Another Day in the Dull Life of Ponyvillians
“Well, hello. My name is Pumpkin Cake. I'm here with my brother Pound Cake,” I said exuberantly. My twin brother, Pound Cake, rolled his eyes.
“For the record, I didn't agree to this!” he protested. I pointed a challenging hoof at him.
“Cram it, spoilsport!” I demanded. I pondered his statement for a moment before correcting him: “Well, this technically was your idea.”
“It was my idea to go to the Everfree Forest, popinjay, yours to keep a journal of it!” Pound yelled. He began to sputter with frustration. “And stop writing down everything I say! Ever since you learned shorthoof, you've been writing things down as people say them, and it's super annoying.”
“I'll write what I want, milquetoast!” I shouted. “And besides, we need to keep an accurate journal!”
“Worst gift ever, a journal,” Pound mumbled.
“I like it!” I disagreed.
“Whatever. And what the... ...is a milk toast?” Pound cussed.
“Pound Cake! Language! I am not writing that!” I scolded.
“See if I care. Anyway, so, so long as you're writing stuff down, write this,” he commanded. “Well, as you may have guessed, life is very dull here in Ponyville. Being the twins of a baker couple doesn't make it as easy to find, well...” he searched for the right word.
“For lack of a better adjective, let's say ‘an adventure’.”
“Lame, but fine,” Pound accepted. “So, my bright... ...had the idea to venture to the Everfree Forest. Yesterday was our fifteenth birthday, by the way, and Pumpkin here got a journal from mom, so she's gonna write in it to ‘document’ our adventures.”
“Ooh! What’cha do-o-o-in’?” a pink mare asked as she burst from the door.
Pinkie Pie is around 37, with tired eyes and a poofy hot pink mane. She used to skip a lot, and jump instead of walk, but she developed knee problems in her left hind leg, and can’t really walk right anymore. She is still very, and enviably, energetic. She is our parents best baker.
“You said that out loud, you know,” Pinkie informed.
“Pinkie, please leave,” groaned Pound
“I fed you, changed you, bathed you, and dumped flour on myself to stop you two from crying in this room, I think I have free passage to enter as I please,” Pinkie contended. “It used to be my room, and you had the guest room down the hall. By my standards, you're lucky 'Bloom rented out the Cutie Mark Crusaders clubhouse out to me. I've almost made it livable!”
“Well, Orange Leaf says he'll pay me ten bits to help him sell houses with Cymbal Bright. Something about make them nicer,” Pound said and began to excuse himself. Pinkie stopped him with an outstretched hoof.
“Cymbal Bright? That guttersnipe?” Pinkie asked. “I don't like him.”
“The amount of people you don't like increases cyclically,” I teased.
“Well, with the whole Rarity incident last year...” she began. Pound interrupted.
“Yeah, what happened then?” he asked. She looked nervous and raised an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to talk, but I answered for her.
“None of your business is what happened, that's Pinkie's private life!” I yelled. Even Pinkie looked surprised
“Jeez...” she mumbled.
“Where all these weird insults coming from?” Pound asked. Pinkie pointed back toward the kitchen.
“Pumpkin Cake left her "Book of Inherent Insults" on the kitchen counter. Some are kind of inappropriate, but what the hay,” she explained.
“Hey! Put it back!” I complained.
“Well, Ms. Cake asked me to go up the prices on the cupcakes by three bits after my break, so...” Pinkie backed out the door.
“That's kind of miserly, isn't it?” I asked.
“I just do what I'm told. Good luck with the Everfree! Say hi to Zecora for me!”
“How did you--”I began. But Pinkie Pie was already out the door.
“You know that you're still talking out loud,” informed Pound.
We met Cymbal Bright outside of Sugarcube Corner.
“Well, Cym, I'm here. Where's Ange?” asked pound as he galloped up. Cymbal Bright shrugged.
“What is she writing?” he asked and pointed to my journal.
Cymbal Bright is a earth pony stallion, heavily built, with a twitch in the left eye. He has a warm gray coat, with a wood-colored mane, possibly mahogany. Slight Southern drawl. Cutie mark a screwdriver.
“Journal, in shorthoof. Cym? Ange? Where did these names come from?” I looked up from my writing to elucidate.
“Cymbal Bright, Orange Leaf, I'm Pound Cake,” Pound described. “Get it?”
“And what would I be? Pumkin Cake?” I asked. Orange Leaf walked up behind Cym.
“Actually, it's Kin,” he corrected. “Explaining nicknames to the young'un?”
Orange Leaf is an almost spindly Pegasus, but with surprisingly enhanced physical abilities. He sports a light orange coat, similar to my own, with a forest green mane. He has a cutie mark of a hammer and saw blade.
“I'm two minutes older than him!” I protested.
“You're both ‘young'uns’, but we were referring to one in particular, so the singular would be young'un,” he explained. “Jeez, twins are really damn particular these days.”
“What other twins do you know?” challenged Cymbal Bright. He had Ange stumped.
“Well, um...” he stammered. “You know, that… one… pair…”
“What kind of work did you want?” interrupted Pound. Glad to be out of the awkward situation, Ange answered.
“Well, mainly, Fluttershy's selling her cottage to open up an animal shelter in the city, Rainbow Dash and Applejack built that house over near Seo Maples, and they plan on selling it on behalf of Light Eye's Ponyville Reality,” he enlightened. “Not sure if that really works that way, But Light's cool with it, so who knows. So long as he gets a quarter ‘f th’ rent.”
“Light Eye's a cool guy,” agreed Pound
“Yeah. So, we'll be-a fixin' then up,” Ange finished.
Both don a Columbia blue and white vertically striped uniform, with accommodating conductor-style hat, both with a patch that reads "Light Eye's Ponyville Realty". Each a bit of a mouth-breather...
“Girlie, I can read shorthoof,” Cym threatened.
“Check this out!” Pound yelled out and waved a book in the air. “This Fluttershy chick had a lot of books. This book's about expanding your vocabulary!”
“What's an interesting word in there, then?” I challenged, attempting to shut him up.
“Soo-duh-PIG-ruh-fee. Psuedepigraphy. Psuedepigraphy means... The false ascription of a piece of writing to an author?” he read. “What the... ...does that mean?”
“Basically, you know that false means not true, so a false ascription would be an ascription that's not true. An ascription is something somepony wrote. So, basically, giving somepony credit for writing something somepony else wrote,” Cym stated and rolled his hooves in the air. “That's a pseudo-pig-graphy.”
“Not a sway-duh-pig-ruh-fee, a soo-duh-pig-ruh-fee,” Pound corrected and went back to reading.
“That is an example of a... sol-uh-siz-um,” Cym read over Pound’s shoulder. “A solecism is a nonstandard or ungrammatical usage.”
“I get this one, it's when someone is grammatically incorrect!” Pound thought. “So, for instance, if somepony were to say: What about they clothes? They was unflammable!, or something, that would be a solecism.”
“I don't see anything wrong with that sentence, they was unflammable,” grunted Ange as he flew a box out the door.
“Well, it would be "they were", and "unflammable" isn't a word, that would be not flammable,” I halfheartedly explained.
“A fifteen year old blank flank was smarter that you without a book,” teased Cym.
“Shut up!” Ange and Pound yelled in unison.
“You know, Scootaloo didn't get her cutie mark until she was sixteen!” I reminded. Cym rolled his eyes.
“If it weren't for the fact I was there, I wouldn't believe a word that mare said,” he sighed.
“A psuedologist is somepony who practices the art of lying,” recited Pound.
“Thank you, brother dearest, now get to work,” I sang. Pound Cake slammed the book closed.
“Well, we were talking about Scootaloo, weren't we? Besides, if you weren't using magic to squiggle squaggle your quill over there, you wouldn't be working!” he argued. Suddenly, he gripped the book closer. “And I'm keeping the book, I brought my saddlebag!” I shot a questioning glance. Cym shrugged.
“Well, Fluttershy ‘oh, no, um’ insisted we root through and take what we want of what she left,” he remembered, imitating the timid mare’s voice on the “oh, no, um”.
“Hey, what's this?” I whisper-asked and pulled a book out of the box I was looking thru.
“Hey, I've got one for you, 'Kin. Demiurgic. It dates back to some old philosophic geezer said it was basically the artificer of the world, artificer meaning skillfully clever, which evolved into the recondite word of demiurgic used nowadays, meaning really creative,” Pound praised. “All hatred aside, I think this fits you.”
“That's really sweet! But stop gongoozling around and look at this!” I demanded. He rolled his eyes.
“Gongoozle isn't a word!” Ange argued.
“A gongoozler is someone who stares at things,” corrected Cym.
“Whatever. What did you find?” asked Pound. I blew the dust off the book and read the title.
“The cover reads "Horridum Libro ex de Nocte", but I don't trust the word ‘Horridum’,” I reported.
“I know what it means!” a voice came from behind.
A tall, fit Pegasus stood silhouetted in the doorway. Her dark orange coat and magenta mane and eye combination made her have the coloring of a grapefruit only cut open in certain places. She is at the young age of 27. A cutie mark of two scooter wheels sported her ability as a stunt pony. This, unlike most things that came out of her mouth, was true, she was a stunt double for many celebrities in movies, and was very talented at building and repairing things, due to her excessive lying problem. She said it was a condition, something called mythomania, but knowing the amount of lies coming out of that pony's mouth, I have no idea if it's true.
Scootaloo kicked a boombox she had brought along as it began to play a song.
“I see you finally decided to arrive, Scootie,” Ange groaned.
“And you brought tunes. Sweet!” cheered Pound.
“I know the lead singer,” Scootaloo lied.
“Sure,” I whispered, and reverted to a normal speaking voice. “So, um, if you know what it means, what does it mean?”
“Well.. Um, you see, that's Old Pony language, so... um, I know horridum would have to mean "horridous" or "terrifying". For the rest, you'd need a translator,” she nodded.
“See if it has anything on the Everfree!” encouraged Pound.
“Hmm... Everfree, Everfree, hurr... The Everfree Forest, Semper Liberum: Saltus Mirarier, Praedulcis Manentem. The source of all life, omnium vita fons. All will grow, avoid dangers which lurk in shadows. Umbra Bestia expectat, puer,” I read.
“Umbra Bestia. Where have I heard Umbra Bestia before?” Cym mumbled.
“Mors crescit esuriret, qui habet venabuntur, umbra esuriret,” Pound read.
“You guys are in full quazi mode right now,” another voice groaned.
“Sweetie Belle!” we all called in unison. She waved.
Sweetie Belle was a tall, skinny pony, with a white coat, and a mane that was obviously once pink, but was died a periwinkle of sorts. Her cutie mark was three quarter notes.
“Do you know anypony who knows Old Pony language?” asked Scootaloo. Sweetie thought about this.
“Latin? Yeah, um, check that musty librarian. Twilight, was it?” she recommended.
“When you get back from the Everfree, tell me all about it, ‘kay?” Scootaloo insisted.
“Before you kids got distracted by books, y'all worked a good hour. You’re free to go,” Ange noticed.
“An hour? Wow!” Sweetie said, impressed.
Scootaloo's CD began to skip, making her frustrated, so she slapped it with her wing, causing it to skip to the next song.
Nearing the end of the day, I visited Twilight with Pound to see what was up.
“Hello? Is anypony home?” An owl flew down and landed on my horn, making me scream.
“Owlowiscious! Stand down! Back! Please don't do that!” a lavender unicorn limped in, shouting. She shooed the owl away.
Twilight Sparkle is an older mare, 41, and a very talented unicorn. She owns the local library, and rearranges it constantly, much to the annoyance of the more frequent visitors, because they never know where anything is. She walks with a limp, and has an eyepatch from a dragon-taming accident three years ago. An old friend of hers turned evil, I recall.
“Pumpkin, you should've seen the look on your face!” Pound laughed. I slugged him in the arm.
“Stuff it, we're here for a reason!” I shouted and turned to Twilight. “Um, Ms. Sparkle, is it? We found this while helping Orange Leaf and Cymbal Bright clean out Fluttershy's place. We were wondering if you could help us read this?” Much to my surprise, Twilight took the book from my hooves with magic and gaped at it.
“The Book of the Night!” she whispered. “Fabula de malo quid vivit intra, volumen IV. The evil that lives within!”
“So you know it?” I asked sarcastically. The sarcasm had no effect.
“Do I know it? This is the missing volume of the Librorum, Quod Sunt Aeterne!” she boasted. “If Fluttershy had this all along without knowing, she does not know what she has brought upon, for those who find it, are prophetarum, prophetae, de omnibus sæcula libertatem!”
“You're scaring me!” Pound raised a suspecting eyebrow.
“I apologize, but look! Look at this!” She pointed to an illustration in the book. “You two, you are the prophets! Prophets of freedom forever! Prophetas libertatis aeternum, as it says in the book! You, both of you, can free the Everfree of its evils!”
“Is it really evil in the first place?” I inquired. She laughed loudly, then looked around, as if being spied on.
“It wasn't always meant to be,” she whispered. “One day, Princess Celestia noticed a large forest in the place where Chancellor Puddinghead settled under Smart Cookie's instruction, a place even Commander Hurricane could not control, and uncovered a book in the archives on such a thing, the Forever Free Forest, being as it was in Latin, it was named Semper Liberum Silva. In direct translation, it was confusing, so she shortened it to Everfree and left it be, dubbing it untamable. Leaving it without finishing the book, leaving it without reading about the Umbra Bestia, the Shadow Beast. She didn't listen to me, of course, even after I warned of Nightmare Moon's return!”
“I see where you're going with this!” I caught on. “The Everfree was tamable, it could be stopped, and settled, if...”
“Somepony were to defeat the Umbra Bestia!” finished Pound.
“But the thing is, somepony already has, but not in the Umbra’s true realm. You see, along the way, Umbra got changed to Ombre, then Sombra. You do remember King Sombra, don't you?” she continued hastily. “Well, Umbra, Ombre, and Sombra mean shadow, but the language that developed Ombre as Sombra was something called Spanish, the official language of the Crystal Empire, for he grew bored of the Everfree and traveled north, to the Crystal Empire. He left all sorts of dangerous creatures to guard his realm of the Everfree, such as Timberwolves, Manticores, Chimeras, and other things. When he never returned, the animals just continued with their job, making it instinct! He left a mark in the volumes of the Librorum, Quod Sunt Aeterne. One book, that Celestia hid away, so none would ever hear! But if you two found it, then, well, you have a gift. A true gift, one worthy of a true hero. Or, two true heroes.”
“You're not saying we have to go up against that... ...thing, are you?” supposed Pound.
“With all my heart!” she nodded.
“I think I'm going to be sick…” I moaned.
As we were leaving, Twilight stopped us.
“Oh, Pumpkin, before you go, let me,” she insisted. She grabbed my journal, and her eyes began to glow as she seemingly enchanted my
jjjjjjjjjhjkkkkkkg------_________
“What are you doing to my journal?”
______^^||~`~
journal.
“There! Should be easier!” Twilight exclaimed.
“It's writing down everything we say. And as we say it. My shorthoof before isn't in shorthoof anymore? What the... ...is up with it?” I cursed. I was genuinely confused
“I enchanted it,” she explained. So my suspicions were correct! “It even edits out curse words, like it seems you like, and it doesn't need to be there. It knows what you're hearing, saying, and what descriptions you give ponies.”
“Sounds neat,” Pound mumbled, in awe.
Author's Note
This is going to be fun. Scootaloo is older, so different, same goes for Pinkie, as far as my continuum goes, she's 37, so she's different, Pound and Pumkin are babies, so no hints at real personality yet, er, ponynality, technically, accept Pumpkin likes to chew on things, and Pound... well, pounds. Orange Leaf and Cymbal Bright are OCs, but don't expect them much. Oh, watch for thier appearance in Operation Roasted Marshmallow Part 3 in Ponies on Red Dwarf!
