I Mustache You a Question. . .
Hearth’s Warming Eve
“Have a Happy Hearth’s Warming tomorrow, Prism! Please, come again!” the pink earth pony chimed as the last customer of the day trotted out the door, a sack of goodies in tow. Cherry Lattice sighed, turning over the sign to “closed.”
Her assistant, Sweet Roll, walked up beside her. “Well, I’ll be headed out now. Have a good day tomorrow.”
“You too!” Cherry smiled. “Oh, did you grab some of the leftover cookies from the display?”
Sweet pointed her yellow cream-colored hoof at her bulging saddlebags. “Of course. I know you too well. That’s not stealing, is it?” The pegasus’ icing-like tail trailed behind her as she went out the door, chuckling at her employer’s silly question.
Cherry gazed out the window at the powdery snow dusting the sugar-coated streets. Scrunched red-violet curls dangled over her forehead into her crystal blue eyes; she blew a stray curl back and grinned. The fun hadn’t yet begun!
Cherry raced back to the kitchen and flung open all her cabinet doors, throwing pots, pans, and baking sheets (oh my!) onto the island and the counters lining the room. Soon, a holiday scrapbook followed, as did various ingredients and sugars.
Flipping through the scrapbook, she judged each pastry, cookie, and pie. “Hmm, that looks good!” She exclaimed, tapping her hoof on a couple of recipes. Cherry pulled out the final selections and clipped them on a string above her kitchen island. Recipes were unnecessary, for she knew them all by heart.
Starting with cookies, she mixed together the dry ingredients for several different recipes in multiple bowls. While she mixed the wet ingredients, she flipped on the heat to her two ovens. Soon, the doughs wound up in cute holiday shapes on the trays and went into the ovens.
Next, Cherry prepared several pies while the cookies baked. Her shop was humble for the size of Maretropolis: a small lot squeezed in between skyscrapers, law firms, and big name brand stores. One front room with the seating capacity of eight, a two-oven kitchen, one backroom she used as her bedroom/pantry, and of course the private bathroom (not generally open to the public, except when in dire need) comprised the place.
After the pies came petits fours, cakes, and cupcakes. She’d saved up her bits to move to the big city and achieve her dream of owning the best bakery in Maretropolis. However, things didn’t go exactly as she planned. Thankfully, her customers were always loyal and came weekly—sometimes daily! Everything was first name basis.
Once all her cake items were done, she decided to make her first rounds while they cooled. Cherry packed her saddlebags full and loaded a cart with the more delicate goods. She almost made it to the front, when a knocking sound came from the back. Cherry facehoofed. “Oops.”
She galloped into the kitchen and put some milk in a kettle on the stove. Swiftly, she answered the backdoor in her room as if she’d been nonchalantly waiting the whole time. “Hey, how’s it going, Burt?”
An earth pony stallion smiled at her, snow caking his scraggly salt-and-pepper beard. Lines creased into his ashen muzzle, imprinting what looked like little crow’s feet in the corner of his shiny black eyes. His coat appeared to be the same mountain climbing grade one that she’d given him last year, now showing more obvious wear.
“Eh, alright. It’s brick out there, kid.”
She stepped back to allow him into the cramped room and grinned, closing her eyes. “Oh, I should get you a new coat then, silly.”
“Nah, kid, I’m good. This one’s mad tight.” he took off said coat and hung it on the wooden rack next to the door. Then he slid out of his boots.
“Oh,” she mentally grasped his meaning. “Well, next year then. Have a seat out front. I’ll be right out!”
“No doubt.”
Burt sat down at a table by the window and waited. The tantalizing aroma of chocolate and sugar wafted from the kitchen. After a minute, Cherry came out from the back with a platter of assorted cookies and two steaming mugs balanced on her back.
“One for you and one for me!” she declared, setting a bright red mug in front of him and her bright green mug across the table. The platter went in the middle.
“Huh? No coffee?”
“No, silly.” She gave an incredulous look. “It’s near 6:30, duh. Almost bedtime. You don’t need caffeine.”
He smirked. “Yeah, I gotchu.”
“Soo, do you have any plans tomorrow with Ashleigh?” she asked. He gave a soft smile and began to talk about the local soup-kitchen and his daughter’s piano recital. For half an hour, they talked about life, the good ol’ days, and memories of past Hearth’s Warmings, sipping their cocoa and nibbling on sugar cookies.
He took one last gulp of his hot chocolate and set the empty mug down. Cherry jumped up, wagging her tail. “Let me get you a refill.”
“Nah, it’s getting late, kid. I better go.” He stood up slowly.
“Alrighty, it was nice talking to you,” Cherry said.
“Yeah, it was real.”
Just as he was going out the backdoor, Cherry’s eyes widened. “Oh, you almost forgot your saddlebags!”
Burt flashed her a confused look, but when he saw the bags in her hoof complete with a red bow, he smiled, his licorice-black eyes shining. “Thanks, kid.” He disappeared out the door, into the dark alley, leaving only his rugged boot prints behind in the snow.
Cherry returned to the kitchen. “Well, I suppose the cakes are cool enough now,” she nickered. After frosting and decorating the cakes, cupcakes, and petits fours, she made up some more cookie dough and put it in the fridge to chill.
She grabbed her cyan jacket and yellow scarf off of her coat rack and put them on. Once she had slid into her boots, she made toward the front with her saddlebags and cart, confident that there were no further but very welcome interruptions to be had.
Stepping outside, Cherry pulled her jacket a little tighter. Brick was an understatement. A giggle escaped her lips: at least there was snow. She crunched around in the now crisp, white snow, cracking its surface to reveal the fluff underneath as if it were a white-chocolate-dipped ice cream cone. With every satisfying crunch, her mischievous duck-face smile grew bigger. She danced in a little circle, carols ringing in her head. A pile of drifted snow caught her eye. She was just about to cannonball into it when a voice stopped her.
“I hate to interrupt your fun, but I presume you need a ride?”
Cherry whirled around to see a lanky, yellow stallion pulling a taxi carriage. “Manny! What are you doing here?” She tackled him with a hug, nearly knocking him over.
Manual’s freckled muzzle developed an orange twinge. “Same reason as last year. I know how you like to do this for Hearth’s Warming, so I figured I’d save you the trouble of trying to hail a taxi.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet of you.” She hugged him tighter, much to his embarrassment. A few awkward seconds and a wink from a fellow taxi passing by later, her head popped up. “How long were you standing there?”
A wry grin started to form on the edge of his lips “Long enough.” He said, teasing her with his eyes.
She shoved him away. “Heeeeey, that’s not funny!” Cherry pulled a mug of hot chocolate from her cart and placed it in his hooves. “Here, drink this.” Manual, over the rim of his mug, watched her struggle as she loaded her stuff into the enclosed cab. When she had finally finished, Cherry retrieved the empty mug from him.
“Ya know, I could have helped you with that,” he said, smirking.
“Yup, I know.” She disappeared into the cab and shut the door. The carriage window slid open; Cherry peeked out.
“First destination, Miss?”
“The Stallions’ Rescue House, 493 Stable Avenue.”
He gave her an odd look, but said nothing. Soon, they were off.
“I’ll be out here if you need me,” Manual had told her.
Cherry entered the grey bricked house, pushing her cart. She stood in a small entryway. A table with an evergreen branch and holly on it lined the wall of the hallway directly in front of her. Slipping out of her boots, she left them on the mat next to the door. A head peered around the left corner of the entryway.
The periwinkle-colored muzzle burst into a grin. “Hey, it’s Cher!”
The mare smiled back and pushed the cart around the corner into the kitchen. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, everypony! I brought dessert!”
Cherry returned out of the house, a little skip in her gait. A warmth grew in her chest and fluttered in her stomach. Every cookie, cake, and treat given out had broadened her smile and theirs as well. Regardless of what their stories were, be it criminal past, homelessness, poverty, or others, they at least deserved a Happy Hearth’s Warming.
Those smiles on the stallions’ faces were worth it all. Everypony had flocked around her. She barely had room to move or do much of anything other than give out baked goods and hugs. When the grandfather clock in the hall had dinged nine times, she realized how little time she had to finish her mission.
She turned her head to look at the house one last time before she boarded the taxi carriage. It seemed strange to her that some of the stallions were the same ones she had put into jail. They looked up to her, as she were their mother of sorts. Cherry had apprehended Antonio when he had attempted an armed robbery of a bank. Now, he was working toward his GED and becoming a master chef. Whenever she’d visit him, he would pull out a chair for her and bring her some of his latest culinary creations.
Manual’s low nasally voice interrupted her thoughts. “Where to next, Milady?”
She smiled at his use of direct address and looked at the next stop on her paper. “Take me to 204 Twenty-first Street.”
She stood on the steps of a brownstone. The building, as always, was devoid of decor and rather plain in appearance with the exception of a bright sticker on the storm door that read, “WARNING: trespassers will be shot. . . survivors will be shot again.” Cherry knocked quietly on the door. As erratic and random banging noises resounded from within, she smiled and shook her head.
“Yeah, who is it?” A husky voice grunted from behind the door.
“Me, silly.”
The door opened to reveal a green earth pony mare with a spiked orange mohawk. “Oh, it’s you, ya deranged skell. Shoulda known.” Cherry looked down at her hoodie emblazoned with the phrase, “Kicking crime in the flank since before Alicorns were cool.”
“I see your sense of fashion hasn’t changed, Marey,” she snorted.
Marey Allen gave a wave of her hoof. “Pfbt, it’s my job.” The detective’s sarcastic expression morphed into a grin. Rubbing her forehooves together, her eyes sparkling in excitement, she inquired, “So, what did you bring me?”
All of the names had been checked off her list except for one. “Okay, Manny, last one. 152 Breyer Drive.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
She rolled her crystalline eyes. “So, how’s college going?”
He hesitated before finally speaking up. “Well, not too bad. It’s—”
Her last stop was the fifth door of a tan townhouse. Cherry’s eyes widened when she saw a blue stallion sitting on the porch, nursing a steaming mug. “Nutmeg, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”
He slowly lifted his head, bags under his eyes. “Little Wubs won’t go to sleep. She keeps crying and screaming and tearing through diapers like nopony’s business.”
“Oh, well, um, I’m sorry about that. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Um, not really. Black Belt is with her right now. . . We’re taking shifts.”
Cherry felt a little sorry for him. By his expression, it became clear that he had seen some things. Things he wouldn’t forget. She stood there, awkwardly tracing her hoof in the cement sidewalk. Then the scent of coffee wafted to her nostrils. “Wait, you’re drinking coffee at this unholy hour?”
He closed his eyes. Rubbing both of his temples, he sighed, “Cherry, I haven’t slept in 26 hours. And I know I’m not going to sleep tonight either.” Nutmeg reopened his eyes with great effort and gazed at the dark liquid in his mug longingly. “All I have is me and my coffee. Coffee is my only happy place right now.” His voice trailed off as he became lost in the swirls of creamer.
Cherry raised her eyebrow and gave a little cough. “Um, Happy Hearth’s Warming! I brought you guys some cookies and petits fours.”
The stallion’s eyes shot up. “Did you say petits fours?”
The mare flinched. “Yeah.” She drew out her answer.
“Oh thank Celestia!” He snatched the bag from her hoof and tore into it, cackling maniacally.
She backed away from the now rabid Nutmeg who was happily committing dessert genocide, and returned to Manual at the taxi carriage. “Manny, get me out of here now!” Cherry said, her voice laden with urgency.
Manual, having been witness to the entire scene, burst into laughter, a sucker stick hanging out the the corner of his mouth. “Actually, I wanted to stay a bit longer and see how Nutm—.”
She yanked the sucker out of his mouth and chucked it into the street. “Nooo!” Cherry boarded the carriage without a word.
Solemnly, he stared at the desolate white stick lying in the dirty street. “Well, you didn’t have to go and do that. . .”
Hearth’s Warming Morning
Cherry stirred the scrambled eggs frying in her skillet, adding salt and pepper. A jug of orange juice sat on the table, along with a bowl of apples and a plate stacked high with waffles. Anytime now, her parents would be arriving. They had taken the overnight train from Flanksfurt to get here.
Mentally, she checked over all the details. Gifts wrapped, everything decorated, peanut butter and honey sandwiches for lunch, ingredients prepared for dinner, dessert ready, games and activities planned, and more. Everything was as it should have been. Yet, a little nagging voice in the back of her mind told her otherwise. She was missing something. Something important.
A knock tapped out a little ditty from the bakery’s front door. The corner of her mouth curled up, and she galloped out front. “Daddy!” Flinging open the door, she tackled him with a hug.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Lattie.”
She lifted her head up. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Pops.” Cherry released her vice-like grip on her father and, in turn, continued on to strangle her mother with a hug.
After a few seconds, her father’s deep, smooth voice reminded her of the necessity of air. “Lattie, I think your mother’s had enough.” The daughter let go of the light pink earth pony and set her back on the ground.
Cherry rubbed her hooves together, a few embarrassed chuckles escaping her lips, “Um, I’m not wearing a coat, so why don’t we continue this inside.”
Sitting around on stools at her island, they chatted, eating their breakfast.
“So Pops, how’s business?”
Writ Certiorari peered at Cherry over the rims of his glasses. “Hmm, we just closed a suit last week. It was a rather silly case.” He took a bite of waffle and continued, “You remember Pansy? Well, she tripped over a package left by the mailmare and decided to sue.”
Cherry snorted, a few drops of orange juice dripping out of her nose as she nearly spat out the contents of her mouth. “Are you serious? She actually did that? How did it go?”
Writ rolled his eyes. “Would you believe it if I told you that she was reimbursed 50 bits for the damages and losses caused by the offending box?”
She pursed her lips. “Did they really?”
“Yes.”
She burst out laughing and pounded her hoof on the table a few times. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week!”
Iris Flora glanced between them both and smiled, her straight lavender mane swishing around her neck. “This reminds me of old times. It’s so nice to get together again,” she said, in her soft-spoken voice.
Writ and Cherry smiled. After a few seconds, Iris spoke again. “Oh, do you have any news of the Power Ponies? News travels slowly to Flanksfurt.”
Cherry stirred the eggs around on her plate with her fork. “Um, yeah, I heard they defeated the Mane-iac last month.”
Her mother gave a small gasp. “Really? That’s great!”
“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly. That nagging voice returned to her. What am I forgetting? Something important. Something. . . Her eyes widened. The fork clattered onto her plate. “I’m sorry. There’s something important I have to do.” Cherry raced to her coat rack and snatched her jacket, scarf, saddlebags, and boots.
She galloped into the kitchen and stuffed cookies into her saddlebags. “I’ll be back. Eventually. I love you guys! Bye!” Cherry swiftly kissed them both on their foreheads and disappeared out the door.
“Honey, wait. . .” her mother’s voice trailed off.
Her mother and father sat silently in the now empty bakery kitchen. “So, do you know what that was about?”
Writ shrugged, his tawny curls hanging over his glasses. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Cherry raced down the streets, pushing her max non-superhero speed, knowing full well the dangers to her identity if she ran any faster. She weaved through dozens of pedestrians before she ran into a veritable wall of ponies blocking her way.
Prancing impatiently as if she were performing the potty dance, she struggled to find a way around the crowd. Then an idea came to her mind.
“Oh this is so much better!” she giggled, practically soaring over the rooftops, now wearing her Fili-second suit. Cherry galloped at speeds nearly invisible to the eye. In barely a few seconds, she arrived at her destination.
Dropping into a side alley, the pink mare peeked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear, and walked around to the front of the building. Sighing, she pushed open the door into the Manehattan Maximum Security Correctional Facility.
Cherry found herself in small dull room with chairs lining the right wall. On the left side of the room was a window with a counter jutting out of the wall. She approached the window and tapped the little bell on the ledge.
After a few seconds, a unicorn mare came to the window. “Sorry Ma’am, we’re— Oh my, y-you’re Fili-second!”
“Yes, I am,” she sighed. “I know this is a little unexpected, but I’d like to visit one of your inmates. Can you make that happen?”
The frazzled mare adjusted her glasses, attempting to regain her composure. “Um, sure, I’ll talk to the warden.”
In respect to her secret identity, they allowed her to go through the metal scanner and to the visitation room with her suit and mask on. It had taken a little persuasion and a reluctant donation of a few cookies to convince them to allow her to take her cookies back. With her saddlebags safely stored in a locker, she was led back to the room.
Cherry, better known now as Fili-second, waited for a few minutes. They were no doubt taking extra measures and precautions with the particular inmate they were bringing out. Several locks clicked and the knob on the door turned.
Two guards escorted a purple earth pony into the room and attached her shackles to the table. Ensuring that the inmate was securely fastened, they stationed themselves in the far corner.
The Mane-iac’s two-tone eyes widened in delight. “Oh darling, what a beautiful mane you have! I’d love to do something with it sometime!” she exclaimed, giggling.
Fili-second blew a curl out of her eyes. “I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer.”
“Anytime, sugar!” The Mane-iac noticed the cookies on the table and cooed crazily. “What have we here, my dear? Is this the mane attraction?!”
The pink mare mentally facehoofed at the terrible pun. Outwardly, she bore a beaming smile on her muzzle. “Yup. Happy Hearth’s Warming!”
The Mane-iac gave a brief but thoughtful look. “Ah, so it’s Hearth’s Warming today. . .” She glanced up from the cookies, a psychotic grin growing on her face. “I’m a bit mane-iacal when it comes to cookies. I can be a real mane-iac!”
“Are mane puns all you can put out?”
Deviously, the purple mare clasped her forehooves together. “Of course not, I do mane-y other things,” Mane-iac stated, chuckling.
This time, Fili-second joined in her laughter. “Oh, you’re unbelievable!”
When they’d finished laughing, Mane-iac’s eyes flashed in confusion. “You’re laughing at me?”
Cherry straightened, her crystal eyes shimmering as she smiled. “No, I’m laughing with you.”
For a brief second, the purple mare appeared to have a solemn look, but this was quickly replaced with a burst of deranged cackling. Then slowly, tears began to spill down her cheeks as she laughed. This time, Fili-second was the one with the confused expression. The Mane-iac’s laughter echoed off of the narrow walls. “Nopony. Has. Ever. Laughed. With. Me. Before!” she sobbed between laughs.
She began to hug herself to the best of her ability in regard to the shackles. Slowly, her loud, boisterous laughter eased into a weeping chuckle. Mane-iac lifted her puffy reddish-green eyes to look at Fili-second. “Do I know you, dear?”
Fili-second’s gaze softened. “Perhaps. But I’ll say this: I’m sure we’ll be fast friends.”
Mane-iac smiled at the hint, wiping away the tears staining her face. “Friends. I don’t have mane-y of those. But ‘friends’ sounds. . . nice.”
“I can’t keep calling you ‘Mane-iac’ forever. Do you have a name?”
“Only if you tell me yours,” she smirked coyly.
Fili-second raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you’re good.” She rubbed her hoof along her chin. “Why don’t I give you a name. How about Mane-dy?”
Mane-dy’s smile grew wider and she cackled. “It’s a close shave; I’ll take it, dear. Buuuut only if I can call you by a nickname, too!” She grinned wickedly.
The Power Pony considered Mane-dy’s proposition, before sighing. “Sure, whatever you come up with.”
“Well, my name for you is. . .”
After a minute, Fili-second decided to fill the silence. “Yes?”
“Curly Sue!” The Mane-iac burst into another fit of mane-iacal laughter.
Fili-second smiled, closing her eyes. Curly Sue. . . It’s not too bad of a name.
“I like it. It’s a fitting name.” said Curly Sue. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Mane-dy!”
Author's Note
I never thought my first story would be about this, but I suppose you never really know what's going to happen.
Many thanks to Test4Echo and Diamond_Emblem and many others for the invaluable help. Without you guys, I couldn't have done it. Thanks so much again!
The OCs Nutmeg, Black Belt and Baby Wubs all belong to CoffeeMinion. He owns them. Not me, lol. Merry Christmas to you. I hope you enjoyed the story. 
Also, scattered throughout the story are various references and jokes. There may be more or less, but the number I came up with is 10. Have fun finding them.
Also, I used some New York slang in the exchanges between Burt and Cherry. I think most of the meanings can be inferred; but just in case, brick means "near freezing cold."
Merry Christmas and Happy Hearth's Warming!
~Melly~
