Taming Strange. Or: How I learned to stop worrying and make love in public

The afternoon sun shone softly down on the side of Mount Neighverest. The two unicorns had decided to include their earth pony friend in their Sunday tradition. "Since you'll soon be murdered, we wanted to drink with you at least one more time." Wordsmith had joked. They sat in the warm grass in a pleasant park frequented by families, picknickers, and lovers alike. The two unicorns had spent every Sunday afternoon without fail there, splitting a six pack of cider between them, and enjoying the ambiance. They had to increase their six pack to a twelve pack to compensate for Haycartes' endless cider thirst.

Wordsmith prattled on in his thick Saddlesbury accent. "Yes apparently you stick your dick in one too many of the maids and suddenly you're a disgrace to the family. Not that it ever stopped dear old Dad. "Wordsmith chuckled mirthlessly.

"And yet you've not learned your lesson." Haycartes jibbed.

"Of course not. It gives me the freedom to drink with you fine fellows!" They toasted their bottles. Wordsmith sighed thoughtfully. "Anyways yes that's why I'm no longer the heir to the duchy. I don't mind though, Iron Hoof was always more interested in politics than I was. He'll make a great Duke of Saddlesbury." He sipped his drink solemnly in contemplation.

Haycartes decided to lighten the mood. "And what of you friend? How did you wind up with this one?"

Sawbones flushed slightly at the memories. "Oh we were practically raised together." He swirled his drink thoughtfully. "My father was the Duke's family physician. He pulled every Saddlesbury for the last three generations into this world. I guess I'm just following in his hoofsteps. I was always Smith's shadow. He'd get me in trouble, I'd get him out of trouble. He'd get caught peeping on the maids, I'd say we were playing hide and seek and he was just looking for me. "

"He never let me back down from a fight, always talking me into confronting my bullies." Sawbones chuckled to himself. "Or just provoke them into attacking anyway. He's always been there for me. For Celestia's sake he's the only reason I had the courage to apply to RCU's med school in the first place." He muttered to himself. "And the Duke's the only reason I got in."

Talking about his heritage always made Wordsmith thoughtful. While Sawbones was prattling on about some such silly nonsense, he had produced an expertly carved oaken long stemmed churchwarden pipe and had packed it with his favorite tobacco. Roané had watched this process with growing interest. When the unicorn lit it and puffed on the mouth piece he went spare.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" He shouted startling Sawbones out of his diatribe and Wordsmith choked on his smoke.

The smoker got his breath back and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Damn it all Cart, don't startle me like that. " He puffed on the pipe. "Don't you know?-" He stopped himself. "No of course you don't." He sighed and sadly shook his head. What had he gotten himself into.

He passed the pipe to Sawbones and explained the finer points of smoking while the medical student blew a series of smoke rings without using magic. He passed the pipe back to the poet who cheated using magic to shape the smoke into a phallus to fly through the rings.

Haycartes still didn't believe what he was hearing. "So you pay good bits to breathe in smoke? Why not just throw the bits into a fire and save yourself the trouble?" He sipped from his bottle testily.

"Smoking gives a wise pony something to ponder over, and a fool something to plug his mouth with," Wordsmith said, taking the pipe from Sawbones.

"And which are you?" Haycartes quipped, rolling his eyes. Wordsmith retorted to the quip by blowing a puff of smoke into his face. He expected to have to cough and have his eyes water, but instead he found himself enjoying the scent.

"That's the way." The pipe was levitated to Haycartes' mouth, then immediately brought back to Sawbones who wiped off the mouthpiece then returned it. He was still unsure but decided to trust his friends. He took a few puffs as Wordsmith had explained and found the sensation oddly pleasant. He exhaled slowly and was tantalized by the smoke trail. Wordsmith grinned widely. "There you see old colt. Here!" He presented him the thin black box he kept it in and a small pouch of tobacco. "Something to ponder over." He grinned.

Haycartes was once again touched by the generosity of the swaggering unicorn. "Or something to plug my mouth with."

The two unicorns sat up in surprise. "Did. . . Did you just make a joke Haycartes?" Sawbones asked incredulously.

"Yes. Did I do it right?" the fillysopher asked sheepishly.

Wordsmith nodded grinning. "It was alright. Though do be careful, self deprecatory humor is best used in small doses."

Sawbones laid back on the grass, his hooves behind his head. "My word, that mare certainly has been a positive influence on you I must say."

Wordsmith grinned. "Yes, the pony whom no song could break his invincible frown, no mare could warm, no drink could cheer, yet this mare even has you smiling like a drunken pony and even telling jokes. What is this world coming to." He thought for a second. "On that note old colt, how did you become." He gestured with his bottle in the general direction of his friend. "Like this?

Haycartes snorted, "Like what?" he croaked in his perpetually hard voice.

"Constantly sour faced, gravel voiced, serious, logical to a fault," Wordsmith said in poor imitation of his friend's hard voice.

Sawbones chimed in. "I had the delicacy not to ask, but I am genuinely curious about how you got all those scars. Don't think I didn't notice the lack of medical attention friend."

"Yes you've heard our histories, now out with it. How does one become Roané Haycartes?" The two shifted to look at the earth pony.

Haycartes took a long draw on the pipe and thought about his history. "Well to answer your question Sawbones, I never received medical attention because I could never afford it."

The two unicorns' faces went blank, and it took Sawbones a moment to ask. "Uuuum why didn't your PARENTS pay for it. . . "

"They weren't around." The unicorns' eyes snapped open with shock. Haycartes went on. "Apropos that's why my voice sounds like this. I sat up for three days waiting for them to come home crying, and it hurt my throat." The bottle Wordsmith was drinking fell limply out of his magic and tears stood in the corners of Sawbones' eyes. As for my logical demeanor let's see." He puffed out a small cloud of smoke with thought. Wordsmith raised a hoof trying to get a word in edgewise, but Haycartes went on. "I suppose that's because I read mostly non fiction at the library where I spent most of my time. It was free and they had working bathrooms and climate control.

"Umm," Sawbones squeaked out, desperate for him to stop so they could process what they were hearing.

"Which segways nicely into how I got most of these scars. You see my parent's house is right in the middle of the industrial sector of Canterlot, and there's no way to the library that wasn't beset by gangs of violent ponies. So no matter which way I went I'd have to either fight or flee, and as you can see," he said gesturing to his scars, "they sometimes got the best of me."

Wordsmith remembered the blow he'd witnessed his friend take at the bar and now it made sense to him. He felt a nausea of the soul creeping upon him as Haycartes spoke. "Oh and I had to find whatever scraps of work I could to support myself so if it paid well then the work was almost always difficult or dangerous," he said remembering the generous ponies that had given him whatever bits they could spare to help him on his way. He felt like he should visit them. "Hence the discoloured mane and tail. The unicorns' eyes were nearly starting out of their heads at this point. They'd both taken his mane and tail for silver. It only now occurred to them that it was actually prematurely grey.

"Oh, and as for my facial expression, that's actually from.~"

Finally Wordsmith could stand it no longer. "STOP. STOOOP! For the love of Celestia cease this outpouring of unequalled woe before I throw myself, or you, off of the western balcony!" He plopped down panting on the grass, searching desperately for another drink.

Sawbones put a hoof on Haycarte's shoulder. "Cart I'm so sorry! Why did no Royal institution take you in? There are systems in place to care for orphan ponies, how did none of them find you?"

"I didn't know about such organizations until I was too old to qualify." Haycartes said nonchalantly.

"And nopony at the library noticed a foal by itself every single day for," Wordsmith had to think for a moment. "Dare I ask how many years?"

"Twelve." The earth pony said, still not a single care expressed in his tone.

Both unicorns mouthed the word twelve to themselves. Wordsmith ground his teeth as he seethed, "So I am to understand that you have been on your own since you were. . . Were." He couldn't even finish the question for anger.

"Five yes. The ponies at the library never questioned a colt who was behaving himself and returned his borrowed books on ti~"

"STOP IT CART! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" Sawbones screamed.

Haycartes was taken aback by the emotion he was eliciting from his friends. "How have I offended you?"

Wordsmith spluttered in disbelief at what he was hearing. "How did?~ Cart you just said you've been all alone since you were five years old. WHY AREN'T YOU OFFENDED?!" he barked.

Haycartes raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be?

Both unicorns facehoofed hard. Because of course he wouldn't. Of course Haycartes wouldn't understand being abandoned should bother him. Because it's Roané Haycartes. Sawbones tried to reason with the fillysopher. "Because it should fucking bother you! How can you just sit there and tell us these horrible things and not show the slightest emotion in the subject?! Fuck!" he shouted, turning sharply away from his friend.

"Because there's nothing one could do about it now." Haycartes said almost uncaringly

"No!" Wordsmith growled. "There is something one can do. We should find your parents and make them face justice for what they did to you!"

"That wouldn't be justice, that would be vengeance." Haycartes said, this time finally gaining a serious note.

Wordsmith spluttered, "AND?! My colt I think you deserve a great deal of both!"

"Would that change present duty, or repair past transgression? It would neither take back the years of discomfort, nor would it change anything in my life now. I would still attend R.C.U., I would still be in love with Picturesque," he wrapped his forelegs around the necks of his friends, "and I would still drink with my friends."

The two unicorns stood hearts pierced by the sentiment. They were aghast at the manipulative skill of the fillysopher. He had turned outrage and tragedy, into the most sentimental thing either had ever heard. Wordsmith couldn't help but wipe a tear from his eye. "That was the single most manipulative display I have ever witnessed. I'm a bad influence on you old colt." He hugged Haycartes tight.

Roané couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes did I do it right."

Sawbones joined in the hug. "Spot on Cart." He sniffled. "Spot on."

The two stood there hugging their friend for slightly longer than was comfortable. "Thank you friends, now please let go of me."

"Nope," Sawbones said, not breaking the embrace.

"You made us cry, so this is your punishment." Wordsmith said squeezing tighter. Haycartes gave a resigned sigh.

He still had a lot to learn.