Chucking Boulders and Pitching Sales
Doldrum Whimper loved to feel his muscles strain, even if he couldn't do it like everypony else.
The little pegasus had never been much of a jock, and he knew it. He didn’t do sports, the notoriously rough P.E. classes of Bogsdown schools did nothing to make him enjoy the prospect of trying any, and in the athletic capital of Equestria that was enough to get him shunned in school. He could never keep up with anyone in school.
So he did his own little workouts, mostly push-ups and crunches and, of course, squats. He did it all in his own time, in the privacy of his room, where any failure would be suffered in silence. And while the exertions did hurt, it was a good kind of hurt. He was starting to grow rather fond of it now. Not that it helped him fit in with the rest of his class.
After all, at nine years old, most kids in his town had joined a team. Whimper had not. Most kids had earned trophies for their teams, or their schools. Whimper, to date, had none to his name. Most kids had their place in the social hierarchy of the classroom. Whimper’s was at the bottom.
And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but push-ups and crunches and squats.
“Eight… nine… ten!” The blue pegasus colt groaned for one last rep of one last set of push-ups and let himself drop on the workout mat his mom had gotten him. Since deciding to prepare for the Applecross Games, Whimper had embraced the lifestyle of an athlete, at least as much as he could. His mother, Wonderbolts dietician and local legend Passiflora, made sure he got everything he needed, while he made sure he stuck to his schedule.
After another long day of name-calling -- something that wasn’t helped by his unusual, but traditional, name -- it had become the one thing he looked forward to. He didn’t run, he didn’t play, but he pressed. After four weeks of rigorous training, he’d come to relish the sensation of his muscles burning. At least, the muscles of his chest, and a little bit on his arms. His legs looked the same, but they felt harder, same with his belly.
“Whimper?” he heard someone call out.
“I’m home!” he called back, walking over to the mirror right beside his bedroom door.
He didn’t look up when his mom came in. He just stared at his reflection. A regular-looking boy with golden brown eyes and a deep blue fur, the three spikes in his hair, as was the fashion at the time, with one spike that he kept down, he looked the same as he did when he’d started his little regimen. He took a deep breath and jutted out his chest. It still felt wrong.
“Did you do your workout yet, sweetie?” Passiflora asked.
“Uhuh.” Whimper frowned at his reflection.
Flora raised an eyebrow. “Bad day at school?”
Whimper shrugged. “Not really. Nothing too bad, I guess.” He always spoke with a soft voice, almost hushed to a whisper. He’d gotten into the habit because of the motivational tactics his teachers liked to use.
Why any teacher would think yelling might help a child develop a backbone was beyond the mare. She sighed. “Then why the long face?”
Whimper bit his lip. “Mom, am I getting any bigger?”
Right on cue. Passiflora was, above all else, a concerned mother. A light green pegasus with a short purple and white mane done up in the flat Canterlot style, she’d dealt with a lot of jocks in her day, young and old. Her cutie mark was, befitting her name, a passion fruit flower. Her talent, as anyone in town knew, was food, or rather medicinal food and diets. If a weightlifter needed more protein, he’d go to Flora to ask what powders to use, how much of each, what best to put them in. If a model wanted to lose some weight, Flora was the one to ask. And if the Wonderbolts needed extra supplements to fuel their training efforts, she was their go-to mare, simple as that.
Of course Flora had been surprised to hear her son wanted to become more muscular. Of course she’d figured it was a flight of fancy at first; what boy wouldn’t want to be big and strong, only to give up when he found out how much work that’d take? Of course she’d supported him as best she could when he turned out to be serious.
And of course she was sad when it turned out he wasn’t getting what he wanted. “Well, I guess you’re a little broader in the chest now. That’s good.”
Whimper sighed, still looking in the mirror. “I’m not gonna be ready for the Applecross Games at this rate, am I?”
Flora walked up to her boy and sat next to him. “Well, have you been following your program?”
“Yes,” Whimper said. “It’s not working. I’m not getting any bigger. I’m doing all the reps and the sets, and I’m eating right just like you said. It doesn’t make any difference.”
He patted him on the shoulder. “Then there’s your problem, sweetie: you’re trying to do reps, not grow. Push-ups are nice, but if you want to get, well, bigger, then you need a program designed to make you bigger.”
“Like what? I can’t go to the gym; they’d all laugh at me. Don’t you know any better way to get bigger?”
Flora rubbed over his back with a wing. “Not really, no. The bodybuilders I talk to never say how they got started, just how they stay in shape. I don’t think that’ll help you, sweetie. Not to mention you’re still too young to be going to any gym. Oh, what about the Traders Exchange?”
“The what?”
“The Rainbow Falls Traders Exchange. There’s always some fitness ponies there, you could get some more books, see what kind of program suits you.”
“How are books going to help?”
“You’re the one who wants to be bigger, sweetie. Is this working?”
Whimper shook his head sadly. “No.”
“Do you still want to get bigger?”
For a moment, Whimper closed his eyes and rubbed his sore chest. He smiled at the sensation, even as a tiny throb of a vein popped up under his fur. “Yes.”
“Then you should try something else, something that suits you and that’s not just something somepony thought you should try. Peachy Pie had the right idea, but she’s not a fitness instructor. You’ve still got two months to get ready. The really good programs can make you a little bigger in one.”
“But… do I give up on push-ups, then? Isn’t that like quitting?”
“No, if you start up something new that’s like switching. Trust me, there’s always something good at the Tradeoff.”
“Wouldn’t I need something to trade, then?” Whimper looked around for anything in his room he might give away.
Flora smirked. “Leave that to me.”
“Thanks for inviting me over, Whimper,” Peachy Pie said.
“Umm, you’re welcome.” Whimper looked out of the train window as they reached Rainbow Falls. He could see the Traders Exchange in the distance already.
“So whatcha gonna trade for?”
“Umm, well…”
Flora rolled her eyes. Despite her best efforts, she’d never quite managed to get her son to speak up in public, even to his closest friend.
“I was thinking of getting some books on muscle training.”
Peachy pouted. “Isn’t that thing I gave you good enough?”
Whimper shrugged. “It’s a good start, but… well, umm, I’m not getting any bigger now, am I?”
The girl relented, albeit reluctantly. “I guess not. But how buff do you really wanna get?”
“As buff as I can?” He flashed her a nervous smile.
The train stopped.
Whimper had been to Rainbow Falls once or twice, when his dad took him to see a Wonderbolts derby, or a Weather Patrol Family Day. The big meadow that held the Exchange was a sight to behold: row upon row of stands with comic books and graphic novels, comic novels and graphic shovels, animal statues and statuettes, and even one pony trading off pets.
“So, what are you planning to trade away, Peachy Pie?” Passiflora asked.
“Oh, I got some knitted winter hats to trade off. I made them myself.”
Flora frowned. “But it’s spring. You think anypony wants winter hats?”
Peachy got out one of the hats. It looked like a knitted Viking helmet, complete with woolen ginger beard that covered most of her neck. “They’re dwarf hats. What about you?”
“Me? I’m just going to do a little bit of advertising with the health nut ponies, see if I can find any cookbooks for the collection. And speaking of which…” Flora took out a book from her saddlebag, along with a pen. She opened the book and signed the first page before handing it to Whimper. “Here. This is for you, Whimper. You can trade this off for any book you think will help. The fitness ponies should be at the far end of the meadow, fifth row from the back.”
Whimper chuckled nervously. “Umm, thanks, mom. I didn’t bring anything else to trade.”
“You didn’t need to, sweetie. Consider this a present, you can do with it whatever you want. Now you run along, check out the sights, and don’t be afraid to ask for details. You don’t want to get conned into a trade you don’t like.”
“Okay, mom.”
With that, he trotted off, Peachy Pie in tow. He didn’t run.
Flora sighed. Whimper never ran.
She shook her head and went about her business, looking up in the skies just once to make sure the security ponies were paying attention. There were plenty of clouds over the Tradeoff, all occupied by pegasi who watched the proceedings like hawks.
She could let her son roam around. He wouldn’t get into trouble, not here.
Whimper was awestruck by all the curiosities ponies had on offer. His saddlebag bumped against him as he trotted along, reminding him at every turn what he had come here for.
Passing by a stand selling dragonequus statues, he gasped. Peachy Pie let out an appreciative ‘Oooh’.
They’d entered the fitness portion of the Tradeoff. First in line was a pony trading weighted vests. Whimper passed by that without further notice: he’d never fit in one of those, and they probably wouldn’t help anything, either. Then there was a pony trading something called ‘kettlebells’. Peachy Pie shrugged and walked along, neither of the two saw what those were supposed to do. Then there was the pony trading dumbbells. Useful though they might be, Whimper wasn’t sure how he’d carry any home if he got some of those. And besides that, he didn’t know what to do with dumbbells.
The answer to that question seemed to be located in the back. There were two stalls, both run by Earth pony stallions with well-developed pecs and bulging biceps. Both had books on offer, all in mint condition. Whimper found himself staring at the volumes on offer.
“Can I help you, little boy?” The one on the left asked.
“Umm… yes? I’m looking for a book.”
The pony on Whimper’s right chuckled. This one was a tan brown, with a blonde mane and reddish eyes. His hooves were thick, and his arms toned, with tiny veins visible here and there. “Well, as you can see, I have plenty of books on offer. What are you looking for? Autobiography? Martial arts history?”
Whimper gulped. “Umm…” It took a nudge from Peachy Pie to get him to speak. “A training manual, sir.”
The pony on the left chortled. This one had bigger arms, but smaller hooves that made his shoulders look like melons in comparison, and a white fur offset by a blue mane. “A training manual? What would a little boy like you want a training manual for?”
Whimper smiled sheepishly. “To not be so little anymore? I’d like to be a little more, umm, well, buff?”
The pony on the right leaned in. “And what, pray tell, might we expect to get in return?”
Whimper got out the book his mother had given him. “Umm, this is a signed copy of Passiflora’s latest book.”
The pair looked like they’d had an anvil dropped on them for a second. The right one held out a hoof. “Can I see that, please?”
The left one chuckled nervously. “Come on, Ripple Pecs, that’s obviously a fake. Passiflora hasn’t signed anything since the Hay Burger thing.”
Ripple took out another book, one Whimper recognised as his mother’s first book. “I don’t know, Quad Flex, it looks pretty real to me.” He looked up at the sky then, and noticed one of the security guards eyeing him intently. He carefully gave the boy his book back. “How exactly did you get her to sign that?”
“We’re from Bogsdown,” Peachy replied, squeezing Whimper in a hug. “We know Passiflora pretty well. So, whatcha got to trade for that?”
“Umm, I don’t think I have that many training manuals around,” Ripple said, before ducking behind his stand. “What was it you wanted, exactly?”
“To get buff, sir. I wanna get bigger muscles. Huge, and, umm, ripped?”
“Ahah, then you are in luck, little boy. If it's mass you want, I have just the thing you need.” Ripple got out a fairly new-looking book. That is to say, the quality of the print looked new, the book itself looked old-fashioned, with a black and white photo of a unicorn stallion posing to flex his impressive muscles and flashy letters that had gone out of style at least sixty years ago.
“The Chuck Boulders Program?” Whimper asked.
“Yes, indeedy. Chuck Boulders is a legend among strong stallions, he practically started the whole muscle craze back in the day. You ever hear about those old comics about a wimp getting picked on? And then he ordered out a program and got so ripped he fought off the bullies and won back his girl? This is the original program.”
“Hang on a second, Rip, you can’t just try to steal away somethin’ that valuable. Here, what about this one?” Flex got out a book of his own, with the same print quality, the same tacky lettering, but a different stallion flexing, this one a pegasus.
Whimper furrowed his brow. “The Max Muscle Program?”
Flex nodded. “Yup. Max was a wimpy kid in his day, just like you. But he figured out how to train without weights and eventually made it into the Wonderbolts.”
“Wow, that sounds really neat,” Peachy said.
Rip cleared his throat. “Ahem. Now, hang on, Flex. You know just as well as I do that Chuck Boulders was just as wimpy a kid as Max Muscle, and he didn’t use weights, either.”
Flex groaned. “Sure, but Max got into the Wonderbolts, so obviously that’s better for a pegasus pony.”
Peachy Pie nodded. “He’s got a point there.”
Whimper sighed. “Except I’m never going to be a Wonderbolt, even if I do bulk up.”
“Oh, right.” Peachy winced.
“Come on, kid, you don’t know that. The Wonderbolts take in anyone who’s good enough. You won’t know unless you try. You just gotta be dedicated and do your best,” Flex said.
“That doesn’t always cut it, sir. There are, um, complications to that.”
Both of the fitness ponies shared a knowing glance.
“Oh,” Flex said, casting a careful glance at the book he’d suggested. “Are we talking handicaps here, or…”
“I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, dear boy,” Rip said. “I’d go with Chuck Boulders then. He wrote his book in a time when many ponies were starting to get the more modern illnesses. It’s right up your alley.”
“Except Max Muscle actually had some of those modern diseases,” Flex countered. “Trust me, you want this one more. All Chuck Boulders did was fool ponies into buying his stuff. He cheated, you know. He lifted weights, just like the rest of’em.”
“That has never been proven, Flex, stop trying to influence the poor kid and let him make up his own mind.”
“Oh, like you’re doing?”
Whimper was shivering with nerves at this point, seeing the two burly stallions get into an argument over his book. “Wuh-what do you think, Peachy Pie?”
“I think I’m going to go get a dragonequus statue for one of my dwarf beard hats.”
“But what about the book? Which one should I pick?”
“The one you’re happy with, Whimper.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I mean, it sounds like both books are kinda the same.”
“But I don’t know which one’s better.”
“So just pick one and go with it. It’s not rocket science. Come on, we don’t wanna be stuck here all day, it’s a big place. Just pick one and we’ll go see what else ponies are trading.”
“But what if I pick the wrong one? I don’t wanna waste this book. Which one would you take?”
Peachy growled. “Why are you asking me, for crying out loud? Why can’t you just decide for yourself?”
Whimper recoiled. The two stallions went quiet.
“Gah, you always do this. You’re too scared to do anything, so you end up doing nothing. You wanna know why you’re not getting any bigger? It’s not because of how you were born or because your workouts don’t work. It’s ‘coz you’re so busy being scared and sad that you don’t want to be anything else. Ugh, you figure it out for yourself, I’m gonna go see who wants some hats.”
“Try the steam machine stand five aisles down. Steam ponies love hats,” Flex said.
Once she was gone, Ripple nodded in the direction she’d stormed off in. “Temperamental little girl, ain’t she?”
Whimper winced, embarrassed. “Yeah, she does that sometimes. She doesn’t mean it.”
“She does have a point, you know. You’re not going to get any bigger if you’re not dedicated,” Flex said.
Whimper kept his head low, thinking. “So, honestly, which book is best? If I want to train after school, at home, no weights, which one can make me big? Really big?”
Flex and Ripple sighed. “Both,” Ripple admitted.
“And which one is the hardest to find? Suppose I got one, how long would it take to get the other?”
Flex scratched his chin, grimacing. “Well… they’re both reprints from the same publisher. You’d have just as much trouble getting one as you would the other.”
“Most ponies don’t actually get these books to train,” Ripple explained. “They’re collector’s items, everything on our stands is. Ponies usually don’t use any books to train, little boy, they use gyms and instructors. I didn’t think I’d get a bidder for this today.”
“Right, of course.”
“Why do you want to get bigger, anyway?” Flex asked. “I mean, Bogsdown’s got a reputation, sure, but they don’t have strong stallion contests in your age group, do they?”
“No, sir, but muscle stuff is kind of the only sports I can do right now. So… which one is, you know, better? Honestly?”
“Chuck Boulders.”
“Max Muscle.”
“And how long do they both take to get results?”
“The Chuck Boulders Program promises visible results within a week of practice. Especially around the chest,” Ripple said.
“And Max Muscle says one week of his program will chisel your chest to a marble-like hardness,” Flex retorted.
Whimper groaned. “That’s not really helping. You both just want this signed book, don’t you?”
They both chuckled.
Whimper tilted his head, confused. “And you’re not even trying to hide it. Why do you want this so badly? What’s so special about it?”
Flex perked his ears. “You don’t know? Passiflora never signs her new books, not anymore. But she’s a legend in the health food crowd, and a lot of ponies in high places get their advice from her. After everything that’s gone on, anything that’s got her name on it is worth a lot.”
Whimper looked at the two, confusion still in his eyes. “So… what exactly has gone on? Why is Passiflora such a big deal?”
Flex and Ripple looked at each other, then shrugged.
“How old are you, kid?” Ripple asked. “Ten?”
“Nine.”
“Okay. This happened about seven years before you were born, that’s probably why you never heard. Basically, what happened was an epidemic broke out in three cities: Trottingham, Canterlot, and Manehattan. Ponies started throwing up, stopped eating, wasted away, basically. It wasn’t a lot of ponies, only a few hundred, but a couple dozen ended up dying, and it looked like it would’ve been a lot more if they hadn’t found a cure. But, see, out of the three cities, only one did not suffer any casualties, and that was Manehattan. That’s where they brought the Wonderbolts and the really sick ponies, after the first few deaths. And the reason no one died in Manehattan, some ponies claim, was Passiflora.”
“Some ponies even claim she was the one who found the cure for it, even though she was only a nurse, not a doctor. What everyone does agree on is that she managed the diets to the point that patients could survive. She kept a lot of ponies eating when no one else could. And she knew all about health foods even before that. So obviously, when it was over and she got her five minutes of fame, a couple of ponies tried to rope her into speaking for them,” Flex continued.
“Which she did, for a while,” Ripple said.
Whimper pondered that. He’d never known his mother to be a spokespony for anyone. He’d heard about her career switch from nurse to private practitioner, of course. “So what happened?”
“Well,” Ripple started, “you have to understand some ponies are a little more serious about healthy foods and fitness than others. I mean, you’re a Bogsdown pony, you’d know; that town’s even crazier than Ponyville.”
Whimper winced and nodded.
“Anyway, Flora published her first book, this one right here.” Ripple held his own copy up and opened it to the page that had the author’s signature. “She signed it at whatever meet she was invited to, and anytime anyone asked her to explain healthy diets, she gave’em a little speech, told them what to eat when, what to avoid, but she always made it out like a choice, not a rule.”
Flex nodded. “The big deal about her is: Passiflora’s not famous because she’s smart. I mean, she is, obviously, but that’s not why ponies herd to her. Anypony who’s anypony in fitness knows her story, and they’ll tell you she was a nurse first, not a doctor. She got some extra courses later on to qualify as dietician, but…”
“The point is, kid, that Passiflora’s popular because she keeps things simple. She’s easy to read, easy to listen to. What she says carries a lot of weight. And that…” Ripple let that trail off.
“That what?”
“Some of the fanatics wanted her to start boycotting Hay Burger,” Flex said. “Said it was ‘encouraging an unhealthy lifestyle’.”
Again, this was news to the boy. “So what did she say?”
Ripple chuckled. “Heheh, she told those gals to kiss her a-”
“Ahem,” Flex nodded towards the small child who was about to hear some harsh language.
Ripple caught himself. “Well, she didn’t part with that crowd on good terms, let’s say.”
“So… why did she stop signing her books, then? If it’s just a bunch of bad apples…”
Ripple shrugged. “No one knows the real reason, but it's easy enough to guess. The way I heard it, she had a problem with how silly ponies can be about worshipping celebrities without actually doing anything productive themselves. Kinda like you, I guess.”
Whimper frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, look at you: you obviously admire the strong stallions of old. Hay, lots of ponies worship Chuck Boulders, but not a lot actually do what he did. This program, back in its heyday, was a bestseller. It sold hundreds, thousands. And yet you didn’t see hundreds or thousands of ripped musclehead ponies around, still don’t. The same thing happened with Passiflora: ponies heard what she said, but they didn’t listen. Ponies buy her books, but they don’t always follow through. And when they don’t get what they want, they blame her, or her book, but never themselves.”
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink,” Flex remarked.
Ripple nodded. “Exactly. To a pony who just wants to be an educator, to show ponies how to get what they want, that kind of attitude is a real drag. So… she stopped making big appearances for ponies who just wanted to abuse her voice, basically. That’s why she’s still popular with ponies like me and Flex over here: at least she tells it straight, that it’s a pony’s choice how healthy or unhealthy they decide to live. I’m pretty sure she eats at Hay Burger’s sometimes, still.”
Whimper was lost in thought. “So… getting her signature on a new book is like a badge of honour for ponies like you?”
The two chuckled. “Well, you might say that. Like I said, there’s a lot of collectors in our circles, and what you’ve got there is a real rarity,” Ripple said.
Somewhere near the gem section of the Exchange, a white unicorn mare’s ears twitched.
“Okay, then, that makes sense. But I still don’t know which book’s best for me. Which one will make me big?”
“Chuck Boulders.”
“Max Muscle.”
Whimper groaned.
“You’re gonna have to decide sooner or later, kid,” Flex said. “Unless you want to go home with just the book you came with.”
The boy sighed. He bit his lip and shook his head. He was about to say something, but his stomach growled and interrupted him. “I think I’d better go get something to eat. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“You do that. We’ll be right here,” Flex said, turning his attention to another pony who was interested in some Wonderbolts autobiographies.
Once he was out of earshot, Ripple smirked. “That book is mine.”
“Oh, really? Come on, you saw that poor kid: he was starting to shake. He’s probably gonna hang onto it anyway, now that he knows what it’s worth. What makes you think you’ve got a chance to get it?”
“Well, I did bring some other books with me. And he did ask for the best book to get big. He didn’t say how many he wanted.”
Flex suddenly realised what his competitor was getting at. “Oh… two can play it that game, buddy.”
Whimper stood in front of the food stall, looking over the options. He could get a hay burger and some fries. It’d been about a month since he’d had any junk food, and his workouts hadn’t gotten him buff enough yet to think he’d be losing anything.
Still, he hesitated.
“Hey, sweetie.” Passiflora walked up behind him and kissed him on the head. “Did you find anything?”
“Umm, sort of. I’m not sure.” He nodded to the sign. “What should I get? Hay burger or green bun?”
“Whatever you feel like, honey. It’s a rest day, and you’re burning plenty of calories just walking around this big place. If you feel like getting a burger, get a burger.”
“But that’s not healthy.”
“It’s not as healthy as a green bun, no, but it’s tasty and you are still growing. You need fatty foods for your hormone balance, after all. Your call, sweetie, but I know what I’m getting.” Flora waited for her son to decide. “Well? What do you feel like?”
“I think I’ll get the same thing you’re getting, mom.”
“Suit yourself.”
The boy was lost in thought as he put his food on one of the many picnic tables around. He’d gotten a greasy bun stuffed with a mix of tomato sauce, peppers, and onions. The meat of the meal, though, what really filled up ponies’ stomachs, was a mess of fried hay; a pony delicacy of mountain grass that was floured in its own pollen and then deep fried in vegetable oil. And because Passiflora had worked up an appetite and Whimper did say he’d get what she was getting, he was now faced with the cartwheel burger, so named because it came with large fried onion rings and some regular french fries dumped into the mix.
It was greasy, it was messy. It gave the ponies running the sanitation stall -- a fancy word for ‘wash your hooves here before you touch the merchandise’ -- fits. It was definitely not the sort of health food he’d been on the past few weeks.
“Mom, why are we eating this?”
Flora chowed down, wriggling her wings in delight. “Because we’re hungry, obviously. Eat up, Whimper, it’ll get cold.”
He took a bite, and was instantly reminded of the times his mom had taken him to the Hay Burger. Usually it was when they were on a trip, or after a particularly stressful day when Flora had had an inordinately large amount of fussy patients. It filled him up, alright, and he did have fond memories of the taste, but it still felt off.
He looked at the thing as it lay there on the picnic table. “But why’d you pick that and not a green bun?”
“No real reason. I felt like it. And you didn’t want to decide on your own, so eat up.”
Whimper tucked into his meal a little quicker now. He took a long, careful sip of his lemonade. “Mom, I’ve been wondering… are you famous?”
Flora gulped. “You were talking to some fitness ponies, huh?”
Whimper nodded.
She took another bite. “Did they say I was smart or a traitor?”
“I think they said you were smart, but that’s not why you’re popular. They said you’re famous because you keep things simple, or something. I’m not sure I understand. Are you?”
Passiflora chuckled. “Well… it’s complicated. I have to do a lot of math for my job, work out how much ponies should eat, explain that to them so they understand. I’m not smarter than any other dietician, at least I don’t think so, but… you know how it is. Ponies sometimes forget that not everyone shares their perspective.”
“Like when you say every mom in Bogsdown is crazy, except you?”
“Exactly like that, yes.”
“Okay. So you’re not famous, then?” He kept on eating in between questions.
“Oh, I am, sort of, but only in certain circles. The ones you’re trying to get in touch with, actually.”
“Uhuh. So, umm…”
“What’s really bugging you, Whimper? You’re even more quiet than usual. And I’m guessing Peachy Pie didn’t feel like waiting for you to speak up, either.”
“No, she’s at the steam pony stall. I’m just curious, why did you stop signing your books? Ponies really want you to.”
“Yes, and I had enough of that. Ponies just weren’t getting it when I signed my books.”
“Because they didn’t eat healthy food, like you told them to?”
Flora took a big bite of her burger and licked her lips. She wiped her mouth with a napkin before continuing. “No. Ponies thought getting my book would make them healthy. See, it’s one thing to get a book on how to be healthy, but it’s another thing entirely to actually be healthy. Some ponies were too lazy to do that on their own, and those kinds of ponies you have to work with face to face. I can handle ponies like that. It’s the other kind that gets my blood boiling.” She shook her head.
Whimper gulped.
“A couple of ponies decided it would be a good idea to ban things like hayburgers and cakes and sweet treats, but they couldn’t find an expert opinion to agree with them. And since I had a pretty big voice, they asked me if I’d back them up on that. I said ‘no’, they asked again, then I said ‘never’, and they asked again. My final answer was… pretty final. Mommy doesn’t have a lot of patience for fools.”
The boy gave a nervous chuckle.
She shrugged, pensive. “I guess the real reason is that I didn’t want ponies to think my word was the law. And if you show up to some place where everything everypony does is tell other ponies what to eat or how to live, it’s really hard not to get confused with that. I stopped signing my books because I didn’t want to be part of that crowd anymore; the crowd that shoves their books into other ponies’ faces. Instead, I wanted to be in the crowd that puts their books out there, for other ponies to pick up and decide if they liked it. But I’m guessing whoever you found knew that too, huh?”
He blushed and nodded. Flora had just finished her burger, Whimper wasn’t even halfway.
“What did you really want to ask, sweetie?”
“You said you started off as a nurse, working in the hospital kitchen, and then you switched to dietician.”
“Dietetic nurse, private practice. There’s a difference.”
“Okay. What I don’t get is, how? How did you get to work for the Wonderbolts? And why? Didn’t you like being a regular nurse anymore?”
Flora froze. For the briefest moment, Whimper swore she almost threw up. She smiled throughout, though, trying her best to hide the memory that had surfaced.
The coffee brown unicorn with the bristly beard groaned. “Okay, so they’re not eating applesauce now, either?”
The nurse shrugged. “No, Doctor Home, they can’t keep it down. It’s the same as before: they get cravings, but anything besides that just comes back up.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. They were eating just fine for three days straight. Why would they stop now? Who’s been preparing their meals?”
“Ah, that would be the intern. She was on kitchen duty for too long already, so we put her on bed duty.”
“Then get that intern back in the kitchen, at least she knows what she’s doing.”
Home Remedy heard the sound of a pony heaving and vomiting echoing down the hall. “Oh, what now?”
When he walked into the patient’s room, the first thing he saw was the bathroom door open. A green pegasus mare with a purple and white tail was hunched over the toilet bowl, losing her lunch.
“Passiflora?”
She vomited again. “Doctor Home, I thu-think I found the answer. I know why some ponies aren’t infected.”
The doctor quirked an eyebrow. “Really, now?”
She got up just long enough to speak. “It’s their magic, sir. Only the ones with strong magic are infected. That’s why not all of the Wonderbolts got sick.” She wiped off her mouth. “Only a couple of Wonderbolts really train their magic to fly, the rest are all physical. That’s why only Weather Patrol Captains got sick, but not all of the ponies under their command. That’s why all the teachers in Canterlot are getting sick, but almost none of the students. The disease, it… it picks them out based on raw magical strength. The strongest ones get infected first. I’m guessing Princess Celestia and her Academy just went into quarantine too quickly for it to spread to them.”
He looked to the patient’s bed. “What did you do? Did you experiment on a patient?” Said patient was breathing shallowly, but moving about a bit. “What did you give him? Vermicide? Antiviral? Bleach?”
Flora finally managed to stand on all fours and exit the bathroom. “Horseradish. I took a look at everything we’ve been feeding the patients, see if there was a connection. Turns out there was: they never got a craving for spicy foods. Whatever it is, it wants ponies to eat what it likes to eat, and it can’t take anything spicy. I figured I’d overload it.”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in? It’s unethical, it’s criminal. Even worse, it’s what I’m supposed to be doing,” Doctor Home Remedy admitted, always a fan of gallows humour.
“He volunteered, said he wanted to help his team mates.”
Home walked over to the prone stallion, a mere husk of a pegasus. The poor guy’s eyes were sunken, his face emaciated from induced starvation. “Soarin, can you hear me?”
Soarin nodded.
“Can you talk?”
Soarin shook his head.
“You were right, Doctor Home. It’s a parasite. Etheric, too, at least at first. I’m pretty sure they’re all solid now, though,” Flora said, her voice shaking. “Wretched things are hiding in plain sight.”
Home furrowed his brow. “What, you mean it’s not in their stomach? Wait… Soarin, say ‘Ah’, please?”
Still drained, Soarin complied. “Aahh…”
The unicorn recoiled in horror. “Whoa. Uh, Flora? Just out of curiosity, after you fed him the horseraddish, what happened to this gentlecolt’s…”
“It’s on the floor, sir. I didn’t want to pick it up and contaminate anything.” Flora pointed to a spot under the bed.
Home gulped when he saw what he was looking for. His stomach churned, but he didn’t lose his lunch. “Well, now, that’s a new one. Didn’t think I’d ever see that outside of a fish.”
“My guess is it jumped from cats, or maybe griphons.”
“We’ll have to alert the Griphon Kingdom, then, too. That specimen’s definitely going into the collection.” He sighed. “Soarin, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to find someone with good growth magic and some serious skills in reconstructive surgery, but if I know my parasites... congratulations, you’re the first pony to be cured. Good work, Flora. I’ll be sure to write a recommendation when your internship is over.”
“Begging your pardon, Doctor Home, but I don’t think I have the stomach for a career like this.” With that, she passed out.
She bit her lip. “Keep eating, sweetie.”
Whimper did as he was told, but he kept his eyes on his mother.
“To answer your question, no, I didn’t like being a nurse anymore. I liked doing what a nurse does, mind you. I liked taking care of ponies who needed it, I liked putting that little extra touch on hospital meals to make ponies better a little more quickly, I still like that. But, umm, I guess it just wasn’t for me.”
The boy flashed her a bright smile. “But why not? You’re good at it, obviously.”
“Just because you’re good at something, doesn’t mean you like doing it, sweetie. The way things are now, ponies ask me for help because they decide they need my help, not because something happened to them that made them need help. It doesn’t look like a big difference, but it matters a lot to me.”
Whimper gulped down the last of his meal.
“And the Wonderbolts?”
“They were looking to modernise. They needed someone who could act like a dietician and a part-time cook at the same time, and I happened to be the first pony who was available. Nothing special about that. I just did the work and I got the results, still do. And so do you.”
Whimper’s ears perked.
“Well, don’t you? You decided to get bigger, to do your little workouts after school. Nopony told you to, and at least you’re getting a little sense of your muscles growing, right?”
“Uhuh.”
Flora patted him on the head with a wing. “There you go. That’s my point, and that’s why some ponies still try to get my signature. You do the work, you get results. If you don’t want those results, you don’t have to do the work. It’s your choice. You can diet to look like a supermodel, but how many ponies really want to? You can keep working out ‘till you’re as buff as a strong stallion, but do you really want to?”
The boy pondered that for a while.
“Well, do you?”
He nodded. “Yes. I really do.”
“Then you should keep working towards that, as much as you like. It all comes down to how badly you want something, really. Chances are what you want is a lot different from what you think you want.”
“Hey, Whimper.”
Whimper and Passiflora turned around. Whimper winced. “Hi, Peachy Pie.”
“Did you find something to trade your hats for?” Flora asked.
“Yup, I got a steam whistle and a fancy tea kettle, and I think I can get a statue, too, but I’m gonna wait and see. Did you find what you were looking for, Whimper?”
Whimper shrugged.
Flora smiled. “I’ll just be off… over there… out of earshot…”
Whimper rolled his eyes. While he did take after his mother in a few areas, subtlety definitely didn’t run in her side of the family.
Peachy Pie sat down next to her friend with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Just, you know, big place, lots of stuff to see...”
“No, I get it. And you’re right, I do need to stop worrying all the time and just make up my mind. If I really want to get bigger, I need to start acting like it. I wanna do this right, so I can’t second-guess it, not anymore.”
“So you’ve made up your mind, then? Which one are you gonna get?”
“The best deal I can get.”
Whimper and Peachy Pie walked up to the two stallions, just as Flex was finishing up a trade for one of the sports history books he’d brought.
“Ah, little boy!” Quad Flex started. “I have a deal for you.”
“Now, hang on, so do I,” Ripple Pecs said.
Whimper tried his best not to be intimidated, but having to look up at both of the buff stallions made that a hard trick. “Okay.”
“If you take the Max Muscle book, I’ll throw in this book by Wolf Fang, another one of the legendary strong stallions from the old days,” Flex placed another book on the Max Muscle one. This one was titled ‘I am Mighty, and So Are You’. Wolf Fang himself looked pretty buff, and he had a twirly moustache. Even stranger, though, he looked like a pegasus, only with bat wings and fangs that had probably earned him his name.
“I’ll add the Mighty Brawn Program to the Chuck Boulders one,” Ripple put a book of his own on top of his first offer, not wanting to be outdone. This one was titled ‘Mountain of Muscle’.
Whimper looked at the pile on the left, then the one on the right. Both of these new books bore pictures of large, burly stallions, both with twirly moustaches that must have been very popular back in the day. “Okay. What else do you have?”
Ripple tilted his head. “Excuse me?”
“If I really want to get big, I’ll need all the help I can get. So, umm, I’ve decided I’ll trade this signed book to whichever one of you can give me the biggest pile of useful books. Anything I can use to get big… or huge. Anything.”
“Oh, hang on, I’ve got a couple of used ones here, if you don’t mind…” Flex started rummaging through a chest behind him.
Whimper looked to Peachy Pie, then they both shrugged. “It doesn’t need to be mint condition, just anything that doesn’t involve running or weights. I don’t think I’m allowed to do anything with weights.”
“Okay, does self-defense exercise count, then?” Ripple held out a few books.
Peachy Pie squeed. Whimper bit his lip in anticipation. “Umm, yes, sir, I guess I could do that on rest days. Martial arts kids are pretty popular back home. ”
“So I’ve heard. Okay, then, here’s my final offer: Chuck Boulders, Mighty Brawn.” Ripple had two smaller booklets in his right hoof. “And the Major Fairweather Guide to Getting Tough, along with the Royal Guard ST 31-204 manual.”
“Ooh, that sounds fancy,” Peachy Pie said. “What’s that one about?”
“Bare hoof combat. Nothing too dangerous, but good to get explosive strength, help get you some definition. Make those veins pop out a little more.”
“Oh, I can top that,” Flex said. “Max Muscle, Wolf Fang, Basic Guide to Muscle Massage, and the Royal Guard FM 21-20 manual.”
Ripple grunted. “What? That’s cheating. You don’t get bigger from massaging your muscles, and that manual’s useless, anyway. Where’s a kid like him supposed to get a halberd? And how’s he supposed to train for guerrilla warfare?”
“Martial arts doesn’t make you any bigger, either, and he did say any books would count.”
Whimper nodded. “Okay, both of the piles are the same size. Do you have anything else?”
Flex tapped his chin and got out a tiny booklet, the size of the coaster. “'Conditioning for Stunt Ponies', by Hurricane Hue. It’s not very popular, and it’s pretty small, but it does have a some good stuff on how to avoid getting injured. Is that good enough?”
Whimper pondered it. “I already have books on stretching.”
“Oh, it’s not stretching; it’s conditioning. There’s resistance to it.”
“Then it sounds good to me.” Whimper and Peachy both looked to Flex, who threw his front hooves in the air.
“That’s all I got. Everything else is a collector’s item, not even close to what you want.”
Whimper smiled and gave the signed book to Ripple Pecs, taking the pile in return. They both shook hooves when it was done.
“Pleasure doing business with you, young sir.”
“Whimper. My name’s Doldrum Whimper.”
“Ah, traditional name. Well, Whimper, hope those books’ll help get you what you want. Who knows, you might end up in a book of your own one day.”
“Umm, maybe.” Whimper turned towards Flex. “Sorry, but I had to pick one.”
“That’s okay, kid. You don’t usually see any takers for books like these.”
“Actually, I’d like to take them off your hooves, if that’s okay.”
Flex froze. Before he even knew what happened, his pile of books had slid off the cart and into a mare’s saddlebags. It was only when he opened the book he’d gotten in return that he saw the signature. “P-Passiflora? You’re… and he…”
“Honestly, sweetie, you could have told me you’d found two ponies who wanted to trade,” Flora said.
“I know, mom, but I only had one book. I didn’t want to be… umm, beggy.”
Flex and Ripple stared at each other for a moment. Ripple mouthed a silent ‘Mom?’, Flex barely managed to shrug in shock.
Peachy Pie rolled her eyes.
“No objections to the trade, I hope?” Passiflora asked.
Flex was flabbergasted. “No, no, definitely not. Thank you, have a nice day.”
“You too!” Whimper called out while he walked off with his mother and filly friend by his side.
Flex very carefully put the book in a plastic bag and put it away. “Dang. Did you know Passiflora had a son?”
“I didn’t even know she was married.” Ripple did the same with his copy.
Flex winced when the full consequences of the trades sunk in. “You don’t think he was serious about getting bigger, do you?”
“Please, you know how kids are. Even if he eats right, he probably won’t get any bigger than the other little jocks in his town. He’s a Bogsdown pony; they just care about trophies and that’s it. And there’s no junior league for weightlifters or whatever, thank the stars, they’re not that crazy just yet. He’s just gonna get big enough to fit in with the rest of the little freaks, I’m sure,” said pot, referring to many small kettles.
Flex shrugged. “Suppose you’re right.”
School was almost out that Friday afternoon. The last class was a music class, which was almost as bad as P.E., but at least there was no running involved. Miss Torch Song was an okay teacher, though, not as harsh as Coach Buster, and apparently she was in a band called the Pony Tones or something, Whimper hadn’t heard them perform yet.
He couldn’t keep his mind on class, though, not when he had to worry about the one week.
One week.
The Chuck Boulders Program promised results after one week, so did the Max Muscle Program, and Wolf Fang’s ‘I am Mighty!’ routine, and the Great Brawn’s ‘Mountain of Muscle’ method. All of them, all the strong stallions had written their books with a single promise: one week. If he did the work, he was supposed to notice a difference after one week.
When the bell sounded, Miss Torch told him to stay in his seat. He sighed, not so much because he was in trouble, but because he was getting used to it. It made him wonder why they even had a bell in the first place if teachers were just going to keep their students in class.
“Whimper, has something been bothering you?” Torch Song asked.
“Umm, a little.”
“The other boys giving you a hard time again?”
Whimper nodded.
“And, ah, at home? Are you eating well?”
This got a raised eyebrow out of the boy. “Umm, yes? Why?”
“Well, it’s just that you’re not looking so good all of a sudden. You’re not…” She lowered her voice to a whisper ”You’re not experimenting with anything, are you?”
“Like what?”
“You can tell me the truth, Whimper. Is your mother putting you on steroids?”
It was only then that Whimper realised he only had music class once a week. Miss Torch Song hadn’t seen him for a little under a week. He looked down at his arms and noticed the promising start of a bulge. On his chest, the ridges of the muscles started to form. All over, his skin was tighter, even his wings throbbed. It was so gradual for him, he hadn’t noticed beyond the regular muscle soreness. But it was there, and somepony had noticed.
One week.
He smiled at his teacher. “Umm, no, Miss. I’ve just been working out more than usual. Trying to bulk up a little, you know?”
“Oh? What exactly have have you been doing, then?”
“Oh, just… a little bit of everything.”
“And… how long do you think you’ll be keeping this up?”
His smile brightened. “As long as I like it.”
Author's Note
Normally, this is where I leave a list of references to show off how terribly clever this story is, but... well, that would defeat the purpose about writing a character who's against preaching.
Cover art is a Chuck Boulders book, made in a hurry using Inkscape and Blender. It's supposed to be a first edition, while Whimper gets a reprint. 3D modeled book with Inkscape-made texture that then got smudges in Blender's Texture Paint Mode, then overlayed with some random grassy field drawn in Inkscape again. Still learning, obviously.
On the story, a couple of questions I think deserve some hints, at least: it should be pretty obvious who Chuck Boulders and Max Muscle are references to, if you look into the strongmen of history, but Wolf Fang and Great Brawn are less obvious, because they're based on video game characters, not actual people. That fact, along with the descriptions, should be enough of a giveaway to see whom they're based on. The 'fitness fanatics'... they refer to a disturbing trend in all walks of life, not any people in particular, and the parasite's inspiration can be found with a little wiki search. It's kind of a filler fic, this one, but I like the Whimper character, and writing him feels like my subconscious writing to myself, so there you go. Argue about what you think the moral is all you want. I'll leave that sort of stuff open to stimulate some thought.
Regular readers will have caught a few references and characters from my other stories, but they're not the same canon, it's just the Flight Camp canon. So no, Scootaloo does not get that thing after Flight Camp, even though Home Remedy is in this.
