The New Adventures of Old Moondancer
Dear Twilight,
Thank you for the invitation to this year’s holiday party. It means a lot that you’d invite me, even after what happened last year. I apologize again for vomiting on your father — I saw Pinkie Pie grow a fifth hoof and couldn’t control myself.
That said, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to decline the invitation. I have a lot of studying to do, and also whenever I think about the party I start hyperventilating until I pass out. You know how it is.
I hope that you aren’t offended. If you are, I’ll fake my own death and go into hiding.
Tell your father I said sorry. Again.
Best,
Moondancer
Standing in the doorway to Moondancer’s house, Twilight put the letter back in her bag. “And so I came rushing over, as fast as I could! How can I help?”
Moondancer scowled. “I wasn’t asking for help.”
“I sorta thought it was implied by the passing out part…” Twilight pushed her way into the house. “What’s going on, Moondancer? You’ve never panicked about my holiday parties before!”
“It’s complicated,” Moondancer said. She closed the door and followed Twilight into the living room. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Is this about my Dad? He’s not mad!” Twilight said. “Anymore.”
Moondancer sighed. “No, it’s not.”
“Or was it the ugly sweater contest? That one’s all on us. I swear, we all thought you were competing — if we’d known that it was just your normal sweater, no one would have voted you the winner!”
“This friendship stuff just isn’t for me, Twilight.” Moondancer slumped into her couch. “I gave it a try. I did everything a friend is supposed to do — went to a concert with Lyra, let Minuette make a detailed 3D model of my teeth — and it still hasn’t clicked. Every time I talk to a pony, I still feel like jumping out of my skin. Every time somepony asks me if my eyebrows are natural, I want to scream.”
Twilight winced. “Come on, you’re exaggerating. I’ve seen you socialize — you’re great at it! You’re interesting and funny and a lovely friend!”
“Sure. But maybe I don’t want to be,” Moondancer said. “I’d much rather keep to myself. It’s easier.”
Twilight wanted to argue more, but instead just sat down on the couch. “I can’t say that I don’t know what you mean. It’s hard being friendly — but I swear, it’s worth it.”
Moondancer snorted. “Sure.”
“Give it one more shot.” Twilight wrapped a wing around Moondancer. “My party. I’ll stay by your side the whole time. We can take it step by step.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Absolutely!”
Moondancer pursed her lips. “Well… fine. But you have to promise to stay with me the whole time!”
Twilight held a hoof over her heart. “I promise!”
“I’m sorry!” Twilight cried as a hundred different ponies pulled her into a hundred different conversations at once. She melted into the crowd of rabid fans-cum-partygoers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”
That left Moondancer to stand by herself, shrinking inwards as the party continued around her. Thousands of ponies attended Twilight’s holiday party every year — Moondancer’s worst nightmare made real.
Moondancer frowned. “I’m definitely going to throw up on her dad again.”
Snorting, Moondancer downed her entire drink — straight rum, no ice — and walked away. She kept her head low, lest she be invited into a conversation with friendly strangers who genuinely wanted to get to know her better. Or worse.
Her wandering eventually brought her out onto the balcony, a wide marble floor hanging above Ponyville. She looked to the edge, hoping there would be a clear enough view for her to teleport straight back to Canterlot, or at least the local dive bar.
Instead, she found another mare, with a coat as gray as snow clouds. The mare stared intently but silently at a rock in her hoof.
Moondancer gave the mare a wide berth as she scurried over to the edge. She scanned Ponyville with squinted eyes, hoping this stranger would leave her alone.
She felt the sudden heat of somepony’s gaze. “Excuse me,” came a voice — the mare. “Are you about to jump?”
“What?” Moondancer stepped away from the edge of the balcony. “Of course not!”
“Good. You have a lot to live for.” The mare blinked. “Also, it’s been unseasonably warm lately, and the mud below the balcony is very soft, so a fall from this height probably won’t kill you. You’ll have to go higher up for that.”
“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Moondancer looked hard at the mare, and narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you? You look familiar. Did you bully me in middle school or something?”
“Doubtful. I spent most of my teenage years on a rock farm, categorizing rocks by how well they work as pillows,” the mare said, expressionless. “Shale tends to come out on top, contrary to popular opinion.”
Moondancer scratched her chin — then gaped. “Wait, wait. Rock farm? Friends with Twilight Sparkle? A reference to the famous Pie Pillow Performance System?” Beaming, she jumped forward and exclaimed, “You’re Dr. Maud Pie!”
“You don’t need to be so formal,” Maud said. “Dr. Pie is fine.”
“Oh gosh, if I knew you were gonna be here, I would have worn my nice ratty unwashed sweater.” Moondancer giggled and fell back onto her haunches. “Dr. Pie, you’re my geology hero. I’ve read all your papers, attended a whole bunch of your lectures. I’ve even read some of your poetry, despite its horrendous reviews!”
“Mm.” Maud blinked. “Critics don’t deserve rights.”
“Full agreement here.” Moondancer sighed, hoof over her heart. “They just don’t get its subtlety. I mean, ‘Mica Flake #4, After the Carve?’ Pure beauty. Perfect encapsulation of how the performative aspects of capitalism hurt us all.”
“Thank you. I find mica to be underrated among silicate minerals. Most cultural attention goes to feldspar, which is exciting in its own right, but lacks the sophistication of a mica deposit.”
“Goddess above, finally somepony who speaks my language.” Moondancer grinned. “I never thought this day would come! I’m actually enjoying a conversation! You’re like the therapist I never had!”
“I’ve been told that I’m multifaceted,” Maud said. “Like quartz, or an expensive ruby.”
Moondancer nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been told I’m paranoid, short-tempered, and that my eyebrows are a threat to national security!”
“Mmhmm. You’re funny.” Maud turned away, towards the balcony entranceway. “Would you like to go back inside and have a mature, measured conversation about the world of academia?”
With a gasp, Moondancer hopped back up onto her hooves. “Would I!”
“I can’t believe you had hot, wild, kinky sex with Pinkie’s sister!” Twilight shouted an hour later, pulling the blanket off of Moondancer. “In my bed!”
“Ugh, go away,” Moondancer said, grabbing the blanket back and pulling it over her and Maud. “Can’t you see we’re basking in the afterglow here?”
Maud hadn’t opened her eyes. “It’s good to know that the Maudinator’s still got game,” she droned.
Twilight’s face was bright red. “I can’t believe you either, Maud. Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“We have an open relationship,” Maud said. “No one stallion can satisfy a Pie.”
Moondancer nodded. “She’s multifaceted.”
“Uh-huh.” Twilight glared at Moondancer. “And what are you, then?”
“Me? Well, I’m…” Moondancer pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on, then laid back with a hoof behind her head. “...super gay.”
“And that’s it,” Moondancer said, turning off the video tape. “That’s the pilot episode of my new reality show/documentary/sitcom/treatise on the state of mental healthcare in Equestria, The New Adventures of Old Moondancer. What do you think?”
A single television representative sat at the long conference table in front of her — no one else showed up to the pitch meeting. He tapped his hooves together, massaged his jaw, and then said, “It’s not very funny. Or interesting.”
“Thank you.”
“Or good.”
“I’m going to level with you here, sir.” Moondancer stared deeply into the representative’s eyes, no expression on her face. “I had to pay a lot of money for the camera operators, and the actors, and catering — you would not believe how many cookie plates Princess Twilight goes through in an hour. I fully intend to turn every aspect of my life into an awful, neverending grind for money and content, to prove that I’m worth something in this hell scape of late capitalism. I am a walking media empire, waiting to be exploited.”
“Hm.” The representative looked down, deep in thought. When he finally looked at Moondancer again, he said, “Could we rewrite the plot so instead of your character being gay, we just hint that you’re gay, and don’t confirm it until the series finale, after which we immediately kill you off?”
Moondancer scowled. “That goes completely against my vision!”
“We’ll pay you a dollar extra for each episode.”
“Deal."
