My new art-and-story project is about to begin, so OHC will be switching to occasional updates. I will post here (and in my main stream) when it starts. It will be suggestion-based, so if only a handful of people show up initially they’ll have a decent command of the action.
I’m taking a break from OHC this weekend to work on my soon-to-appear pony project, one with art and story together (so people might actually read it, eventually). Back next week!
As they often did, Daisy Jo and Matilda were having lunch at a little café in Ponyville. Matilda was less fond of gossip than her bovine friend, but still appreciated the moment of solidarity with another creature who naturally lacked magical marks or abilities. The mundane nature of cattle and donkeys was rather conspicuous in a town dominated by enchanted ponies. As much as she loved Ponyville and its gracious residents, it was hard not to feel left out from time to time.
"So, I was speaking to Twilight the other day, don’cha kno’," began Daisy.
Matilda rolled her eyes. “Now you leave that fine young pony alone, Daisy Jo,” the donkey admonished her friend in advance.
"No, no, it’s nothin’ bad. Ya know she’s taken up studying Cowhili with me, mhmm?" the cow countered, and paused to sip some herbal tea.
"Oh! That’s very interesting," Matilda replied. "I can barely speak a lick of Cowhili myself," she admitted, with a chuckle.
"Well," said Daisy, a bit of juicy news tickling in her voice, "as ya might expect, she’s an amazingly fast learner, yes yes. ‘Cept I had her flummoxed all afternoon on the meaning of one of just one of our unique words."
Matilda could sense this was headed toward a mild bit of scandal, but her interest was piqued. “Alright, you have my attention.” She took a bite of her rosemary and orchid sandwich, barely noticing the flavors.
"Ya see, I forget the context but she was gettin’ all chatty up about the meanin’ of life and all, since it’s not too often you find a language with that kinda lingo built in. An’ I went an’ told her that we got one o’ those words in Cowhili, so she asked o’course. An’ so I told her all about MU,” said the cow, emphasizing the key word.
“Moo?" Matilda laughed, not realizing the subtle mispronunciation. "That sound I hear coming from cows all the time? I wasn’t aware it meant anything at all."
"Well ya, that’s kinda the point, y’know," explained Daisy Jo. "It don’t mean anythin’, and it don’t mean nothin’ either. It’s nonsense, but it don’t mean nonsense, y’see. Kinda hard to explain to someone intent on learnin’ the meanin’ to every single word tha’cha got one of ‘em with no definition, by definition."
"Of course, I assume she understood it eventually," said the donkey, taking a sip of her coffee.
Daisy smiled. “Twilight Sparkle is good at bein’ Twilight Sparkle after all, so, o’course she gets it now, ya. But she’s still thinkin’ ‘bout it I bet, which is good because that’s what the word is for after all.”
Matilda nodded, and just then something obvious occurred to her. “And so when I hear other cattle lowing in the field?”
"Yep, we’re just ponderin’ the gee-golly imponderable. Not much else to do on a slow day," Daisy said with a wink.
The donkey looked back at her friend, and smiled at the simple revelation. Ponies didn’t really have anything on cows after all, she realized. And maybe, just maybe, neither did they on donkeys.
Princess Celestia sat with her pupil Sunset Shimmer at a modest table outside one of Canterlot’s many cafés. The pair drank tea together while waiting to order their meal. The large white alicorn dwarfed the little chestnut filly, who currently fidgeted in her seat. The princess had chosen a public venue to speak with her new protégé so it would be a comfortable environment for the youth, yet one that still afforded her the ability to surreptitiously evaluate what sort of a student Sunset might become.
"So, um, thanks for taking me out for lunch, Princess?" Sunset Shimmer offered, a bit uncertain. "Is there something you want to talk about with me?" The foal pushed aside a few fiery red-and-yellow locks from her mane. One of Celestia’s concerns with Sunset was vanity, since the filly seemed to take great care in crafting her outward appearance. It was odd to find a foal so young taking pride in her looks, but perhaps she had matured quickly in other ways as well. Her raw talent with magic was truly exceptional. However, as a student of the Princess, Sunset Shimmer had much to learn.
Celestia smiled demurely. “Certainly, my student,” she explained. “I assume you are eager to discuss the workings of magic…” the princess began, but Sunset cut her off before she could finish.
"Yes, absolutely. I have a number of ideas about magical theory that I’d love to test and examine," the filly said, her eyes lighting up with interest. She then launched into a lengthy one-sided discussion about the workings of magic. Some of the concepts Sunset described were interesting and novel, and a few even showed rare insight. Most of her talk was inaccurate, however, as would be expected for such a young student of magic.
The princess smirked knowingly and lifted a teapot into the air, her horn glowing as she used the levitation spell common to most unicorns. In response, her student lifted her empty cup to meet the pot, using her own magic. Being highly adept at magic for a foal her age, she didn’t need to pause her speech for even a moment. Celestia gently tilted the teapot and poured tea into her pupil’s cup, all the way up to the rim, and then past it. Tea began spilling onto the table, yet the alicorn continued pouring.
It took a moment for Sunset Shimmer to notice what was happening, and she finally stopped her babbling. “Princess! Um, the cup is full already,” she pointed out, the confusion apparent from her facial expression.
"Is it, now?" Celestia said, then smiled and stopped pouring. "Sunset Shimmer, you come to me to learn about magic. Yet your cup is already full with all sorts of ideas. Ideas are good to have, but I cannot teach you anything new unless you come to me with an empty cup," she explained. "You must set aside what you think you know in order to proceed further."
The little filly blushed and nodded, understanding. As her mentor smiled and looked down upon her, she studied her student’s posture and expression to gauge how receptive the foal truly was to her. The embarrassment was obvious, but that was a little thing. There was something more, however, and it was hard to place: some negative emotion deeper than the mere momentary embarrassment.
Celestia hid her worry behind a practiced smile. Was it… resentment? In a foal this young? It seemed highly unlikely, but only time would tell.
Rarity sighed and brushed aside a lock of her professionally-styled curly violet mane. The fashionable white unicorn was often a bit high-strung, especially when it came to spending time with her rambunctious little sister. However, today’s visit was different. Today, Sweetie Belle was learning how to sew by hoof. Clothing design and execution was Rarity’s craft, and she took great pride from it; but teaching things to a foal was another challenge altogether.
"Ow," said Sweetie Belle, as the little white unicorn poked herself in the hoof with a needle once again. Of course, it didn’t actually hurt her—not physically, anyway.
Rarity patted her sister’s pink and lavender mane with a hoof, resisting the urge to give the filly a full-on hug. She loved her little sister, naturally, but she knew the value of independence. Sweetie needed support, not coddling. She had come to visit Rarity’s shop, the Carousel Boutique, not only to spend time with her sister but to learn from her expertise as well.
"It takes time, dear. Watch again on my piece," the older sister spoke, and slowly ran a small, perfect stitch along the edge of her example swatch of fabric.
Sweetie Belle frowned. “You make it look so easy,” she complained.
Rarity laughed. “Actually I had to practice a bit before you came over. It’s much easier to use telekinetic magic,” she explained. Her horn glowed and levitated the needle, performing a lightning-quick stitch by example.
"I can’t wait to be able to do stuff like that," Sweetie marvelled, beaming.
The mare smiled down at her sibling. “It can useful to be a unicorn. You’ll be able to do that too, soon enough. But hoof-eye coordination is important practice, and it teaches patience. If I couldn’t do it by hoof, I dare say I’d not be very good by magic either.”
The little foal nodded, then turned her attention back to her piece of fabric. Sweetie furrowed her brow deep in concentration as she began another stitch, but the needle slipped again. “Darn it!” she cried, unaware of the hidden pun.
"Hmm. Perhaps going more slowly into it?" Rarity offered. It took every bit of her resolve to avoid doing things directly for her sister, but she had to resist. That sort of behavior would sidestep the entire point of the lesson.
"What’s hard," Sweetie Belle whined with frustration, "is that it seems like the harder I try, the harder it gets."
At that comment, Rarity smiled. “I think you’ve hit on the problem, little sister. You might notice when you see me sewing, I don’t seem to be trying at all. Putting great effort into each stitch of my sewing would lead to tight, overworked stitches. You practice mainly so that you can learn to act without so much effort,” she explained.
"Oh. Wait, what do you mean? Sweetie Belle inquired.
Rarity paused and carefully thought out her response. “Those who already know always make things look easy. True wisdom, be it sewing, or anything else in life for that matter, doesn’t take effort once you know it. Birds can build nests without being taught, can’t they? It certainly looks effortless to watch them in action. Gems don’t try to be sparkly, they just are by nature. In fact, all of nature’s wonders look absolutely fabulous without ever really trying to.”
"So," Sweetie said, looking back down at her tortured scrap of fabric, "how do I get good at this without trying so hard?"
"Learning not to try? I believe that is the part that requires the effort," Rarity explained, and watched closely as Sweetie made another stitch. The little foal relaxed her posture, aimed, and pushed the needle through a hump of fabric. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best stitch she’d done all afternoon. Sweetie Belle smiled up at her mentor.
With that small but important success, Rarity decided that now was indeed the proper time for a hug.
Commander Hurricane frowned as he surveyed his troops. The freezing weather had become uncontrollable over the past two weeks, and all hooves were needed as the prospect of war between the tribes grew. He hadn’t yet decided whether to flee or fight, but it wasn’t because the pegasus pony army stood any chance of losing. Recon missions had already suggested the unicorn and earth pony tribes simply had no provisions left to take, so an assault would hardly be worth the effort.
The pegasus commander flew past several companies engaged in combat practice as he headed straight for the Pegantheon. His agenda had to be placed on hold once he’d heard of the new recruit. Her name was Pansy, which suggested strength. Pansies were, after all, Winter-hardy flowers, and at present the army was stationed in a land where Winter simply wouldn’t give way to Spring.
However, the stories of Pansy’s character were not exactly flattering. Several troops had reported that she was afraid of her own shadow: literally afraid of it. She’d been spotted on at least two occasions jumping in surprise at the smallest flicker of light. Commander Hurricane would simply have none of this brand of weakness in his army. Strength could be acquired, and honor could be earned; but fear was forbidden. Soldiers can have it, of course, but they must not show it. Courage is simply the mastery of fear, and without courage you have no army. While it might be the case that Pansy was easily spooked rather than truly fearful, the leader of the pegasus brigade knew better than to merely assume competence from anypony beneath his command.
As Commander Hurricane arrived at the Pegantheon, he stood on the firm cloud surface and looked up at the structure. It was a magnificent building for a cloud structure, designed to allow in light from above for meditation and respite. It was a shame it would likely need to be abandoned if they left this land, as it was too large to move under such dire circumstances. It used to be so beautiful when the rays of the sun would grace it, both outside and in. But the sun had not cleared the towering cumulus in a long time, and so its interior remained dark and dreary.
He stood there at the entrance for a few moments out of reverence and respect, then donned his helmet, carefully tugging his rainbow-colored mane through the crest ferrule. Although he never publicly said so, the Commander often resented new female recruits. From the perspective of a male soldier with aspirations, it was bad enough that there were more mares than stallions. The mares tended to learn more quickly too, which led them to positions of authority despite the fact that they were generally weaker and smaller. But at least they tended to be very fast, and most of them were brave. Most of them, he thought, shaking his head distastefully.
Commander Hurricane narrowed his gaze and walked through he archway into the dim interior of the building. It had no floor, as was appropriate for an important site intended for pegasi alone. In the center of the vaulted hall sat Pansy, eyes closed, clearly meditating. The Commander snorted gruffly and walked to a weapons rack stationed near the entrance. It was a sure mark of a warrior culture to find weapons of war even here, in this place of quiet solace. He selected a bastard sword, removing it with his wingtip, and twirled it a bit.
If Pansy had heard him, she didn’t indicate it. So he walked right up to her. Walking on a cloud made no hoofbeats, but his armor made soft clinking sounds which gave his position away. Unless she was deaf as well, she knew he was right there in front of her. He raised the sword before her, and addressed her directly.
"Private Pansy," he said, in an authoritative tone of voice.
Pansy opened her eyes. Her coat and mane were difficult to see in the dimness, but the colors were clearly soft pastels. Not the sort of thing that sends the enemy running for cover, he thought, mentally adding that to the list of her potential flaws.
"Um, yes, sir, Commander sir," she replied, her voice meek and faltering. Nonetheless, while Pansy’s face revealed an obvious shyness in the presence of her commanding officer, she showed no sign of fear.
The experienced soldier glowered down at his cadet. “I’ve heard things about you, Private. I’ve heard you are afraid of your own shadow,” he hissed, making his displeasure as evident as possible.
"Oh, um… I’m sorry. I mean, sir. I’m sorry, sir. But, um, if it’s okay for me to say so, I’m really just a little bit jumpy, is all," she explained, head slightly bowed as she looked up to her superior from where she sat.
The Commander gritted his teeth and raised the sword up to a striking position deftly with one wing. His eyes flashed with rage. The sight of Commander Hurricane wielding a sword with intent to kill was enough to send most ponies running for cover. He was one of few pegasi strong enough to power the swing of a hacking weapon when held by wing rather than mouth, and everypony knew of his prowess. Yet Pansy simply stared upwards toward the Commander, looking a bit befuddled but not at all frightened.
"Private Pansy! Do you not realize I could strike you dead this very instant, without even making a sound?" he shouted, his voice reverberating with loud, angry echoes reflected back from all sides within the Pegantheon’s open chamber.
Private Pansy merely smiled peacefully. “Oh, yes I do, sir,” she said, her soft voice echoless, in stark comparison to the threat before her. “But, do you realize that I could be struck dead this very instant, without even making a sound?” she retorted back, completely unfazed.
Commander Hurricane drew in a sharp breath of air, eyes wide with surprise. He’d never encountered somepony who could not be intimidated by steel. What sort of warrior could be made of a pony for whom death was nothing? Slowly, the Commander began to identify the sensation was he was experiencing, deep in his chest. It was quite unfamiliar to him. It was unbridled fear.
After a short discussion with the new recruit, Private Pansy became the Commander’s personal assistant, both for scouting missions and negotiations. He would long recall this as one of the easiest decisions of his lengthy and distinguished military service.
Long, long ago, in the pre-classical era of Equestria’s history, a powerful conjurer named Star Swirl the Bearded developed his powers under the watchful tutelage of sister Princesses Celestia and Luna. Star Swirl’s love of the magical arts showed from an early age, and by the time he was referred to as “the Bearded”, his writings were extensive. Ultimately, his impact upon magical theory was nothing short of legendary.
Throughout his career in magical research, Star Swirl served in many roles. One of his favorite duties was teaching magical abstraction theory, a course required of all new entrants to the Magic Program of the Canterlot School for Unicorns. Despite the name of the school, on very rare occasion a new student of the Magic Program might be a pegasus pony, an earth pony, or even a member of some other species. Without a built-in magical focus, certain accommodations were necessary, but this was mostly a technical issue. Learning and mastering magical abstraction theory, for one matter, required no magical abilities at all. It did, however, require great mental focus: many of the learned mage’s pupils failed his course the first time through. For this reason, many young ponies approached the course with dread and hesitation, and this tended only to made things worse.
Star Swirl the Bearded had a number of habits about him, from the way he dressed to the manner in which he spoke. He flaunted his beard, stroking the long, grey thing whenever speaking at length about some abstract concept. He paced a bit when he lectured, and with each soft step resounded a soft tinkling sound from the bells which lined the almost comically-large brim of his wizard’s hat. The room in which he lectured was empty of desks, as he preferred ponies to sit on the floor and pay close attention to his words rather than write down everything he uttered mechanistically. It’s not like the students didn’t have full access to his lecture notes, anyway, since he’d authored the text book himself.
Magical abstraction theory is a difficult subject, but Star Swirl had long since realized the true barrier to learning something new and different was the process of unlearning the things you already thought you knew. This was a delicate and difficult thing to teach young ponies! On occasion, a pony in the class would raise a hoof and ask a question of some sort, to which Star Swirl would stroke his beard for a moment in silence, and then answer the question. Often, however, his answer was simply the question itself, restated in a different form; sometimes even made silly or ridiculous. The goal was to get ponies to abandon their preconceptions of reality, for a proper understanding of the workings of magic requires, first and foremost, a truly open mind.
One of Star Swirl’s most memorable students was an albino pegasus filly named Good Eye, the only non-unicorn in his class that season. She was quite scrawny, but had a remarkably beautiful fluffy mane and tail that almost looked to be made of cloud-fluff itself. To better fit in, Good Eye had taken up the position of class clown among her peers. Reportedly, she had a decent (if unflattering) impression of each instructor in the program. She generally kept these impressions to private displays outside the classroom. However, Star Swirl found himself curious. He knew he could elicit his mimic with a bit of trickery, and so he hatched a plan.
Good Eye received the summons at dusk, and dutifully reported to Star Swirl’s office. Her stomach knotted with a mix of curiosity and fear, as being the class joker ran the danger of a filly seeming flippant in her studies. She breathed in deeply through her nostrils as she entered the already-open door.
"You called for me, sir?" she asked, trying her best to sound professional.
Star Swirl looked up from where he sat in his office, the surroundings lit by a single candle. It surprised the filly to note his reliance on such a simple physical tool, when Star Swirl could certainly conjure any light he desired with ease. Her mind wandered a bit over that.
"Yes, Good Eye. There was a question one of the colts asked near the end of session today, do you recall it?" the bearded mentor asked, a wistful smile creeping across his aged muzzle.
Good Eye somehow blanched, a surprising feat for a pure-white filly. She remembered having done her impression of Star Swirl after class to that same question, but willfully blocked this from her mind as revealing such facts to her elder was not a pleasant thought at all.
She nodded. “Yes sir. It was a question about how magic requires us to imagine things which cannot be. Specifically, how can we separate the thought of a hoof from the physical hoof itself, or the thought of a tail from the tail itself,” she recalled, her voice growing in alacrity as confidence returned to her spirit.
"Very good," Star Swirl responded. For the briefest moment his horn appeared to glow—but perhaps it was just the lighting, the nervous filly decided. She smiled and relaxed somewhat, feeling incredibly relieved, though not quite certain as to why.
Star Swirl continued his lecture, looking down toward his diminutive pupil’s soft pink irises where they glimmered in the dimness. “And I believe I responded,” he said, and began stroking his beard in his trademark manner, “…by saying that no dichotomy exists. Ponies are simply too used to the action and the experience coinciding, to realize that they are but two halves of the same coin.”
As Good Eye listened, she had to consciously resist mimicking her teacher’s habitual behaviors. She felt a bit giddy, and resorted to biting her lip to avoid chuckling.
"But alas, not one of my students appeared to grasp this lesson today," he said, and concluded his sentence with a barely-noticeable bounce at the base of his tail. Good Eye could not resist but to copy the action with her own tail-base, and her eyes widened suddenly in horror.
Star Swirl chuckled loudly. “There it is! I had been told you did a great impression of me and I simply had to see for myself,” he smiled broadly. Good Eye froze where she stood, not yet certain of her fate.
"You’re… not mad at me, sir?" she whispered, knees shaking despite her best attempts at maintaining the tiniest bit of courage.
The bearded wizard shook his head, bells tinkling madly for a moment. “No, not at all, dear, but it’s hard enough to get ponies to understand what I try to teach them, and I do have a reputation to maintain,” he said, cocking his head. His horn glowed, and the familiar glimmery sound of a magic invocation filled the air. Good Eye quickly looked around the room, then about herself, and noticed that her tail had disappeared! A kick backwards with a rear leg confirmed that it wasn’t just invisible, but completely absent. Her tail was no more.
"Sir?" she gasped, her voice cracking with desperation. "Oh please, please, not this!" the filly begged, her rump tilted up behind her, the smooth white surface entirely bare. She tried rather pathetically to cover the area with her tiny wings, but there was simply no hiding a missing tail, especially not one as lovely as hers had been. Her ears burned with shame at the thought of others seeing her branded this way. "I… I know I deserve punishment, but…"
Star Swirl the Bearded reached down and pulled Good Eye’s chin upward, meeting her watering eyes with a tender gaze. “This isn’t punishment, my student,” he explained, and with that, he took a step backward, pulled at his beard with a hoof, and again caused the base of his tailbase to bounce, just as he always did when answering questions.
And Good Eye felt her tailbase raise as well, even though it did not exist.
At that instant she understood the lesson, and she gasped softly with wonder, quickly regaining her composure. The filly smiled even as she wiped the fresh tears from her eyes.
"I’m sorry for the theatrics," the elder pony offered, the apology in his voice sincere. "But sometimes a little hooves-on demonstration goes a long way," he explained. His horn began to glow as he began casting the spell to reverse the missing tail.
"No, please," Good Eye stopped him, reaching out with a hoof. "I mean, not yet, if I may. A few days without, at least?" she requested. Somehow the raw impact of her lesson felt like a mountain next to the negligible hill of potential ridicule by her peers.
The elder sage raised a brow but nodded, quite surprised; but such pleasant discoveries were the best part of a teacher’s job, after all. Star Swirl wished his pupil a pleasant evening, and the filly trotted out of his office and clopped down the hallway with a curious spring in her step.
Your regularly scheduled pony koans will be returning this Monday, and will be updating weekly on Monday evenings.
(Yes, even the Monday right after Bronycon.)
Sweetie Belle shivered. Like most of the foals in the schoolyard, the little white unicorn filly had neglected to bring a coat with her to school today. In the past few hours, a surprise cold front had pushed in over Ponyville. The unexpected weather was almost certainly the fault of some careless pegasus. As much as the little pony wanted to play hopscotch, she was far too preoccupied with the chill biting at her pelt.
"Sweetie Belle, aren’t you gonna come play?" Scootaloo asked, trotting over to her friend, her little wings buzzing excitedly. The chestnut-pelted pegasus pony stomped a hoof impatiently against a soft patch of earth. "I mean, you can’t let something like a little chilly air take you down," she added. She punctuated her claim by blowing a little stream of air upwards from her lips, knocking a lock of her violet mane away from those lilac eyes.
"But it’s cold!" Sweetie complained, standing on her rear hooves to grip her body with the other pair. "You have feathers to keep you warm, anyhow," she pointed out. Scootaloo looked down at her fluffed-up wings, and realized they did indeed account for at least a little of her warmth.
Apple Bloom cantered over to the pair. “Well, Ah ain’t got no horsefeathers, and lookit me. Ah’m just fahn,” she intoned in her cute Southern drawl. “Yeah, it’s a little cold, but you kin get use’ta it if’n ya try,” she coaxed, nuzzling warmly at Sweetie Belle’s flank. Her curly red mane tickled the spot where Sweetie’s cutie mark would one day appear.
The little unicorn pony blushed, but frowned. “I just don’t know how you do it, Apple Bloom. Maybe I just spend too much time around my sis. I mean, she whines a little bit, you know,” the white pony explained, momentarily lowering her voice to a whisper. “But still, I know she can handle anything at all when she really needs to. I don’t want to be helpless. Can you tell me how do you do it? Is there like, a secret?” she asked, eager for a solution to her discomfort.
The lemonsilla earth pony stood a moment and thought out a careful response. She’d never before had to come up with an explanation for something she always just felt in her gut. Then, the light hit her square in the eyes.
"Okay, Ah think Ah got it," Apple Bloom announced. "Sweetie Belle, ya just gotta let the cold in," she explained. "When it’s hot, let yerself get hot deep in yer belly; when it’s cold, let it chill ya to the bone," she smiled.
Sweetie Belle looked horrified. “But that sounds awful!” she gasped.
"Well, how do you know if you don’t try?" added Scootaloo, smiling. "Maybe the only thing keeping you so cold is the way you’re acting so shy of it. You might be making it a lot worse than it is."
Apple Bloom nodded. “Exactly! Let it be a part of ya, and just, y’know, accept it. Trust us?” she asked.
Sweetie Belle looked nervously from one friend to the other, both of them relaxed and smiling despite the cold. Could it really be so simple? Was it all in her head?
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, dropped to all fours, and forced herself to relax…
It was cold! The little pony winced, but fought against her instincts. Let it happen, she thought. After all, the worst case scenario was she’d get a little colder than she was, and then just warm up later. But the shock only lasted for a moment, and suddenly, it was over. Yes, it was definitely chilly, but when she wasn’t trying to fight it, it wasn’t really so bad. It was just kind of…different. She opened her eyes and smiled brightly.
"Wow! It’s…well, it’s not really fun, but this is way better than before! Thanks guys!" Sweetie Belle said, and offered her friends a warm hug, which they accepted.
"Hey! We just did something," Scootaloo remarked on the obvious, arm in arm with the other two ponies. "Cutie Mark Crusaders, um…"
"Unicorn warmers? No…" said Apple Bloom.
"Helpful freezing pony calmers…?" tried Sweetie Belle.
"Something… on our butt getters?!" exclaimed Scootaloo, half in desperation.
All three ponies quickly turned to look at their flanks, which were, unsurprisingly, still blank.
"It was worth a check," rationalized Apple Bloom. "But Ah’m not sure just exactly what Ah’d have expected that to look like, to be honest with ya."
Sweetie Belle grinned. “I like to think when it happens, somehow we’ll already know before we even look.” Then the three friends giggled and trotted over to the hopscotch board, cold be damned.
Sheriff Silverstar nosed aside the soft curtain and stepped halfway into the dimly-lit velvet tent. Inside, a large crystal ball adorned the middle of a small, cloth-covered table. Behind the table sat a young earth pony mare, so brightly-colored that the pinkness of her coat was unmistakeable even in the poor lighting. She wore a strange turban which seemed a bit too costumey to be authentic, but the liver-chestnut stallion had to admit he’d never actually met a Roma pony before.
"Hello in there?" the Sheriff said, removing his hat politely, and speaking the words quietly through his thick, black mustache.
The pink pony’s peepers perked at the sight of her new guest. “Oh! Hello there, Sheriff! Er, I mean,” she stopped herself, coughing, and lowered her bubbly voice a register. “Hello Sheriff Silverstar. I’ve been… expecting you. Welcome to my tent of mystery,” Pinkie Pie intoned in a far more serious-sounding, albeit spookier voice. Acting was fun, she thought, and finished off her introduction with a bright, very out-of-character smile.
The Sheriff looked surprised, even though his badge and matching cutie mark were certainly enough to give his name away to a lucky guess. He clearly didn’t recognize Pinkie Pie from when they had briefly met in Appleloosa. Pinkie Pie figured it must be the lighting, or maybe because she wasn’t wearing a dancing-filly dress and fishnet stockings like before.
Well, actually, she was wearing the fishnet stockings at the moment, but they were currently hidden under her mystical robe of kismet. Fishnet stockings sure were a lot of fun to wear, she thought! The pony medium began staring off into space, her mind already miles away. The distracted mare snapped back to reality about halfway through her guest’s long introduction.
"…which means you must be this ‘Madame Pinkie Pie’. I can see what they all say about you, incredible though it sounds, must actually be true!" the Sheriff finished, his voice filled with awe. While Pinkie was zoned out, he had trotted the rest of the way into the tent and up to her table. He glanced around at the many strange devices hanging from the side supports of her tent. Madame Pinkie’s tools of the trade appeared to include sticks of incense, strange crystals, a rubber ball labeled "for emergencies", a few tufts of hay, strange musical instruments, black eye-patches, and… was that a rubber chicken? Additionally, there seemed to be a flowerpot dangling precariously by a few thin strands of silk, suspended right there in front of the entryway. The Sheriff had stepped carefully to the side when he entered, just to be safe.
"Yes, of course. Everything you just said makes perfect sense," Madame Pinkie said, bluffing that she’d been listening at all. "And, um, just to be very clear, for the spirits I mean, what brings you into my parlor today? Though it’s more of a tent than a parlor, I do realize," the pink pony rambled, her bright magenta curly mane bouncing each time she swiveled her head.
The Sheriff cleared his voice and took a deep breath. “I’ve actually visited a number of wise ponies throughout various parts of Equestria. Since I came here to visit with the Mayor and a couple of friends in the Apple family, I figured I might as well hit up your tent. Nearly half the town mentioned you by name, Madame Pinkie,” he explained. “Ponies here in Ponyville all seem to agree that you have an amazing skill with the arcane, despite you being a simple earth pony like myself,” he revealed, his voice rather hushed.
The Sheriff was being oddly softspoken, and Pinkie Pie momentarily wondered if she was intimidating him too much. But he seemed to be enjoying the little game as much as she was, so she decided to keep up the act. “Oh yes!” she acknowledged. “I do see the future, and the past, and all that good stuff. And I can see the present even better still,” she bragged. “Especially if it’s a future present. But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re here for, is it?” she hinted, raising a brow.
Sheriff Silverstar nodded in assent, even though he had no idea what sort of thing a “future present” might actually be. “I’m here to ask the same question I ask of all wise ponies: what is the meaning of life?” he put forth. The question was simple and straightforward, much like the stallion himself.
Madame Pinkie giggled. “Oh, that! That one’s easy. It’s a fountain,” she answered, plainly but definitively. Her guest furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I don’t understand. What exactly is it, that is a fountain?" he queried.
Madame Pinkie held out her hooves, gesturing all around her. “Life! Life is a fountain,” she insisted, nodding her head several times. “That’s just all there is to it.”
Slowly, Sheriff Silverstar pondered the odd response. His mouth opened silently for a few seconds as he waited for the words to form, and then he spoke. “Wait, wait just a minute… now I’m beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but that doesn’t explain anything! I asked half the ponies in town to direct me to a wise pony, they all sent me here, and all you got to say is, ‘Life is a fountain’? I mean… that’s all I get?” he complained, sounding incredulous and a little hurt.
Pinkie’s eyes widened, and she let out a large, exaggerated gasp. “Wait… Are you telling me that… that life isn’t a fountain after all? Ohmygosh!” she exclaimed, hooves pressed against her cheeks in total surprise.
The poor Sheriff looked more confused than ever. “Well, I, um, I just don’t see how it could be, exactly. It just doesn’t make sense,” he offered meekly. He scratched nervously at the side of his straight black mane with a hoof.
For a few seconds, Pinkie pursed her lips and looked upwards, then came to a firm conclusion. “Well, I guess life is not a fountain, then!” she giggled, then smiled brightly. Her unsatisfied customer looked like he was just about to turn tail and walk out in dismay, when the pink pony quickly tacked on, “But then again, now that I think about it: I’d bet you’d have responded the same way to any quickie answer, whether it was right or not. Don’cha think?” she asked, cocking her head cutely. “If it was something so obvious you’d know it right when you heard it, you probably wouldn’t need somepony else to tell you!”
Sheriff Silverstar paused for a moment, considering his lesson. Then he chuckled out loud. “Heh, well, I guess that’s probably true. I can’t really think of an answer that would do the trick, I just keep hopin’ there’s some easy secret I’m missing that somepony less simple than me might get to. It’s kinda depressing, but maybe there isn’t a simple answer for a question like that.”
"Depressing is bad," Madame Pinkie pouted, and shook her head. "I bet there really is an answer out there, though. Being simple usually makes it easier to figure things out, not harder. If there’s a meaning out there, it’s gotta be one that comes from within you, what with all that seeking you did. The people you ask might help, but it’s not going to come from inside their heads,” she countered. Before the older pony could fully process what Pinkie was saying, she randomly shifted gears. “Oh! There’s something I forgot, something very important,” she revealed, and began waving her forehooves around the crystal ball in front of her.
"What is it?" the Sheriff asked, looking into the cloudy bauble with great curiosity.
"When I look into the mystical orb of fate, I see, I see… that you’re getting a kick-flank birthay present on your next birthday! Woohoo!” Pinkie Pie said excitedly, and clapped her hooves.
The Sheriff chuckled. “Well, that’s actually kind of funny. Y’see, turns out today is my birthday,” he admitted.
"Great! Did you like your present?" Pinkie asked softly, with a sly grin.
Sheriff Silverstar’s jaw dropped half-open, then he simply blushed and nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Madame Pinkie,” he added, then bowed and stepped out of the tent.
Once her guest had left, Pinkie pie quickly leaned outside of the tent and placed a “Spirits Out To Lunch” sign on the opening flaps. “I’ll have to run to Sweet Apple Acres and grab Applejack if I’m going to pounce the Sheriff with a surprise birthday party before he leaves town!” she resolved, her cheery mood as bubbly as the waters of a mighty fountain.