There has to be an easier way for earth ponies to open letters, Maud thought to herself. For just a brief moment, she was envious of the ease that unicorns possessed, but it passed. She could manage, if she had to, and the difficulty opening envelopes was character building. Yes, the papercuts on the lips was character building. Or the sudden, unexpected slice right on the tip of the tongue.
Maud felt her dock tense up super-tight just thinking about it. Ouch.
The script on the envelope was loose, a bit loopy, and full of exaggerated flourishes. She tore open one end, blew into it, and following a well-practiced routine, she dumped it out on her desk. With a few somewhat clumsy pats, she unfolded it, then she picked up Boulder from where he sat and dropped him on top of the letter, using him as a paperweight.
The letter was a short one, by the looks of it.
Dear Aggy
The other day I was walking down the street and I saw this amazing filly. She’s beautiful and perfect and amazing and she’s all I can think about.
The problem is I’m a filly too. I’m supposed to like colts, not fillies! Is something wrong with me? And what if she doesn’t like me back? Will she hate me? And what do I tell my parents? Will they hate me too?
How do I approach her? How do I approach my parents?
I’m so scared of ruining my life.
Sincerely,
Crushed Two Ways
“Hmm,” Maud hummed to herself as she continued to stare at the letter after reading it. “We get a lot of these, don’t we, Boulder?”
With a sigh, Maud rested both of her forelegs against the edge of her desk, and she leaned forwards over the letter. Her eyes narrowed, just a little, and her nostrils flared, just a little, and it was obvious to anypony that knew Maud well that she was concentrating. Peals of laughter could be heard elsewhere in the house, but she ignored those, so focused was she on her task.
“What do you mean, Boulder, that you are attracted to trees? How come this is the first time I’m hearing about this dendrophilia? Trees give you wood? Is that a pun, Boulder? We’ve talked about puns, they’re awful. What do you mean, ‘Is it okay?’ Of course it is… oh…” Maud paused, and her long eyelashes fluttered while she blinked. “You had me going there, Boulder. Way to make a point. You know, if you really were attracted to trees, I’d be okay with that.”
On the desk, Boulder did absolutely nothing, nothing at all.
“You’re right. We need to get down to the root of the problem.” Maud sighed, fearing she had been duped into another pun, and she shook her head. “Right, Boulder. Let’s get to work, shall we? Just tell me what to write, and I’ll get to work.”
Dear Crushed Two Ways,
Nopony is obligated to like anypony. Or anything for that matter. What you like or don’t like is equinal preference. It’s okay to like fillies, or dragons, or filly dragons, or even dragons who are into fillies. Just take your time and figure out what it is that you like. Don’t rush into it. Rushing into it is a surefire way to evoke disaster.
Just like how you like fillies, the filly you find yourself attracted to might have her own attractions. This part requires you to be courageous; just go up and talk to her. Before you can do anything, you have to try and be her friend. Once you are her friend, that makes things a little easier, because friends share secrets. Create a situation in which secrets can be shared, like a party or a sleepover, and when it feels right, reveal that you are into fillies.
If she’s interested, she’ll respond. If not, well, there might be a lot of reasons why she doesn’t respond right away. She might need time to figure out who and what she likes. This is where friendship is important, you can be there to help her out. Even if the relationship that you hope for doesn’t work out, you still have opportunities to grow as a pony.
As for your parents, that’s a trickier question to answer. Time is on your side here. Don’t rush into things. Rehearse it, if you feel the need, and if you are unsure about the encounter, bring supportive friends so you are not outnumbered. It can be intimidating to talk to your parents and your family, because there are all of them and just one of you. Having a supportive group of friends can help you make sure your voice is heard if things go wrong. Foals naturally want to obey their parents, and sometimes, parents can take advantage of this, even if they don’t mean to. It happens.
A friend can step in to defend you if your parents treat you like their foal, rather than the individual you are trying to be. A close friend of mine married outside of her tribe, and she worried about her parents reactions. As it turned out, her fears were unfounded, and she worried for no reason.
If you are really, really worried, and have parents who aren’t interested in things that are different, you don’t have to tell them. They don’t have to know. Or if you feel the need to tell them, for whatever reason, find a responsible adult, such as a teacher, or a mentor, but somepony that you trust so that they can act as a referee, if you can’t get a group of friends together for some reason.
One final parting bit of advice. Rejection happens. Life is full of it. It stings. You’ll get over it.
With love and support,
Aggy.
With the letter finished, Maud picked it up and gave it a once-over, then said to Boulder, “You sure are long winded. I think it works though. Let’s not send it off right away, I want to think about it some more, and we’ll come back to it later. That was a nice touch, by the way, mentioning your friend. I was terrified to bring Tarnish home to my parents. I mean, he’s a unicorn, and because of Miss Lulamoon, Daddy didn’t like unicorns. Yes, Boulder, I was Chicken Pot Pie that day. Now stop laughing, that’s not nice.”
Before she got up, Maud organised her workspace a bit, stowing away her pen, throwing her paper scraps into the wastebasket, and when she was done, she gave her pet rock an affectionate pat with her hoof.
“I hope my foals won’t be afraid to come to me when the time comes… you know, Boulder, it scares me too. I wonder how afraid my parents were?” With this last sober thought, Maud rose from her desk, picked up Boulder, slipped him into a pocket, and then she walked away, contemplating what it meant to be a parent.
Author's Note
I... don't know if this is turning out okay or not. At least, not yet. 
The letter is posted as is, with all typos and punctuation errors preserved. 
It was time to get a little work done, but not just any work—this was, perhaps, the best work, it was time to help Boulder. It was time to indulge in their shared secret hobby. Maud sat down at her wooden roll-top desk, rolled up the cover, and pulled Boulder out from his pocket in her smock.
“Today, we become ‘Dear Aggy.’ Are you ready, Boulder?” While she spoke, she plunked Boulder down upon the desk. “It’s like being a superhero, but it can be done with a pen and a bit of free time.”
Years ago, when this had started, Maud had thought it a foolish venture, but she was glad that she had listened to Boulder’s idea. Maud’s pet rock had a hobby, a mission, a burning passion that he needed her assistance with. Boulder gave advice to the lovelorn, those confused in love, and even those love-weary. Her pet rock had become Dear Aggy, and she functioned as his writer, his translator, his dutiful assistant.
Of course, she also offered her own advice, mixed in with his.
“What’s that, Boulder?” Maud asked, tilting her head so that she might listen to her pet rock better. “No, I didn’t forget the mailbag. It’s right here. Boulder, do you need glasses? Are you getting old?”
The stone did not reply, perhaps indignant from the remark about his age.
The mailbag was rather full, filled with about twenty pounds of letters. Maud was determined to sort through them all, find the good ones, and write out Boulder’s answers to them all. These replies would get sent off to the newspaper office, would be printed, the readers would read, and matters of love would be straightened out. Dear Aggy would come to the rescue.
Opening the sack, Maud found a letter poking out that didn’t have a stamp. That was curious. One eyebrow raised, a measurement of micrometres, something almost invisible to the common equine eye. With her hoof, she pulled it out, held it up, sniffed it, and then tore it open with her teeth. Inhaling, she then blew into the opened envelope, spreading it, and then she shook the letter out. It fluttered down like a downed drunk butterfly, and flopped on the wooden surface of her desk.
Using her hoof, she unfolded the letter and pressed it out flat on her desk. It read:
Dear Aggy,
Long time reader, first time letter-sender. I’m a big fan with an even bigger conundrum that I was hoping that you could help me with. You see, I really love my wife, she’s also my best friend, and my teacher too. Because of her, I graduated Summa Cum Maud, and I can make her Summa Cum Loud. She’s a really awesome wife, and she loves puns. She’s adventurous, both in and out of the bedroom.
She is also a really hot wife, she’s amazing, she really is, and there is something I want to tell her, but I don’t know how to say it. You see, when she’s pregnant, her backside gets big, and she gets these big jiggly thighs, and she looks amazing.
But how does one say all of this without getting trampled? Is there a proper way to tell your wife that yes, her butt looks big? That you like a yard of plot? Is there a way of communicating this without sounding like a big-booty loving deviant? I’m worried, I don’t want my wife thinking I’m shallow minded. I try to respect her body. I try to be a good husband.
I’m conflicted, I want to tell her how I feel, but I’m scared and worried about saying something. So how do I go about telling her this without sounding like a pervert, or hurting her feelings, or generally ending my marriage?
Sincerely,
Mister Coffee Pot.
Maud’s eyes narrowed, and she read the letter once more, this time in silence, to herself. Afterwards, she lifted her head, licked her lips in a shocking display of reaction, and then focused her intense gaze upon Boulder, who sat on her desk. Reaching out her hoof, she gave her pet rock an affectionate caress.
“Wait a minute, I know this writing, and I have a sneaking suspicion about this Mister Coffee Pot fellow. Hang on, Boulder, I have to go and answer this one face to face. Excuse me, but I have to go and sort somepony out. These puns are untenable and unforgivable.” Rising from her chair, Maud stretched her legs, adjusted her smock, and then departed the room, leaving Boulder on the desk guarding the letter.
About one hour and much barnyard noises later…
Maud, her mane a little curly, and still a little damp from her shower, returned to her desk, to find Boulder right where she had left him. A smile, invisible to most, could be seen upon her muzzle, and when she sat down, she did so gingerly, as if she was sore or just worn out back there. She sighed, a satisfied, happy sound, and got herself settled so she could return to work.
“Sorry about that, Boulder… things got out of hoof,” Maud deadpanned. “I had to percolate Mister Coffee Pot and make him boil over. It was great. Now that he’s sorted out, I can get back to work. Let’s check out the next letter, shall we?”
Reaching down, Maud jammed her hoof into the mail sack in a manner reminiscent of a bear reaching into a honey tree. For a brief second, her tongue poked out in concentration, and she made a faint hiss when her backside pressed up against the hard edge of the chair. One leg twitched, her muscles quivering beneath the coarse fabric of her smock, and she pulled out a letter in a pale blue envelope.
With a sleepy, bored expression, Maud went through the routine of opening it, and then shook the letter out onto the desk. There were a few thumps as she unfolded it, smoothed it out, and made it lay flat. Right away, the letters on this one stood out, the script was a little messy, as if it had been written by a foal. It was also loopy, a bit doodly, and there was a distinct feminine touch to it, to those who knew how to see such things.
Dear Aggy,
I wrote this all by myself, without my mother’s help. I even left the house on my own to take it to the mailbox, so I really hope you’ll read it and reply to it. It’s tough to leave the house, because I’m shy. You can refer to me as Canary. I’m sorry, I know it is a lousy name, but it was just the first thing that came to mind.
This is all really tough, and I don’t know how to say all of this. I am the only one of my kind in Ponyville. I am alone. All of my friends are growing up, and some of them are getting flirty with each other. There’s a lot of flirting. So much flirting. And snogging. Yes, there is a lot of snogging. And I can’t snog, even though I want to, because, reasons.
But I’m watching all of my friends as they’re starting to flirt and play with one another, and it makes me feel really lonely. I want to do what they’re doing. I want to be flirty. But there is no one else like me, and I am all alone. It’s made me really depressed, and when I get depressed, I start binge eating. It’s made me a little chubby.
No, to be honest, it’s made me fat. Well, my mother says I’m chubby and my father, he refuses to answer me when I ask him, but I think I’m fat. And now that I’m fat, I feel even worse. When I feel lonely, I eat, when I eat, I get fat, when I get fatter, I feel guilty, and then I feel like I’m too fat to be loved, and then I feel even more alone. So I keep eating and this feels like a never-ending cycle.
How do I fix this?
I just want to loved.
Sincerely,
A Canary in search of somebirdy to sing with.
Reaching out, Maud picked up Boulder and pulled him to her barrel. She blinked a few times, feeling very much like her namesake, Maudlin. With Boulder pressed against her, she rubbed him, and thought about the letter. She wasn’t certain that she could answer this letter, and she hoped that Boulder had something, because she didn’t.
“What’s that, Boulder? You say she should seek the help of Princess Cadance?” Maud nodded, and one ear twitched as she listened to her pet rock. “I agree.”
Maud went silent and stared down at the letter, her eyes moving at a glacial pace from side to side as she read it once more. She still held Boulder, and stroked him, feeling his exquisite, comforting smoothness against her frog. In Maud’s embrace, Boulder purred, but it was more of a geological hum, a sound that only Maud could hear.
“You’re right, Boulder, we can’t put this one in the paper,” Maud said to her pet rock. “We can’t ignore it, either. I think I’m going to have to deal with this in pony, and hope that Silver Lining will keep our secret. She’s a good girl, Boulder, she deserves better than this.”
During a long silence, Maud’s ears perked, and she nodded. “Yes Boulder, I know, Pebble also struggles with emotional-overeating. What do you mean, you have an idea? Wait, are you telling me that they should seek help together and form a support group? That’s a brilliant idea, Boulder. Thank you.”
Leaning back in her chair, Maud heaved a troubled sigh and stared at the letter. She blinked once, twice, and then her head bobbed up and down while she continued to hug Boulder while hanging upon his every word.
“Why, yes Boulder, I think I might have to call in some backup on this one. That’s what sisters are for, right?”
Leaning over, Maud reached into the mailbag to fish out another letter, this time with the hopes that it was one to which she could write out a long, satisfying response. She had a brain itch that needed scratching, and Boulder was in dire need of a little intellectual stimulation himself. She treasured these collaborations between her and her pet rock, these tender moments of togetherness most of all.
“Here we go,” Maud said to Boulder as she pulled out a bone-white envelope. “This one has a lovesick feel to it, Boulder, wouldn’t you agree? I have a good feeling about this one, let’s open it up, shall we?”
Author's Note
There will be a blog post explaining the rules for submission in time. Please, be patient.
I'm a little uncertain about this experiment, so please, bear with me.
