Chapters The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
It was a fair day in ponyville. No one thing was wrong; no one thing out of place. And on such a fair day as this, where was Berry Punch? She was locked away in her house, bent over a stack of papers. Her daughter played outside the building, though no one was with her.
Pinchy was the star of Berry’s life. So much so, that the adult had taken great care to raise her daughter away from the issues that made life less than fun. The first of the papers was a rent notice for the building she lived in. The one below that was the charge she spent on her business, a juice bar called A Pinch and a Punch . Below those were more papers citing additional charges and owed bits.
So heavy were the thoughts of owed money that they crushed a sigh out through her lips. Berry Punch leaned away from the papers and looked out the nearby window towards her daughter, who played happily in the yard. Things were getting tighter and tighter; ponies were growing accustomed to her drinks, and buying them less because of it. True, she had a few regular customers who came in, but nowhere near as many as she needed. Deciding she needed something to clear her mind, she grabbed a well-worn basket and stood from her seat, leaving the papers behind.
Upon exiting the door to the building, she smiled when her daughter approached at a rapid pace. The filly recognized the basket immediately and began into a flurry of words. The same flurry of words that she received every time she left to gather her wares.
“Can I come with you this time? I promise I’ll be careful. I really, really will. Please please pleeeeaaase?” A smile broke across the mare’s face like a flash flood. The days were few and far between when Berry would let her daughter join her for berry picking, but she had been informed by Fluttershy that today was just such a day and the dangerous animals of the Everfree wouldn’t be near the borders.
“Well how could I say no to three pleases?” Berry said with a shrug, her wide smile telling an incredibly different story than her body movements. “I guess you get to come with me this time.”
There was a brief second or two where the filly didn’t immediately respond. This time was taken up by the sheer volume of her expanding smile that threatened to destroy the universe with the amount of ‘huzzah’ it would soon unleash.
Berry Punch acted just in time, saving the entirety of existence. “Well, let’s get going, then!” she said and began to walk toward the Everfree, where her berry plants grew. The act of running excitedly managed to degrade the fun levels in the filly to a reasonable amount.
The trip was moderately not-quite-interesting and they were there in a reasonable period of time, which is to say it wasn’t quite long, but neither was it short. Berry Punch smiled as Pinch stuck close to her. The fear of the Everfree was like that for the vast majority of ponies, but Berry had a large trust in Fluttershy and was sure that, in a non-ominous kind of way, the creatures of the forest wouldn’t be around to hurt them. Just to be careful, she tapped a nearby tree twice and moved on; it would suck if she were to be jinxed in some deus ex machina kinda way and she, in fact, encountered a manticore while she was with her daughter. Don’t ya think?
The bushes of berries came into view and the mother and daughter began to pick from the plants, the daughter doing so quite speedily. Ponies often asked how Berry’s juice packed such a strong, yet agreeable, flavor. This was her secret. The soil of the Everfree was enriched with ancient magics that affected anything that grew in them. Berry, being the wonderful manager and mother she was, would taste a ‘sample’ of the drinks she created, to ensure there were no ill side effects of course. Though sometimes, if she made a new brew and found it extremely tasty, she would drink more of it. To double check, of course.
Before too long, the basket was full, Pinch not having spoken a word the entire time, and they were ready to leave. Berry Punch picked the basket up in her mouth and they began to leave. That is, until the sound of screaming echoed around the area. Pinch took refuge underneath her mother out of fear. Berry started looking around for the source, but no matter which way she looked, the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere else. Confused, Berry began to back out of the forest, Pinch moving with her all the while.
The sound of breaking branches brought her gaze skyward. A blur shot through the treetops in a falling fashion and ended up with its face in the dirt. Of course, his arrival is never going to be explained, so you’d better not be waiting for it.
Mother and daughter were silent and still from shock. Slowly, the form began to move. Berry Punch moved her filly behind her and watched as the being rolled onto its back. A cup-like entity was clutched in its hand and it was wearing quite an ensemble of clothing that spoke boldly in the language of colors. Like how really impressive things can be loud, you know. Like that.
Berry’s hooves shuffled as she found herself caught between checking if the thing was all right and running away in a mad dash for her and her daughters life. Because creatures that clearly have no built-in means of attack are gonna scare the horses with the ability to knock apples from trees. Oooo, look at the scary omnivore who probably weighs less then me.
Regardless of the thought processes in Berry’s mind, that didn’t change the fact that the noise from her movements caught the attention of the creature. It glanced toward her and its eyes widened. It bolted upright and backed away, somehow uninjured after the fall. Berry and Pinch mimicked the maneuver. They stared at each other for a period of time much like that of the trip from Ponyville to the Everfree. Then, at last, the creature spoke up.
“What did you guys slip into my smoothie?”
Berry had no idea what a smoothie was, but decided it would the best thing to ask questions about. She did, he told her, and her business was saved. Celestia came and sent him back home with his memories and everyone lived happily ever after.
Because that makes total sense, I know. No, actually, it was something closer to “holy crap, what are you?!” that shot forth from Berry’s mouth as her suspension of disbelief shattered, much like anyone else’s who is reading this story.
The man was on the offensive and held his hands up in front of him in such a way that he looked like he was used to having swords for arms. He couldn’t have, though. After all, he was only moderately involved in religion; there was no way he could be a zealot. Regardless, he still held the cup by the handle, keeping it pinched between his thumb and forefinger, which is useless information that I’m supplying purely for visual purpose only.
More pause. Then, he spoke in answer. “I’m human...” It was reluctant, clearly. So clear, in fact, that Berry saw clean through it, and that he had actually wanted to say that right off the bat, but held back for some reason. She chewed on that for a minute, then chewed on a berry to help her chew on it. Everything went better with berries.
“I see...” Which wasn’t a lie, because she could actually see. I mean, you probably knew this, but I figured you’d want to know at this point in the story that she isn’t actually blind. Because putting important information halfway through the chapter is a good thing to do, right? Right... moving on.
Berry Punch wasn’t sure if this being was dangerous or not, so she did the only thing a being would do when unsure of someone’s motives: she asked him a question and then trusted his response one hundred percent. “Why are you here?”
Ah, but the man knew the sly trick of expecting him to tell the truth, so he went along with it. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Shock. Awe. Etc. “Well, where do you live?”
“Not. Here,” the human said with a certain certainty that certainly certified his response.
“Oh, oh, mom, mom,” came the call of the child standing behind Berry. When her mother turned to face her, the child continued. “Can we keep him?”
“Uhh...” came the response from the man and the mother. They shared a glance, then looked back to the child. “Well...” Berry glanced at the man in annoyance. He blushed in embarrassment and stopped copying her, which was really for the best. I know I hate it when brats try and pretend to know me. No one knows me. My voice is not that high! Friggin’ kids.
“Please please pleeeaaase?” Pinch added, now knowing her mother’s weakness.
“Well, I guess if he wouldn’t mind it too much...” Berry decided to trust the being, for now, but if he did anything to Pinch, she swore then and there that she would turn him into punch, maybe straighten her mane to add to the effect. Get a whole mentally insane look going. She tossed that idea away; who would believe something that over the top?
“Well, I don’t really have anywhere to go, so if it wouldn’t bother you, then I’d be fine with it.”
I know you think I’m making this all up, now. ‘Where’s the tension that was so prevalent a few paragraphs ago?’ you ask. Well, Pinch is cute, so I don’t have to answer any of your crap. Search your mind, you know this to be true.
“I’m fine with it, Mr....”
“John. John Doe.”
“All right, Mr. Doe,” she said, wondering why he was named after a female deer. That didn’t make any sense. “Is there anything you can do to help carry your own weight? Bring in some money to help support the house?”
“Uhh....” It was the biggest pause of them all. Well, almost. I suppose some bears have bigger paws than that. He looked at his surroundings, then to the device in his hand. “I can make smoothies?”
Author's Note
To quote my editor: "I'm letting so many grammar rules slip by because of this..."
The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
Once upon a time in the wonderful world of equestria…
Everyone died.
No wait, crap, that’s a different story. Give me a second, I forgot my notes.
Alright, let’s see…
MLP X MtG chapter two…
Tinder for the fire titled ‘Swoon (5)’...
Ah here we go, wonder who shoved it into the pocket of my winter coat…
And the bottom half is entirely burnt off. Huh, weird.
Ahem.
“But I love you John!”
“I love you too Berry, but it doesn’t amount to a hill of strawberries in this crazy world of ours.”
The human relaxed as he watched the strange soap opera about a plumber and a gardener. He, after all, didn’t have anything better to do at the moment. Didn’t have any, you know, outstanding debts to the ponies he was mooching off of. Besides, what was he gonna do? He didn’t even have a black and red color scheme, completely useless human.
He heard the soft clippity clop of hooves coming down the stairs then, and his attention shifted to the realization that he didn’t actually think that was the correct noise that hooves would make, especially small hooves. He honestly expected it to be closer to a clicking noise, but then, what did he know about horse feet acoustics? I mean, sometimes if he walked barefoot his foot made a farting noise.
“Oh John, I can’t!”
“Berry, you have to!”
“But I'm so scared.”
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”
Slowly, John Doe’s head turned to look at the screen, having been momentarily distracted by the approaching noise of his landlord. Normally he would have tried to think up an excuse for why he wasn’t doing any of the multitude of things he had promised he would do, but right now his thought process was being attracted to the conundrum involving the fact that the Soap Opera seemed to revolve only around setting up strange one liner references to other films.
He had very little time to truly delve into this extremely important question before the Berry punched him.
Well, knocked him across the back of the head with her hoof. Like, Denozo or Gibbs. “Why the heck are you watching crappy two bit soap operas this early in the morning?”
“Because I certainly can’t watch them later in the afternoon, they’re not on then.” He got hit again for that one. Poor fool musta thought he was the narrator, that’s the only way he coulda gotten away with that one.
“You know very well what I meant.” Berry said through gritted teeth. As in, she had grit IN her teeth.
“Uh…” John replied, his entire level of attention stuck on the fact that she had grit in her teeth. “Why do you look like you ate sand for breakfast?”
“Because I did.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said because I did.”
“You… did…”
“Yes.”
“Riiiighhhtt…” John’s eyes began to analyze the pony, looking for any other signs of insanity. She, however, managed to look quite sane despite the odd debris in her teeth. For now anyway. He reached slowly to the table that stood right next to his seat, as if afraid he would anger her and his blood would join the sand in it’s cozy little alcoves. “You gonna explain that or…” Her answer was a dark glare, and John decided not to pursue that line of questioning.
Carefully he lifted the cup next to his chair and passed it to her, Berry recognized it as one of the plastic cups from her cupboards. Cups that were very much different from the cups that were in her oven mind you, and Berry owned the house so she could tell them apart easily. A dark swirling mix of berries sloshed around inside of it, and Berry reflected deeply and philosophically on the fact that it looked like her berry farm had vomited.
“What’s this?” Berry ~~asked~~ ~~questioned~~ pondered aloud.
“It’s a smooooooothie.” As he drug the word out like a bad dog to be paddled he slid into his seat.
“A smooooooothie?” She said, lifting the container to her lips.
“No you forgot an ‘o’. There’s eight o’s. Smoooooooothie.”
Berry took a drink from the cup and found herself stumbling to a nearby chair where she began to slid into a comfortable position as well. “Oh.” She remarked, her voice bobbing in and out like a pony with a concussion.. “A smoooooooothie.”
The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
“Now the first thing you want to avoid doing, is starting your chapter with dialogue. It’s overly cliche and many people dislike it.”
John Doe heard this and many other tidbits of information floating through the grapevine as he meandered through the streets. It had been several days since his arrival in Ponyville and everyone was beginning to get used to his presence. Well, not really, but I don’t want to write about that. Who reads a Human in Equestria story for watching an alien deal with life in a strange world? That would be silly.
He entered Berry’s building belligerently, building his bravery for the budding battle that Berry would bring. Yet, when she neglected to begin the fight, he figured she foolishly fumbled her mind, forgetting his foreword arrival for a few figurative moments. He considered, shortly, talking to her with alliteration, but that artillery would affect his affluence without a doubt, so he decided against it.
Instead, he slunk slowly and stealthily, no sorry we’re done with that. He ended up at the front quickly and without her knowing. He tapped the counter a little here and a little there in boredom, while watching her go from customer to customer, her mind elsewhere. In response, John, his name more of a denomination than an actual name at this point as if the great cosmic author in the skies had simply grown tired of thinking up a correct name.
He busied himself with preparing the haberdashed smoothie maker that had been provided to him by Berry, his old one being rather… non exemplary in this new work of his. A word which here means the author wanted to sound smart. Berries in hand, not the pony, he put them and some ice chips into the hand crank machine and began his tedious work, keeping an eye on the population of the bar.
And in walked [Pony]. [Pony] was an old friend of John’s, they’d met shortly after the incidents of [Day] and had become quick friends. [Pony] was [Archetype] and while they didn’t get along all the time, John would have no other pony by his side in times of approaching plot climaxes. Indeed [Pony] was absolutely irreplaceable.
They started a discussion and [Pony] eventually revealed [idea]. It seemed risky to John, but he knew that [Pony] wouldn’t be pushing it so hard unless [Pony] knew that [Idea] was worth the risk. So, clearly walking into an approaching story arc, John decided to take it up. Risking it all, putting everything on the line, knowing it’s importance to [Pony] he simply couldn’t let it pass. What kind of friend would he be then?
After [idea] was over John found it odd that it didn’t affect his day to day life and he began to question why [Pony] now only showed up at convenient times, as if part of some cosmic plan. But, luckily, everything went on as normal and noone questioned why everything seemed like a half assed novella stuck together at the corners with horse glue.
Because that would be stupid.
Everyone wants a story.
You know what else everyone wants? A romance story.
So it was quite convenient for the author when John began to have feelings for Berry, despite hating her guts only moments before. he worked harder at work, he brought in more money, and he determined he would help her out of whatever financial rut she had wound herself into.
This is what we in the business call ‘Character redemption’ and is used on either the hero or the villain. In this case John is an anti hero you see, so it’s needed to make him more lovable with the audience. If he weren’t the main character you would also need to watch out for him to die. However, as he is the main character, chances are, he won’t die. Ever.
Even when he does, he doesn’t.
So him and Berry lived happily, and they gave Pinchy the best life she could hope for, and they loved forever and forever and the story got a teen rating and a sex tag and began to describe the ins and outs of all their sexual intercourse and no one batted an eye.
OH SORRY, I THOUGHT THIS WAS EVERY OTHER STORY ON THE FRONT PAGE FOR A MINUTE LET ME RESTART.
We’ll go back to right after he put the ingredients in the blender shall we? Next chapter. I grow tired of this tedious tedium that teeters tantalizingly over my - DANGIT!
Fine, we'll do it now.
So he took out the blender and made a smoothie. Right.
Now the issue here is how to take the story in an unexpected direction right? Esspecially since I just made fun of literally every single direction I could go from here. See though, you don't need to be 100% original, you can just take an established course and add a twist to it. For instance...
In walked a pony, strange and wicked, his horn curved to a red end, malicious and deadly. His face though, his face was tired and thirsty. He sat down at the bar, the rest of the building going completely silent. "Give me something." He said idly.
John, not knowing this new patron, poured some of the new smoothie concoction he had put together into a glass and handed it across the bar. "Something the matter?" He asked as he did so, his time suddenly free'd up as each of the customers left the nearby area.
The thing eyed him, purple swaths of air drifting to the sides of his face and dissipating into the air. "I could kill everyone in this bar right now." He said. John nodded. He knew that whoever this was could certainly kill him anyway, maybe not everyone in the bar, but certainly the frail human behind the bar, especially with that wicked horn. "And none of it matters."
And then I could let the chapter fade into the next one, leaving a cliff hangar, grabbing attention, and artificial boosting the likes and views simply because people only remember the last few sentences and that last part made them like it. Comments of 'Moar' and "Plz continue" fill the page whilst I have absolutely no idea where I intend to take my line of plot.
Then, on the other hand, I could play everything right as rain, close to the chest, slice of life chapter. Which is usually enjoyed simply because of how uncommon they've become. It catches the mind because it's simple and different and so people enjoy it.
Ah, but I'm getting a bit meta aren't I? Better call it quits and hope that [Mod] doesn't ban me.
The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
“Hi, I’m John,” Said John, to no one in particular as he John’d his way across setting A towards the right hand side of the screen. “I’m the main character, and the author doesn’t know anything about anything. So, logically, he’s gonna write me as the single most popular thing in the entire world.”
John paused to John for a minute before he John’d onward. “Now, I don’t mean he’s written me as handsome, or even that he’s written me as popular with other characters, I mean that I’m popular with the story, the story revolves around me, only me, for no reason whatsoever, other than, as you can realize, that I’m the main character.”
Now John reached his destination and met Reoccuring Character A. Hence forth known as the punchiest of berries, Berry Punch. “And I’m Berry Punch. I exist solely to create situations for the character to get thrown into and for dialogue that helps reveal a greater plot. Other than that I do nothing to affect the plot at all, and if I do solve problems, it’s only because John taught me how to do so.”
“Now Berry!” Said John. “Surely that can’t be all that you do?”
“Oh, but it is John. You see, this is what is known as ‘Sue all along.’ And it’s a recurring theme within this authors stories. And he’s quite sick of himself and mad that he writes it, often being unrealistically down on himself about errors such as these. Especially given that his two most popular stories are naught but crowning achievements of this.”
“Oh, I see, so how should the author go about fixing this?”
“What? Why would he fix it? Didn’t you hear? His two most popular stories are the epitomes of this horrible sin and as such he’s far more famous than he ever deserved to be. Why would he want to fix what is far far from broken?”
“Doesn’t he ever desire to be better though? Shouldn’t he try and push past the crutch to achieve something greater?”
“Because people are good judges of quality as is demonstrated by the success of fifty shades of grey and the constant poorly written clop fics that reach the featured box for no other reason than the sex tag?”
“Well surely that’s more of a moral issue, as opposed to simply ‘bad writing’.”
“Indeed it is John. good catch. But, couldn’t it be argued that “Sue all along” isn’t nessasarily bad? Just a tool that the author uses to further his stories?”
“Well I suppose…”
“Excellent, now let’s get back on topic, because this has nothing to do with the original arguement.” Berry paused. “Now, the author has been writing us out of character this entire chapter, and he’s coming to hate himself for it, so let’s get back to the psuedo chapter that involves Sombra. So he can pretend he didn’t rant about his hatred for himself for the past five hundred words.
“Sounds like a plan Berry.”
So Bam, Sombra. Blah blah blah. Sombra has a problem. John decided to help him with it. Things happen, chapters go buy, problem gets solved, everyone’s better off because of it but it doesn’t actually matter in the end because its a stupid story and no one cares.
Look, let’s be honest. What’s the problem gonna be with Sombra? He’s lonely. Human is genre savvy, what’s he gonna do? He’s gonna get Fluttershy. She’s gonna be all ‘Oh I don’t know John, also how do you know my name?” He’ll brush off the name thing, building up to cliche moment of truth where he’s like “You’re all in a show!” and all the ponies go “Nooooooooooo!” And instead he’ll focus on convincing Fluttershy to do it because of reasons that he thought up on the spot with his INCREDIBLE MIND PROCESSES!
Then the ponies find out about everything through a comedic and unlikely string of events that the author makes seem very legit, despite human’s best attempts to keep it hidden, and they all over react and the human has to calm the issue with Speech 100 and then everyone loves one another and it’s a good ending and everyone’s happy and then we go onto the next chapter where the whole Sombra thing is only brought up in passing. This is the part where you realize where the human resolved the situation by himself, realizing the point I made prior actually is true and you gain a little respect and hatred for me at the same time. Or maybe just the latter. But never just the former.
I lie on the ground, try not to cry, cry a lot. Write another chapter, get hatred from a bunch of people that shouldn’t matter but do, etc etc ad infinitum. So that’s where we are now. End of the chapter.
Now I hear you saying. “That was a stupid chapter! Nothing happened!” At which point I would like to say, welcome to the story, you should probably start at the beginning and read through the chapters chronologically. Because ‘Nothing happened’ is pretty par for the course.
I bid you all adieu, and remember! You can usually count the number of people who care about your opinion on one hand, often times even if you’re missing a few fingers. I don’t exclude myself from that either. I’m well aware the only people who ‘care’ about my opinion on clop are the people who share my opinion on clop.
Oh crap wait, I need smoothies somewhere, it’s the running theme of this stupid story, let me… oh okay. So free smoothie party where the ponies and sombra all discuss their issues. Then we have a nice comedic moment with Berry yelling at John about the free smoothies and we all move on with our lives. Now the chapter is over.
The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
Ledger…
No, John.
John’s the main character.
Inventor sighed.
No wait, let me try again.
John. John sighed.
Sometimes, he felt out of place. Not in a ‘don’t belong here’ kind of way. Just, like, when you try and force a puzzle piece into a slot it’s not meant to be. It can be the right shape, close to the right size. It can even look like it goes there. But it always just seems… off. You have to force it, but you aren’t sure if you want to, if in doing so you’ll ruin the puzzle as a whole. Not sure if you want to chance it. If you should even dare.
After all, other people will look at the puzzle most likely. Their experience might be reduced should the piece end up being incorrect. Do you really want to shoulder that responsibility when all’s said and done? Of course, you think it looks good there, it matches what you know of the puzzle. And, in the end, it’s your puzzle. Surely you have the right to do with it as you see fit, regardless of what the critics might say.
Similarly, it was hard to feel like a piece of Ponyville as a human. Of course, this didn’t really come up much, John certainly didn’t feel strongly enough to try and change race, he merely felt off kilter whenever he walked through town. And it seemed, on several occasions, like other people agreed with him. Like, sometimes, the universe felt the need to show him how badly misshapen a piece he was.
He supposed, in the long run, being a pony wouldn’t change much. It wasn’t integral to his role in the world that he be human after all. But, he also supposed, ponies weren’t that way either really. Aside from the fur and sort of… cuteness that was inherent to ponies it really wouldn’t be any different if everyone in Equestria were human.
But, of course, not everyone saw it that way. They didn’t think about the existentiall scenarios of ponies. Rather they focused on the one thing that seemed misplaced and complained about it, about how a human was unnecessary, occasionally telling Berry Punch that a pony would be better suited to the job as her assistant than a human would be, that she should feel bad for giving a job to such a strange creature.
Berry would do her best to ignore these ponies, and John was rather happy to see it. But he knew she thought about it in the calmness when there weren’t orders to fill. When she was alone with her thoughts.
Not that John could blame her for that, especially since he felt the same way. It wasn’t that no one gave him support of course, several ponies did that. But in the end, the compliments weren’t what stuck with him. It was always the handful of words that had filtered into his head over the day that made him feel like crap, no matter how insignificant they were among the others.
This was the biggest thing that kept John up at night. About how maybe he should just… fade away.
But that wasn’t an option. He needed an income. He had to slog through day after day under the light words of those against his position, pretending they didn’t matter as he smiled and handed out smoothies to the regular customers. Hiding behind a fake smile and a smoothie maker, laughing with the jokes and smiling at the stories, but never fully enraptured in any of them, never fully escaping the negative pool of insults that only seemed to build and build with each passing day.
In the end it was what he had to do. And there would never be a happy ending to that problem. It would always linger on his heart. But he had to push through it. Because he had promises to keep. Friends to talk to. Even when everyone said he’d been shoehorned into their little burb he promised himself he wouldn’t leave. Not as long as there was one pony who wanted him there. And he hoped he’d have the strength to keep that promise to himself if the time ever came. No matter how far off it seemed.
“I’m not human for the sake of being human.” He said to himself. “I’m human because that’s who I am. Because it’s part of me. Even if a pony would be no different I am human because that’s who I am.”
And, eventually, it would be these words that guided him to sleep at night, settle his roiling stomach, calm his roaring mind. It would be there again, in the morning. That feeling of piercing unease.
But for right now, while he slept. He didn’t care.
Author's Note
Sorry it got so sad and serious up in here, I apologize.
I've been using this story to get things off my chest, and on one of my other stories, several people ragged on me about 'shoe horning' a human in. There were several remarks that questioned my competency as an author over the story in question, several more that felt the need to insult me in a way that... well... I don't think I could repeat the words on a teen story to be honest. It, quite honestly, has dissuaded me from ever updating it ever again, despite the two hundred some odd people who enjoy it.
Anyway, I'm just... leaking my heart onto the pages I guess... letting all the humiliation out and wishing I were half the man my fictional characters are, so that I might stand tall in the face of adversity.
Which, I think, clearly isn't going to happen.
The Life and Times of a Smoothie Making Alien.
John had always had a relaxed view on the world, and while everyone seemed to seek exclusion of different opinions John had done his best to take a few strolls around the block, as it were. He’d talked with a few very passionate people about a few very important issues, but among them all John had found that the world was focused very outwardly. Which isn’t bad of course, heaven knows the world needs far more people looking outwardly than inside, but in comparison to all the protestors and debaters that John had met he found that the things that mattered most to him were elsewhere.
It was the midst of a building war-like climate that John came to the conclusion that he hated expectations. It wasn’t exactly a sane conclusion to come to, given what else was going on. But he stuck to his resolution none the less. He certainly hated war, but he hated expectations more. As he explored the hatred he came across a story about a man trapped in hell. Or rather, he was trapped in a room with two other people, but that was hell. Because no matter what, he couldn’t break free of their expectations and their searching eyes, and that was what made it hell.
Expectations...
The thought came to him as he was working the drinks at Berry’s juice bar. His smoothies had been catching on with the crowd. It was slow going, sure. But now there was a metaphorical foot in the door. There was also a literal foot in the door. A body followed that foot, which was actually a hoof, but that’s splitting hairs really.
So the owner of the hoof entered the bar, the hairs of the pony herself more or less unsplit all in all. It wasn’t a pony of interest, it wasn’t even a pony he knew. Fact of the matter was that it was just a pony, right there, coming into the bar. As he waited for her order he thought solemnly on the expectations between him and this pony he hadn’t met and he found himself once more very angry at expectations. But this is the sort of anger you hide. After all, one does not simply go around expressing anger at non-tangible nouns.
She would probably have expected a pony behind the bar, unless she’d been told in advance. John would expect her to order, she would expect him to make her order, he would expect her to pay. These were the kinds of harmless expectations that he didn’t mind so much. Unfortunately, they were not the only expectations in the universe. A fact which I suspect you would expect.
However, if she were a friend of the ponies who weren’t all that happy with a human than she might speak really slowly, expecting him to be rather dull in the head. Whether or not this expectation was true was no matter, the mere existence of it would be rather annoying. Then there were the kinds where someone expects you to do something without even so much as common knowledge to back it up. And those were the worst kind. Where, just because you met one time, they expect you to bend over backwards for them.
John realized his grip had tightened on the cup he was holding and he quickly moved his gaze to the pony, smiling and loosening his hold. She looked back and smiled. She ordered, he charged, she paid, he made. And she went on her way with her smoothie, taking a seat in the bar with her smoothie and straw, waiting until she was at the table before she took her first sip. He saw her smile, it made it worth it, sometimes. He hadn’t expected her to smile.
Sometimes it’s not about favors or debts. It’s not about expectations. It’s about when someone does something, completely unexpected, out of the kindness of their hearts. When an act of kindness goes from unexpected to expected a lot of the magic is lost. Of course, it’s nice to receive on christmas, or your birthday. But when you get home from a long day at work at there’s a set of ginger ale on the table…
John grabbed one now, from the alcove beneath the cupboard, a small bow around the neck of it, red ribbon that seemed to smile itself. He took a sip of it and placed it back. It’d been about a month since he’d come to Ponyville. He thought that he might becoming some kind of tourist trap, given the increased traffic to the bar. But maybe, just maybe, ponies really liked smoothies.
He hoped that’s what the ginger ale was for. A job well done. Not a come on, or a romantic interest. He didn’t know how to handle a relationship with a pony. He was not ‘suave’ by any definition of the word. As he stood there he felt a kick to his side, light and powerful all the same. He saw Berry looking at him with a sly, toothy grin.
“Stop day dreaming John. Work to do.”
“Got it Berry.”
“That’s Ms. Punch to you.”
He half heartedly smiled as she walked away. He was relieved, naturally, that it wasn’t anything serious. He wasn’t her type after all, he was worried about nothing. She probably wanted a strong stallion who could bring in some extra wages, caring and romantic. A go getter. And… luckily… for John. He was none of those.
However, as he stood there realizing he didn’t want to get in a relationship with any ponies he came to conclusion that so long as he stayed here… in this world… he would die alone. The thought hit him in the side, this time metaphorically, but he brushed it off, attempting to quell the widening void he suddenly felt in his gut. After all, that’s probably how it would have ended up back home too. Alone... Except, of course, for Porge the hamster.
