"Okay, so… who gave you the coffee mug again?”
“Ugh! I told you all this already, Silver Spoon,” Diamond Tiara groaned.
Silver Spoon looked around the pile of presents, scratching her head in confusion. “Uhhh…”
“Fine, but pay attention this time,” Diamond Tiara instructed before clearing her throat. “The coffee cup is from Prolly Rich, the sweater is from Kinda Rich, and the socks are from Knott Rich. These gift cards are from Sorta Rich, and this clock…” she paused, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s this from again, dad?”
“That’s from your uncle Crazy,” Filthy Rich replied, flipping a page in his newspaper.
“Of course it is.” Diamond Tiara shrugged, setting it back on the table with the other pile of presents. “He probably made it himself, too.”
Filthy chuckled, sipping from his mug of coffee with a keen smile. “That he did. Your uncle’s got a way with wood, I’ll tell you that much.”
The two giggled, turning to face each other again. “Well, I think you have one more present, DT!” Silver Spoon said, pushing a beautifully wrapped parcel towards her.
“You too,” Diamond Tiara answered, presenting a parcel of her own. “Here! From me!”
The two laughed again, embracing the other in open arms.
Filthy watched from his seat by the fireplace, a wry smile on his face as he sipped from his coffee. “She sure has changed,” he muttered under his breath. “If only Spoiled could see you now. She’d be so disappointed.”
His words took a bitter turn at the end. Filthy sighed, quietly dissipating his anger to avoid ruining the otherwise tender moment.
But the exchange was interrupted nonetheless by a clumsy knock on the door.
Filthy sighed, setting down his paper and taking off his reading glasses. “I’ll take care of it, dear,” he said to Diamond. He grunted, pulling on the sleeves of his bedroom robe. “Who in Equestria could that be on Hearth’s Warming Day?” he wondered.
Arriving at the grand oak door to his home, Filthy squinted through the peephole to see an easily-recognizable gray pegasus on the doorstep. He unbolted the door and pulled it open. “Ditzy? Why in Celestia’s name do they have you working on Hearth’s Warming Day?”
“Oh, I’m not working!” Ditzy said in her cheery, breathy way.
Filthy raised an eyebrow, glancing at the paper-wrapped package beneath her wing. “Then why does it seem like you have a delivery for me?”
“It’s not for you! It’s from you,” Ditzy tittered, offering it to him.
A quick glance at the return address proved her right.
Filthy scratched his head in confusion. “I… don’t understand?”
“I don’t either, really,” Ditzy said. “I delivered this package to Mr. Feather Bangs three days ago like you asked, but it’s been sitting on his door ever since! I passed by his house again and saw it was still there, and then I thought ‘oh no! What if it’s food? It’ll go bad,’ but then I realized if it was food, it was probably already bad, so then I--”
“Thank you, Ditzy,” Filthy quickly interjected. “I think I understand now.”
“Oh! Well, I was wondering if you want me to--”
Ditzy was cut off by a foal crying out from behind her. “Mom! I’m cold! Can we go now?”
“In a minute, Muffin,” Ditzy called back.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Filthy insisted. “I’ll take care of this. You go and have yourself a happy Hearth’s Warming.”
Ditzy was unsure, but her daughter cried out again, so she conceded. “Okay! Happy Hearth’s Warming, Mr. Rich!”
“You too, Ditzy,” Filthy responded with a wave. He watched as she glided down the path, ushering her children back towards the town.
His ear twitched as he heard the soft padding of hooves behind him. “Dad? Everything alright?”
“Fine, dearie,” Filthy said as he ruffled Diamond’s mane. “I’ve got to take care of something real quick. Promise I’ll be back soon. Can you two take care of yourselves?”
Diamond responded with a quick hug. “Of course we can, dad! But is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Filthy reassured her. “I just have to check on a friend.”
The streets of Ponyville were mostly empty, and the air was only accentuated with the breaking of snow underneath Filthy’s hooves.
He tightened the expensive scarf around his neck, sighing as he approached a small one-story house tucked on away in a corner.
The building was as quaint and decorated as the other pastel houses in Ponyville, decorated in a coat of warm gray paint. A generous layer of snow covered its roofs, and a small parade of icicles dangled from the edge.
Filthy wasn’t exactly a conventional genius, but he could tell that something was wrong. There was no smoke rising from the chimney and no lights from within. The path hadn’t been shoveled, and in contrast to the vibrant colors and decorations around it, this particular house looked dead.
With another sigh, Filthy did his best to shove thoughts of his comfy robe, warm coffee, and beautiful daughter from his mind. He trotted up to the door and began knocking, the hollow bangs echoing into the hallway as if it were a cavern.
His attempts at contact were met with silence.
Filthy gave an irritated grunt, continuing his assault on the front door. “Feather Bangs! I know you’re in there! Open up now!”
The house ignored his efforts.
Filthy rolled his eyes, huffing and reaching into his coat pocket. He had called Feather silly for entrusting him with something as trivial as a house key, but now he was thankful that he had it.
He pushed the door open, the creaking doing a number on his ears, and stepped into the hall. Filthy was dismayed to find that the inside was just as cold as the outside, which did little to ease his concerns. “Feather?” he called again, the house saying nothing in reply.
Filthy trotted deeper into the cavernous house, looking around carefully for any signs of life. A small mountain of papers was sitting on the kitchen counter, with some stray envelopes sprawled across the floor. The sink was full of dirty dishes and cups, leaving Filthy to wonder when the last time the sink was even on.
The blinds above the sink were drawn, with only slivers of sunlight being allowed in. Filthy pulled them open, dousing the room in an almost explosive radiance.
The light revealed to him that the rest of the room wasn’t much better. There were several empty cups scattered across the coffee table in the adjacent living room, and a tattered blanket was wrapped up with piles of discarded clothes on the edge of the couch.
Filthy frowned, pinching his nose at the stench. He proceeded down the hall, noting how a few of the framed pictures had been knocked off the wall, and paused in front of another door. For a second he feared the worst, but upon pushing the door open, he was relieved to see a pony-shaped lump sprawled on the bed.
“Dagnabit, Feather Bangs,” he muttered, flicking on the light. “You had me mighty worried about you.”
The lump on the bed shifted in annoyance at the light but didn’t react further.
Filthy sighed, carefully stepping over stray pieces of laundry and empty food containers before arriving at the foot of the bed. “Come on, Feather, it’s Hearth’s Warming Day for crying out loud.”
He poked at the blanket, and the form finally heaved itself up to a sitting position. Feather Bangs stared out from beneath the blanket, still draped over his head, and turned slightly to look at Filthy.
Feather’s eyes were red and ragged, with a heavy set of bags beneath them. “Oh. Hey, Filthy,” he said in a voice that lacked emotion.
“What’s gotten into you, Feather?” asked Filthy.
Feather Bangs was quiet, staring off into the corner and not looking Filthy in the eye.
“Come on, Feather, talk to me,” Filthy insisted, waving a hoof in front of his face.
When Feather Bangs finally spoke, his voice was crackly and rough, as if he hadn’t used it in ages. “She dumped me.”
Filthy cringed. He was a business pony and an investor, one who was skilled in the boardroom and the stock market. In situations like these however, he was as useful as a wet rag. “Ah. Well… what happened?”
Feather gave a weak shrug. “I dunno. Just said we couldn’t understand each other. I guess I wasn’t enough. I never really am, huh?”
“Hey now, don’t go saying that about yourself,” offered Filthy, giving him a nervous pat on the shoulder.
“But how the heck can I not?” blurted out Feather, finally looking at Feather for the first time,
Filthy nearly fell off the bed at the outburst. “Not what?” he asked.
Feather Bangs sighed, flopping onto his back. “How can I not feel so… I dunno, rotten? I mean, what did I do wrong, Rich? What the heck did I do to deserve something like this?”
“You didn’t do anything, Feather. Look, I know it’s probably tough on you right now, kid, but that’s just the way life is sometimes,” Filthy offered lamely.
Feather turned to look at him, creasing his eyebrows in worry. “Is it?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” Filthy answered, standing up from the bed. “But you can’t just sit in here all day now.”
“I bet I can,” Feather muttered, turning on his side to stare at the wall. “If life is just constant misery like this is… I don’t want to deal with it. I’ll just stay here in bed. At least this thing’s never hurt me.”
Filthy sighed, trotting over to the other side of the bed and poking at him. “Now, now, where’s the spirit of the colt I hired to work at Barnyard Bargains years ago? The pony who worked his whole life to finally reach his dream of making music?”
“Dead,” Feather Bangs spat. “She killed him.”
Filthy sighed, shaking his head and holding a hoof to his face. “Well that’s just being melodramatic,” he replied.
“Ugh! Not helping, Rich,” Feather said as he shifted again to stare into the corner.
“Hey, I was where you were once,” Filthy interjected. “Met the prettiest mare I ever did see… only for her to turn me down when I finally got the guts to ask her.”
Feather snorted, folding his forelegs across his chest. “Well, that’s different! You grew up in some… prim and proper prep school full of rich ponies!”
Filthy blinked, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah. What’s that gotta do with anythin’?”
“Seriously?” Feather stared at him in disbelief. “Look, you’re… well, you. Winning everybody over with your silver tongue and stuff. But me? I moved to some town where everybody was the same because I had no idea how to talk to ponies. And I still don’t!” He seized his pillow, burying his head into it.
“Now you’re just making assumptions,” Filthy replied. “And honestly giving me too much credit, for that matter.”
Feather propped his chin on the pillow, gazing up at him in confusion. “Huh?”
“Let me put it this way. This… ‘silver tongue’ you think I have? I think you’re confusing that with business skills,” Filthy said. “Sweet talk in the boardroom and making promises to a room full of investors is miles different from just day to day talk.”
“Really?” Feather raised an eyebrow skeptically. “It can’t be that different.”
Filthy laughed, slapping his foreleg. “Oh, Feather, my naive friend. In that world, you can’t trust anyone as far as you can throw ‘em. I learned that lesson a few times.” He sighed, the smile slipping away. “In reality… you’re one of the few ponies I can consider a friend. Y’know that?”
Feather rolled his eyes. “Heh. Knew you had a soft side. But… yeah, I feel you. Lot of ponies out there just want to get close to you so they can use you… she sure did.”
“You wanna know something? Spoiled was the same way,” Filthy replied with a bitter grunt. “Lookin’ back, I wonder what I ever saw in that mare. But it’s all in the past now.”
They fell silent for a second, and a smile crept onto Feather’s face. But it quickly vanished as his eyes went past him, towards a desk in a corner. They locked onto a framed picture and his ears drooped down again.
“Well maybe it is for you… but it isn’t for me.”
“Dagnabit, Feather, you know I ain’t good at these heart to hearts,” Filthy complained.
“I never asked you to give one,” Feather replied.
“But it might be the only thing that’ll get you back to normal.” Filthy sighed again before rubbing a circle into the bed. “Look, Feather, I know you’re hurting. Ain’t no pony in Equestria that can blame you for that either. But like I said, sometimes these things… these things just happen. That doesn’t mean that you should give up and stop trying.”
He looked around the room as he spoke, eyes gazing across the posters and decorations hung up on Feather’s walls.
“Over my life, I’ve made a lot of deals,” Filthy continued, running a hoof through his graying mane. “Some of them turned out worse than others. But if I let one bad deal stop me, then hay, I probably wouldn’t be here today. Even with skill or luck or whatever, sometimes things just ain’t gonna work out. It’s going to sting, Feather, but what’s more important is picking yourself up after.”
Feather moved again, turning to look Filthy in the eye. “But… it hurts, and it’s hurt for awhile,” he whimpered.
“It’s going to,” Filthy quietly replied. “You really loved that mare, so it’ll sting. That’s just how it is. It hurts because nobody’s thinking about, well, dying when they’re happy. Feather, you’re a strong pony, I know that much. But like my dad used to say, life deals a bad hand sometimes. You just gotta know how to play out your cards and get to the next one.”
“So I’m going to be okay?” Feather asked suspiciously.
“Course you are,” Filthy answered. “You’re still here, ain’t you?”
Feather took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Does it always hurt, though?”
“Yeah,” Filthy answered. “Sometimes more than others. Let me tell you, the day I divorced Spoiled… I thought I had already been through Tartarus before that, but that day was something else. Those times were rough, Feather. And it hurt for awhile, but in the end I reckon I lived.”
Feather nodded. “Yeah, I guess… I guess you’re right. Sometimes it just is what it is.”
“Exactly,” Filthy answered, giving him a pat on the back. “Now, what say you come by my place for a bit? Get some food in you, maybe sing Diamond a couple of songs? She’s grown on your music, by the way.”
Feather Bangs laughed. “Sure, Rich, if it isn’t too much of a problem. I’d love to.”
Filthy smiled, getting off the bed and straightening his coat. “Fantastic! But, uh, if you could do me one favor first?”
“What’s that?”
“Do you mind… taking a shower first?”
