A Boat Alone at Sea
A Boat Alone at Sea
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A Boat Alone At Sea
It really was a saddening sight. To see the normally carefree, happy colt floating by his lonesome amidst the seemingly endless sea of valentines cards and boxes of chocolates. Pipsqueak had been watching him aimlessly drag his hooves around the playground for half their recess period now, and try as he might, he could no longer ignore the bitter, rankling sympathy churning up his insides.
A bleeding heart by nature, Pip was the kind of colt who was too kind to stay silent in the face of transgression and far too compassionate to sit idly by while one of his peers was left to fester. So, with determination set hard on his face and a confident, sure-hoofed step, he wound his way across the playground.
He moved quickly, weaving around the throng of school foals and right up to the outer wall of the plastic volcano where the aforementioned pony was now currently sulking. Inching toward one of the only two openings, Pip stuck his head in just in time to hear the other pony sniffle.
“Hey, Truffle,” he said, moving to stand in the middle of the enclosure.
“Go away,” the other colt glared at him from over his comically large scarf.
“Why?”
“Because.”
Pip moved to sit by his peer; and even though he’d been wearing the jacket his mother had coerced him into wearing, the cold bite of snow on his flank was unpleasant as ever. In response, the other colt got up and moved to the other side of the structure without saying a word. Pip’s normally optimistic grin wavered a bit. However, he would not be dissuaded so easily.
“I just got this awesome new hoofball at the store the other day.” he tried again, the optimism returning in full force. “It’s really uhh...bouncy…”
Truffle simply ignored him.
This wasn’t going to work, Pip realized after he received nothing in the way of a reply. He had to try a different approach. The young pinto colt’s mind immediately went into brainstorming mode, the wheels turning as he mentally filed through potential scenarios in search of one that might serve to ameliorate the situation if only slightly. However, he was effectively distracted when he noticed Truffle gazing longingly out of the opening at a gaggle of kids engaged in an ever growing game of tag.
“Wanna go play?” Pip smiled at him from across the plastic housing. Truffle shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t wanna.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t!” Truffle yelled, turning away from Pip and huddling himself as close to the wall as he could get. “Now can you please just leave me alone?”
It was Pip’s turn to shake his head.
Truffle turned to look at the pinto colt, incredulity gracing his features for a moment, and Pip stared back, determination burning in his eyes. They stayed that way for a generous ten seconds, and when it became clear that Pip wasn’t going to back down, Truffle got to his hooves.
“Whatever,” The chubby colt scoffed, squeezing himself through the opening in the structure and stalking toward the slides.
“Wait!” Pip exclaimed, scrambling out after him.
“Get away from me!” The hefty colt yelled over his shoulder, his angry marching graduating into a full blown gallop. Pip saw him start to run and he too picked up his pace.
Pipsqueak had to give the other colt credit; for someone with so much meat on their bones, he moved surprisingly quickly. So much so that Pip admittedly had a hard time keeping up with his fleeing classmate. However, as their chase erupted through the center of the playground and bled out into the trees surrounding the schoolhouse, Pip could see the telltale signs of exhaustion setting in as Truffle’s pace gradually slowed until he was reduced to a winded shuffle. Pip trotted up beside his classmate, a knot of worry in his brow.
“You okay?”
“Celestia, what do you want?” Truffle panted, collapsing at the base of one of the trees surrounding the two. Pip flipped open one of the pockets on his jacket and pulled out a flat, red card and offered it to the heaving colt with a smile. Truffle gave the pinto colt a cautious, searching look before warily accepting the offering.
If Truffle was being honest, the card itself looked pretty unassuming. The outside bore a striking red hue that almost hurt to look at. And if the obnoxious color wasn’t enough the front of the card was littered with stickers and stamped with a messy looking red heart that had Be my special somepony? scrawled in barely legible hoof-writing in the center.
“Open it,” Pip beamed. Truffle wrinkled his nose at the notion, but humored his tormentor regardless and eased open his gift.
The inside of the card was just as gaudy and hard on the eyes as the outside. It even held the same motif of messy red hearts and stickers as the outside had. And just like the outside, the inside harbored more messy hoof-writing, the words Yes? and No? wreathed in a giant pink heart filling the entire right panel.
Truffle looked up at the pinto colt, confusion and incredulousness clear on his face. Pip just continued to smile, though it thinned a bit when their eyes met.
“You wanna be my special somepony?” Truffle finally asked after a heavy beat of silence. Pip’s enthusiastic nodding spoke for him. “Well, you can’t.”
“Why not?” Pip asked innocently.
“Cuz you’re a colt.”
“So?”
“It’s weird.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“Who said?”
“I dunno. It just is.”
“I don’t think it's weird.”
“That’s cuz you’re weird.”
“I’m not weird,” Pip countered, sounding slightly offended. “I’m charming.”
Truffle raised an eyebrow. “Charming?”
“That’s what Scootaloo said.” Pip stuttered. Getting to his hooves, Truffle pushed past the pinto colt, whose eyes were brimming with hope. “So you wanna?”
Truffle turned to look at Pip, the expression on his face equal parts annoyance and resignation. “Alright, fine.”
Pip’s face brightened instantly. Trotting right up beside the heavier colt, Pip leaned in and gently nuzzled Truffle’s side.
Truffle’s face erupted in a radiant swatch of pink.
“Woah, w-what the heck?” The chubby colt stammered, nearly tripping over his hooves.
“What?” Pip asked, as though he hadn’t so rudely injected himself into Truffle's personal space. Truffle fought with both his brain and his tongue in search of some sort of acceptable retort. When it was clear that the battle was lost, he simply sighed and continued walking.
“Nothing…”
