And the Mome Raths Outgrabe and All That but Still No Good!
It was night. The quiet in the hut was unnerving. Well, to most ponies it would have been. In fact, it should most certainly have seemed eerie to the lone inhabitant of the small dwelling, accented as it was by the ghostly displays of masks, vines, and earthenware that filled the hut. A flame burned in the fireplace, very green it seemed, and the only light within miles. Yes, it was a chilling setting, and anypony would have had the right to be frightened by it.
But the hooded being seated in front of the fire was no pony.
Everypony in Ponyville knew that there was only one equine brave enough to make her dwelling in the thick of the Everfree Forest, and everypony knew her name: Zecora the zebra. Zecora was something of a legend in town, no longer feared, but very much revered. The ponies of the town had come around, but to her gaze they still surrendered ground.
At least, that’s how Zecora might have phrased it.
Zecora was the one who always knew what was going on, who always had a remedy. Ponies who had the courage to venture into the forest would come from miles around to obtain her remedy for any ailment they had, no matter how strange. And she always had a cure.
But today she was confronted with a problem she could not solve– a terrible disease no herb in her vast store could ever cure. It was a beast more cunning than a cockatrice, more feared than the dreaded timber wolves. For today, the secluded zebra was faced with a disease she had never yet encountered, and she was frankly defeated.
Boredom.
***
Zecora sat in front of the fireplace making odd noises behind her teeth.
“Brrrrrrb. Brb. Thlllbitty plub blub. Whacky tacky ding bing harley charlie ball wall walk talk eat beat else… Barn Darn!” She concluded, realizing that there were no true rhyming words for the word “else.”
Time to find another game.
***
Zecora sat in front of a record player, watching it spin around and around. A high “beep” sounded four times, followed by another four “beeps” at a slightly lower pitch. This sequence repeated itself over and over, accompanied at intervals with incredibly deep bass and kickdrum beats. Nearly hypnotizing herself as she watched the rotating disc, she managed to read the label as it spun by.
“Hmmm… Instrumental rap track,” she mused, then realized she had another line to follow. “Er… and all that crack.” She concluded rather lamely. She enjoyed the pulsing beat, as it reminded her of the tribal drums of her homeland, but had no idea what it was for. Probably nothing she could identify with anyway. She was, after all, still adapting to the strange customs of Equestria. She turned off the record player and slid the vinyl back in its sleeve for another day.
***
Zecora picked up the phone, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. She had decided to prank call Twilight Sparkle. She dialed, then held the set up to her ear. As she heard the line go live, she did her best to disguise her voice.
“Hello, Ms. Sparkle, I have some grave news for you. Twelve dangerous lions have escaped from the zoo! They are heading your way, so best be prepared. They are terrible brutes–” she paused, chuckling silently. “Oh, I hope you’re not scared.”
Twilight sighed. “Zecora, it’s kinda obvious.” The line went dead.
The zebra looked blankly at the device.
“That should have worked, I’m willing to bet it.” She shook her head.
“I don’t get it.”
***
“Hello my good friends, I thought I’d stop by! My little friends here would like to say hi.”
Zecora sat with a tribal mask on each forehoof. Barely moving her lips, she moved one as she spoke in a squeaky voice.
“Hello everypony, it’s good to be here!”
Quickly she switched to a deeper tone, raising the other mask.
“We’ll help party hard, and fill you with beer!”
She started. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She took the second mask off and looked at it sharply.
Ah, that was it.
She’d accidentally picked her enchanted Meme Troll mask again.
***
Zecora sat at a small table, intently studying a board set with various-sized white and black pieces. After a long period of silent nonmovement, she suddenly repositioned one of the pieces. She smiled happily.
“Checkmate. I win.”
***
Zecora ran her gaze over the wall displays. Her eyes lit up. Selecting a small, guitar-like instrument, she removed it from the wall and found that it was in perfect tune. Preparing herself for a great time of playing and song, she held the instrument closely and positioned herself in a textbook soul-blues stance. She closed her eyes and hummed a few bars, tuning up her vocals for her first solo. She opened her eyes.
She looked at the frets.
She looked at her hooves.
She looked at the frets.
She looked at her hooves.
She blinked.
“Oh for the love of
***!”
Zecora sat in utter dejection, waiting for inspiration. What did other ponies do when they were bored? She remembered hearing something from Applebloom, who had gotten the story from Scootaloo, about the blue one… Rainbow Dash, healing from a broken wing. She had contracted an extreme case of boredom while in the hospital and had tried several things to conquer it. Zecora wasn’t exactly sure if it had worked, or how she had ever gotten over it, but she remembered something about a light… turning the light on and off repeatedly. A little odd, but she decided to try it.
Trotting over to the square fireplace, she smothered it with dirt and scattered it with the nearby implements until the fire was out and the room was dark. Seizing flint and steel, she began the laborious task of setting the tinder, kindling, and logs up again. She blew on the tiny spark, attempting to ignite the fuel back into a proper flame.
“*huff…huff* This could take all night.”
She snorted.
“You and your ideas so bright.”
***
Zecora sat impassively, staring at the wall. Her brain was practically dead after an entire day of draining boredom weighing on it. She probably hadn’t blinked in hours.
As if in a trance, she rose up and calmly walked to the opposite wall. Mechanically, she began to bang her head on it, denting the wood as she repetitively slammed her skull into the structure.
“STOP…BEING…BORED.”
***
EPILOGUE
In the CMC clubhouse, three small fillies were sitting slumped on three beanbags. They had been sitting in this position for hours by their clock– 15 minutes at least. Finally Scootaloo broke the silence.
“I’m so BORED!”
Sweetie Bell was quick to chime in.
“Me too. Two hours of dress modeling for my sister and STILL no cutie marks.”
Applebloom sighed.
“An’ if we go back to the farm and tell ‘em we’re bored, they’ll all just tell us it’s on account of havin’ nothin’ to do, an’ that the best cure for that is hard work, an’ Ah DON”T want to get stuck sloppin’ hogs again.”
Suddenly Scootaloo brightened up.
“Hey guys, why don’t we go ask Zecora about it? Maybe she could tell us what she does when SHE gets bored!”
The two other Crusaders fell about laughing.
“What?” Scootaloo demanded, slightly nettled.
Sweetie Bell took a breath to get her giggles under control.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, then fell back into paroxysms.
“Yeah,” Applebloom said. “Zecora NEVER gets bored!”
