The streets of Manehatten were even louder and more congested than normal. But instead of the air being clogged with noise and the streets with traffic, they were instead full of music and cheering ponies.
The Summer Sun Celebration!
Outside of Hearthswarming, it was the most popular holiday of the year for most, but not even Hearthswarming could hold a candle to it's summery cousin when it came to public events and city-wide celebrations. And no city could top Manehattan when it came to big celebrations.
The streets had been swept clean and the buildings polished. Banners and flags arced between skyscrapers like the workings of a mad spider, as colorful ticker-tape rained from the skies (effectively negating the pre-celebration cleaning efforts). Ponies crowded the streets like wildflowers in a field, just as densely packed and just as colorful. They left only two lanes free in the center of the city's main road, where the source of their cheering moved at a snails pace. Of all the events Manehattan held for the day of celebration, this was the shining jewel in its crown. The Summer Sun's Parade.
Floats and carts of every shape and size rumbled down the streets of town, encouraged on by ponies of all stripes who cheered and whooped from sidewalks, balconies, and rooftops. Long low carts carrying mobile stages ferried famous musicians and performers who sang their hearts out for anypony near enough to hear. Works of art that didn't so much resemble carts as they did giant objects or food, manned by equally elaborately dressed ponies. The local guard regiment marched smartly in time, seeing more action in the parade than they did for most of the year. Not to be outdone, their friendly rivals in the form of the Manehattan Police Department marched, not only in full dress uniform, but in painstakingly choreographed step which could put Bridleway performers to shame.
Princess Celestia, beloved monarch of the sun, had not chosen to grace their city with her presence this particular year. That honor had gone to Las Pegasus. Luckily, Manehatten had the next best thing. A towering behemoth, seven stories tall at the tip of her horn, walked the streets at a carefully moderate pace. It was a giant replica of the princess, built of wood, wire, and colorful crepe paper, animated by a team of enchantment specialists controlling it from within. The finest artists the city could boast of had carefully replicated her tender and compassionate smile, and her mane brushed harmlessly against buildings like an animate rainbow. And she was not the only one. Other such enchanted constructs carefully walked behind her amongst the other parade floats and performers. Famous ponies from history or literature, many large in their own right but none as large as the princess.
It was a scene of utter chaos and excitement and pure joy. Especially for two particular young colts near the corner of 79th and Celestia Avenue.
The older of the two colts stood on his father's back to see above the nearby ponies. His frizzy chocolate mane bobbed and danced as he shifted and strained to see as much as possible. One foreleg was dedicated shading his eyes and keeping the glare off his thick rimmed glasses, while the other was reserved for pointing. He struggled to keep his balance as his father underneath him kept trying to check his watch every other minute.
The other colt was smaller than his brother, small enough that he could stand wholly on his mother's head, which put him perfectly at his brother's elevated eye level. His red-orange coat was near perfect camouflage in his mother's mane, though his own dark brown mane gave him away. If anything his excitement was even greater than his brother's, it being his first time seeing the parade. He spun and scrambled and stumbled as he tried to take in absolutely everything, while below his mother tried to hide her grimace each time he stepped on an ear or yanked her mane.
The two brothers cried out to each other in childish glee as each new wonder came around the corner.
"Cheese! Cheese! Look, look, it's-"
"I see it, Tommy, I see it! Oh! There's-"
"Wow! Can you hear the-"
"I know! Whoa! It's Daring Do!"
"Wha--! You never said she was so big!"
"Neither did the book!"
Their banter continued, drowned out to all except each other by countless other ponies having nearly the same conversation. It felt to them as though each moment lasted forever.
"Well, that's it." Hay Burger said as he checked his watch once more. "12:30. I need to get back to the office, so it's the end of the show for you kiddos."
His declaration was met immediately with a plaintive groan in stereo. But their mother was having none of it.
"Now boys, we told you at the start that we wouldn't be able to stay the whole parade. Your father is very busy at work and I can't watch over the both of you in such a crowded space."
"But we're not even at the best parts yet!" Cheese Sandwich cried, "And it's Tommy's first time, so we have to stay so I can show him all the really amazing stuff!"
"Yeah!" Tomato Sandwich agreed. This was the biggest, loudest, and most colorful thing he'd ever experienced, and he didn't ever want it to stop. And if his big brother said that the best was yet to come, then surely it must be so.
"Sorry boys, but that's the way it is. Can't always have what you want in life." Hay Burger and his wife, Mozzarella, turned to begin shoving and squeezing their way out of the crowd. It was easy to express their authority on the matter, since both foals were already riding atop their parents and there was literally no room on either side to dismount.
It was then that a trickle of music snuck it's way past the crowd and into the unhappy foals' small ears. They swiveled their heads like owls to catch a glimpse of their one, final show for the day.
It was a float representing the small neighborhood block commonly called 'Little Germaney'. White and green were it's colors of choice, offset with subtle browns and yellows. It was a simple float, compared to the grandeur of all the others, containing a small group of ponies, most with instruments, some just waving, and a pyramid of barrels decorated with flower garlands. But then there was the music.
It was bouncy. It was peppy. Like the very soul of a festival encased in a spirited rhythm and shrouded in bubbly, jaunty merriment. Cheese could only stare, wide eyed and in awe, as some indescribable spirit of the music struck a chord and resonated with his innermost being. One instrument in particular, the likes of which he had never heard before, stood above the rest as it's siren's song sung to his soul.
Tomato also thought the music was catchy.
"What... what is that?" Cheese asked breathlessly.
His father half turned his head and cocked an ear. "Sounds like a polka," he said dismissively, and began to turn back around. "Your great-grandfather used to play that kind of music when I was little. He was from the Old Country."
Little Cheese Sandwich shook his head, sending curls flying. "No, not just the music. What's that thing that that pony's playing? The box with the piano keys that he keeps squishing and stretching?"
His father didn't even need to turn to identify it. "Probably an accordion. It's fairly common for that type of music."
"Acc-or-dion..." Cheese let the syllables roll off his tongue, trying out the new word like finely aged grape juice. It was a good word. It felt very right, and fit well with the feel of the instrument. At that moment, something clicked in Cheese's heart. He felt the click, and, as faosl are oft to, immediately set to act on it.
"Mama, Father, I wanna learn how to play the accordion!"
"I don't think so." Mozzarella shot the idea down without a moment's hesitation, "It's an obnoxious instrument. Only good for foreign music. If you're that interested in music, we can enroll you in piano, or maybe clarinet. You know your uncle was a minorly successful clarinettist."
"No! I want to play the accordion," He insisted. How could they not hear it's beauty? The way it sang like a voice with each sweet squeeze and pull?
"Yeah! Accordion!" Tommy cried in support. He didn't quite get what was so special about it, but was easily caught up in his brother's enthusiasm.
"I said no. I'm not buying one." Mozzarella denied them once more. "Everything else aside, they're expensive and difficult to learn. Even if you had the dedication to stick with it for years, all you'd end up with would be a useless skill, suitable as little more than an amusing anecdote or bit of résumé flair."
Though they didn't understand all of her words, Cheese and his brother got the gist of the denial. In turn, they retaliated with the favorite tactic of foals who've been denied by one parent.
"Faaatheeer..." they chorused.
Hay Burger opened his mouth to double down on his wife's decision, when he was struck by a premonition. It was a gut feeling, the sort which he used to guide his decisions in the office and that had allowed him to climb the corporate ladder so quickly. That intuition had led him to many lucrative business deals and saved his hide more times that he could count and he trusted it like nothing else. Following his instinct, he spoke freely, allowing the words to come as they may without forethought or planning.
"If you want one that badly, you should save up and buy it yourself. If you can do that, we'll allow you to learn to play."
The foals cheered in success while Mozzarella scowled at her husband. "I don't like you contradicting my decisions," she hissed, low enough that the cheering foals would miss it.
Hay Burger grinned devilishly despite his wife's glare and leaned in low to whisper back. "Don't worry. They're just foals, there's no way they'll take it seriously. Odds are they'll lose interest in a few days and that'll be the end of it. I just ran the numbers, and even if he does save every bit from holidays and birthdays, I doubt he'll be able to afford one until college, if he even cares by then."
Mozzarella sighed and wished it was late enough to drink. She was still a little ticked off that Hay had contradicted her authority, but she could also admit that it was a better option than the headache that would surely result from having to argue with the foals all the way back home.
With the matter settled (to varying degrees of satisfaction), the caravan left the crowds behind and branched off towards home and the office. In the meantime, Cheese's young mind started to whir as he pondered what he could do earn as many bits as possible, as fast as possible.
"I have... no ideas."
There was nothing to be done.
Cheese and Tomato Sandwich were back home in their shared bedroom, bellies full of their namesakes and heads void of good ideas. Despite a full lunch of tough thinking, they were no closer to figuring out how to earn some money than when they began.
Oh they had ideas, ideas aplenty. The only problem was that they were all terrible.
"We could sell snacks," Tommy offered after a long silence. Most of his ideas had revolved around food. "Like cookies maybe?"
Cheese shook his head. "The filly scouts have the whole cookie market cornered," he replied, "They've got the whole city divided up between their troops and they won't let anypony else sell in their territory."
"Oh."
Silence once more took up residence between them.
"How much money is an acker-dian?" Tommy eventually asked.
"Accordion. I don't know, but Mom said it was pretty expensive."
"What's 'expensive'?"
"A lot of bits."
Tomato pondered this. "Like twenty bits?" It was the highest number he could imagine.
"Could be," Cheese replied, "Might even be more. Like thirty bits. Or even forty."
Tomato sucked through his teeth. Thirty? Forty?! There was no such number! How could they possibly earn a number of bits that didn't even exist?! No, there had to be a way. Think, Tommy, think! He racked his brain, trying to remember the largest amount of bits he'd ever seen. Logically, if it was more than he could count, then it had to be one of these new, impossible numbers. Then suddenly, the muse of inspiration smacked him across the temple. That was it! He remembered the richest pony he'd ever seen, who had more bits that he could count! And not only that, but he also knew just how this pony had made his fortune, and, wonder of wonders, it was one of the things that his big brother excelled at!
He leapt to his hooves in excitement. "I got it!"
"What?" Cheese prepared himself for another suggestion of the food-selling variety.
"You can sing!"
"That's-" Cheese cut off his planned dismissal. Had he heard that correctly? "...What?"
His brother was more than willing to elaborate. "Like the ponies in Central Gardens, remember? They just dance or sing or do all sorts of tricks and ponies just give them bits! And you're the best singer. You sing all sorts of stuff for me all the time, I bet you could earn enough bits in one day! What do you think?"
Cheese hesitated. True, he had gotten his grandfather's powerful set of pipes. He could belt out a song like nopony's business. But... that was just at home. Just for Tommy. Worry began to cloud his mind. Worry of other ponies watching him, watching him sing. Judging him. Pointing out mistakes and issues in that quiet voice that adults don't think foals can hear. Nitpicking every wrong note and ridiculing every small mistake. He could practically hear them now, their cold, dismissive comments closing in like the Windigos of legend.
But he had to give an answer. Tommy was still standing there, posed in dramatic flair, waiting for validation from his favorite big brother.
"I don't know..." Cheese waffled. "That'd be in front of a lot of ponies, and I only really sing for you, you know." He glossed over his larger fear with a thin veneer of mere stage fright.
After a moment of thinking, Tommy got an idea. Without explanation, he quickly ran over to their shared toy chest and began digging. After a minute of throwing out random toys and objects which were not the target of his search, he ran back and slammed something onto Cheese's face. When the hoof was removed, something remained stuck behind. Cheese probed it curiously.
It was a simple black domino mask. The fit wasn't perfect, it was a cheap foal's toy after all, but still well enough to hold itself on. He glanced in confusion over to Tommy, who was tying a similarly colored bandanna across his own face, though it had two holes cut for eyes.
"Aren't these the masks for our cowspies game?"
He nodded eagerly. "Yes! Now, you won't have to worry about anything. Just like spies and cowponies, you can do whatever you want and nopony will know cause you're wearing a mask!"
Could that work? Would it be enough? Cheese's mind whirred. A lot of his worries stemmed from ponies judging him, but if they don't know it's him, then they can't judge him. And he could think of quite a few comics which corroborated the notion that even a simple mask was all you needed to make yourself recognizable.
He steeled his heart and returned a smile to his brother. "Alright baby bro, let's try it!"
They grabbed a small bag to hold their bits and a future snack from Cheese's secret candy stash and raced down the hall towards the door, stopping only a moment to give notice to their mother.
"Mom! We're going out to Central Gardens for a while!"
"Alright," Mozzarella called back from the kitchen, "Just stick together and be back by sundown. Oh, and stay away from any crowds of tourists here for the celebrations."
But she could hear the door slam even as the final words left her mouth. She sighed. At least they'd gotten the most important bit. Now maybe for once she'd be able to prepare dinner without eight extra hooves between her legs offering help or fun ways to doctor the recipe. In fact, with the time she might save, there might even be a small golden window of ever-elusive time to herself between finishing dinner and her stallions returning home. She mused idly as she cut her vegetables. She might even be able to read more than a single new page of the romance novel she'd been slowly working through since Cheese was born. And maybe she could have an early glass of wine with her book since the foals would be out...
Central Gardens was a gloriously green oasis in a desert of grey cityscape. For most native Manehattanites, it would be the largest single piece of nature they'd ever see until growing up and moving away to other cities. Over eight hundred acres of grass, trees, and flowers, dotted intermittently with pagodas, duck ponds, quiet shaded spaces to leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind for a few hours.
Cheese and Tomato Sandwich were not headed for one of these serene, tucked away places. Quite the opposite in fact.
While Central Gardens had countless walking paths for lite exercise or nature appreciation which meandered through the park like lackadaisical snakes, almost all of them met up at a large plaza near the center. This area was well known not only as a favorite photo spot for tourists in front of it's iconic fountain, but also as a hub for transient entertainers, musicians, and performers. These entrepreneurial ponies sang, danced, or performed feats of skill for whatever bits onlookers would toss at their hooves. Some particularly talented ponies could pull in quite a decent daily wage from even just single bit donations. Of course, with all their bits on display in hats or instrument cases, it's no wonder that foals with poor grasps of finances would regard them as being incredibly wealthy.
When the Sandwich brothers arrived, respective masks already donned, the regulars were already in full swing. A grungy-looking stallion banged out beats on a drum kit made from buckets and garbage can lids. Across the plaza, a pale pink mare stood stock still, as some sort of glimmering powder combed into her fur made her look like an artistic statue of a pony made from crystal. An older bearded stallion hopped about such that his movements coordinated countless instruments strapped to his body to sing out big band numbers and Bridleway show tunes. A few other ponies also occupied small blankets or patches of roadside grass as they showed off their talents for the meager stream of ponies who crossed the plaza as a shortcut between Summer Sun Celebration parties.
It didn't take them long to find an available spot, and they settled in to a nice grassy area just past the drummer. The few ponies who were not performers generally ignored them in favor of watching those who were actually performing. The brothers shared a look. Was there something special they needed to do to start? Some kind of announcement, or would it be better to just go ahead and start?
Cheese took a deep breath, and glanced once more upon his little bro's expression. Tommy looked so excited. Even though he probably didn't care about the accordion nearly as much as Cheese, he still couldn't wait just to show off his brother to the cityponies. There was no backing down now. Bits aside, he had he brother looking up to him.
And so he began to sing. The notes were shaky at first, but grew steady as he lost himself in the music. He wasn't sure what to sing at first, but just started with the first song that came to his mind. It was an old one, something he remembered his Grandpa singing about an age of rocks or something like that. Halfway through the second verse, he realized he didn't remember the song as well as he thought he had. The rhythm was there, but the words were lost. Just as he ran out of remembered the words, he decided that it'd be better to sing the wrong words than awkwardly stop in the middle, so he continued. The new lyrics didn't make much sense, some of them weren't even real words at all, but they fit the rhyme scheme and the syllabic breaks, so the song continued to flow.
He wrapped up the song with a flourish and as he reopened his eyes he could pick up enthusiastic clapping from Tommy over the halfhearted, if sympathetic and appreciative , applause from a few passing ponies. One older mare smiled at them with kind eyes and tossed a bit their way. Tommy eagerly grabbed it before it even hit the ground and placed it in the bag he'd brought.
"Hey, small fry!" Cheese looked around and spotted the drummer trying to signal him. "That's a pretty sweet thing you got goin' on there."
"Er... thanks?" Cheese replied, though he wasn't sure if the stallion was referring to his singing, his lyrics, his brother, or something else entirely.
"You know 'Up a Lazy River'?"
"I... some of it?" Cheese didn't quite follow where he was going with this line of questioning.
The drummer shot him a toothy grin and started hitting his makeshift drums with a quick tappatta tappatta tap-tap, tappatta tappatta tap-tap at about twice the aforementioned song's normal tempo. "Lemme hear your take on it."
Cheese smiled back as realization dawned. With another encouraging cheer from his baby brother, he launched into the new song with renewed vigor, his prior nervousness nearly forgotten.
And so they continued, song after song. Some Cheese did alone, some the drummer joined in. Occasionally the one-pony band joined in on the few songs in his eclectic repertoire that overlapped with Cheese's. And throughout it all, Tommy stayed by his side to keep his spirits up. Sometimes he banged rocks together like a primitive metronome, sometimes he tried to sing along with the songs that had easy to follow choruses. But through most of it he just spun around in childishly uncoordinated dancing, as if it was just him and his awesome big brother singing and dancing in their room like any other day.
Soon, the excited foals and their intermittent musical accompaniment attracted a small crowd of stable onlookers. Ponies of all ages stopped to watch, call out requests, or toss in some spare change. The mustard-coated singer was not bad, even pretty good for his age, many of them thought to themselves, but the smaller foal was just absolutely adorable. Some ponies tuned out the music entirely just to watch the antics of the smaller one as he flailed and laughed in an undeniably cute manner.
Of course, such a larger-than-average crowd was bound to draw the attention of a certain kind of pony whose job was to look out for such things.
"Alright, what's goin' on here then?"
The crowd parted as a stern looking mare made her way forward. Her cherry red coat stood out in sharp contrast to her powder blue uniform, as sun glinted off her bright brass badge. The crowd murmured to themselves and a few even made a quick retreat as the policemare reached the front of the impromptu gathering.
Having just finished a song, Cheese and Tommy gave the newcomer smiles that radiated nothing short of pure innocence. Like most foals, they'd been taught from an early age that the police were both their friend and a trusted authority figure to go to in times in trouble. Thusly, the brothers concluded, they must have been doing a really good job for an officer to come over and acknowledge them.
"Hiya Missus Policemare!" Tommy greeted, ever the more outgoing of the two.
Her expression softened slightly as she saw just what kind of ponies were at the center of the hubbub. She half-knelt so as to appear less threatening and more approachable. "Hello there little guy, can I ask what you're doin' here?"
Tommy was all smiles. "My brother's singing so he can get money to buy an ackeringdoon-"
"Accordion." Cheese interjected, a touch bashfully.
"-and I'm helping!" Tommy finished undeterred. "Do you wanna listen too?"
The policemare smiled ruefully. "I wish I could," she stood back up and sighed, with a regretful shake of her head, "And I really wish I didn't have to ask this... but do you two have a busking license?"
The hushed voices of the crowd dropped to complete silence.
Cheese and Tommy cocked their heads to the side in perfectly synchronized confusion.
"What's 'busking'?" Cheese asked.
"What's a 'license'?" Tommy followed immediately after.
She lowered her head. "I was afraid of that. I hate to do this, but without a license to perform... I have to shut this concert down."
That drew an immediate reaction from the gathered crowd. Boos and hisses poured forth from ponies emboldened by the notion that their individual contributions would be indistinguishable from the whole.
"Aw, c'mon Sarge," the drummer commented, "They ain't doin' no harm, ya dig?"
"Have a heart, Peps!" another plaza regular chimed in.
"They're just foals!"
"It's a festival day! Make an exception!"
For their part, Cheese and Tomato shrunk into themselves. Cheese trembled in worry. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but he knew when he was in trouble, and this was clearly one of those times. Maybe coming out to sing to others had been a mistake...
Tommy understood even less what was going on. Only that the crowd of ponies who had been so happy a minute before were now very upset and were shouting. He didn't like shouting. It never ended well when his mama and father started yelling. If only there was something he could do to get it to stop...
"Hey, I don't like this any more than you lot do!" the officer yelled back to the irate crowd, "But rules are rules. If you don't like it, take it up with the mayor! Or better yet, take it up with his sub-committee on civil ordinances. Those bureaucrats have been on the whole department's flanks like a mo-"
Thankfully, for the sake of the foals present, she found the beginnings of her tirade interrupted by a small tugging on her uniform. She glanced down, and came face to face with the largest pair of dewy emerald eyes she'd ever seen.
"Please Miss," Tommy asked, holding back a sniffle, "Please can my big brother sing?"
Sergeant Bell Pepper did not have any foals of her own. The stressful and hectic life of one of Manehattan's finest didn't leave much free time to date. The closest she'd ever come to parenting was a bit of irregular foalsitting when she was younger. That wasn't to say that she didn't like foals, in fact she cared for them very deeply. But she was also the textbook definition of a straight-laced cop, who knew the rule book inside and out and followed it's teachings closely.
And thus, a battle waged in her heart. On one side was her duty as a police officer to enforce and uphold all rules and laws, her personal code of ethics, and a strict adherence to the two. On the other... were those giant, soulful eyes. Two glistening jade orbs which weighed on her soul as though they were the judging scales of Faust herself. Forces were tied, neck and neck, unable to break the stalemate. And then, the foal leaked out a small and pitiful whimper.
Maybe it had to do with his coat color, which was only a few shades off from her own, or maybe it was the whimper reminding her of her own siblings back when they were small, or perhaps something else entirely, but some new element came into play and kicked-started her long neglected maternal instinct, which quickly became the cavalry rushing to head off the conflict in her heart. And finally, the impasse was broken.
There was no way she could ignore the law, and exceptions, even for adorable foals, would form an exploitable precedence. However, as anyone who closely follows a written set of rules knows, a thorough knowledge of the law makes it's loopholes quite clear.
"Alright, I may be able to do something to help, but I need to ask you a few questions first."
The foals nodded, one still visibly nervous but the other uplifted and ready to respond.
"Why are you collecting money?" she began.
"To buy an accordion." the shorter pony replied, finally getting the pronunciation right.
"Why can't you ask your parents to buy it for you?"
"They said it's too expensive." The older one replied this time.
"Okay. Right then. I can work with that." She took out a pencil from one of her many pockets and began scribbling on the back of her citation booklet. "For future reference kids, it is illegal to perform in the Gardens without a license. That needs prior written approval."
Their faces fell with her words.
"However," she continued with a grin, "It's not illegal to hold a benefit concert for small charities. Those only need a simpler permit which can be acquired at any time. Now normally, that'd cost at least forty to fifty bits."
Cheese and Tommy eyed their meager pile of offerings warily, one unsure if they had that much and the other starting to wonder if his idea was any good at all if the cost of even trying it was more than the accordion itself.
"Buuut," she continued, "Due to all the events happening for the holiday, that rate has been severely cut. Then there's also discounts and multipliers based on the number of ponies participating, the amount expected to benefit, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera..." She continued scribbling things on her pad long past the point of the foal's understanding.
"All in all, the fee comes out to about two bits." She snagged a pair that didn't even make a dent in the pile. "And with that, the..." she paused. "What were your names again?"
"Cheese Sandwich."
"Tomato Sandwich."
She made a hasty edit. "The Sandwich Charity for Instruments for Underprivileged Foals has acquired a temporary performing permit, valid this day only, signed and affirmed by a sanctioned Manehattan officer." She tore off the paper and handed it to them. "Just wrap it up by sundown -park rules, nothin' I can do about that- and don't expect this to be a regular thing."
With that, she turned and briskly walked off, distinctly not noticing the cheers or applause from the surrounding crowd of onlookers or the loud thanks from the two foals. There was no need for it after all, she hadn't made any special exception. She'd just protected and served, as she'd sworn to. Albeit a bit more creatively than usual.
Once she'd escaped the majority of the crowd, she slipped the two bits she'd charged to the one-pony-band stallion. "See that these get back where they belong."
His eyes twinkled as he winked knowingly and smirked through his bushy beard. "You're a good pony, Peps."
She returned his smile as she turned to pick up where she'd left off on her patrol of the hoofpaths. "Just doin' my job."
The concert, now certified and legal, continued on for several hours more. The crowds picked up a bit in the evening as ponies returned home from early parties or started their travels to later ones. While a few bits came from young ponies or adults, the majority came from the older crowd. Ponies who were reminded of when their own now-grown children were foals and the associated happy memories. And the bits poured in.
Eventually, even though the crowds were still thick, Cheese and Tomato knew that they had to end the show. Their mother had instructed them to be home be sundown, and they were getting rather hungry besides. They thanked the ponies for their support and continued to wave everypony off as the crowd dispersed elsewhere. The two foals were just about to leave themselves when the one-pony-band stallion approached them.
"That's some good work you did today," he praised. "I enjoyed performing with ya."
"Thanks mister." Cheese was tired, and more than a little sore and raspy, but happy nonetheless. "I think we made a lot. How much did we make Tommy?"
Tommy looked into his bulging bag, counting quietly to himself for a moment. "A lot! Like a million or something!"
The stallion appraised the bag with a more experienced eye. "Hm... I'd say you're probably closer to sixty, maybe seventy tops. Still, not bad for a beginner."
Tommy grinned at his brother. It was another couple of those new numbers, but he'd started to pick up the trick with them so he was pretty confident that these were bigger then the ones his brother had mentioned before. "Then we did it Cheesy! We're gonna buy like... thirty accordions!" He was pretty sure he had these new numbers down pat.
The stallion's face tensed. "An accordion, y'say? Oof, you may be a ways off then. A good accordion costs a right pretty bit."
"That's okay." Cheese set his face with stalwart determination. "I'll come back everyday and sing until I get enough." A crack appeared in his determination. "Except that that policemare said I could only do this today." Another splintering crack. "And Tommy can't do this all the time so I gotta stay home to look after him." One more splintering fracture. "And then I have to start school in a couple weeks." As his plan came crashing down Cheese's face fell with it.
The stallion couldn't help but feel for the little guy. "Don't worry kid, if your heart's in the right place, you'll find a way to do it. Say, what made you decide that you wanted an accordion in the first place?" He concluded a segue to a happier topic might raise the colt's spirits a bit.
"I heard it in the parade," Cheese replied, still downcast. "Father said it was part of a polka."
"Ah. That'd be the folks from Little Germaney. Nice crowd, good ponies. But what made the accordion stand you to you?" He was probing now. "What made you think, 'This means something. This is important' ?"
"I..." Cheese paused. What had made him feel so drawn to it? He took himself back to that memory. Those few moment of music gleaned from the parade as his parents moved to leave. He strove to put the feeling into words. "It was just so bouncy and happy and... and... It felt like it was playing just to me. Like there was just me and the accordion in that whole parade."
A small twinkle entered the stallion's eyes. "You heard the call of the instrument. It's a wonderful feeling." He shifted, causing his myriad instruments to clink and clank as they settled. "I've been lucky enough to hear that call many times."
He lifted his top hat, revealing that he'd actually been a unicorn all along, and lit up his horn. Something rattled in the heap of instruments on his back before popping off and floating over to the pair. It was an accordion. Firetruck red and polished to a sheen. It had the scuffs and scratches of an instrument well loved, but was still undeniably an expensive model. The stallion ceased his magic as the instrument dropped into Cheese's shocked hooves.
"This is Ingrid. She's been good to me, but I think it's about time she moved on to help somepony else. Besides, it'd be foolish a me to stand in the way of destiny." His expression turned stern. "But ya gotta promise to stick with it. No just practicing for a week and then kicking her under your bed when it gets tough. You gotta see it through. Can you promise me that?"
Cheese nodded numbly, too shocked for words.
"You got talent kid. I've set enough young musicians on their way to know it when I see it. But you've gotta be the one to put in the effort and learn. Who knows, might even get your cutie mark for it. Or maybe not, and you'll just use it in another way to make life better for ponies."
Cheese stammered, still unable to form words in the face of such kindness. After a moment he finally managed to at least give his brother a nudge and vaguely gesture to their bag of bits. Tommy picked up on his brother's meaning and offered the bag to the stallion, who shockingly refused it.
"Keep it, I make enough on my own to get by. But I'll tell you what," he tapped the accordion's crimson shell, "Something like this you want to keep in good shape. You know Woodwind's music shop down on 35th? Go there and I'll bet he'll have a case just the right size for her, and at just the price of however much you have there. If he gives you any hassle about the price, just tell him that Doc sent you. That'll bring him around."
Two could only stand there, mouths agape at the stallion's incredible generosity. He looked to the sky. "Gettin' late, you boys probably outta be off before he closes shop. Nearly sundown."
That snapped them back to life. They ran off, shouting their unending thanks, one encumbered with a bag of bits nearly as large as himself, the other very carefully half-trotting with the accordion that was clearly larger.
He chuckled to himself as they crossed over a bridge and out of sight. "Those foals have got a bright future ahead of them. Glad I was in the right spot to help 'em along it."
three years age difference
He turned around and began walking back to his own home, music softly playing as even then his movements made the instruments sing. While in the far opposite direction, two foals carefully returned home to their exasperated mother her soon-to-be rather embarrassed husband.
