony away. My parents gave up on me as a problem child. My classmates wrote me off as a jerk. Even my teacher just treated me like “the bully.””

Thinking back on her childhood was proving to be difficult for Golden. She knew a lot of foals had it worse off than she did, but that never really made it easier. As a kid all she knew was that she was unhappy, with no real way to fix her life.

“But you’re Ditzy’s best friend now?” Dinky asked confusedly. It was a hard concept for a kid to get.

“I got lucky. One day I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away from home. I didn’t get very far and ended up at the library. I hid back in the reference section and just sat there crying. Eventually Ditzy wandered by. I fully expected her to get her shots in while she could.” Golden liked this memory more. It was how she got her first and best friend.

“But she didn’t, right?” Dinky asked incredulously. Golden being a bully was one thing, but Ditzy being a bully was completely outlandish.

“She didn’t. Instead she just sat down next to me and asked me what was wrong. We talked and after that we were friends. A few days later she gave me my nickname and the rest is history.” Golden’s story may have been a touch anticlimactic but she thought it did all right. Dinky seemed to be thinking deeply trying to digest her story and its implications.

“Now I’m not saying I did the right thing, or that being sad gave me the right to hurt others. All I’m saying is that ponies don’t do things for no reason. So its dangerous to just label them.” And Golden knew that was true. If Ditzy hadn’t been able to look past her mistakes she may very well have ended up in a jail cell next to her father.

Golden slid Candyland back onto its shelf as Dinky just sat ruminating. All the while the record came to its last song. The esteemed Mister Hoofstrong began played a familiar melody on his trumpet before he began singing On the Sunny Side of the Street. As he played the two ponies listening found themselves feeling just a little bit better.

“I like the way you sang better Miss Carrot Top.” Dinky said as she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

“Thanks Dinky, I don’t think there’s a single other pony in the world who would say that.” Golden said before giving Dinky a stiff, albeit grateful nuzzle. “And you don’t need to call me miss.”

“What about Aunt Carrot Top?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”