Joltin' Joe's Coffee Shop
The sun shone brilliantly so high above, the partly cloudy skies giving the cafe a pleasant ambient temperature. Icarus sat at his regular table, his once full cup of hot chocolate now laying on its side, the contents now slowly dissolving within his stomach. A satisfied belch slowly wormed its way up his throat, sending pleasant tingles running through his body. An impatient glance at his watch revealed that his longtime friend, Grey Quill, was running late. Again. While Grey Quill wasn’t always late, he had been... delayed, as he phrased it, the past few times, each time coming up with a new, and, admittedly creative, excuse. For a moment Icarus had the urge to ruffle his feathers to display his irritation, but, as he usually did, he vaguely recalled his distinct lack of feathery appendages.
Grey Quill bustled down the busy Ponyville street, offering curt nods and simple ‘hellos’ to those he passed. There was a noticeable bounce to his step and a worried frown on his face. He was late...he hated being late. The sun beat down on him from above, and a gentle bead of sweat poured down his brow as he trotted along, his hastened pace and signature scarf both doing their part to work him up.
Slowly the cafe slid into view, and he breathed a sigh of relief, Icarus was likely still inside. He’d feed him some kind of excuse revolving around, old ladies and bus stops or something. As he usually did. They were always lies, obvious ones too, but Icarus always seemed to get a kick out of their ridiculousness at the very least.
His horn lit up as he enveloped the cafe door’s handle in a magical grip, poking his head inside and looking for his seat.
Icarus looked up as the bells above the door jingled softly, signaling the arrival of yet another pony to the restaurant. A faint smile played across Icarus’ lips as he saw the familiar scarf wrapped around the familiar pony’s neck.
Grey Quill smiled back, nervously stepping by a pudgy waitress as he approached the table.
Icarus leaned forward on his hooves, looking at the approaching unicorn with a poorly concealed smile on his face. “What was it this time, Grey? More dragons? Or, perhaps, you took an arrow to the fetlock. Again.”
The unicorn scoffed, taking his seat and using his scarf to dab at the sweat on his brow. “Please, dragons? Preposterous, I was dealing with a far deadlier creature this time.”
“Oh? Deadlier than a dragon?” Icarus let out a short laugh, his own wit getting the best of him. “Was it... Oh, I don’t know, that hag you call a marefriend?”
Grey Quill grumbled a little at the emotional jab. “Please, much worse than that. This creature... why, it’ll suck out your very will to live.”
Icarus’ eyes went wide as the full realization sunk in. In hushed tones he uttered a single word. “Dubstep...”
Grey Quill shivered in mock, yet convincing, fear. “No... almost as bad, but no. I, my dear Icarus, was dealing with...” The unicorn waited for a beat, letting the suspense of his delivery build. “THE ELDERLY!”
“By the Creator, Grey, that’s...” Icarus looked at the table for a moment, letting his hooves drop to his side before he looked back at the unicorn, mock defeat in his eyes. “I don’t even know an adjective quite strong enough to describe that!”
The stallion smirked, his face alight with satisfaction, he stole a glance across the way and waved at a nearby waitress, beckoning for her to come over. He turned back to Icarus. “You need not fear my featherless friend, I... took care of it.”
Icarus’ eyes widened as he recalled some of Grey’s past exploits with the terminally old. “Did you...”
The scarfed stallion could feel his smirk grow just a tad. “You know there’s only one way to deal with these... monstrosities.”
“You really should stop pushing them in front of buses, though. It’s... Well, bad for the buses for one thing.” Icarus brought a hoof to his chin, bringing a contemplative air to his appearance. “Also, it’s just bad form.”
Again, the unicorn scoffed. “Well... It’s not like they have long to live anyway.”
“Still, it’s bad form. I mean... Come on, even you have standards to live up to.”
“Pft, low standards perhaps.” Grey Quill looked off to the side, drawing his companion’s eye up to the approaching waitress. “Speaking of which... how are you doing ma’am?”
The rather striking waitress flashed a sincere smile at the two stallions, quickly retrieving her notepad from her small skirt. “I’m quite well, thanks for asking Grey. And there’s really no need to be so formal. You’ve been coming here every week for...” She trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. “How long, now?”
Grey Quill’s shining blue eyes traveled back towards his friend, a curious air overtaking him. “Uh... I don’t know really.”
“Eloquent as ever, Grey. It’s been about a year since we first came here. And I have to say that the drinks, and the view, have only been improving.”
The mare blushed, Icarus’ companion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well forgive me for not keeping track.” There was a noticeable edge to his voice. “But time just flies when you’re having fun.”
“Flying, ha. Funny. Almost as funny as tooth decay.” Icarus looked back to the waitress. “Really, Sugar Heart you look as good as ever. Sadly, I’m still involved with Lyra, so you’ll have to wait a bit longer. Assuming that the two of us break up, which is, admittedly, doubtful.”
“Yes well... that hasn’t stopped you before.” Grey Quill mumbled bitterly to himself, shooting the stallion a tiny glare as the waitress’ blush quickly evaporated.
“I don’t mention your indiscretions, you don’t mention mine. It’s a rule. One we both agreed to. Remember?”
The unicorn shrugged. “Must have slipped my mind, now, my darling Sugar Heart would you be so kind?” The mare retrieved her pen and paper. “Black coffee please, and a scone.”
“You and your black coffee. I bet you want the same damn kind of scone, too. Predictable as always. I, on the other hoof, would like to have the usual. Hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a banana nut muffin.” Sugar Heart nodded as she quickly jotted down the two orders, using that annoying shorthand style of writing that only the wait staff seem to be able to read.
“Anything else you two?” Her quasi-rhetorical question was met with the same customary shakes of the head, and with that she offered a smile. “Right, well, it’ll be the same five minutes it always is.” Despite her claim that it would take just five minutes, both Grey Quill and Icarus knew that she actually meant a period of time that was as rigid as the time it takes to wait outside the bathroom. It all depended on just how hungry the two stallions were. With that said, the waitress departed, her flanks swaying just the same as always, knowingly drawing the gazes of both of the males at the table, and even the eyes of a few nearby mares.
Icarus let out a low chuckle as he quickly looked to see Grey Quill ogling the mare’s flanks. “And you were talking about my attempts with the fairer sex.”
The unicorn shifted back in his seat, shaking the blush from his cheeks. “Yes well... just because I’m taken, doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
“Agreed. A fine set of flanks is like fine art. It takes a trained eye to know how to appreciate what’s being offered for the visual buffet. Not that you would really know much about that kind of thing. Hell, there’s not many flanks that you would turn down.”
Grey Quill raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m not picky, that’s for sure. But... well, judging from my past tendencies, I’m sure I’ve seen more flanks than you have.” The unicorn shot him a coy look. “About twice as many... if you catch my meaning.”
“Sorry, but that’s not really possible. Unless you look at stallion-flank. Not that I’d judge, or anything.”
The unicorn shifted in his seat, his eyes wandering towards the, wooden ceiling.
“Yes well, I’d certainly hope not.” He cast the stallion a cursory glance. “You seem like an open minded sort.” Grey Quill gave a suggestive wink and lick of his lips. “Right... Icarus?”
Icarus shook his head slowly, a smile playing on his otherwise impassive features. “Got no problem with where you want to be prodded, but don’t expect me to be the one doing the prodding.”
Grey Quill suppressed a chuckle, glad to see that his friend had got the joke. “Prodding, getting prodded, it’s all rather enjoyable... though I can’t expect everypony to agree. Look, there’s our lovely waitress.”
“Changing the subject should be your special talent, Grey.” The waitress sauntered up just as the pair let their conversation die. With the speed and efficiency of a waitress who’s been doing this for far too long, Sugar Heart served the drinks and pastries, making sure to make just a little show of it, knowing full well that both stallions appreciated it, even if they couldn’t act upon their thoughts.
“I swear to Celestia she does that on purpose...” The scarfed unicorn mumbled, mouth full of blueberry scone as he watched the two delicious mounds of flesh bounce out of sight.
“Yeah, probably. But I’m not complaining. Lyra’s got it where it counts, but, by the Creator, there’s something entrancing about the way Sugar Heart does it.”
The unicorn sighed, his eyes wistful. “May’s flank has held up surprisingly well actually. Must be all that exercising she does when I’m out, watching those stupid tapes.” He downed the rest of his scone, crumbs tumbling out onto the spotted tablecloth beneath his chin. “Speaking of keeping in shape, I have to stop eating these. She’ll kill me if I get fat...”
“It’s, honestly, a bit distressing how you talk about the elderly, and then how you... Ya know. With May.” Icarus shook his head, eager to rid himself of the mental images. “Anyway, Lyra and I do quite a bit of exercise each week. Our weekly runs, along with all the yoga she does, really makes up for how much we both eat. And, as a bonus, she wears those amazing yoga tights when we work out together.”
Grey shrugged his shoulders, finishing off his scone. “I’d work out with her, if she asked. But she gets all shy when I watch.” He chuckled. “Must be all the bending over she has to do...”
Icarus lowered his voice a bit, leaning towards the unicorn. “Slightly off topic... Does she really dye her mane?”
The unicorn felt another chuckle rise in his throat, but repressed it. “Well, I didn’t know until recently.” He leaned in, his voice grew quiet. “She doesn’t keep any dye around, and it’s hard to tell she uses any, even if you look really close. But... well, the carpet didn’t match the drapes.” This time a giggle slipped free. “If ya know what I mean.”
Icarus leaned back, raising his voice back to a normal volume. “No. Please, be more descriptive. I need you to be as direct as possible.”
Grey sighed, sitting back in his chair and shooting his companion a devilish grin. “Icarus, not one for subtlety are you?” He began to idly toy with his scarf. “Well, I figured your parents would have told you this one but, here goes. You see, when two ponies love each other very much they do this thing called cunnilingus an-”
“Yes, yes. I know all that. I’m talking about the bloody carpet! Ya know? The one that you just can’t seem to keep off of?”
The unicorn, his face deadpan, magically lifted his coffee up to his lips, sipping once or twice before responding. Mouthing the words around the styrofoam cup. “It was very, very, pink.”
A smug smile descended upon Icarus’ face. “Glad we could clear that up.” Icarus raised his hot chocolate to his mouth, finishing off the last of the delicious concoction. As he finished it up, he noticed Sugar Heart coming around with a fresh steaming pot of coffee. With a subtle nudge of his head, Icarus motioned towards the buxom waitress. “You want some more?”
The coffee filled Grey’s cup, fresh steam pouring from the top, warming the air in front of his face as he smiled and waved the cup in a ‘thank you’ fashion, effectively ignoring his partner’s comment. The luscious cerulean mare smiled and went about her business in the cafe, a few locks of her golden blonde hair working their way out of her bun.
The unicorn took a gentle sip at his fresh coffee his horn alight with a silvery shining glow as he levitated the steaming cup to his lips, he pulled it away with a tiny frown. “You know something Icarus?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t even like coffee...”
Slowly, almost as if expecting something to happen, Icarus lowered his own cup down to the table. “You...” He paused for a moment, still unsure about just what was going on. “You don’t like coffee? And yet... Every week? For a year?”
The unicorn offered him a nonchalant nod. “Yeah, strange isn’t it?” He and Icarus shared a glance, his expression blank, his companion’s confused. “Whatever...” He took another drink, shuddering in disgust afterwards.
“I... I always thought it was because the coffee was hot, or something. But... Ya know what, fuck it.”
The stallion finished off the cup, placing the now empty vessel down on the table. He looked over the table, the empty plates and cups signifying the winding down of their little pow wow.
“Well, getting close to that time then, isn’t it Icarus?”
Icarus spared a cursory glance at his timepiece, frowning as he realized just how much time had already passed. “Seems like it. Any parting thoughts before we get the check and commence the ritualistic debate over financial hardship?”
“Just one...” He took a deep breath, as if preparing to say something profound. “Do you like this new scarf?”
“Meh. The one you had last week was a bit better. Seemed to bring out the color of your deep and beautiful eyes a bit more. Made me feel a bit more like prodding you, if you know what I mean.”
The unicorn put a dainty hoof up to his lips and feigned embarrassment. “Oh stop it you... you’ll make me blush.”
“What will Icarus make you do, dear?” A familiar voice cut through the dull clamor of the cafe, both stallions turning their heads to see the familiar form of the approaching political figurehead of Ponyville.
“Oh, good afternoon, Mayor Mare. Grey, here, was just telling me about some of the more... explorative things the two of you do in the bedroom. I tried to get him to stop, but he just kept on going and going. Then, when I finally got a word in edge-wise, he made that little remark.” Icarus glanced at the, now mortified, unicorn. “Honestly, miss Mayor, he’s got such a mouth on him.”
The ponies shared a brief glance, the deep crimson blush on Grey’s cheeks showing that he was thoroughly embarrassed. The silver haired earth pony turned to the wingless pegasus with a faint smile, pushing up her glinting glasses with a hoof. “Well good heavens Icarus, I suppose that makes our relationships even then.” She continued to fidget with her glasses for a moment, her dark blue eyes mischievous. “I’ll have you know, I just got back from having one of the most delightful conversations with Lyra...” The unicorn’s expression morphed into a coy grin. “She told me quite a bit about your... fantasies.” She giggled a little. “Honestly, I’ve been around for awhile, I had no idea you could even put chocolate syrup in there.”
Icarus blushed some, but he refused to be outdone by this mare. “Well, it’s actually quite surprising what you can do with chocolate syrup.” He managed to regain some of his lost stature before he continued. “And as for your little chat with Lyra? Well, let’s just say that when a mare brags about her stallion it’s a much different matter than when a stallion talks about his mare.”
The mare cocked her head to the side. “Oh really? Enlighten me would you?”
“I, uh... I actually wasn’t the originator of that particular idea. I read it in a book. A very dirty book. One that I borrowed from Pinkie. Sort of without her knowing I was borrowing it.”
The mare let out a gentle ‘tsk’. “Stealing? Why, that’s a crime sir.”
“It’s only stealing if I have no intention of returning it. Otherwise it’s just... Uh... Extreme borrowing!”
“Hmm, well... that just means you weren’t brave enough to ask.” She gently tapped a hoof to her chin. “I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of insecurity mister Phatheon, you don’t have any shortcomings that might cause you to... compensate? Would you?”
Icarus leaned back in his chair, knowing that he’d been bested, but refusing to accept defeat. “That’s a trick question, May. If I say that I’m not compensating, you’ll ask why I had to borrow the book, rather than ask for it. If I say that I am compensating... Well, that’s a self explanatory answer.” Icarus glanced at Grey, figuring out how he could get himself out of this one. “How about, instead, you just go off with Grey, and try to match the carpet to the curtains.”
Grey shrunk a little in his chair, a bead of sweat pouring down his forehead as his beloved mayor shot him a glare. He could feel an ice cold chill run up and down his back as she stepped forward, then shivered as she began running a hoof up and down his lower leg.
“Why... I think we just might.” She flashed Icarus another playful grin. “Icarus dear, next time you feel like picking on poor little Grey here.” She prodded ‘little’ Grey with her hoof in a playful manner. “... Just remember that I control your taxes.”
Icarus nodded slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind. And you should also remember who rebuilt this town after the parasprites came to town. But, instead of playing this game of verbal sparring, I think I’ll just go and spend some time in the quality company of my beautiful, and all natural mare.” As he finished, Icarus stood from his seat, quickly making his way to the door, an unseen smile blooming on his face. In an undertone, he finished his little speech. “And have fun paying the bill, Grey. That puts me up another point.”
Grey frowned as his friend marched out of the door, biting back a curse, half tempted to say something snide. Before he could get out a word, however, a gentle chuckle shook him from his thoughts.
“All natural... that’s what he thinks.” Grey raised an eyebrow, his mare chuckled. “Hun, my house isn’t the only one where the carpet doesn’t match the drapes... Now come along, I feel like prodding tonight.”
With a gentle tug she pulled him from his seat. “B-but the bill...”
From his usual spot behind the counter, Joltin’ Joe watched as Mayor Mare pulled her stallion from the establishment. A small twitch started to form in his right eye as he realized that their bill hadn’t been paid. Again. “Sugar Heart, how much do they owe me, now?”
“Um... I have it written down.” The mare rummaged through her pockets for a moment before she pulled out a piece of paper. “Ah, here it is. At last count, that doesn’t include this bill, they owe you just under four thousand bits. With interest... almost five thousand.”
The cup in the stallion’s hoof shattered as his leg tightened up. “I swear... I’m gonna shove my hooves so far up their asses that my feet brush up against their teeth.”
“Now, Joe, the doctor told you that you needed to watch your anger management.”
“I ain’t even mad. You should see me when I’m mad.”
TEH END (QUESTION MARK!!eleven!one!?)
OR IZ EET!?
Author's Note
Since, as good authors, we don’t want to kill you with suspense, we are pleased to let you know that this isn’t the end. Still, in order to maintain the illusion of suspense, we put in that little rhetorical question.
Now, if you wish to see more work from us, kindly keep us from getting discouraged by hitting the like, follow, and favorite buttons, all at the same time if possible.
…. also send us a thousand dollars.... each
Oh, and four thousand bits. Not for the money we owe, but just because it’d be nice to have all that money.
We’d use it with good intentions of course.
Like buying a small yacht. Or, maybe, quite a bit of booze.
And hookers, don’t forget hookers.
I thought that was implied, honestly. Still, I do hope that we’ve managed to dispel any, and all, possible suspense you might’ve been feeling. If you still feel a measure of suspense, please call 911, and let them know just what you think about the current state of political affairs in the mid atlantic. They will then, in the most polite fashion, tell you just what to do. What they tell you, is exactly what we think about you and your suspenseful life.
End of authors’ notes.
OR IZ ITE!?
Yes. It is.
I-I don’t think that’ll fit in the author’s note thing.
FUCK YOUR PESSIMISM!
