Midnight

The rest of the shopping experience ended up relatively uneventful. John and I didn't dawdle by any means, but there were no interruptions or comments from other shoppers aside from a glance or two that lasted longer than I felt necessary.

John also sold me on some sort of boxed good called "Hamburger Helper." Half meat, half noodles along with seasonings. A fair compromise for both of us I suppose. He ended up getting one of each kind.

Now, both of us stroll out into the night air, which has dropped in temp with the absence of the sun as well as lack of cloud cover.

"Man, you are an expensive date."

"Excuse me? The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm joking, chill out," he replies defensively, taken aback by the harsh tone of my voice.

It really wasn't that funny of a joke. And I don't like the connotations that would bring if anyone heard him. That would be embarrassing. But I am aware that there are people who have a romantic investment in ponies. Is that even legal?

...why that was the first thing that popped into my head is questionable, but regardless, those kinds of people are fucked up.

"Sorry, I just think that was a really retarded joke - I'd rather someone not overhear you and actually believe that."

"Alright, my bad." His apology sounds... off. A bit disappointed.

Maybe he had been working on that lame comment for a while. Hard to believe his pea-brain could take that long for something so simple, but who knows? Whatever the reason, that's on him.

"I'm sorry I left you to that Twilight bot. I would never have done that had I thought the meeting would go south like that," he adds.

"You seemed to be enjoying it," I chastise, irked that my prior suspicions proved to be correct.

"To be fair, it was one of those things where you had to see your own face. I didn't think you would hate interacting with her that much, though."

"I suppose she wasn't really that bad," I begrudgingly admit. "But I detest how utterly... oblivious they are. Maybe that was an older one, I don't know."

"You mean like how she couldn't tell you weren't interested in conversation?"

"Exactly. But I haven't really ever had a long conversation with a bot, so again - maybe they're all like that."

"So you have interacted with em before on more than one occasion?" John asks, stopping the cart before reaching the rear bumper of the Trailduster to open up the glass hatch above the tailgate.

"Yeah. From time to time, they had helper bots in the experiment facility - sometimes full units, others stripped to bare bones. Sort of depended on why they were there, I guess. Wasn't just me they were toying with, and not just bio-ponies."

John has nothing to say. Instead, I find him glancing around the parking lot.

Unnerved by his sudden shift in demeanor, I do the same. No one in sight among the cars left in the lot.

"I just figured this conversation might be a little sensitive for foreign ears," he elaborates.

"Good point."

"Back to - well, what happened in there," he says, taking a moment from loading groceries in the back of the truck to point at the store. "Kids are naive as hell. I don't think you did anything wrong. They'll freak out over the dumbest shit. It's why I don't much care for interacting with kids."

"Oh good, at least you aren't a kiddie fiddler."

"Now that's just perverted, you sicko."

"Yeah, because you haven't said questionable shit before," I retort with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

"Excuse me!"

With the exclamation, both of us turn our heads to see a middle-aged woman marching our way pushing a shopping cart. A little girl and a lavender unicorn tag along behind her.

Great. Even from a distance, I can see her face is cross, leering at both John and me. She pauses a moment to point something at a nearby SUV. The headlights flash briefly while she ushers her child toward the vehicle.

The girl runs off to the vehicle, glancing my way briefly with an aversive expression before hopping inside.

Meanwhile, Twilight looks upon me somewhat forlornly, albeit a step back and partially behind the woman's legs.

"Fuck me," John mumbles under his breath, barely audible as he finishes offloading his purchases.

As the woman resumes her trek toward us and gets closer, John plasters on the most polite, innocent face he can muster. "Don't say anything. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that this is probably not going to be a pleasant discussion," he says out of the corner of his mouth.

Is this Karen? Or a Karen? I still don't understand that name or terminology. Culture jargon is only something I have stumbled upon during my laptop searches from time to time, aside from overhearing conversations back when I lived in the junkyard. It's not a topic I research out of pure interest.

"Hi, can I help you?" John greets the lady as she halts a few steps away.

The woman looks at him, then at me. Disdain practically pours out of her before she shifts her attention back to John. "Can you tell me why you thought you could just bring your pony that's based on an evil character into a store where children are almost guaranteed to be present?" she demands.

"I... didn't see a sign anywhere that said she wasn't allowed. She's not evil, I can tell you that much," John replies, taken aback by her tone. It already looks like he's on his back foot in this interaction.

"My daughter came screaming to me in fear from another aisle because of your bot," she says, pointing an accusing finger in my face. "She was afraid that she was going to be attacked or eaten up by this thing! I've never seen the show, but my little girl wouldn't just make something like that up."

"Okay, I'm not really in the know on the show either, but-"

"So do you normally buy things without knowing what they are? That doesn't seem smart," she interrupts, seething with anger.

Is this bitch serious? If anyone is going to insult John's intelligence, it's me. Besides that - didn't she just say that she doesn't have a clue about the show?

I can't help but scowl at her now.

"She was a gift to me, okay?" John quickly lies. "Regardless of that, Midnight wasn't harming anyone - she was looking through the shelves just a few feet away from me when your bot sparked a conversation with her - a friendly interaction, might I add."

I note Twilight's ears droop in shame as she is unwittingly dragged into the argument.

"So you're saying it's her fault? Is that right?" the woman rebuts, now pointing to the sulking pony behind her

"I just got excited to see her and I wanted to talk," Twilight interjects, her voice apologetic and pleading as she looks up at her owner.

"I didn't ask for you to speak. I'll deal with you later."

John looks almost as frustrated as I feel with the tone directed toward the honest little pony.

Twilight looks over to me with a somber, defeated look on her face. She was the one who approached me, but... Well, she obviously didn't know all of this would happen.

'I'm sorry.'

I find myself taken aback to see Twilight mouth those words to me. But she really doesn't have anything to apologize for...

'It's not your fault,' I silently relay back to her. It at least manages to perk her up a bit. That sad expression fades, replaced by just the slightest hint of a relieved smile.

"Look, it's all just a misunderstanding. I'm sorry your daughter got spooked by Midnight," John speaks up.

The mother doesn't seem to feel the same way as she eyes John with a renewed ire. "No, I fully understand that you're a grown man walking around with a pony that's meant to be offputting - and you think that's perfectly fine. I'm telling you it isn't!" she spouts back, raising her voice just a bit more.

"What do you want from me?!" John asks, throwing his hands out to either side, palms up. "I said sorry, what else do you want?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me! I will call the cops if you're going to be belligerent, they will sort this out!"

"Enough!" I throw a wing between the woman and John as I take a step forward.

The crazy lady takes a step back, acting far more startled by my interruption than believable for the situation I have now thrust myself into. "Are you threatening me? Is your bot seriously threatening me?!"

"I am not threatening you, I am saying enough is enough," I clarify in a calm but stern tone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see John's eyes widen. He's got to be sweating bullets now that I have stepped into the ring. But this argument is absurd and getting worse for no damn reason.

"You don't have a say in this, you don't have rights. And how dare you scare my daughter!"

I take another step forward and to the side, positioning my form in front of John as I tuck my wing away and stand my ground. "He didn't do anything wrong, nor did I. I can't help what I look like, and I'm sorry that my appearance scares your daughter. But perhaps you need to keep both her and your bot closer to you, considering I never saw you during this entire incident in the store."

"Are you questioning my parenting?"

"I'm questioning your logic."

Left mentally off-balance by my argument, the lady takes another step back. She almost trips over Twilight, who is still standing behind her. "Watch what you're doing!" she shouts, turning to look at Twilight.

"Sorry!" Twilight quickly apologizes, cowering just a bit at the outburst.

While this is happening, I cast my gaze on the woman's unattended cart loaded with groceries off to her right. I focus on it with an idea and just a subtle touch...

It starts to roll as I nudge it with my ability. In a split second, it picks up speed as the slope of the parking lot aids its egress from the argument taking place. The noisy caster wheels upon the cracked tarmac quickly grab our foe's attention. She stares wide-eyed for a moment before rushing after it. The clatter of her heels is music to my ears as I turn and nudge John.

"Get in the damn truck and let's go," I instruct.

He quickly jumps at my direction while I rush over to the passenger side, feeling around for the lock mechanism at the top of the door through the window and popping it open myself. I manage to hop into my seat at about the same time John is cranking the engine. In the blink of an eye, the rear tires chirp under sudden duress and we're off, leaving the volatile situation rapidly in the rearview mirror.

"God damn, what the hell is wrong with people?!" John cries once we get out onto the road.

"Are you asking to explain from my own experience, or..."

"No, I know you could give me a good explanation. But you know jumping into that argument was not going to help your cause, right?"

"Because you were really defusing it in a timely fashion. Bravo," I remark, clapping my hooves in a sarcastic manner.

"I don't think there was any reasoning with her. That's a fucking Karen for you - looking for an argument by any means necessary, to prove she's right."

"So, a Karen is a bitch?"

"Pretty much. Bitchy, middle-aged, entitled woman."

"I can't say I'm thrilled to have understood that definition by experience."

"Wasn't fun for me either. I'm assuming that shopping cart didn't start rolling on its own," he muses, eying me expectantly.

I shrug and flash a smirk. "I didn't tell her to park it there at the beginning of a slope towards the storm drain."

The answer garners a smile from him. "That was good thinking to get us out of there without making things worse. Thank you."

"Well, I'm not going to let some miserable bitch use my personal punching bag."

"Jesus. I don't know whether to be flattered or offended, Middie," John gasps.

"You enjoy the abuse, don't put up an act."

"Only because you do it in a caring manner," he teases.

I exhale deeply, relieving the tension that had welled up inside since the initial situation unfolded in the store.

"I am sorry I didn't take how kids might react to you into account," John says quietly.

"I can't blame you for that, John. You said so yourself - you really don't have a clue when it comes to - well, the character I'm based upon. To be honest, I don't know shit about me, either. Er, Nightmare Moon."

"Are you curious about it at all?" he asks rather hesitantly.

I glance over at him. John looks uncertain about his own question.

Or perhaps how I will react.

I am not really that interested. After all, that isn't me. I wasn't even planned to look like said character in the beginning. Not even my initial project name bore hints of Nightmare Moon. Yet I may now be forever tied to her, whether I like it or not.

I am not an exact match for looks - but that doesn't matter to the passing eye. It's unfair - but life isn't fair. Rather than sulk about it, I just have to deal with that notion the best I can, now that I see the problems it may cause. Perhaps some knowledge of what I'm up against in terms of background and reputation could help me at least understand.

I try to keep a straight face, but a mischievous hint of a grin cracks through just a bit. "You wanna watch some pretty pastel ponies when we get home?"

As the credits roll, John and I exchange looks, awaiting a response from the other to break the silence. A silence that has enveloped our home for the better part of two episodes.

After putting away groceries, John hooked my laptop up to the TV with a cable, while I searched the internet for episodes of "My Little Pony" where Nightmare Moon appears. Incidentally, the first two episodes of the "Friendship is Magic" series were the first hits. It looked like there were a few other appearances sprinkled here and there, but not much. Evidently, she's not a major character or villain.

"Well." John has the courtesy to speak first but brings absolutely nothing of substance.

"Very insightful, thank you."

"I mean... it was something," he says, albeit with much reluctance in his voice.

"Indeed. I believe that is what is referred to as a 'cartoon.' Often directed toward younger audiences."

"At least it didn't piss you off," John replies with a chuckle.

"Were you really afraid of that, or are you joking?" I inquire, uncertain of his true stance.

"I wouldn't say I was worried, more... aware that it could be something upsetting to you."

"There really wasn't much to be upset about - again, it isn't me," I remind him.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to hear that, Middie."

"But I can't say I'm fond of being thought of as a spiteful thousand-year-old megalomaniac prone to belittling others to cover up her own insecurities."

"Yeah. They really did a good job matching your personality up with hers, huh?"

I don't need to look to know John is sporting a shit-eating grin right beside me. Instead of humoring him, I spread out my left wing and smack him in the face.

"Ow," he says, lacking any sort of tone. "You know I was joking about that though, right?"

"Yes, but I'm also keenly aware I should have thought about what I said beforehand," I admit, tucking away my wing once again. "What did you really think about it?"

"Kinda odd how you're sorta like the alter ego of the pony you were meant to be, and possess part of her personality chip," John muses. "Even odder how you have another chip that is the primary opposition to Nightmare Moon."

"Wow."

"Yeah, sort of deep when you really get into it," he says with a nod.

I shake my head. "No, I'm just surprised how many relatively big words you used in one explanation," I wisecrack.

"Asshole."

"Don't forget it."

"Really though... it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," he admits. "I still don't get the appeal."

"You should go make a post about that online."

"What?"

"Hm?"

He shakes his head. "Whatever. But I guess now we know what you're up against."

"It really doesn't make it any better - but I didn't think it would. Still, she's hardly something I would consider scary."

"Sorry. Kids are stupid," John answers with a courtesy shrug.

Despite going into this with curiosity, I now find myself left with frustration. There really isn't anything I can do if children find this kind of shit scary and relate me with her. It may very well be a matter of avoiding the matter altogether.

Which isn't completely bothersome...

After all, I finally have a place I can genuinely call home. That is a calming and warm feeling to know - whatever happens, I have somewhere to retreat that is safe and comfortable. Why would I want to leave that?

"I guess I just have to avoid those situations in the future. Need I remind you, you're more keen on me being in public than I am. I'm content with sticking with you and conversing with you - far more than anyone else."

John chuckles a little bit at that, smiling just a bit wider. "Come a long way from seeing me as a means to an end, huh?"

"Perhaps there's a bit more to you than that," I reply, averting my eyes. I feel awkward after spouting that. Saying I care or see him as a friend out loud just seems like an uncomfortable gesture.

He pretty much knows it anyway. But I'm beginning to wonder if he sees more than that. I recall earlier tonight, the stupid 'date' joke that left him sounding almost a little disappointed. Or the way he steals glances at me. Or the physical contact.

It's... weird. I've only started noticing those little things recently. At first, I chalked it up to my own mind trying to make something out of nothing.

But... I really need to know.

"I didn't mean anything by that other than I respect you," I add, honing in on his facial expression.

He nods, though his smile does falter a bit.

Alright, I am not going to ignore that. "John, what's gotten into you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like now. Or the way I notice you looking at me from time to time. Or the push to get me to open up. Why?"

John looks like I caught him red-handed with stolen property. "Getting you to open up is for your benefit in the sense of not bottling things up that bother you. Would you agree with that?" he proposes.

"I can, but I feel like there's more to it than just helping me, John," I press onward, unfazed by that feeble attempt to dissuade me.

"There is," he concedes with a sigh. "I guess - look, I don't know how or why, and I get that it's fucking weird, but... I guess I have sort of developed feelings for you."

Feelings for me. There it is.

What in the fuck. What in the goddamn is wrong with him? My initial gut reaction is to call him a degenerate, a pervert, a sick bastard - something demeaning. Maybe make a dry heave gesture.

With all the stupid comments, the attitude, the insults that I have fed him...

And he has feelings for me. How?

"Midnight, I don't want things to be weird between us. I do respect you as my friend, first and foremost," John adds. "I didn't want to say anything because I wanted to... I wanted to try to figure out if there was anything as far as feelings on your end, but without destroying what we had."

Well, he didn't do well attempting to be discreet. But I at least respect that he isn't literally crawling over to me, telling me how much he adores me, how he can't stop thinking about me...

He isn't desperate even as I've caught him out; he's not making a last stand. I can at least appreciate that.

I do like how things are - or at least were - up until this point, too.

"You aren't going to try throwing me out in a blind rage, are you?" I ask in a joking manner. Or at least I try to make it sound like a joke. My stomach starts to knot as I consider what answer could greet me.

"Fuck no. This is your home, Midnight," John says emphatically. "It's out in the open now, I'm a fucking weirdo-"

"That was obvious from the beginning."

"Yet you were willing to put up with me. But I assume based on your question, I'm- those feelings... of the romantic kind... They aren't mutual, are they?"

I really don't understand what he could even see in me to develop "feelings." There's nothing there. I have nothing to bring to the table. I've only recently let it go that I'm a freak of nature who really has no business in being alive. I'm making the best of it - it wasn't my choice to come out this way, after all.

How he looks beyond that is...

I don't get it.

But it doesn't matter. I don't feel anything toward him aside from the initial reaction of wanting to call him a fruitcake.

Of course, I really don't know what he is talking about in the sense of "attraction." That's a foreign idea to me. But, he at least deserves some closure and respect.

As my friend.

"No, John. I don't feel that way toward you."

John winces my utterance but manages to offer up an awkward, accepting smile. "I guess now I know for sure. You don't want to kick my ass or insult me now, do you?"

"I don't want you to turn into a quivering, sobbing mess. I'll leave you alone."

"Middie, I'm fine," John tries to assure me, reaching over and-

Stopping. He pulls his hand back. "Seriously, I'm fine," he reiterates calmly.

"I don't have a problem with friendly pats," I acquiesce, trying to at least throw him a bone and return things to relative normality. "No funny business or your hand becomes my next dinner."

He laughs, reaching over again and patting my side this time. A little awkward, but that's to be expected.

... this is quite the change, isn't it? As much as I like to rib him and put up a fuss over his antics and decisions, I'm willing to cut him slack here. He is right, I do see him as more than a means to an end...

It's a friend thing.

Holy shit, I really am starting to go soft. Maybe some insults would do me some good.

"You know I am going to give you shit for this at some point, right?"

"I would expect it. Otherwise, I would think you were turning funny," he retorts.

"Yeah, I don't think you have a leg to stand on here."

"Aww, is Middie turning into a softie?" John gushes.

"Aww, does John get a hard peepee watching children's cartoons?"

"Now you're just stretching this out to fit what you want it to," he protests.

"I don't recall saying I thought the show was decent."

"You enjoyed it, don't lie."

"It wasn't horrible," I reply sternly.

"But you were quiet and focused on it the whole time, without making any sort of stupid comments."

"And I have to do that to prove I don't like something?"

"You normally do."

"...shut up, ponyfucker."

"Karen."

He smirks as I just glare at him.

"New nickname, perhaps?"

Without a word, I focus on one of my metal tools, using it to grab hold of a pillow situated behind me and chuck it at him.

I manage to catch him completely by surprise as the pillow beans him square in the face.

"I guess that's a no."