Impressin' Your Mare With Your Sweet Dancin' Style
Author: HoovesLikeJagger
Editor: CompleteIndifference
It's a crazy world out there. One day you're jiving and jamming down the streets of Canterlot with the best dancers in Equestria, and the next you're doin' the pony pokey and you've got no idea what it's all about. I'm talking about betrayal, subterfuge, backwards limbo, and a few more words I made up. I was a Gentlecolt and an Officer of the Dance, but now I'm just a Gentecolt and an Officer of the Dance in Ponyville.
Ponyville...
What a washed-up, backwards, chicken-dancing little town it is. Half the ponies here have never even discoed, let alone seen a disco ball. The reason I bring up disco is because I hear it got discoed back when the Disco Ord or whatever his face showed up. I was too busy helping a group of ballet dancing buffaloes rock their way down the soapy avenue to figure out exactly what was going down. I never did see those overgrown fuzzballs again. Sweet Celestia could they get on the tips of their hooves and move. It's a shame they danced the dance of dancing with evil dancers.
But the days of dancing with the big hooves are over for me. The Dance Chief in Canterlot turned her back on me, and you should never turn your back on your dancing partner... unless you're doing the Trotaloosa Tango. We were supposed to be doing a special dance called trust. I trusted that she would let me jazz tap the streets of Canterlot until I couldn't dance no more, but she transferred me to Ponyville instead. It's crazy, isn't it?
She didn't have to order me to set up my own Dance Force down here in Ponyville; I would have done it anyway. Celestia knows this town needs one. Like, she actually did know. She sent me a letter and everything. It was all like, "Set up a Dance Force in Ponyville. I know they need one."
That brings me to the first day of training for my Ponyville Dance Force. I put fliers all over town, but only three flathooves managed to stumble their way down here. At the time, I thought that was enough. I thought the four of us could dance circles around this town. If only I had known right from the start... if only.
"Alright you three-hooved mongrels! My name is Jagger Hooves and I am your Superior Officer. You can call me Superior Officer Jagger Hooves. You can also call me Officer Jagger, or just Jagger. I want you to sound off when I point to you and name your dancing specialty!" I pointed to the first stallion in line: a large red chap with hooves that look like they've seen a lot of the ground.
"Eeyup. Ah'm Big Macintosh... ahn I guess mah specialty is Square Dancin'," Big Macintosh says. I walk up to him and stare him right in the eye. I've gotta make sure they know that we do not jerk around in my outfit.
"You're a square dancer, son? Have you ever triangle danced?" I ask him. He looks at me like he's never had his dance knowledge questioned before, and Celestia knows he probably hasn't. How can they live in this town without ever having questioned which hoof to put where? What heathens.
"Ah... ah've never heard of triangle dancin'. Is that even real?" he asks me. Looks like he's just another dumb hick that thinks the square is the only shape that can get down. It's part of my job to break down the walls of ignorance surrounding these ponies.
"It's as real as I am green." I am green, and it ain't easy. Nothing is easy about being me. It is, in fact, hard.
I move on to my next recruit, a fruity looking chap with a brown hat. I've never seen somepony stand so still. This doesn't bode well for his dancing. I point my hoof at him, prompting him to introduce himself.
"Ah'm Braeburn! I reckon Ah like to have wild west dances!" he says. It takes all my training to be smooth and cool as an officer of dance to keep from clobbering him right there and then. If he says one more stupid thing, Celestia help him when I step it up and stomp his yard.
"It's apparent to me that you've never danced before in your life! The only ponies who think 'wild west' is a kind of dance are those backwards Appleoosans!" I fix on him a stern gaze. He regards me with big, dinner plate eyes for a moment or two. I think for a moment, perhaps I've gotten through to him.
"Well, Ah'm actually from Appleloosa."
He goes on to say something about visiting his cousins and yada-yada, but I tune that out. I just couldn't believe I was face to face with a live Appleloosan. When it comes to dancing, Appleloosa is the most danceless place in all of Equestria, maybe even the world. The most danceless place used to be the Crystal Kingdom, but I hear they actually perfected the shuffle in the short time they've been back. What an incredible and ingenious society, that Crystal Empire.
The Appleloosans are a different story entirely. Their population is comprised of ponies who were tired of ponies like me. They didn't want to listen to their dance superiors, so they step-ball-changed their way into Buffalo Territory to dance as they pleased. Anypony would be hard pressed to call that senseless failing of body parts a dance. I kept telling the chief to send me down there to fix things up, but she'd always say the same thing: "I can't understand a word you're saying, Jagger. You have a tendency to mumble when you're drunk."
She wasn't on my side from the beginning, accursed mare. I should have never trusted a mare who can salsa better than I can. Dancing is a stallion's world, created for the pleasure of mares. First they let a mare be the Canterlot Chief of Dance and now I've got to let an Appleloosan onto my dance squad.
I move onto the final pony with haste. I need somepony fresh, vibrant, and sharp to get the stench of Appleloosan out of my nostrils. I point to the final, mustard-colored lad in the lineup.
"I'm Snails and I like pudding!"
Being something of a dancing savant, I know a thing or two or one or a-one-two-three about spotting a protegee. This Snails colt? With the proper training, he could be one of the greats. I've trained some great dancers, but something in the way this colt carries himself tells me he could be the greatest yet. Considering the ponies I've helped achieve greatness, I shudder to think about the sheer amount of rhythm this colt would be in command of. The fillies would only be able to walk sideways after a foxtrot with him.
"Ah don't think puddin' is a dance, partner," Braeburn says. I whip around and put my nose up in his nose. I can see every bit of hate and scorn through my reflection in his pitiful expression.
"Who died and made you the dance expert? How many dances have you mastered, let alone know about?" I ask him. I take a few steps back, giving him some room just in case he wants to embarrass himself by showing us what he thinks is dancing. He just stands there and gawks at me. Part of me is disappointed that he isn't even trying to defend himself, so I go ahead and wait for him to say something. Big Macintosh and Snails stare silently ahead, probably because they're already wise to how this outfit works. I knew Snails was a sharp one and it looks like being a dumb hick just means big red has plenty of brain space to learn proper dance theory and practice.
"Ah... reckon I ain't no dance master. Ain't there a dance called the salsa?" Braeburn proves to me that he really does know nothing about dancing. The salsa is a dance, yes, but it's a very broad spectrum of dances really. It's also a food, and it's a darned delicious food too.
"Have you ever heard of Boom Sh-boom, The Doo-Wah Ditty, The Mocha Choca Latte, The Nitty Gritty, The Hoochie Coo, The Lazy Ballerina, The Rumble In the Jungle, The Who-Knows-Who, The Haystack Tumble, The Voulez Vous, The Moaner or The Screamer?" I asked Braeburn. He makes those big, bug eyes at me again and just shakes his head. "What about you two?" I ask my other recruits. Big Macintosh shakes his head, but Snails keeps that knowing smile on his face and gives me a slow nod. I know he's a smart kid, and I know he's destined to be great.
I turn my attention to the group as a whole.
"You might think you're not ready to handle this town's dance problems, but under my guidance you will all be super, freaky dancing maniacs. I promise you that my training will prepare you for anything this little town could ever hope to throw at you!"
Right then I decided I needed to get on training them immediately. If they were gonna uphold the dance around town, I couldn't have them going around with terribly tangled tangos like a bunch of broken breakdancers.
When it comes to training, I'm the best. The Chief knows that and Princess Celestia knows that too. In fact, when Princess Celestia discovered she might be in direct violation of several ballroom dancing ordinances, I was the first pony she called. Well, she called the Chief first, but she was calling her because she was looking for me. I'm the expert on all things dancing. Heck, I'm pretty good at dancing too.
If there was ever a pony to turn this band of flat-hooves into a group of tried and true dancers, it would be me. In fact, it was me. I was the pony for the job. That is why I went to Ponyville: to do that job. That is precisely what I did, too. I put them through some of the most rigorous dance training anypony this side of Luna's moon has ever seen.
"Can anyone tell me where we are right now?" I ask my recruits. We've been training for a grueling four hours now. Already, Braeburn and Big Macintosh are showing signs of tiring out.
"We're on Ponyville Lake!" Snails answers. He's still got his horn in the game. Sometimes he takes it out, but then he puts it back in again. After that, he has a tendency to shake it all about. Might I add, it is some Celestia darned good shaking on his part.
"Very good Snails! Now, Braeburn!" When I call the Apploosan's name, he snaps to attention. "What kind of dance should be done here?"
Braeburn struggles to find an answer somewhere in his tiny, tiny little brain. To encourage him to speed up his thought process, I spread my legs and start rocking the little raft we're on. The other passengers tense up in order to keep themselves from falling into the drink.
"Ah, river dancing?"
I promptly buck Braeburn into the lake.
"What kind of answer is that? I'm ashamed to say I expected a little better of you, Braeburn! I don't even know where you'd come up with something so stupid! Big Macintosh!" I turn my attention to the big guy. His eyes keep flicking over to where Braeburn is flailing around in the water and screaming something about not being able to swim. "Tell me, what kind of dance should be done here?"
"Uhm... the Mambo?"
I cock my legs to buck the farmer off the raft, but I pause. After a moment of rational thought, I decide to spare Big Macintosh. I know what it is that makes me hold back my anger, but the dance floor is no place to let your emotions get you all riled up.
"You obviously put some thought into that, but it's not the right answer. Good job." I watch the large stallion let out a sigh, relieved that he's been spared from punishment. He has made large strides in his training, so I think it's perfectly healthy to let him know his progress is pleasing me. "Snails! What kind of dance should be done here?" I ask my protegee.
"Well... I don't think we should be dancing out on a lake."
I can't help but let a genuine smile cross my face. Leaving Braeburn behind, I give the order for my recruits to paddle the raft back to the lake-head. Once we were all gathered on the shore --even the waterlogged Braeburn-- I taught them some real dancing. That smile never went away that afternoon. I hadn't felt so happy since I got here.
I guess I'm too stupid to realize how fleeting happiness is. That afternoon, just jamming and letting all the blues out with a couple of colts who didn't know what they were doing, I was foolish enough to believe that happiness could last. There is no such thing as lasting happiness. Happiness just isn't designed that way.
Even back in Canterlot, happiness had a way of shimmying out of my hooves. Instead of living happily, I decided to make my life a thriller. I decided my life wouldn't just be a moonwalk. My pessimism was looking bad, and I didn't think I could beat it. I just convinced myself I wasn't destined for anything beyond what I had back then.
I guess my lowest point was when my greatest protegee surpassed me in rank. I had been pimped, pumped, pomped and circumstanced for the role of Canterlot Dance Chief for years, but then she just waltzed right into that position. Celestia picked her over me. Me!
That mare was nothing before she met me! She couldn't headbang without banging her head! Instead of popping and locking, she was popping her joints and then locking herself in the barracks. She had no talent; her momma didn't give her anything to shake. Before she met me, she couldn't even dub-step! She could only sub-step!
I guess there is another reason I grew to hate her, though. It had nothing to do with the fact that she can shake her booty better than me or any stallion for that matter. I hoped she could save me from myself. I hoped we could dance together forever, but not as Officers of the Dance. I wanted to slow dance together as stallion and mare. Unfortunately, it turns out that mare had been looking to rumba with mares herself. She sashayed my heart right into the trash. All I had left was my head, and it told me to just dance and distract myself.
And for a while, dancing was all I did.
The day came when the our dance station got the call. Dance tragedy had struck, right in the heart of Canterlot. This job required only the best, so the Chief and I decided to team up for it. When we arrived at the scene, the sight of our client shocked me. It wasn't that she was obviously all front-left hooves. It wasn't the stiff way she was sliding across the concert hall. It wasn't the erratic, broken counting she was muttering under her breath.
No. I just thought she was pretty. I asked her what she wanted.
"Teach me to Mambo."
"So... y'all are a dancer from Canterlot, right?" Big Macintosh asks me. His question was totally out of the blue. In the three days we'd been training, the stallion never spoke unless he was spoken to. Now all of a sudden, he is asking me an arbitrary question. Being the bigger pony, he always finishes his squats faster than Snails and Braeburn, so I guess there isn't any harm in a bit of conversation while we wait.
"Yes, I come from Canterlot. I was part of their Dance Squad ever since I was old enough." When I joined up with the Canterlot Dance Enforcement Squad, they hailed me as a genius and the most talented pony they'd ever seen. Those were days filled with happiness because happiness was easy to come across.
"Didya ever dance with any of the big names?" the farmer asks me. I want to ask him why he's so curious all of a sudden, but curiosity is no crime. In fact, I kind of wish he asked more questions. His progress is steady, but I feel like he could be doing even better if he voiced his concerns or questions more often.
"If they danced in Canterlot, I probably danced with them." That's the truth. Anypony who was worth half-a-year of jazz tap came to Canterlot. Canterlot is the dance center of all of Equestria. Nopony is dancing like we were dancing in Canterlot. When the dancers came, they always came to the Dance Squad first. I've gyrated hips with the best of them.
"So y'all have danced with ponies like Sapphire Shores 'n Fancy Pants?" Big Macintosh new some names in the business, apparently. I was impressed, to say the least. I didn't know the big guy had it in him.
"Not just ponies like Sapphire Shores and Fancy Pants, but I've busted a move with the genuine articles as well." I watch Big Macintosh's eyes get wide, real wide. Being from such a small town, I can only guess as to how extreme my high profile lifestyle was like. Behind those eyes, I think I see the desire to achieve all I have.
"Even... Ah mean, have y'all danced with Vinyl Scratch?"
Just the name of that mare makes my blood boil nowadays. There's nopony I hate quite as much as that quick-stepping DJ, even if I did love her once. It's funny how a little thing like master surpassing student can create so much bad blood.
I'm fuming, but I can tell it doesn't show on my face because I'm certain even Big Macintosh would get spooked by the level of anger I'm feeling. No dancer is a good dancer until they can mask their emotions. For the sake of my new recruits and my new life here in Ponyville, I can pretend everything is okay. I can do this much.
"Yeah, even Vinyl Scratch," I tell Big Macintosh. He makes a sort of face like foals will make when they don't quite believe you even if they really want to. He doesn't think I'm lying, but he's got some big doubt about my story.
"If y'all have done so much with such famous ponies... how come yer not famous?"
We end up in a silent stare-down for a few seconds.
"You should do some extra squats; you'll need them if you want to bottle dance."
Vinyl and I poured all our efforts into teaching that mare how to Mambo. She wasn't proficient at dancing, but like any intelligent pony she picked up what was taught to her. That's really all you can ask of anypony. It was clear to me, right from the get-go, that she had moves. She had grace, elegance, and simplicity. If she wasn't standing still, she was dancing in beautiful shapes. When she made music, there wasn't any way I couldn't dance. I stayed professional because at the end of the day she was only a client. She would use me, and Vinyl, and then forget about us once our purpose was fulfilled.
At least, I believed it would be that way. I believed it until I met her beyond the scope of the dance studio. It was just a chance encounter on a street one afternoon, but this time we were nothing beyond two acquaintances. It was up to us how we wanted to take this dance. We went for some coffee and maybe a bit to eat.
All of a sudden, I knew her. The lights in my head came on and the entire cast came pirouetting onto stage. Everything moved smoothly. Our chance encounter turned into another arranged meeting outside of work again. Again and again, I found myself alone with her. I learned her, and it was a few weeks after our first outing that I learned something very strange about her.
I learned I could love her. I could make that decision independent of anything else.
I told her that I was going to love her, and Celestia as my witness that is exactly what I did. She didn't turn me down. She didn't want to, so she responded by loving me back. Even after all the confessions and our passionate embrace, nothing really changed. I still met the same mare every day. I continued to learn more and more about her. I still felt the same gladness in my heart.
I don't think anything was supposed to change. That's just what progress is, I suppose. Your hooves learn the dance little by little, step by step. You start out just trying to do the dance correctly, and then you keep going until it's impossible for you to get it wrong. That's what we were doing: learning each other until we were absolute.
When we arrived at what we knew was the final frontier, I learned nopony had ever taught her how to do this dance before. I told her to do it right, we had to go about it like we went about everything else: together, moving in the same direction. I promised her I would take her where she wanted to go. When I asked where she wanted to go, she said "the future."
That's where we went, but it turned out we had one, last, painful lesson.
Today is day five, and Snails didn't show up to practice. Braeburn doesn't know where he is, but Big Macintosh tells me that Snail's mother had told him to stop coming. There's some issue with him missing school.
I'm distraught to have lost my protegee. Now all this squad has left is an absolute failure, an innocent rookie, and me. That's it. Even in a town as small as Ponyville, I know this isn't enough dance to go around. Training another batch of recruits would just eat further into our time. Time isn't a luxury we have. I knew at any moment a dance tragedy could unfold.
Just as fate would have it, a mare came up to us and asked us if we were the Dance Police.
"Around this town, we are," I say. She tells us there is no time to explain and leads us to the heart of town. I take one look around the plaza, but I don't believe my eyes.
There is music amd ponies, but there is no dancing. The amount of disjointed movement is disorienting, and I can tell my rookies are fading just by looking at the catastrophe before us. I need them to stay strong because I have decided that this will be their final test.
"How did this all happen?" I ask the mare who brought us here. She doesn't look too good herself, but she sticks with us and explains the situation.
"It started out simple enough. We were all celebrating Mayor Mare's birthday, just dancing and having a good time. All of a sudden, Berry Punch started grinding up against Caramel, and the next thing I knew I was surrounding by ponies putting each other's bumps to their grinds!"
I look back over the convulsing mass of ponies and confirm what she is saying seems to be the truth. Not one soul is dancing on the dancefloor. The stallions stand in stoic silence like rocks in a sea of writhing mares. In all my days of being an Officer of the Dance, I've never seen anything this bad. Whether or not my rookies are ready for it, I've already made my choice. I turn to both of them to deliver my orders.
"You need to get this party back on track. Just remember your training." That is all the advice they need right now. If they paid attention during training, they should know exactly what to do. Braeburn doesn't move a muscle, but to be honest I don't expect any more of him. Big Macintosh, on the other hand, is not living up to my expectations.
"Ah don't know if'n I can go in there," he says. His normally powerful and smooth tone is shaky. This stallion is scared out of his wits, but he can't afford to let his fear control him right now.
"Dangit, Big Macintosh! You are an Officer of the Dance! We compose ourselves wi-"
"Ah can't do it, okay?" Big Macintosh shouts. The din of the music and the crowd takes a back seat to the scene unfolding right before me. "Ah just ain't cut out for this! Y'all never said it would be... it would be..."
"Hard? I didn't say it would be this hard?" I ask him, marching up to him and putting a hoof on his harness. "Easy or hard, you signed up for this. You made a commitment!"
"That was before I knew it would be like this! Ah never thought somethin' like this could happen!" Big Macintosh says.
"I trained you! You have the rhythm and blues to bring this situation under control!" I may as well be talking to a red brick wall. Big Macintosh isn't listening to me. His fear won't let him consider anything that might make him face this problem.
"What good is your trainin'? Why should Ah believe Ah'm ready for this?"
"Because I promised you would be ready!" I did promise him that. I promised all of them that. It was the very first thing I promised them.
"What good is yer gosh dern promise?" he asks me. Before I can say anything more to him, he leaves. He just turned and walked away from me. My heart screamed to bring him back and show him he was wrong, but a stronger force bid me to stay. My head told me that, in the end, my promise was no good. If Big Macintosh didn't have faith in my training --the training that gave him the skills to handle these situations-- then I didn't fully prepare him.
In the end, I couldn't keep my promise.
I suddenly become aware of the crowd cheering behind me. I turn to see what the source of the commotion is, but for the second time today I cannot believe my eyes. The crowd has ceased its primal flailing. In the center of the floor, a single pony is dancing his hooves off and his heart out. I'm so stunned, I can't think. It doesn't matter, though. Right now, I don't need to think. I can just be happy.
The Chief had been sweet on my mare the whole time. That night, when we broke down our final, sacred barrier, we had neglected to remember we had a scheduled lesson in the morning. We were lying together when the Chief walked in on us. Her reaction, at the time, gave no indication to how it made her feel. It wasn't until a week later that I realized it tore her to pieces on the inside.
One week to the date after the incident, the Chief gave me my order of transfer. I was to leave immediately, without a chance to say good bye to the mare I love. With orders from Celestia herself, there was no way I could decline. I hopped on a train that afternoon and left Canterlot behind.
Once I was on the train, I took a closer look at the letter from Celestia the Chief gave me. Not only was it not specifically addressed to me, but it was sent over a month ago. The Chief probably had a different plan for Ponyville, but used it as a chance to separate me from the mare she wanted after she found out I was very much in her way. It only takes two to tango, don't you know?
Only two can mambo too, just for the record.
I wanted to send letters back to my love in Canterlot, but I hadn't memorized her address yet. My excuse is that I was too busy learning more pertinent information. I was one large purchase away from making her address and my address the same anyway. I promised her the future, didn't I? I like to try and make good on my promises, if I can.
I wonder why I just don't go back to Canterlot. The Chief would fire me if she found out I left my assigned city, and that wouldn't be good. I need to be on the force. I don't know anything else. Am I prioritizing my job over being with the one I love? I guess I am. I just need time to figure out how to have both.
"It's a shame to see you go back to Appleloosa, Braeburn. You're a dang fine dancer." I shake hooves with the last pony I ever expected to be congratulating on his dancing skills. Braeburn really proved his worth out on the field. His performance during training was shoddy, but with results like that I can't complain anymore. Looking back, I know his poor performance wasn't from lack of trying.
"Aww shucks, Officer Jagger! Ah just went 'n did what y'all told me to!" Braeburn beams brightly at me. The kid has a lot of heart, but I wish he'd grow some brains. He's not a bad colt when all is said and done, so once again I can't fault him. "Y'all promised that yer trainin' would get us ready 'n I just knew yer the sort of pony who keeps his promises."
"You knew, did you? Just sounds like you had a good guess."
Braeburn just keeps smiling. I can't help but smile too. This is one of those odd, bittersweet moments. I'm happy that he has achieved more than I thought he ever could, but I'm sad to see him go. I guess the heart is just an odd thing that can go in two directions at once. That's why ponies get so tangled up when they try to follow it. My heart can roam as it pleases, but in the end I'll just follow the clear paths laid out by my head.
"Well, I oughta git back home now. Ah can't wait to show everypony in Appleloosa what I've learned! There's so much I can teach them, an' it's all thanks to you. Thank you," Braeburn tells me. The train is pulling into the station now, and he has to board. We exchange our final goodbyes as ponies disembark from the train. He gets on and the train leaves the station.
I think I'm all alone, until I notice somepony who has been watching me from the end of the platform. Not wanting to be rude, I walk over and greet her. She carrying that big cello of hers with her, so I offer to carry it to wherever she plans on going.
"I'd just like to go home, if that's okay with you," she says to me.
"There aren't any concert halls here," I tell her. She smiles and shakes her head at me. I think she already knew.
"There are trains here: trains that go back to Canterlot. Nopony ever had to practice an instrument in Canterlot to play in Canterlot. Besides, there are no discotheque or nightclubs here either."
She's got me pinned, as usual. That's the problem with knowing someone who knows you so well: they can finish your thoughts for you.
"Yeah, I guess this is what's best," I tell her, but it's a moot point. She smiles because she already knows how this dance goes.
