The One And Only Sourpuss

Sourpuss gazed outside the window.

The view was absolutely breath-taking. Skyscrapers went as far as the eye could see. Birds and early-morning Pegasi could be seen soaring across the horizon. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to rise, painting the heavens in stunning shades of gold and purple.

But that was merely the view that any normal pony would see. All Sourpuss saw was the beginning of another horrible, terrible, practically skin-crawling day. Where he would once again have to struggle through the idiocy of other ponies in order to make his day at least somewhat bearable.

The one major thing that the grouchy stallion wondered as he sat up and rubbed his rather bloodshot, yet still icy blue eyes was this;

Why in Equestria was he up so early?

Judging by the alarm clock that continued to tick away like a bomb, it was only five in the morning. He swore that he had set the alarm for eight. Upon checking, he found this to be true. Once again, many ponies would cherish this extra morning time. They would go out for a brisk walk or enjoy a bit of early-morning reading.

The first thing Sourpuss did was curse the sun and daytime and anything to do with light. Then the stallion slammed a pillow over his head and tried to recommence his slumber.

Alas, it was to no avail.

He simply could not fall back asleep. No matter what Sourpuss tried, he just couldn’t get his ridiculous brain to turn off and plunge him back into blissful darkness.

In a short-lived fit of rage, Sourpuss tossed his pillow out of bed.

“Damned thing. Probably can’t get to sleep because of how lumpy it is.” Sourpuss grouched to nopony at all. His voice was gravelly and, in short, angry. It was to be expected. Especially because of his rather vicious resting face.

“Good morning, honey.” Sourpuss grumbled, looking at the tousled sheets next to him. “Oh yeah, I live alone. What a shocker.”

Sourpuss dragged himself out of bed, making sure to complain about how difficult it was. Seeing how he was neither a Unicorn nor a Pegasus, he could not fly out of bed and he could not magically lift the sheets. So, as a plain old boring Earth pony, he had to remake his bed as soon as he got up. A fruitless task yes. But one that was necessary, regardless.

Sourpuss showered himself (cold water, it was the only kind of shower he liked). All the while he considered drowning himself in the chilly waters. After his horrid bathing, he then choked down a bowl of plain, tasteless oatmeal. Breakfast was the very most important meal of the day.

The final act he had to perform, before escaping to the nightmare he called ‘work’, was brushing his orange coat and untangling the knots in his short red mane and tail. After this, on went his traditional fedora and high-collared jacket.

Why did Sourpuss act like this?

The answer was simple.

It was the same with everypony in Equestria.

His cutie mark.

His cutie mark, which resembled a frowning Siamese cat’s face, dictated to him that nothing in his life would ever go his way. He would be nothing but a sourpuss for his entire life. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could even hope to do.

But of course. He was Sourpuss, the stallion with the angry cutie mark. The stallion who wouldn’t give anypony the time of day. The stallion who happened to see everything in life as some great disaster.

Sourpuss left behind his dismal flat and decided today he would allow himself the luxury of using the apartment’s elevator; rather than his thirty-fourth floor bedroom window or the incredibly long flight of stairs. He’d need his energy for the long workday ahead of him.

The elevator-operator, a pretty Pegasus mare named Lift, gave him a cheery hello. He simply grunted in reply.

He didn’t have time for socializing.

He never, ever had time for socializing.