~Deplorably Departed~
“My father was my idol - simple as that. Dad was a bold, dedicated worker, who harbored intense love and commitment for his family, his friends, and his business. He was the strongest, most honest, and inspirational stallion who ever lived in Western Equestria - if not in all of Equestria. Loved by every pony that knew him, and admired by his competitors. Dad was never a quitter. He pushed through each and every problem he faced with incredible courage and tenacity, and when his own mind began to fail him, he fearlessly put up a fight and battled against it to regain control. Maltose Grain… ‘Malt’… ‘Dad’… may be gone now, but his unbreakable spirit lives on in his fields, in his cellar, in his kegs, in his bottles, in his….”
*Ahem*
Beer Pong looked up from his notes to discover his elderly mother’s disproving grey eyes frowning back at him. He hadn't realised quite how dramatic his pose had gotten, and quickly removed his flexed beige hoof from the wood lectern stand.
The dark silk dress that his mother - Citrus Pulp - wore seemed to suit her, despite hanging so loosely from her pale, scrawny frame. Pong noted that beside the mare, his taller older brother - Barley Hops - was giving him a look which said “you’re over-doing it.” He too, was dressed in black, but in a smart tuxedo which was a perfect fit, and his hair and tail were brushed neater than Pong had ever seen them before. Barley had considered a top hat, but he didn’t feel comfortable in it - he was so used to wearing a cowboy hat every day that any other type of headgear just looked bizarre on him.
“S…. sorry,”
Pong sheepishly glanced around at the small gathering of mainly earth ponies, and decided to wrap up his speech.
“My father’s spirit will live on in his family business, and we will ensure that it does. We will do him proud. Thank you.”
Some ponies stomped the ground gently in support as Beer Pong made his way over to the front bench, and took the empty seat on the opposite side of his mother to Barley Hops. He wiped a tear from his eye; a tear which some may have mistaken for sadness, and leaned behind her to whisper to his brother.
“How did I do?” He asked, sheepishly.
Barley gave a confident smile,
“Well, it was passable, but I’d say that my speech was more… convincing.”
Pong rolled his eyes,
“Only because yours was two hours long! Quantity isn’t quality you know!”
“Shhhh!”
Their mother silenced them, although they were fairly confident that she hadn’t caught a word of it – the old mare had been partially deaf for quite some time now. It was one of the reasons that Beer Pong had made sure his voice was raised for the speech.
The Funeral Director then took the stand in front of the large coffin casket. He was a slender, serious looking unicorn, with a beetroot coloured coat and a short, elegantly curled mane and tail. Rested upon his long snout were tiny square shaped glasses that looked far too small for his eyes. He spoke in a posh manner which made him seem very out of place among the western country ponies.
“Thank you, Mr Beer Pong, for that emotional expression of the unrivaled devotion which you hold towards your father. I’m sure that you have touched many hearts here today, and that Mr Maltose Grain would indeed be incredibly proud of you for speaking of your feelings so boldly.”
Pong gave the coyest smile he could muster, whilst Barley Hops struggled to hold back a snigger.
“Now, let us come together in song, and pay tribute to this great stallion.”
The ponies all stood, lifting the paper pamphlets which had been placed on the back of each seat. The pianist played them in, and they began to sing, at least… most of them did.
Barley Hops and Beer Pong both knew the words to their father’ favorite song, “Mist of the Mountain.” It was a slow and soft tune which they had been forced to listen to for as long as either of them could remember. Maltose would play it full blast - and on loop – through his scratchy old record player whilst they worked. And yet, the brothers simply mimed as lazily as they felt they could get away with. For as far as the two of them were convinced, their violent, alcoholic, terrible excuse of father did not deserve a song at all.
Once the singing was over, the ponies lowered their pamphlets as the pianist began playing a slower tune, with a low-key melody. The long coffin was then lifted by two bulky horses who were Maltoses brothers, and Barley and Pong’s uncles. The coffin itself was coated in floral reefs of many varieties, and a golden pattern was etched into the lid. The muscular stallions effortlessly carried it down the aisle, maintaining stern expressions while doing so. The ponies watched intently as it passed them by.
Beer Pong shed another tear of relief, as he took in the sight of his deceased father’s boxed body being taken to the burial site outside. Barley Hops simply hung his head, trying to appear respectful. Then, their mother then gave them both a slight nudge, as an indication to follow behind.
~
It was a beautiful day. The church yard gleamed, as strong sunlight highlighted the many flowers and trees that were beginning to blossom. Barley Hops wondered if the weather ponies had planned this, and if they also felt the need to rejoice the passing of that despicable old horse. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, a few tears were shed among the guests, but not many. The ponies stood in silence as the piano music could now barely be heard from the church.
After the coffin was buried, Beer Pong could hardly contain himself. His heart burst with an overwhelming sensation of liberty, and his hooves shook as though they wanted to dance. Barley Hops showed no such signs; he instead maintained a focused eye upon his little brother – he knew that Pong had difficulty controlling any form of emotion.
Finally the event was over, but the brothers still had to put on a show, whilst the other ponies approached to give their condolences to the small family. Citrus Pulp embraced each and every one of them, thanking them for their kind words, whilst the boys pretended to be too depressed for conversation, making minimal eye-contact as they patiently waited for the guests to leave.
First came Old Mrs Peppercorn, who had not long since lost her own spouse. She was very sociable and chatty back in the days when she and Citrus Pulp were inseparable. However, since her husband’s passing, Peppercorn had become far more withdrawn, moving into a smaller cottage with only her overweight cat for company. The mare spoke a few quiet words to Citrus, before adding a simple “I’m sorry.” to the boys, then ruffled Beer Pong’s bangs and made her way out.
Then came a quaint little group of four. The parents were known to the boys as Russet Coat and Marigold. They were part of a huge Apple Family who were held in high regard across Equestria. These particular members had done business with the Hops farm for generations. They were hard workers, and Barley in particular was rather fond of their company. However, the two ponies with them were unfamiliar to the brothers. The older daughter introduced herself as Apple Cobbler and approached with passionate, tearful eyes. She bowed her head as she offered her sympathies, and Barley couldn’t help but notice how attractive and polite she was. The rugged younger brother, however, didn’t speak a word, and looked bored out of his mind.
Next to approach them was Rusty McSteel; a wannabe city-pony, who had regularly attempted to leave his small tool-crafting business in search of a more adventurous life, but for some reason, he always returned. Barley Hops was certain that wasn’t his real name either. Afterwards came Willow Wishes, a gentle mare with her teenage son, Autumn Daze. Followed by the “temper twins” Ash and Charcoal Sootstone, who weren’t really twins, but looked so similar that the boys had referred to them as such since they were young. Beer Pong found it difficult not to chuckle as he recalled fond memories of the two chasing him for trespassing onto their property, or yelling at him for bucking trees late at night.
Mr and Mrs Pie came next. They worked on a rock farm a little way up north. The brother’s didn’t know them all that well, and they spoke in a manner which both intrigued and confused them. They heard that the couple had four daughters, but they had never had the opportunity to meet any one of them. Barley often wondered if the young mares shared the same melancholic personalities as their parents, and concluded that it would certainly make for an interesting household.
The final pony to approach them was the only one that Barley Hops had actually been looking forward to seeing – a scruffy green Pegasus named Summer Breeze. He was a long-time friend of Barleys, and he got along pretty well with Beer Pong too. The three of them spent quite a lot of time together, and as a result Summer Breeze was fully aware of the situation at hand. He smiled at them, but spoke to Citrus first of all – Summer wasn’t particularly smart, but he had prepared thoroughly for this moment.
“Ma'am, I am so, so deeply sorry for the loss of your husband. If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.” His expression couldn’t have been more sincere, but Citrus still seemed skeptical.
The mare raised one of her thin, white eyebrows and paused for a moment, contemplating her reaction. It wasn’t that she disliked Summer Breeze, but his carefree and workshy attitude often rubbed her up the wrong way.
“T…thank you.” She said at last, and gave him a gentle tap upon his shoulder.
Summer then approached his friends,
“Barley, Pong, how are you guys holdin' up?” He asked.
Barley was impressed; it was a well-thought out question which could have been interpreted in different ways, should any pony overhear.
“We’re coping.” The stallion replied.
“Hangin' in there.” Beer Pong still appeared to be battling against the shaking of his own hooves.
“Stay strong.” Summer gave a brief salute and left swiftly, just in case his presence broke Beer Pong’s concentration.
Once everypony had left the site, Citrus Pulp made her way over to the gravestone for a moment’s quiet reflection, finally giving the brothers a chance to be alone.
Simultaneously, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Beer Pong was now lightly hopping on the spot, and his tail was starting to twitch like crazy.
“Barley?” He sniffed as he spoke, as though holding back tears.
“Yes Pong?”
“Do you know what this means?”
“I do,” The older Stallion finally shed a tear of his own, “It means that... we’re free.”
Author's Note
I've planned this story from start to finish, but it's very different to what I am used to. Please let me know what you think.
