Under Every Lamppostby SwiperTheFoxChaptersIncipit (Lynne's Last Day)Romeo and Juliet (Ruby's Dream)Dishes (Patter's Escape)Juneberry's Place (Lynne's Idea)Incipit (Lynne's Last Day)Lynne’s Story – Part I It all started over at the intersection of 43rd and Vine over in downtown Ponyville. Nopony knows who the first stallion was. Some evening— sometime in a dull, dreary working day just like any other— that stallion walked up to the corner lamppost. He had that wonderful mix of dirt, dust, and sweat that dripped slowly off of his mane. He kicked his hardhat to the ground. Then, he took that fateful step onto the curb, twisted his front hooves around the post, and threw his body straight into the light. He opened up that ugly mug of his— scarred by too many knocks of a steel pole and too many 5am shifts— and something magical happened. He sang. That stallion probably had more guts in his front left hoof than I have in my entire body. He just opened up his heart and poured every last bit of it onto the pavement. Then, some of the bold little colts nearby joined in. I suppose it’s like planting a little seed that will eventually end up giving you a whole forest. New singing groups spread all across Ponyville. That’s when I come in. Or, I should say, where I came in. The day that that first stallion sung at the intersection of 43rd and Vine also just so happened to be the second year anniversary of another momentous day in my life. It's an anniversary that I would rather not talk about too much. I commemorated that morning before work by leaving a pretty set of Roseluck’s flowers at the gravesite. Let’s just say that if my parents had still been around, they would have loved to hear that stallion sing at the 43rd and Vine lamppost. I sure loved seeing it. I worked on the other construction site nearby the one with the fateful stallion. The building companies may have been fierce competitors, but we we’re close enough to wave ‘hi’ and always did. Almost every builder was a ‘traveler’— like myself. You know them. They're that race of pony that live in trailers and shacks away from the regular houses and have used salt licks thrown at them where they walk. You also might have spotted them getting kicked out of hotels or having shopkeepers stare at them to make sure they don't steal anything. Anyways, my friends and I watched that first stallion sing with eyes the size of dinner plates. The three of us— Blackberry, Spring Step, and I— knew that we’d be singing ourselves sooner or later. We stuck together pretty close and stayed aloof from the rest of our co-workers. We always called ourselves ‘The Three Lovers’. I still can’t help chuckling at it. Of course, I guess that it seemed like a pretty sick joke. Blackberry brought a little bedroom experience, at least, thanks to a lonely cleaning mare that looked old enough to be his mother and a whole lot of champagne. I should cut us some slack, though. All of us had been stuck in that horrible black hole between foal and stallion. For Pete’s sake, Spring Step didn’t even have his cutie mark yet. He didn’t worry too much, though, since the site was just a job to him. Blackberry had about the same story. They had parents. They had careers planned out. They had hopes, dreams, longings, deep thoughts… the whole shebang. Not me, however. I worked to live. I had to eat. I had to survive. Still, I never be like the other dirt-poor ponies at the construction site. Those workers— travelers, almost all of them— sucked up every last bit of scorn, every glance, every smirk, every gesture, and everything else that the Ponyville natives dished out. Then, those construction ponies decided that the natives could just stuff it. That negative attitude just wasn’t my style, even though I felt the same stinging prejudice. It couldn’t work for me, for Blackberry, or for Spring Step. That's why we stuck so close. My co-workers thought nothing about some fencing on the side. They took some special discounts. They cut corners. I could go on for a while. Blackberry, Spring Step, and I set ourselves apart since, in our minds, hating somepony that hates you is just letting them win. You fight fire with water, darkness with light, hunger with food, cold with heat, blah-blah-blah… What can I say? My parents raised this big, ugly bluish-brown goon to have the heart of a little filly. But my co-workers, praise Celestia, rationalized their lives by boiling this pot of hate inside them for everypony else in this city. Their eyes narrowed into slits as, say, Rarity or the other ponies of privilege walked by. My goodness, if Rarity had just stepped a few more feet into the site… She might have had a knife in her flank and her dress ripped right off. I could never be like that. I had to have a greater purpose. I had to believe in something. I felt destined to believe in something. I just didn’t know what that something was. The singing groups grew like apples on a tree after that first stallion had a go. Our construction site held out for a while, day after day going by. I knew I would sing sooner or later. My coworkers— expect for my two friends, of course— would rather use a guitar to bash a pony upside the head in a robbery than play the blasted instrument. When did I start singing? I can’t recall exactly, but I guess around five weeks had passed since that first stallion on 43rd Street. I had somewhat of a low mood that particular day as I went to work. Yet I soon had this one tune stuck in my head and it never got out. I’m sure I picked it up from Pinkie Pie and her flamboyant showponyship right in front of Sugarcube Corner. She picked up Ponyville’s new musical atmosphere almost immediately, and she had encouraged any colt— regardless of talent— to belt out tunes outside the bakery. Pinkie grew so excited that she produced this worn out piano from goodness knows where and set it out for public use. She often sang whenever she met a clot with the same kind of happy, bouncy musical style. That one day— the day that I finally started singing— I spent my lunch break sitting over right across from Pinkie. I felt like I needed all the cheering up that day that I could get. She hopped around and cheered as some random colt plinked her piano. I couldn't help feeling that she was singing for me, although it made no sense. I didn't really see her as potential... marefriend really. She looked so sunny, so bubbly, and so perfect— more like an unapproachable goddess than an earth pony. But as that old song lyrics goes, 'every fire comes from a spark'. Pinkie's song stuck around on my mind the rest of that day. Time dragged on, and I sang very quietly to myself. Soon, we only had a few hours to go on that late shift. But— holy smokes— the clock couldn’t seem to move any slower. The foreman called a break. Of course, he knew as well as anypony that we needed a rest or else we wouldn’t do anything else productive all night. I thought he was a great stallion, back then. Later, I found out that wasn’t necessarily so. Anyways, I kept hearing Pinkie’s voice in my head that day. It kept me from feeling pretty alone since Spring Step didn’t come in that day. I learned much later that everypony in his family had freaked out— thinking an unusual rash of his meant the ‘cutie pox’ was back in town. I didn't really want to break, to be honest, I just wanted to be home and finish that day off for good. The other workers played cards. They complained about the weather, their aching backs, their sore hooves, and anything else that you could possibly complain about while keeping a straight face. Most of them bragged about their sexual escapades. Given that my score on that front was a big fat goose egg, I had no desire to take part of any of that. I stood off at the corner, like always. Blackberry felt sorry and moved over next to me, like always once again. What can I say? That’s what friends are for, and I really only had two friends in the whole world for Pete’s sake. Blackberry tapped his hooves upon that curb. I found myself swinging my own hooves to the same beat. He had Pinkie’s song in his mind as well. Before I could say ‘cupcakes’, I had jumped up right alongside the lamppost. The light bathed me so intensely that I almost went into shock. I opened my mouth, and it just all burst out. Blackberry bounced up right alongside. Our eyes didn’t even meet, but he was swinging and I was jumping. I guess you could say it was all just instinct. Those hardened stallions out there? They just seemed to beam. I suppose it was quite a sight. I just knew that we were singing like birds. And I didn’t have a care in the world anymore. A few days went by after that fateful day. I guess our own little lonely lamppost was due for its own group. Just like every other one this side of Ponyville, we didn’t organize anything. We didn’t plan. We didn’t even think about songs. We just stepped right up when the twilight felt right. Day after day went by. I wish I could say that the Three Lovers meant something or did something profound. I can’t even say that we got better. But, hey, practice burned spare time even if it didn’t make perfect. One fateful day— a full week on after the group got together— has been burned right into my memory. I could tell you anything— what I had for breakfast that day, how many ponies I said ‘hello’ too, how many beams I put into place, how many bites I took from my sandwich, and so on. Five minutes on the dot after lunchtime, I got a call from the assistant foreman. He says the big stallion wanted to see me. Naturally, I felt rather… nervous. A more honest word would be ‘petrified’. He perched over that enormous sandy brown desk of his. He had his hooves folded. That thick brow of his had transmogrified into something else. He opened his mouth and said ‘hello’ and, at that exact moment, I knew my goose had cooked. He went on and on about how I had been a great member of the team, how nopony would say a word against me, how the economic times kept changing, how he had to think about what’s best for the whole group, et cetera. It all finished too blasted fast. One friendly nudge later, I found myself leaning on that same lamppost. That ten foot distance from the construction site used to mean nothing. Then, it meant everything. I might as well have stepped off a cliff. Blackberry tried to cheer me up best he could. Bless his heart. Spring Step did his best as well. He said his mother would bake me a nice pie. I forced out a smile. I told myself it would all be alright. I told them. At least they bought it. Things sort of went off on a detour after that. I had no idea what would happen. I still don’t quite understand it, right now. I have to say, despite everything, that even if I never saw the rest of the Four Stairsteps again— I would forever be grateful. When Ruby Raindrops tripped a little bit over my back left hoof, he found me a broken stallion with not a bit to his name. I had crumbled onto the street with my head in my hooves. I couldn’t even bear to sing the pain away. Just a low whistle… Then, I gazed up into those young eyes. I saw a matching smile. He rested his orangish-red mane on the post. He opened his mouth. I can’t put into words what I heard. As I kept whistling, he kept on singing. I couldn’t believe my ears. I don’t remember— to be honest— whatever pleasantries we exchanged when we finished. I’ll never forget for as long as I live the first words out of his mouth after that foul first heard my whistling. “Ooooh… Our love's… gonna be written down… in history-yyyyyyyy… A-Just… like… Romeo and Juliet…” Romeo and Juliet (Ruby's Dream)Ruby’s Story – Part I I wish there was something I could say besides ‘It started with a filly’. Oh, Praise Celestia, the cliché is so bad that I almost feel ill just thinking it. Still, that doesn’t keep it from being the honest truth. I could spend hours describing her. I have, actually. It doesn’t matter. My story began with me right where I always was. I stood there right on the steps in front of my house. I skidded down onto the warm pavement just like every other morning. I shifted over to see that big brick building off to the side. I gazed up at the open window. She leaned out. My jaw dropped. It all happened like clockwork every single day. That soft, supple white coat looked as cushy as a pillow and as warm as a campfire. That elegant, beautiful blue mane flowed down her sides. It moved left and right with a delicate swoosh. Every inch sparkled in the summer sun. She leaned out a bit more, and I instantly felt jealous of the windowsill. I thought that every last touch of that flowing mane must feel like a thousand tiny kisses. I fantasized about how wonderful things could be if only I could spend just a moment with my hooves around her. She opened her mouth and greeted the ponies below her with that sunny, sing-song voice. She smiled and waved. I felt totally invisible. But I didn’t care that she faced the other way. All I cared about was getting that beautiful face— the prettiest, softest, and most elegant face of all of Equestria— next to mine in a chapel someday. I looked down at the rest of the street. Birds chirped. Ponies walked down from one side of the street to the other. Foals played with their toys. Dogs jumped up to fetch. I trotted over to her window, and I leaned back on the white picket fence. I started clicking my hooves upon the curb. The clopping beat became infectious. The foals started to clap. The horse delivering the mail swung around a bit to the tune. I whistled. I glanced upwards one more time, and I breathed in her beauty. I whispered her name to myself. “Sweetie Belle…” I raised my voice and said it again. She kept leaning out of her window, oblivious to my every move below her like always, and she flashed that sweet smile that made my insides melt. I then hurled myself up against the wall as if I could fly up to her. I bounced back down on the ground, and then I flipped over. I clapped my hooves together, and I sang. “Oooooh…” I began, and the foals danced in the street in front of me, “I'm findin' a job tomorrow mornin'…” I jumped on top of a passing apple cart as Big Mac glanced at me. “I got a little somethin' that I wanna do…” I bounced onto Big Mac’s back. “I'm gonna buy!” “Gonna buy!” the mailpony sang over. “A-somethin' I could… ride in… Then, I’ll a-take my girl, datin' at the drive-in…” I hopped atop the mailbox and kicked in tune. “Oooooh! Our love! It’s gonna BE written down in HISTORYYYYYYYYYY—” I grabbed the string of a nearby kite and fluttered in the air. “Just! Like! Romeo and… Juliet…” The ponies at the other end of the street let out some ‘Oooohs’. I let go and plopped on top of a souvenir pushcart. “I'm gonna buy her pretty presents… Just like the ones in the catalog…” The salespony gave me a smile. “I’m gonna show…” “Gonna show!” yelled the salespony. “How much I love her…” I bounced back on the curb. “I’ll let her know… one way or the other…” I threw myself down on the front lawn and smelled the nearby flowers as I sang “Our love's gonna be written down in history!” I picked a rose and then flew myself back upright. “A-just… like Romeo and… Juliet…” I kept singing as I walked over to the window where Sweetie Belle looked out, still oblivious. “Ruby!” yelled a mysterious voice. “Together…” I said, and I put my hoof on my frantically beating heart. I stepped forwards. “Just like…” “RUBY!” Cheerilee hollered. I felt a soft nudge on my body. Everything went black. In the next moment, I found myself back in class with my head on my desk and a huge puddle of drool on my papers. I stared at the chalkboard and made as if I had paid attention the whole time. My hooves clinked nervously. “Is something the matter?” Cheerilee asked. I shifted my head to the left and realized that she was standing just a few inches besides me. “Oh, it’s… fine…” I stammered. I brought my eyes back to my paper, which had all kinds of monsters and dragons doodled on it. “I was… resting my... nose…” “Your nose?” my teacher asked. I nodded, and then I heard some snickers from over by my right. Diamond Tiara looked ready to throw something at me. Cheerilee spotted that, and she sped over. I picked up my paper and I turned it around. I grabbed my pencil and tried my best to focus on whatever Cheerilee scribbled onto the board. I glanced a bit to the side, and I spotted Sweetie Belle focused on a set of difficult calculations. I gazed at how her mane fluttered across the sides of her chair for a little bit. “Ruby Raindrops, is everything okay?” my teacher asked me again. I cringed at the full name drop, hoping that I wouldn’t be in big trouble after class for another blasted day. She accepted my nodding, though, and she went on to finish the problem. I shot a glance out the window. I knew that— after class when every last one of my chores were done— I’d need a good, long, calming walk down Vine Street. That would cheer me up for sure. I thought I had good odds. I might spot another traveler’s group that I hadn’t heard before. I then looked back at the blackboard, and I jotted down my notes. Dishes (Patter's Escape)Patter's Story – Part I One of the greatest and most important moments of my life started with me washing dishes. That's right. I don't recall what exactly went through my mind as I splashed from pan to pan. Probably hating myself, as usual... That sounds close enough. So, I brought this one big glass bowl down with a frustrated clink onto the pile of washcloths. I didn't want to break it, mind you. I wouldn't dream of that-- especially given that my face had barely recovered from seeing sweet Mrs. Cake go into her fabled 'death stare' just an hour ago from that chipped plate. I didn't want the glass bowl to enjoy my washing it any more than I did, though. That fateful day was-- I don't know-- maybe a few months ago. I guess? Oh, Praise Luna, don't expect me to remember dates or addresses or all that jazz without a few extra apple ciders or something else in me. I picked up the washcloths and the attacked the stupid glass thing. Pinkie Pie banged away at her piano somewhere out a few feet outside of the kitchen walls. As much as I loved it at first, I have to say that it was pretty difficult to work when I couldn't even hear myself think half the time. I leaned down and stared at my reflection in the now spotless-- to be honest, 'relatively less spotty' would be better-- bowl. I snorted. Some greenish blob appeared behind the reflection as I stared. "Oh, for CRYING OUT LOUD TOMMY!" I yelled. I paused, and I sighed for a second. Then, I spun around. My nephew bounced up and down with an insanity that would put Pinkie to shame. "Patter!" Tommy hollered. And he did another bounce. "Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter!" I grabbed his sides and then jiggled him a bit. His coarse, dark green mane fluttered about my hooves, and then I swatted it away. "Look, seriously," I said, "Breathe. For once." He stopped, and then he threw his head down. He sucked in air. I wondered how long it was since that sweetie pie had a vegetable as well as if he had the sugar piped right down his throat. "Listen to me," he called out, and he gazed up at my face, "I've got big news." I swung my hooves around over his head. Don't ask me why; I just felt like lording my superior bus-boy position over his inferior errand-boy position. "Big, big news." I couldn't really think of what to say. "Big." "Yeah, fine," I groused. Somewhere behind me, Pinkie smashed down upon the piano with a triumphant 'clang'. "Lynne is coming, and he's going to see you," Tommy said, and he broke into his sweet young colt face without even thinking. He clearly thought that this would be earth-shattering news to me. "Who... is that... again?" I asked. I glanced back at the pile of dishes behind me. My heart flip-flopped between wanting to jump back and try to speed through them as soon as possible on the one hoof... or finding any excuse-- no matter how filmsy-- to get away from them on the other hoof. "You know," Tommy replied, and he nudged me with his right hoof, "That... that... one stallion. From the 'Three Lovers'. He's going to try and form a sort of 'supergroup'." The colt looked so blasted satisfied as he said that last word. He leaned back, and the window's light just seemed to dance all over his bright green skin. "How super-fantastic and super-smart of him," I muttered. "Hey, now," the colt said, and he put on a somewhat smarmy tone to his voice, "You know him. He's the one from that little fight you went through last week." My nephew tapped me on the shoulder-- a little harder this time. "Plus that little expedition that Twilight went through the week before that." "Yeah," I responded. The image of a gigantic builder pony with a chest that took a punch like a steel beam flashed through my mind. I flashed back to that same stallion reaching down a calloused hoof to pick me back up-- he had even brushed the blood off of my shoulder with the tenderness of a parent too. "Yeah, Lynne..." My nephew smiled. "Class act..." I suddenly also remembered seeing that same stallion walking almost hoof in hoof with Twilight. I recalled how Lynne described singing group after singing group down the side streets and how he talked with her about almost literally everything. From the price of apples to the new mayor of Hoofington, they had went on and on. Those two had minds like whole libraries. Tommy went back to bouncing. He then began, "He's the one with the hots for Pink--" "Look! Just..." I said, searching for words. I heard somepony walking over, and I knew they'd be sure to verbally or maybe even physically whack me around for slacking off. "Lynne's outside right now!" Tommy hollered. "Oh, that's..." I began, but I suddenly felt a presence in the doorway to my right. I froze. My nephew did too. I heard nothing but a grunt. But I knew that grunt. I held up my hands, and then I turned around slowly. I made a nervous smile. My eyes traced up that bright golden body and locked at the top of that silly orange and white hat. I couldn't bear to look him in his condesdening little eyes. "Enjoying yourself?" Mr. Cake mouthed. He stepped a little bit forward into the kitchen side room. He nudged his hoof over on the side of the counter besides the stack of dirty dish after dirty dish. Tommy remained frozen besides me. He considered Mr. Cake-- in large part because of my griping to him day after day-- to be something elemental to be afraid of like a cockatrice or a ursa minor. As usual for me, I did the absolute worst thing for the situation. I made a gigantic, goofy smile. Could it have been instinct? "Well, sir, I..." I began. "Your services are no longer required," Mr. Cake said. He gave those words as much emotion and as much intellectual force as reading off a shopping list. Now, what I should have said was nothing. What I did say was... still nothing. Rather than say something, I ripped off my stupid Sugarcube Corner hat. I held it in front of me like some kind of parasprite, and then I dropped it right on the floor. I let out a set on angry growls as I leaned over. I smashed the hat with my front hooves. I barely paid attention to what Mr. Cake said. I know that he hollered something about how my probation meant that all employment was 'at will' and how I could be axed at any moment even for no reason at all. I also know that he muttered over and over again about how he hated having to waste his time with "hopeless delinquents" such as yours truly. "Hopeless delinquent" was a nice turn of phrase, and I mentally thanked him. As I charged out of the kitchen, I moaned to myself that it would make a nice band name. I also moaned-- but this time loudly enough for him to hear-- that I'd seriously consider getting a tattoo of that phrase on my left flank next to my cutie mark. Or... I said something to that affect. I'll be honest. I'm sure that I quivered and cried a little back then-- as much as I want to play 'tough colt' now. I can't trust my own memory. I've been told that that's pretty common for those abused as foals. Anyways, I grabbed my stuff out of my locker and trotted towards the door. My nephew was somewhere in toto. I told myself to thank Strawberry Dawn for getting me the job in the first place-- even if it went right to rabbit droppings in just three weeks. I stepped out in front of the mirror besides Sugarcube Corner's side entrance. I spotted Tommy behind me. For whatever reason, I chuckled at how we looked like exact copies of each other. I traced down our manes with my tired eyes, and I couldn't help from seeing a giant stalk of broccoli besides a baby stalk. I then sighed. "So... what exactly did you tell Lynne again," I asked. Tommy smiled and made a little pseudo-salute. "That... you... actually..." the colt build up for emphasis, "WRITE. SONGS." "And... that," I muttered. I couldn't really think clearly. As much as I hated my time in Sugarcube Corner, a job was a job. I would sure as goodness miss my friends there as well. "THAT YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Tommy yelled, and he rubbed along my right side. He clung to me like a foal to a teddy bear. I looked back into the mirror. I licked the edge of my right hoof, and then I fancied up my hair a bit. I walked out to the Ponyville main street. I looked over towards that blasted piano in front of the bakery. A foal that I didn't recognize from anywhere lied down atop the end of it as if it was a bed. He dripped his orangish-red mane down onto the C-keys. He then slid himself down. He chanted something light and happy to my ears. I walked over. I suddenly found two gigantic bluish-brown hooves stretching around my sides. I made a loud 'eep'. Those hooves could probably slice me in two depending on who they were connected to. "Just a moment, just a moment," Lynne muttered as he spun around. He sped past me and then walked up to the keys. He made a deep breath, and then he sat onto the bench. I moved forward over to them unconsiously. "Hi," the foal said. The two of them had happiness radiate from them. The foal's cheeks almosted seemed to pinch themselves. "Hi," I muttered. "Ruby Raindrops meet Pitter Patter," Lynne declared. He knew then that this would be some kind of tremendous moment. He knew that we'd look back at this introduction and crack big smiles while we had girls dancing all around us. For my part, I just stared for a little while. "Hello," I replied. I tried to sound more cordial. I'm sure I failed. "This angel... he sings like a colt!" Lynne yelled. He paused. He then wiggled about with his front hooves. "I mean... you know what I mean." He thrust his hooves upon the keys. "Just..." He tapped out a simple arpeggio. "Feast your eyes and ears on..." "Ahhhhh, aaaaaaah, ahhhhhhhhhh..." Ruby began. He sat up straight upon the piano and cooed out a nonsensical little tone. "Bum, bum, bum... a bum..." Lynne sang as well. I felt more than a little skeptical. At the same time, I knew that their tenor and baritone just melded naturally together. It felt like I tasted chocolate poured on peanut butter in my ears. The two of them went on with this odd little jam session. Little groovy sensations moved up from the bottom of my hooves through my sides. I tapped along to the beat. I smiled. My head bobbed up and down. Finally, Ruby burst out with this loud wail. In one sense, it sounded rather painful, and I glanced around to see if there was any glass breaking. Yet it just... I don't know. That raw, needy tone just crawled down my ears and went straight for my heart. Some ponies develop talent. Some of them just have it drip right out of their hooves. I knew that Ruby had to be the latter. I wasn't sure about Lynne, but I honestly couldn't have cared less at that moment. I took a deep breath. Then, I plotted myself down at the other side of the piano bench. Lynne grinned from ear to ear, and then he smoothly slinked off from the other side. The stallion nodded at me to get started. "Watch... THIS." Juneberry's Place (Lynne's Idea)Lynne’s Story – Part II I picked up Ruby-- he felt as light as a bag of apples-- and thrust him atop my shoulders. The foal let out a nervous cry that quickly turned into a happy cry as I bounced about. He didn't really know what I was doing. I didn't either. I babbled on and on in my diary that day-- and I might as well read it out again now, "When something sweet comes into your life, it gives you that special, warm feeling inside. It lifts your day a little higher. It lets you see everything in a brighter light. I could go on and on with the blasted cliches. That's how you normally feel. But when you've been kicked down to the point that you don't even know how you'll wake up in the morning, things change." When that something sweet came into my life at that moment, I grabbed it tighter and closer than my own shirt. And I didn't let go. I'd never dream of letting it go. Anyways, I sped away from the lamppost down along Vine Street. Goodness knows the hoodlums I passed as I went along dark corner after dark corner. I halted-- almost smacking into a brick wall. Ruby bounced up atop my head. I leaned back and let him slide a little bit down my back. "Uh, sir..." he stammered. I leaned back to see him face to face. I could see from his pained expression that quick thinking and dealing with new situations was far from his strong suit. "Not 'sir', 'Lynne'!" I hollered, and I gently placed him down on the concrete in front of me. I glanced upwards at the magically glowing sign. My eyes traced around the little blank spot that used have a huge icon of an elegant red unicorn-- always reminding me so much of Rarity-- kicked back seductively. I read aloud, "Juneberry's Place." "Sir, uh... Lynne, sir," Ruby muttered, and he touched his front hooves together. He had to instinctively think of me as a father figure... since he didn't scream out for help. "Why... Why did you just coltnap me?" "What?" I spat out, and I giggled a bit. He relaxed pretty quickly as well-- that furrowed brow going back to his sugary innocent face. Oh, goodness, how am I going to get out of this? "This isn't coltnapping... It's just... just..." I struggled to find a euphemism for grabbing a foal against their will and taking them somewhere else. "Just... touring. That's it. Touring." "Sir, I... I don't know you," Ruby replied. He leaned forward and deepened his voice at those last words-- as if the fact that I didn't know him would be news to me. Well, I can tell that you aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer... I rattled words off like an auctioneer. "My name is Lynne Sweet. I'm from 221 East Side Avenue in Ponyville. My birthday is August 22nd. I have one hundred and thirty bits in my bank account. I work-- used to work-- at that construction site on Vine Street. I'm part of the 'Three Lovers' singing group. My favorite color is pink. There." I took a breath. "You know me now. Happy?" "I... I guess," he muttered, and then he bounced off of the concrete slab onto the gravely road. "Look, please, just..." I said, holding my hooves up in the air to make a pretend wall keeping him in place, "Wait a moment." I stepped over and pointed at the tiny entrance right beside us. Smoke poured out of the slightly ajar door. "We're not going in there, are we?" he whined, and his lip quivered while his eyes slightly watered. He seemed to take to me like a parent or an older brother immediately. "Look, you don't have to do anything! Anything at all! I just need to show you to Juneberry, and then we get started on our new singing group," I remarked. The foal's ears perked at the magical word 'singing'. I paused, and then I went on. "Our official, our legit... Our licensed and performing singing group. You know, those... 'inter-age groups' always have the best sound. Those alternating vocal harmonies just sound so 'round' and so 'complete'." I had him hanging on my ever word. "So, I just know you're a natural for our group. It would be such a fantastic partnership. So many gigs, hopefully. So many girls--" "GIRLS!" Ruby screamed. He jumped up and rattled his body upon the edges of my front hooves. "Girls! Girls!" He almost seemed to drool. "So... if I sing, play for real... In a REAL group, finally..." He looked up at me with those precious orange eyes-- eyes that could tame an ursula minor. "Girls will... like me?" He squeaked those last words like a bike horn. I took a gulp. "Yeah, sure..." I replied. Was it a lie? I told myself it wasn't. I thought to myself that if I believed it to be true and I tried my hardest... It would become true. I believed in this colt. And he believed in me. We stepped out into the ugly wall of smoke. Another solid wall of noise and commotion flew into our senses inside Juneberry's club. Ruby immediately grabbed my side again, and I instinctively plopped him back on my back He glanced to our left at the wall of booth after booth-- filled with ponies drinking themselves stupid. He gawked to our right at a set of curtain covered cubicles. The closest one was left wide open. Ruby's eyes widened as he traced up a set of soft, slender legs connected to the body of a frilly pink unicorn-- and the young yellow stallion pressed against her chest. I looked over as well. I eyed the stallion locking lips upon her quivering body and then pulling himself back-- a saliva trail dripping out onto her frizzy red mane. What can I say, I was a stallion and I had hormones. But I didn't gawk for long when I heard Ruby's hooves pitter-pattering upon my head. Hearing the well-overworked unicorn cough violently into her customer's face also helped bring me out of the mood. I took a deep breath, and then I made a left. I trotted down besides the drunks towards the stairs. I paused after I put my hoof upon the first step. That repulsive 'hoof-step' music waded down from the upstairs. Ruby and I scrunched our face at what felt like a skunk emptying himself at us. I took a gulp, and then I forced myself towards the mindless electronic garbling. "WHAT! Oh, seriously, is it going to be, this time," muttered a familiar looking mule at the corridor entrance. He stopped, shrugged at me, and then he flew open the door. Ruby and I walked into the office. I slinked the foal down onto the cold, hard wood. He looked terrified. I felt halfway there. My eyes darted about. They moved across the wall of weapons over to my right. They then danced across the other wall and it's layer of solied cabinet after soiled cabinet filled with... Celestia knows what. Ruby and I coughed at the noxious smoke flying about all around. We looked out at the corner of the room. We heard a couple small snorts and a little petite coughing as well. Somepony clicked the ceiling fan on, and the air in front of us cleared up. Ruby and I stared at the scene.
Incipit (Lynne's Last Day)Lynne’s Story – Part I It all started over at the intersection of 43rd and Vine over in downtown Ponyville. Nopony knows who the first stallion was. Some evening— sometime in a dull, dreary working day just like any other— that stallion walked up to the corner lamppost. He had that wonderful mix of dirt, dust, and sweat that dripped slowly off of his mane. He kicked his hardhat to the ground. Then, he took that fateful step onto the curb, twisted his front hooves around the post, and threw his body straight into the light. He opened up that ugly mug of his— scarred by too many knocks of a steel pole and too many 5am shifts— and something magical happened. He sang. That stallion probably had more guts in his front left hoof than I have in my entire body. He just opened up his heart and poured every last bit of it onto the pavement. Then, some of the bold little colts nearby joined in. I suppose it’s like planting a little seed that will eventually end up giving you a whole forest. New singing groups spread all across Ponyville. That’s when I come in. Or, I should say, where I came in. The day that that first stallion sung at the intersection of 43rd and Vine also just so happened to be the second year anniversary of another momentous day in my life. It's an anniversary that I would rather not talk about too much. I commemorated that morning before work by leaving a pretty set of Roseluck’s flowers at the gravesite. Let’s just say that if my parents had still been around, they would have loved to hear that stallion sing at the 43rd and Vine lamppost. I sure loved seeing it. I worked on the other construction site nearby the one with the fateful stallion. The building companies may have been fierce competitors, but we we’re close enough to wave ‘hi’ and always did. Almost every builder was a ‘traveler’— like myself. You know them. They're that race of pony that live in trailers and shacks away from the regular houses and have used salt licks thrown at them where they walk. You also might have spotted them getting kicked out of hotels or having shopkeepers stare at them to make sure they don't steal anything. Anyways, my friends and I watched that first stallion sing with eyes the size of dinner plates. The three of us— Blackberry, Spring Step, and I— knew that we’d be singing ourselves sooner or later. We stuck together pretty close and stayed aloof from the rest of our co-workers. We always called ourselves ‘The Three Lovers’. I still can’t help chuckling at it. Of course, I guess that it seemed like a pretty sick joke. Blackberry brought a little bedroom experience, at least, thanks to a lonely cleaning mare that looked old enough to be his mother and a whole lot of champagne. I should cut us some slack, though. All of us had been stuck in that horrible black hole between foal and stallion. For Pete’s sake, Spring Step didn’t even have his cutie mark yet. He didn’t worry too much, though, since the site was just a job to him. Blackberry had about the same story. They had parents. They had careers planned out. They had hopes, dreams, longings, deep thoughts… the whole shebang. Not me, however. I worked to live. I had to eat. I had to survive. Still, I never be like the other dirt-poor ponies at the construction site. Those workers— travelers, almost all of them— sucked up every last bit of scorn, every glance, every smirk, every gesture, and everything else that the Ponyville natives dished out. Then, those construction ponies decided that the natives could just stuff it. That negative attitude just wasn’t my style, even though I felt the same stinging prejudice. It couldn’t work for me, for Blackberry, or for Spring Step. That's why we stuck so close. My co-workers thought nothing about some fencing on the side. They took some special discounts. They cut corners. I could go on for a while. Blackberry, Spring Step, and I set ourselves apart since, in our minds, hating somepony that hates you is just letting them win. You fight fire with water, darkness with light, hunger with food, cold with heat, blah-blah-blah… What can I say? My parents raised this big, ugly bluish-brown goon to have the heart of a little filly. But my co-workers, praise Celestia, rationalized their lives by boiling this pot of hate inside them for everypony else in this city. Their eyes narrowed into slits as, say, Rarity or the other ponies of privilege walked by. My goodness, if Rarity had just stepped a few more feet into the site… She might have had a knife in her flank and her dress ripped right off. I could never be like that. I had to have a greater purpose. I had to believe in something. I felt destined to believe in something. I just didn’t know what that something was. The singing groups grew like apples on a tree after that first stallion had a go. Our construction site held out for a while, day after day going by. I knew I would sing sooner or later. My coworkers— expect for my two friends, of course— would rather use a guitar to bash a pony upside the head in a robbery than play the blasted instrument. When did I start singing? I can’t recall exactly, but I guess around five weeks had passed since that first stallion on 43rd Street. I had somewhat of a low mood that particular day as I went to work. Yet I soon had this one tune stuck in my head and it never got out. I’m sure I picked it up from Pinkie Pie and her flamboyant showponyship right in front of Sugarcube Corner. She picked up Ponyville’s new musical atmosphere almost immediately, and she had encouraged any colt— regardless of talent— to belt out tunes outside the bakery. Pinkie grew so excited that she produced this worn out piano from goodness knows where and set it out for public use. She often sang whenever she met a clot with the same kind of happy, bouncy musical style. That one day— the day that I finally started singing— I spent my lunch break sitting over right across from Pinkie. I felt like I needed all the cheering up that day that I could get. She hopped around and cheered as some random colt plinked her piano. I couldn't help feeling that she was singing for me, although it made no sense. I didn't really see her as potential... marefriend really. She looked so sunny, so bubbly, and so perfect— more like an unapproachable goddess than an earth pony. But as that old song lyrics goes, 'every fire comes from a spark'. Pinkie's song stuck around on my mind the rest of that day. Time dragged on, and I sang very quietly to myself. Soon, we only had a few hours to go on that late shift. But— holy smokes— the clock couldn’t seem to move any slower. The foreman called a break. Of course, he knew as well as anypony that we needed a rest or else we wouldn’t do anything else productive all night. I thought he was a great stallion, back then. Later, I found out that wasn’t necessarily so. Anyways, I kept hearing Pinkie’s voice in my head that day. It kept me from feeling pretty alone since Spring Step didn’t come in that day. I learned much later that everypony in his family had freaked out— thinking an unusual rash of his meant the ‘cutie pox’ was back in town. I didn't really want to break, to be honest, I just wanted to be home and finish that day off for good. The other workers played cards. They complained about the weather, their aching backs, their sore hooves, and anything else that you could possibly complain about while keeping a straight face. Most of them bragged about their sexual escapades. Given that my score on that front was a big fat goose egg, I had no desire to take part of any of that. I stood off at the corner, like always. Blackberry felt sorry and moved over next to me, like always once again. What can I say? That’s what friends are for, and I really only had two friends in the whole world for Pete’s sake. Blackberry tapped his hooves upon that curb. I found myself swinging my own hooves to the same beat. He had Pinkie’s song in his mind as well. Before I could say ‘cupcakes’, I had jumped up right alongside the lamppost. The light bathed me so intensely that I almost went into shock. I opened my mouth, and it just all burst out. Blackberry bounced up right alongside. Our eyes didn’t even meet, but he was swinging and I was jumping. I guess you could say it was all just instinct. Those hardened stallions out there? They just seemed to beam. I suppose it was quite a sight. I just knew that we were singing like birds. And I didn’t have a care in the world anymore. A few days went by after that fateful day. I guess our own little lonely lamppost was due for its own group. Just like every other one this side of Ponyville, we didn’t organize anything. We didn’t plan. We didn’t even think about songs. We just stepped right up when the twilight felt right. Day after day went by. I wish I could say that the Three Lovers meant something or did something profound. I can’t even say that we got better. But, hey, practice burned spare time even if it didn’t make perfect. One fateful day— a full week on after the group got together— has been burned right into my memory. I could tell you anything— what I had for breakfast that day, how many ponies I said ‘hello’ too, how many beams I put into place, how many bites I took from my sandwich, and so on. Five minutes on the dot after lunchtime, I got a call from the assistant foreman. He says the big stallion wanted to see me. Naturally, I felt rather… nervous. A more honest word would be ‘petrified’. He perched over that enormous sandy brown desk of his. He had his hooves folded. That thick brow of his had transmogrified into something else. He opened his mouth and said ‘hello’ and, at that exact moment, I knew my goose had cooked. He went on and on about how I had been a great member of the team, how nopony would say a word against me, how the economic times kept changing, how he had to think about what’s best for the whole group, et cetera. It all finished too blasted fast. One friendly nudge later, I found myself leaning on that same lamppost. That ten foot distance from the construction site used to mean nothing. Then, it meant everything. I might as well have stepped off a cliff. Blackberry tried to cheer me up best he could. Bless his heart. Spring Step did his best as well. He said his mother would bake me a nice pie. I forced out a smile. I told myself it would all be alright. I told them. At least they bought it. Things sort of went off on a detour after that. I had no idea what would happen. I still don’t quite understand it, right now. I have to say, despite everything, that even if I never saw the rest of the Four Stairsteps again— I would forever be grateful. When Ruby Raindrops tripped a little bit over my back left hoof, he found me a broken stallion with not a bit to his name. I had crumbled onto the street with my head in my hooves. I couldn’t even bear to sing the pain away. Just a low whistle… Then, I gazed up into those young eyes. I saw a matching smile. He rested his orangish-red mane on the post. He opened his mouth. I can’t put into words what I heard. As I kept whistling, he kept on singing. I couldn’t believe my ears. I don’t remember— to be honest— whatever pleasantries we exchanged when we finished. I’ll never forget for as long as I live the first words out of his mouth after that foul first heard my whistling. “Ooooh… Our love's… gonna be written down… in history-yyyyyyyy… A-Just… like… Romeo and Juliet…”
Romeo and Juliet (Ruby's Dream)Ruby’s Story – Part I I wish there was something I could say besides ‘It started with a filly’. Oh, Praise Celestia, the cliché is so bad that I almost feel ill just thinking it. Still, that doesn’t keep it from being the honest truth. I could spend hours describing her. I have, actually. It doesn’t matter. My story began with me right where I always was. I stood there right on the steps in front of my house. I skidded down onto the warm pavement just like every other morning. I shifted over to see that big brick building off to the side. I gazed up at the open window. She leaned out. My jaw dropped. It all happened like clockwork every single day. That soft, supple white coat looked as cushy as a pillow and as warm as a campfire. That elegant, beautiful blue mane flowed down her sides. It moved left and right with a delicate swoosh. Every inch sparkled in the summer sun. She leaned out a bit more, and I instantly felt jealous of the windowsill. I thought that every last touch of that flowing mane must feel like a thousand tiny kisses. I fantasized about how wonderful things could be if only I could spend just a moment with my hooves around her. She opened her mouth and greeted the ponies below her with that sunny, sing-song voice. She smiled and waved. I felt totally invisible. But I didn’t care that she faced the other way. All I cared about was getting that beautiful face— the prettiest, softest, and most elegant face of all of Equestria— next to mine in a chapel someday. I looked down at the rest of the street. Birds chirped. Ponies walked down from one side of the street to the other. Foals played with their toys. Dogs jumped up to fetch. I trotted over to her window, and I leaned back on the white picket fence. I started clicking my hooves upon the curb. The clopping beat became infectious. The foals started to clap. The horse delivering the mail swung around a bit to the tune. I whistled. I glanced upwards one more time, and I breathed in her beauty. I whispered her name to myself. “Sweetie Belle…” I raised my voice and said it again. She kept leaning out of her window, oblivious to my every move below her like always, and she flashed that sweet smile that made my insides melt. I then hurled myself up against the wall as if I could fly up to her. I bounced back down on the ground, and then I flipped over. I clapped my hooves together, and I sang. “Oooooh…” I began, and the foals danced in the street in front of me, “I'm findin' a job tomorrow mornin'…” I jumped on top of a passing apple cart as Big Mac glanced at me. “I got a little somethin' that I wanna do…” I bounced onto Big Mac’s back. “I'm gonna buy!” “Gonna buy!” the mailpony sang over. “A-somethin' I could… ride in… Then, I’ll a-take my girl, datin' at the drive-in…” I hopped atop the mailbox and kicked in tune. “Oooooh! Our love! It’s gonna BE written down in HISTORYYYYYYYYYY—” I grabbed the string of a nearby kite and fluttered in the air. “Just! Like! Romeo and… Juliet…” The ponies at the other end of the street let out some ‘Oooohs’. I let go and plopped on top of a souvenir pushcart. “I'm gonna buy her pretty presents… Just like the ones in the catalog…” The salespony gave me a smile. “I’m gonna show…” “Gonna show!” yelled the salespony. “How much I love her…” I bounced back on the curb. “I’ll let her know… one way or the other…” I threw myself down on the front lawn and smelled the nearby flowers as I sang “Our love's gonna be written down in history!” I picked a rose and then flew myself back upright. “A-just… like Romeo and… Juliet…” I kept singing as I walked over to the window where Sweetie Belle looked out, still oblivious. “Ruby!” yelled a mysterious voice. “Together…” I said, and I put my hoof on my frantically beating heart. I stepped forwards. “Just like…” “RUBY!” Cheerilee hollered. I felt a soft nudge on my body. Everything went black. In the next moment, I found myself back in class with my head on my desk and a huge puddle of drool on my papers. I stared at the chalkboard and made as if I had paid attention the whole time. My hooves clinked nervously. “Is something the matter?” Cheerilee asked. I shifted my head to the left and realized that she was standing just a few inches besides me. “Oh, it’s… fine…” I stammered. I brought my eyes back to my paper, which had all kinds of monsters and dragons doodled on it. “I was… resting my... nose…” “Your nose?” my teacher asked. I nodded, and then I heard some snickers from over by my right. Diamond Tiara looked ready to throw something at me. Cheerilee spotted that, and she sped over. I picked up my paper and I turned it around. I grabbed my pencil and tried my best to focus on whatever Cheerilee scribbled onto the board. I glanced a bit to the side, and I spotted Sweetie Belle focused on a set of difficult calculations. I gazed at how her mane fluttered across the sides of her chair for a little bit. “Ruby Raindrops, is everything okay?” my teacher asked me again. I cringed at the full name drop, hoping that I wouldn’t be in big trouble after class for another blasted day. She accepted my nodding, though, and she went on to finish the problem. I shot a glance out the window. I knew that— after class when every last one of my chores were done— I’d need a good, long, calming walk down Vine Street. That would cheer me up for sure. I thought I had good odds. I might spot another traveler’s group that I hadn’t heard before. I then looked back at the blackboard, and I jotted down my notes.
Dishes (Patter's Escape)Patter's Story – Part I One of the greatest and most important moments of my life started with me washing dishes. That's right. I don't recall what exactly went through my mind as I splashed from pan to pan. Probably hating myself, as usual... That sounds close enough. So, I brought this one big glass bowl down with a frustrated clink onto the pile of washcloths. I didn't want to break it, mind you. I wouldn't dream of that-- especially given that my face had barely recovered from seeing sweet Mrs. Cake go into her fabled 'death stare' just an hour ago from that chipped plate. I didn't want the glass bowl to enjoy my washing it any more than I did, though. That fateful day was-- I don't know-- maybe a few months ago. I guess? Oh, Praise Luna, don't expect me to remember dates or addresses or all that jazz without a few extra apple ciders or something else in me. I picked up the washcloths and the attacked the stupid glass thing. Pinkie Pie banged away at her piano somewhere out a few feet outside of the kitchen walls. As much as I loved it at first, I have to say that it was pretty difficult to work when I couldn't even hear myself think half the time. I leaned down and stared at my reflection in the now spotless-- to be honest, 'relatively less spotty' would be better-- bowl. I snorted. Some greenish blob appeared behind the reflection as I stared. "Oh, for CRYING OUT LOUD TOMMY!" I yelled. I paused, and I sighed for a second. Then, I spun around. My nephew bounced up and down with an insanity that would put Pinkie to shame. "Patter!" Tommy hollered. And he did another bounce. "Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter, Patter!" I grabbed his sides and then jiggled him a bit. His coarse, dark green mane fluttered about my hooves, and then I swatted it away. "Look, seriously," I said, "Breathe. For once." He stopped, and then he threw his head down. He sucked in air. I wondered how long it was since that sweetie pie had a vegetable as well as if he had the sugar piped right down his throat. "Listen to me," he called out, and he gazed up at my face, "I've got big news." I swung my hooves around over his head. Don't ask me why; I just felt like lording my superior bus-boy position over his inferior errand-boy position. "Big, big news." I couldn't really think of what to say. "Big." "Yeah, fine," I groused. Somewhere behind me, Pinkie smashed down upon the piano with a triumphant 'clang'. "Lynne is coming, and he's going to see you," Tommy said, and he broke into his sweet young colt face without even thinking. He clearly thought that this would be earth-shattering news to me. "Who... is that... again?" I asked. I glanced back at the pile of dishes behind me. My heart flip-flopped between wanting to jump back and try to speed through them as soon as possible on the one hoof... or finding any excuse-- no matter how filmsy-- to get away from them on the other hoof. "You know," Tommy replied, and he nudged me with his right hoof, "That... that... one stallion. From the 'Three Lovers'. He's going to try and form a sort of 'supergroup'." The colt looked so blasted satisfied as he said that last word. He leaned back, and the window's light just seemed to dance all over his bright green skin. "How super-fantastic and super-smart of him," I muttered. "Hey, now," the colt said, and he put on a somewhat smarmy tone to his voice, "You know him. He's the one from that little fight you went through last week." My nephew tapped me on the shoulder-- a little harder this time. "Plus that little expedition that Twilight went through the week before that." "Yeah," I responded. The image of a gigantic builder pony with a chest that took a punch like a steel beam flashed through my mind. I flashed back to that same stallion reaching down a calloused hoof to pick me back up-- he had even brushed the blood off of my shoulder with the tenderness of a parent too. "Yeah, Lynne..." My nephew smiled. "Class act..." I suddenly also remembered seeing that same stallion walking almost hoof in hoof with Twilight. I recalled how Lynne described singing group after singing group down the side streets and how he talked with her about almost literally everything. From the price of apples to the new mayor of Hoofington, they had went on and on. Those two had minds like whole libraries. Tommy went back to bouncing. He then began, "He's the one with the hots for Pink--" "Look! Just..." I said, searching for words. I heard somepony walking over, and I knew they'd be sure to verbally or maybe even physically whack me around for slacking off. "Lynne's outside right now!" Tommy hollered. "Oh, that's..." I began, but I suddenly felt a presence in the doorway to my right. I froze. My nephew did too. I heard nothing but a grunt. But I knew that grunt. I held up my hands, and then I turned around slowly. I made a nervous smile. My eyes traced up that bright golden body and locked at the top of that silly orange and white hat. I couldn't bear to look him in his condesdening little eyes. "Enjoying yourself?" Mr. Cake mouthed. He stepped a little bit forward into the kitchen side room. He nudged his hoof over on the side of the counter besides the stack of dirty dish after dirty dish. Tommy remained frozen besides me. He considered Mr. Cake-- in large part because of my griping to him day after day-- to be something elemental to be afraid of like a cockatrice or a ursa minor. As usual for me, I did the absolute worst thing for the situation. I made a gigantic, goofy smile. Could it have been instinct? "Well, sir, I..." I began. "Your services are no longer required," Mr. Cake said. He gave those words as much emotion and as much intellectual force as reading off a shopping list. Now, what I should have said was nothing. What I did say was... still nothing. Rather than say something, I ripped off my stupid Sugarcube Corner hat. I held it in front of me like some kind of parasprite, and then I dropped it right on the floor. I let out a set on angry growls as I leaned over. I smashed the hat with my front hooves. I barely paid attention to what Mr. Cake said. I know that he hollered something about how my probation meant that all employment was 'at will' and how I could be axed at any moment even for no reason at all. I also know that he muttered over and over again about how he hated having to waste his time with "hopeless delinquents" such as yours truly. "Hopeless delinquent" was a nice turn of phrase, and I mentally thanked him. As I charged out of the kitchen, I moaned to myself that it would make a nice band name. I also moaned-- but this time loudly enough for him to hear-- that I'd seriously consider getting a tattoo of that phrase on my left flank next to my cutie mark. Or... I said something to that affect. I'll be honest. I'm sure that I quivered and cried a little back then-- as much as I want to play 'tough colt' now. I can't trust my own memory. I've been told that that's pretty common for those abused as foals. Anyways, I grabbed my stuff out of my locker and trotted towards the door. My nephew was somewhere in toto. I told myself to thank Strawberry Dawn for getting me the job in the first place-- even if it went right to rabbit droppings in just three weeks. I stepped out in front of the mirror besides Sugarcube Corner's side entrance. I spotted Tommy behind me. For whatever reason, I chuckled at how we looked like exact copies of each other. I traced down our manes with my tired eyes, and I couldn't help from seeing a giant stalk of broccoli besides a baby stalk. I then sighed. "So... what exactly did you tell Lynne again," I asked. Tommy smiled and made a little pseudo-salute. "That... you... actually..." the colt build up for emphasis, "WRITE. SONGS." "And... that," I muttered. I couldn't really think clearly. As much as I hated my time in Sugarcube Corner, a job was a job. I would sure as goodness miss my friends there as well. "THAT YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Tommy yelled, and he rubbed along my right side. He clung to me like a foal to a teddy bear. I looked back into the mirror. I licked the edge of my right hoof, and then I fancied up my hair a bit. I walked out to the Ponyville main street. I looked over towards that blasted piano in front of the bakery. A foal that I didn't recognize from anywhere lied down atop the end of it as if it was a bed. He dripped his orangish-red mane down onto the C-keys. He then slid himself down. He chanted something light and happy to my ears. I walked over. I suddenly found two gigantic bluish-brown hooves stretching around my sides. I made a loud 'eep'. Those hooves could probably slice me in two depending on who they were connected to. "Just a moment, just a moment," Lynne muttered as he spun around. He sped past me and then walked up to the keys. He made a deep breath, and then he sat onto the bench. I moved forward over to them unconsiously. "Hi," the foal said. The two of them had happiness radiate from them. The foal's cheeks almosted seemed to pinch themselves. "Hi," I muttered. "Ruby Raindrops meet Pitter Patter," Lynne declared. He knew then that this would be some kind of tremendous moment. He knew that we'd look back at this introduction and crack big smiles while we had girls dancing all around us. For my part, I just stared for a little while. "Hello," I replied. I tried to sound more cordial. I'm sure I failed. "This angel... he sings like a colt!" Lynne yelled. He paused. He then wiggled about with his front hooves. "I mean... you know what I mean." He thrust his hooves upon the keys. "Just..." He tapped out a simple arpeggio. "Feast your eyes and ears on..." "Ahhhhh, aaaaaaah, ahhhhhhhhhh..." Ruby began. He sat up straight upon the piano and cooed out a nonsensical little tone. "Bum, bum, bum... a bum..." Lynne sang as well. I felt more than a little skeptical. At the same time, I knew that their tenor and baritone just melded naturally together. It felt like I tasted chocolate poured on peanut butter in my ears. The two of them went on with this odd little jam session. Little groovy sensations moved up from the bottom of my hooves through my sides. I tapped along to the beat. I smiled. My head bobbed up and down. Finally, Ruby burst out with this loud wail. In one sense, it sounded rather painful, and I glanced around to see if there was any glass breaking. Yet it just... I don't know. That raw, needy tone just crawled down my ears and went straight for my heart. Some ponies develop talent. Some of them just have it drip right out of their hooves. I knew that Ruby had to be the latter. I wasn't sure about Lynne, but I honestly couldn't have cared less at that moment. I took a deep breath. Then, I plotted myself down at the other side of the piano bench. Lynne grinned from ear to ear, and then he smoothly slinked off from the other side. The stallion nodded at me to get started. "Watch... THIS."
Juneberry's Place (Lynne's Idea)Lynne’s Story – Part II I picked up Ruby-- he felt as light as a bag of apples-- and thrust him atop my shoulders. The foal let out a nervous cry that quickly turned into a happy cry as I bounced about. He didn't really know what I was doing. I didn't either. I babbled on and on in my diary that day-- and I might as well read it out again now, "When something sweet comes into your life, it gives you that special, warm feeling inside. It lifts your day a little higher. It lets you see everything in a brighter light. I could go on and on with the blasted cliches. That's how you normally feel. But when you've been kicked down to the point that you don't even know how you'll wake up in the morning, things change." When that something sweet came into my life at that moment, I grabbed it tighter and closer than my own shirt. And I didn't let go. I'd never dream of letting it go. Anyways, I sped away from the lamppost down along Vine Street. Goodness knows the hoodlums I passed as I went along dark corner after dark corner. I halted-- almost smacking into a brick wall. Ruby bounced up atop my head. I leaned back and let him slide a little bit down my back. "Uh, sir..." he stammered. I leaned back to see him face to face. I could see from his pained expression that quick thinking and dealing with new situations was far from his strong suit. "Not 'sir', 'Lynne'!" I hollered, and I gently placed him down on the concrete in front of me. I glanced upwards at the magically glowing sign. My eyes traced around the little blank spot that used have a huge icon of an elegant red unicorn-- always reminding me so much of Rarity-- kicked back seductively. I read aloud, "Juneberry's Place." "Sir, uh... Lynne, sir," Ruby muttered, and he touched his front hooves together. He had to instinctively think of me as a father figure... since he didn't scream out for help. "Why... Why did you just coltnap me?" "What?" I spat out, and I giggled a bit. He relaxed pretty quickly as well-- that furrowed brow going back to his sugary innocent face. Oh, goodness, how am I going to get out of this? "This isn't coltnapping... It's just... just..." I struggled to find a euphemism for grabbing a foal against their will and taking them somewhere else. "Just... touring. That's it. Touring." "Sir, I... I don't know you," Ruby replied. He leaned forward and deepened his voice at those last words-- as if the fact that I didn't know him would be news to me. Well, I can tell that you aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer... I rattled words off like an auctioneer. "My name is Lynne Sweet. I'm from 221 East Side Avenue in Ponyville. My birthday is August 22nd. I have one hundred and thirty bits in my bank account. I work-- used to work-- at that construction site on Vine Street. I'm part of the 'Three Lovers' singing group. My favorite color is pink. There." I took a breath. "You know me now. Happy?" "I... I guess," he muttered, and then he bounced off of the concrete slab onto the gravely road. "Look, please, just..." I said, holding my hooves up in the air to make a pretend wall keeping him in place, "Wait a moment." I stepped over and pointed at the tiny entrance right beside us. Smoke poured out of the slightly ajar door. "We're not going in there, are we?" he whined, and his lip quivered while his eyes slightly watered. He seemed to take to me like a parent or an older brother immediately. "Look, you don't have to do anything! Anything at all! I just need to show you to Juneberry, and then we get started on our new singing group," I remarked. The foal's ears perked at the magical word 'singing'. I paused, and then I went on. "Our official, our legit... Our licensed and performing singing group. You know, those... 'inter-age groups' always have the best sound. Those alternating vocal harmonies just sound so 'round' and so 'complete'." I had him hanging on my ever word. "So, I just know you're a natural for our group. It would be such a fantastic partnership. So many gigs, hopefully. So many girls--" "GIRLS!" Ruby screamed. He jumped up and rattled his body upon the edges of my front hooves. "Girls! Girls!" He almost seemed to drool. "So... if I sing, play for real... In a REAL group, finally..." He looked up at me with those precious orange eyes-- eyes that could tame an ursula minor. "Girls will... like me?" He squeaked those last words like a bike horn. I took a gulp. "Yeah, sure..." I replied. Was it a lie? I told myself it wasn't. I thought to myself that if I believed it to be true and I tried my hardest... It would become true. I believed in this colt. And he believed in me. We stepped out into the ugly wall of smoke. Another solid wall of noise and commotion flew into our senses inside Juneberry's club. Ruby immediately grabbed my side again, and I instinctively plopped him back on my back He glanced to our left at the wall of booth after booth-- filled with ponies drinking themselves stupid. He gawked to our right at a set of curtain covered cubicles. The closest one was left wide open. Ruby's eyes widened as he traced up a set of soft, slender legs connected to the body of a frilly pink unicorn-- and the young yellow stallion pressed against her chest. I looked over as well. I eyed the stallion locking lips upon her quivering body and then pulling himself back-- a saliva trail dripping out onto her frizzy red mane. What can I say, I was a stallion and I had hormones. But I didn't gawk for long when I heard Ruby's hooves pitter-pattering upon my head. Hearing the well-overworked unicorn cough violently into her customer's face also helped bring me out of the mood. I took a deep breath, and then I made a left. I trotted down besides the drunks towards the stairs. I paused after I put my hoof upon the first step. That repulsive 'hoof-step' music waded down from the upstairs. Ruby and I scrunched our face at what felt like a skunk emptying himself at us. I took a gulp, and then I forced myself towards the mindless electronic garbling. "WHAT! Oh, seriously, is it going to be, this time," muttered a familiar looking mule at the corridor entrance. He stopped, shrugged at me, and then he flew open the door. Ruby and I walked into the office. I slinked the foal down onto the cold, hard wood. He looked terrified. I felt halfway there. My eyes darted about. They moved across the wall of weapons over to my right. They then danced across the other wall and it's layer of solied cabinet after soiled cabinet filled with... Celestia knows what. Ruby and I coughed at the noxious smoke flying about all around. We looked out at the corner of the room. We heard a couple small snorts and a little petite coughing as well. Somepony clicked the ceiling fan on, and the air in front of us cleared up. Ruby and I stared at the scene.
