You know, sometimes it worries me how much I just accept nowadays. For example, it’s taken me roundabout forty minutes to finally question the existence of not one but two samurai swords made entirely out of snow, why they didn’t just fall apart in Pinkie’s hooves, or how said Pink Menace could wield such wintery blades without opposable thumbs.

Then there’s the rocket launcher which was also made up of snow. And fired snow. Through a mechanism that I can only assume was made out of snow. Snow snow snow snow.

I guess when you’ve been friends with Pinkie Pie for this long, you learn to keep your thoughts to yourself on this kind of thing. It’s not like it’s gonna get you anywhere. Unless you’re Twilight. From what I heard, it got her into a wheelchair.

“Hunter?”

“Hm?” I mumble, looking down at the orange filly walking alongside me. We had just walked back into Ponyville from Sweet Apple Acres, where we dropped off Applebud.

“I think I can take it from here.” Scooter said, chuckling nervously.

...I don’t get Scootaloo. I walk both of her friends home, but she always insists on getting home by herself. I don’t press her about it because it’s really none of my business, but...oh, fuck it.

“Scooter, why don’t you ever let me walk you home?” I asked carefully, trying not to trip any minefields in this conversation. This seems like a sensitive topic for her.

“Oh, um…” Scootaloo said, not meeting my eyes. “I just don’t want to make you walk all the way there. It’s pretty far.”

Kids, here’s a tip: don’t try to bullshit a bullshiter. I’ve lied to my parents enough when I was a kid to know what’s what.

I got on one knee to get closer to her level, trying to look her in the eye. She averted her gaze.

“Is there something going on at your house?” I asked quietly.

“N-No!” Scooter denied, shaking her head. “Nothing’s going on! I-I just-”

“Look, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, then I can’t help.”

“Nothing’s bothering-”

“Scootaloo, look at me.”

She held her head up, looking me in the eyes for just a moment before dropping her gaze once again.

“Listen to me.” I said softly, trying not to set her off. “Nothing, I repeat, nothing you could say to me would ever make me think any less of you. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, okay!?” Scootaloo yelled at me. Or more specifically, yelled at the ground. She still wouldn’t look at me, and was pawing at the snowy path.

“Scootaloo, please, I-”

I was interrupted by a snowball crashing into my face, shocking me for a moment. Did she just…?

I wiped the snow out of my eyes to see Scootaloo’s retreating form.

“Scootaloo, wait!” I shouted, starting to run after her.  

“Leave me alone!” she shrieked over her shoulder as I gained on her.

That made me pause. I sighed and scratched the back of my neck. In my experience, when a ten-year old girl wants to be left alone, you should probably leave her alone. Talking to her before she cools off would just escalate things, and as much as it pains me, I have to let this go for now. But she better believe that this isn’t over. Whatever Scooter is dealing with at home is clearly bothering her, and I want to help her.

Well...another dilemma for another day, I suppose. I’ve got a shift at Sugarcube Corner with my name on it.

“Hunty!”

As I walked through the door of my workplace, my world became a shade of pink as a certain party pony barreled into me, knocking me off of my feet and onto the floor. Pinkie was pinning me down with her fore hooves, and her familiar eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“That was the most fun snowball war I’ve ever had! Remember the part when I shot snow at you with my snow-tar and you were all like ‘Hit the deck!’ and then I jumped down and was all like ‘Kyaaaaaaah” but had to be super duper quiet because Maud was writing poetry and then you were like ‘NEVAH!’ and I sliced through all of those snowballs and then we both got nailed with the snow-zooka and then started throwing snow at each other with those big shovels and then we got fined for property damage?”

Pinkie took in a big gulp of air, and then looked down at me expectantly, panting.

“Hey Pinks?”

“Yes Hunty?”

“You’re sitting on me.”

Pinkie just blinked, her trademark smile unwavering.

“…Could you please fix that so I can go on my shift?” I asked in as a polite a tone I could muster with a pony digging her hooves into my chest.

“Okey-dokey-lokey!”

Pinkie clambered off of me, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. I got to my feet, brushed off my jacket, and made for the counter. Before I could get there, Pinkie was in front of me, smiling wider than ever.

“Uh, Pinks. You’re blocking the counter.” I pointed out.

“Yes indeedily!”

“And just why are you blocking the counter?” This is starting to get a bit irritating. I’m already in a mood after that talk with Scooter, and I’d just like to work my shift so I can go to bed.

“Because you’re not working today, silly!” She replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Another thing about Pinkie is that she seems to think that everyone knows what her intents are from her actions. I don’t think she realizes how unreadable she can be sometimes.

“How do you figure that?” I asked, confused.

“It’s Hearth Warming Eve!” She cried, bouncing in excitement.                  

Hearths Warming? The heck is…oh.

Wanna know something weird about Equestria? Their calendar is the same as the one on Earth on a fundamental level. They have seven days a week, roundabout four weeks a month, twelve months a year. Their days are even named the same…which I find a bit strange, seeing as the name of their months are different, a couple of them being equine themed.

But the point I’m trying to make is that human holidays all line up with their Equestrian equivalents. Which means that if today is the twenty-fourth of Decembmare, then today must be their equivalent of…Christmas…Eve…

…huh.

Jenny, stop eating all of the cookies! Those are for Santa!

But they look sooooo good!

They aren’t for you. No more cookies for you.

Can I have one more? Please please please please pleeeeeease!

…Fine. But just one!

Yaaaaaay!

“Hunty?”

“Mm?” I mumbled. I looked down to see Pinkie, her smile somewhat diminished and her brow furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“What?” I asked, still a bit out of it. “Oh, um, yeah, I’m fine. Just…just zoned out for a bit.” I let out a forced chuckle, trying to put her at ease.

“Oh, okay!” Pinkie said happily. “You know what Hearths Warming is, don’t you?”

“Twilight may have mentioned it.” I admitted. “Something about celebrating Equestria’s founding, right?”

“Yepperuni!” Pinkie confirmed. “Oh, and speaking of questionnaires,” she pilfered through her mane for a moment before pulling out a small stack of papers, “Twilight told me to give you this.”

“But…we weren’t even talking about…alright.” I took the stack of papers from her and looked at the title page on top:

“That’s not even how you spell…wait a second, Christmas?” I asked, confused yet again.

“Twilight said that you told her about human holidays.” Pinkie explained. “And she wanted you to ‘more thoroughly explain your primary winter holiday’. Or something like that. Anyway, fill it out, right now!”

“Why are you being so pushy about it?” I asked, a bit perturbed by her outburst.

“I’m not pushy! I’m excited!” Pinkie said, positively bouncing in joy…for whatever reason.

“And why are you so excited?”

“Because Twilight and I are-“Pinkie began before clamping her hoofs over her mouth, her eyes widening. Out of absolutely nowhere, she began to slam her head into the floor repeatedly. I quickly rushed to her side, falling on one knee, and pulled her up.

“Pinks!” I said loudly, worried for my pink friend. “What was that for?!”

“I almost told you!” Pinkie said back, matching my increased volume.

“Almost told me what?” I said, before quickly realizing my mistake and moving to intercept what was sure to follow.

“That me and-mpph!” Pinkie began before I clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling whatever secret she’s so serious about keeping from me.

“Pinks?” I asked clearly. Pinkie looked up at me and slightly nodded. “I’m gonna go upstairs and fill this out. I’ll leave it on the shop counter when I’m done with it. Then you won’t be near me, and you can’t tell me this secret if you’re not with me. Alright?”

Pinkie responded by licking the inside of my hand.

“Ugh, Pinks!” I shouted indignantly, slightly disgusted. I pulled my hand away immediately and wiped it against my jacket. “Gross!”

Pinkie just smacked her lips several times, looking deep in thought.

“You taste funny.” She decided, giggling.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my other hand and exhaled loudly. She didn’t just say that. She didn’t lick my hand. This conversation ended at ‘Alright?’ That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

“I’m heading up.” I said, turning around without giving her a second glance. “If you need me, wait til’ tomorrow. I’ll be too busy rinsing my ears out with bleach.”

“Have fun!” Pinkie said happily, trotting off somewhere.

I think the most intriguing thing about all of this is that the conversation we just had was one of the more normal ones we’ve ever shared.

When I reached the loft, I threw my jacket onto the floor, the questionnaire onto my desk, and, rather unceremoniously, myself onto my bed.

“My life is so fucking weird.” I moaned into my pillow.

Groaning, I sat up in my bed, and glanced at my desk. At my inkwell and quill. At my occasional doodles I made when I had too much free time.

At the terribly spelled questionnaire…

…Well, as a wise man once said, ‘let’s get this shit over with’.

I rose from my bed and crossed the loft to my desk. It wasn’t anything special, just something I used for writing letters or doodling. The Cakes had it in one of their old storerooms and when I asked if I could use it, they were all too happy to get rid of it. Kind of. It’s still in their home, so really-

You know what, I’m putting this off.

I sat down at the desk and dipped a quill in my inkwell, shaking it slightly to get rid of the excess ink. The first thing I did was do a bit of editing to the front page.

I turned the page and was surprised to see only one question. Flipping through the papers, I found that every page only had one question. Did Twilight really expect me to elaborate so much as to fill out entire pages? Screw that. I don’t even want to be thinking about Christmas right now. Why would I want to think about a holiday I can’t even celebrate anymore?

…Forget it. I shouldn’t think like that. I’m just gonna get this done and go to bed.

Annnnd she’s already lost me. I probably shouldn’t write anything about Christ, because then I’d have to explain Christianity and human religious and I’d never hear the end of it. I’ll just use my own definition.

After fixing the spelling of the holiday, I quickly scratched out that Christmas was the celebration of togetherness to be celebrated with both friends and family, and didn’t elaborate too much on the matter. It’s a bit of a vague concept, but Twilight’s a smart girl. I’m sure she can infer something from it. Alright, next page.

Oh, this one’s simple. Pine trees covered in baubles, wrapped in tinsel, and topped with a star. Large colorful stockings displayed, usually over a fireplace. Generally dominated by the colors red, green, and white. Easy.

Hm. This one is a bit subjective. I guess I’ll just put what I’ve been given. I wrote that brunch is served on Christmas, the minor components of the meal being bread rolls and some selection of a fruit or vegetable, the main component being some sort of large meat product, usually ham or beef. I don’t want to gross her out, but Twilight’s scientifically minded. Unlike some ponies around here, she accepts that humans have certain dietary parameters. I also mentioned Christmas cookies, but not what they were for. Santa can stay on Earth.

…Next.

Alright, bit of a tricky one. Okay…I wrote about the gift giving, the mistletoe, all that jazz, but stressed that they were all optional. I don’t need anypony thinking that humans are all possession obsessed freaks…despite the nugget of truth in that claim.

I went to flip to the next page, but was surprised when all I saw was the surface of the desk. I flipped through the sheets to double check, and as it turns out, there were only five pages.

That’s only four Christmas related questions. And rather broad questions for Twilight to be asking. You’d think she’d write a thousand questions that are extremely specific, and most importantly, seemingly minute and arbitrary. Point being, she’d want every last detail. So why would she…

You know what, this isn’t my problem. If Twilight isn’t satisfied with my answers, she can take it up with Future Hunter. Present Hunter just wants to sleep and keep a lid on painfully happy memories of a holiday he’ll never celebrate again and…whatever.

I trudged downstairs and slapped the filled questionnaire on the shop counter, and then went straight back upstairs.

I saw Pinkie at the counter. I heard her greet me. But I don’t feel much like talking.

I plopped down onto my bed once more, and only had time for one more thought before sleep

consumed me:

If only I had known that last Christmas was going to be my last Christmas. Next Chapter: Holiday Interlude Part 3: First Christmas Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 56 Minutes