Sea Scroll could not imagine why ponies insisted that every morning must start with a preface of ‘good.’ As if by the simple virtue that by being morning, a birthright of excellence had been bestowed upon it. Yeah, right. The only positive thing about mornings lay in the fact that they generally left him time to think while the rest of the world dozed off like the breakfast club losers.

Not that he wanted to be an early riser, but, he physically could not sleep in past six or so. Thus, though his limbs ached and he needed rest, he could not fall back asleep. So he made his way down the stairs to find something resembling breakfast.  

Well, this is . . . different. Sea Scroll expected a fairly decent sized kitchen, maybe with a full oven instead of a half one and some actual storage room in the cupboards. What he stumbled upon made him wonder just how popular this place had been in its prime. The “kitchen” resembled the inner cogs of a school cafeteria complete with stainless steel countertops, eight burner stove, industrial sized mixer, and three massive ovens.

Compared to his six by six kitchenette he had grown accustomed to, this was a veritable mansion. Heck, the square footage in the kitchen alone had to be more than the dorm room he shared with three other stallions in college. Though, being the only pony in the room made him feel like a schoolfoal sneaking into the Cafeteria before lunch hour.

The serving counter had been closed off to the dining hall with a metal divider, but its surface had been littered with what sorry excuse for food his roommates possessed. Cereal boxes, baked goods, nasty cup noodles, and old ketchup packets lay scattered about like the aftermath of some fraternity party. Sea Scroll had grown to despise such ‘staples’ after surviving off them for weeks when tuition fees were raised. There, buried behind the mountain of food on an ageing bar stool sat one of the last ponies he wanted to exchange pleasantries with. I should’ve known.

“I see gluttony is part of your raison d’etre, Mr. Jet,” Sea Scroll drawled contemptuously, staring at the pubescent colt scarfing down a sizeable bowl of oatmeal. Celestia knew what shape he would’ve been in had he eaten like that as a teenager.

Jet didn’t even look up from his breakfast. “Top o’ the morning to you too, Sea Scroll,” he managed through a mouth full of the slightly burnt mush. “I’m a growing stallion. I need to eat a certain amount of calories so I don’t end up scrawny like you. Duh.” He shoved his muzzle back into the oats, and Sea Scroll couldn’t help but wish that everypony had been graced with a horn if only to spare ponykind from watching disgusting displays such as this.

“What are doing up so early, anyway?” Jet asked, looking up at him as if registering his presence for the first time. “It’s Saturday!”

Sea Scroll used his default response to moronic questions like Jet’s. “‘Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a pony healthy and wise’ . . . do you know who said that?”

“A fortune cookie.”

I put too much faith in the Equestrian schooling system. He groaned, rubbing a hoof through his mop of a mane. “And I assume you get up this early every morning to commandeer all the food for yourself?”

Jet, cheeks still bulging with oatmeal held up a hoof and pushed a muffin in Sea Scroll’s direction as a paltry offering.

And the noble dragon is willing to give up one gem out of  his hoard. How exceptionally generous. “No thanks, I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

Jet swallowed. “I don’t usually get up at the crack-of-smack like this, I just wanna head start on getting things ready for the party! There’s a lot of stuff to do. Setting up the speakers, fixing the snacks, making sure the place doesn’t smell like B.O., etcetera.”

“Wait, what?” Party? Why hadn’t anyone told him about this?

Jet gave an exasperated look and began to repeat what he said in a slower, louder voice. “There’s, like, a lot of stuff to d—”

“No, no, what’s all this about a party?”

“What, Coppertone didn’t tell you?” He laughed, bouncing in his seat like a colt at an amusement park. “I’m having a little get-together down here. All the girls are gonna come and we’re gonna have those tiny sandwiches that nopony really eats . . . It’ll be so much fun.”

Sea Scroll generally avoided parties, but from what little experience he had with them, he remembered sitting by a window and trying to drown out the pandemonium going on around him. Adding a bunch of giggling mares into the chaos didn’t make it sound any more ‘fun’ either. 

“Huh. Well, I wasn’t informed about this beforehoof.” Despite Coppertone’s attempted sociability last night, he found himself a little annoyed at the ungainly stallion for not informing him of this . . . festivity. It wasn’t like it was something easily forgotten.

“That sucks . . . but you know now, so it’s all cool!”

“No, Mr. Jet, it’s not ‘all cool,’” he growled, “It’s incredibly discourteous to throw  a party without warning all your housemates first. I know etiquette isn’t exactly your cup of tea, but even you are not beyond basic social skills.”

Even his debauched roommates back in Canterlot University knew to at least tell him about any upcoming events in the dorms, despite giving him no choice in whether or not those events would take place at all. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t in Canterlot. A task easier said than done . . .

Jet was quick to jump to his own defense. “Dude, don’t blame me! Coppertone’s in charge of telling you all the stuff you need to know, I just live here.”

If only we could all have a scapegoat to dump our responsibilities on.

Well, he hadn’t been planning on spending the whole day loafing around in the lodge. Surely he could find something productive to do whilst they had their bit of ‘fun.’ “Nevermind, I’ll be out in town for the day anyway.”

Unexpectedly, Jet looked genuinely distraught by this.

What’s your problem?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, Princess Buzzkill! You can’t do that.”

Can’t I? Who made you the divine authority? “Really? Last time I checked, I was an adult with a free will.”

“Bu-but, you don’t want to meet the mares? They’re really nice ponies, I know you’ll love them.” The teen’s attempts at hiding his desperation did not fool him for a second.

“You can’t fortell my opinion on individuals I have yet to meet,” Sea Scroll sighed in a manner befitting a put-upon professor. “Certainly this won’t be my only opportunity to become acquainted with them.” 

Jet glanced around the kitchen before responding, as if checking for spies in the muffins. His hoof waved, gesturing for him to come closer.

Oh for the love of . . . Sea Scroll humored his little game, pulling up another rickety stool with his magic and taking a seat.

“Look buddy, “ Jet whispered, “Coppertone and Beulah are kind of on the same boat as you in the sense that they’re not huge on parties. Seriously, I haven’t had one in, like two years! So when I suggested  that we throw a ‘welcome’ party for you, Coppertone only agreed because he wants to make you feel at home. You kind of have to be here for it to work out.”

So he was being used an excuse to throw a party. It didn’t get any more ‘welcoming’ than that. “How do you know I don’t already have plans?” Sea Scroll snapped.

“Um, because you can’t.”

 With a theatrical sigh, he stared into the kid’s pleading eyes. Why do I feel so damn obligated? Defeated, he let his head drop onto the countertop, burying his face in his hooves.

“Sea Scroll . . . Sea Scroll . . .” Jet prodded him like a dead squirrel.

Don’t push your luck further, kid. “What?”

“Can I take that as a yes? You’re not going to leave, right?”

“No, no, I’ll be your little hostage for the day since the whole world seems to depend on it. Just don’t expect me start dancing or serving drinks.”

Jet grinned and delivered a hard smack to Sea Scroll’s back, causing him to gasp in pain.  “Awesome, you’re the best, man!”

“And I’m sure tomorrow, when I do something that doesn’t tickle your fancy, I’ll go back to being the worst.” Sea Scroll tried to retort, but the comment lost its edge with his wind halfway knocked out. Jet just smiled like the clueless numskull that he was.

The restaurant style door swung open as Coppertone and Beulah wandered in with all the air of two lost hikers finding civilization at last. Beulah appeared ready to do battle with the next pony who dared look at him the wrong way. Coppertone remained as unnervingly chipper as he had the night before. There’s such a thing as too much smiling, buddy.

“Well good morning, party animals!” Coppertone chimed in that fabricated cheery tone of his, “Are we ready to set things up?”

Already? Celestia, it’s hardly past six-thirty.

Jet practically jumped out of his seat. “Hell yeah!”

Beulah scowled. “No.”

Coppertone expectantly turned to Sea Scroll, who simply sighed.

“Define ‘ready.’”

_______________________________________________________

At one point, Sea Scroll had garnered satisfaction from sitting back and taking in the end product of his hard work. Now he only felt irritated. The immediate surroundings came closer to making him feel like a vandalist than a renovator.

What ‘charming’ features of the dining hall that remained had been abolished. Furniture unceremoniously pushed to one side of the room to make room for . . . well, floor he supposed. Frivolous bowls of snacks placed on every flat surface in the vicinity while garish streamers draped forlornly in every corner of the hall. His nerves could not take much more debauchery.

Evidently Jet and Coppertone didn’t share in his disgust as they smugly observed the decor, nodding to themselves as if they had just created a masterpiece.

I’ll never understand why we have to dress our homes up like a peacock just to have company over. A quick cleanup would’ve been sufficient. It was ridiculous that these mares who lived  one floor above them could really even be considered ‘company.’  

“You know, it’s a wonder these mares haven’t already arrived,” He noted in a knowing drawl, “What with them living directly upstairs and all. What could they possibly be busy doing, primping themselves up?”

Jet shrugged. “Oh, I told them they’re not allowed to come downstairs until everything’s ready to go. That way it’s more of a surprise!”

Beulah rolled his eyes before Sea Scroll could do it himself.

“Speaking of which,” Coppertone said, “I should go tell them they’re free to come down now. I’ll bet they’re starving.”

Even if they were permitted to come downstairs for breakfast, Sea Scroll doubted they would’ve had anything to eat with Jet in the vicinity.

Jet’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “It’s okay, I’ll tell them!” Before anyone could protest, the pegasus quickly took off toward the stairs and out of sight.

Only a horny teenager would fly to the mares’quarters with that much ardor. “Celestia preserve us. I’ve never seen an event gain such unwarranted hype since last year's Hearth’s Warming pageant.”

Coppertone let out a weak laugh. “He’s just overeager to see Heartbreaker. She’s his girlfriend now, you know.”

Girlfriend? The colt had all the maturity of a twelve-year-old. “How long do you think that’ll last, weeks? Days?” Sea Scroll scoffed.

“Well . . .” A shrug and a sheepish smile was the closest thing Sea Scroll got to an answer.

After a few minutes of blessed silence, Jet came trotting downstairs with all the air of a conquering general. Three mares trailed behind him like an army on a forced march.  “Let’s get this party started!” he cheered.

Let’s not.    

Sea Scroll took in Jet’s ‘troops,’ calculating how much of a threat they would be to his sanity. The youngest, a gangly pink pinup model for a teen fashion magazine stood beside Jet. Her ‘perfectly done’ black and fuschia manestyle along with copious quantity of makeup screamed attention whore if he ever saw one. Urgh . . . Pass!

In sharp contrast to the slut, a periwinkle Shirlie Trotpole impersonation shook like a rain drenched chihuahua. It did not take a detective to know why. His wolfish appearance set mares like that running. His eyes fell to the unicorn’s deep purple mane tied into a vicious knot in the back. A tell-tale sign of one of those ‘holier than thou’ types that might scream if a stallion so much as accidently brushed against their coat.

Last, a finely featured pegasus mare stood off to the side, taking in the scene with the eyes of a statistician examining a battlefront. Snow white coat that glistened like diamonds, those piercing azure eyes, and an imperious smile that made his skin crawl.

Sea Scroll’s stomach somersaulted. Florian? It took every ounce of self control he possessed not to gape like an imbecile. What is she doing here? His hooves felt numb and weak as the pieces slammed together with all the force of a freight train. Florian lived a floor above him?

Last evening’s conversation replayed on fast forward. His attempts at insulting her . . . the smug comebacks she threw back at him . . . his dismissal from her office. And she lived in the same building as him!

Phineus’ warning joined the growing din inside his head. Living in the same home as a very pretty, albeit arrogant mare was a recipe for Phineus’ brand of ‘fraternization.’ Didn’t he have some kind of rule against that?  

Sea Scroll wanted nothing more than to go to the farthest reaches of the forest and hide. But, he had his pride, and wouldn’t go cowering like some schoolyard colt. He let out a slow breath. Calm the hell down, you have just as much of a right to be here as she does! Yes, and she had just as much of a right to kick his flank for yesterday.  

Beulah shifted his weight, eyes flashing to the far corner. “If anypony needs me, I’ll be over there.” Not waiting for a response, he slunk off.

That left Coppertone and himself with the three mares. Despite every desire to remain collected as always, that unwelcome restlessness continued to grip Sea Scroll’s senses. Unwilling to process the new irksome sensation, Sea Scroll attempted to blot it out. This resulted in his brow furrowing in what had to be a rather intense expression.

“Uh . . . you alright?” Coppertone asked, “You look a little red.”

“I’m fine, I just—I’m not a huge fan of parties.” Sea Scroll said in a much sharper tone than he had intended.

Coppertone smiled warmly. “Right there with ya, buddy. Come on, you’ve got to meet our lady friends.”

Accepting fate, Sea Scroll joined Coppertone, walking up to the rest of the group. The older stallion oozed all the excitement and geniality that he significantly lacked. Perhaps Florian would make it easy on him and focus in on Mr. Sunshine. Even if she didn’t, what was the worst she could do? Throw a hissy fit?

“Hey everypony!” Coppertone lilted in an off-puttingly feminine fashion. The mares returned the greeting, save Florian, whose eyes met with Sea Scroll’s. Her features were touched with unspoken shock and even anger, causing him to immediately take interest in the floor. If looks could kill . . .

“I want you all to meet Sea Scroll, our new housemate.”  Coppertone said, pointing a hoof to him like he was showing an art piece on display.

Sea Scroll gave a curt wave to the three. “How do you do?”

Unperturbed by his stiff tone of voice, the pink earth pony debutante sidled over to him. “Nice to meet you, I’m Heartbreaker. I’m sure Jet’s told you all about me.”

Of course she’s Heartbreaker. . . looks like some Playcolt floosy. “No actually, must’ve slipped his mind.” Sea Scroll said coldly.

Heartbreaker frowned at Jet, who giggled nervously. “Hmm. Well, we’re an item, just so you know.” She embraced her boyfriend with the air of a high school filly trying to make her friends envious of her.

Sea Scroll didn’t bother hiding the fact that he came close to gagging. “Yes, it’s very easy to pick up on that.”

The short periwinkle unicorn approached him cautiously, glancing quickly at Heartbreaker as if waiting for an all-clear signal before uttering a word. “Hi.” With that, she trotted off the snack table before he had a chance to respond.

And this one is no less juvenile than she looks. Not that she had a lot to live up with the company she keeps.

Coppertone looked split between endeared and embarrassed. “River Ripple’s a bit . . . out there sometimes, but hey, we love her!”

The question is, do you love her in spite of her social malfunction, or because of it? ‘Out there,’ the newest term that ponies used to pass off rude behavior as a ‘charming little quirk.’Though he normally wouldn’t have minded being left alone immediately after an introduction, this was one circumstance where some stalling wouldn’t have irked him too much. Not with whom he had to deal with next.

Stop acting like there’s an imminent apocalypse! She’s just a mare who wakes up on the wrong side of the bed every morning. This is an annoyance at worst.

Coppertone stared expectantly at the stone-faced pegasus. “Uh, Florian?”

Ooh, the silent treatment. Was she seriously under the impression that not speaking to him was somehow a punishment? How much self-importance could you cram into one pony?

Sea Scroll locked eyes with her, standing up a little taller and puffing up his chest to avoid the sinking feeling in his stomach. “It’s a pleasure meeting you again, Miss Blossom.”  he sneered, extending a hoof.

Florian shook it tensely, returning his smirk with an acid smile that made it hard to look away. “No, no, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Coppertone blinked, looking between the two ponies as if just registering the exchange, then grinned. “Oh, so you guys already know each other?”

“I suppose you could say—”

“Yes, we work in the same building. He gave me some helpful tips on how to improve my art.”

Still pouting about that, huh?

“Wonderful! I had a feeling you two would really get along.”

“If that’s what you’d like to call it. . .” Sea Scroll muttered under his breath.

Florian continued as though she hadn’t heard anything. “Oh yes. I even took his advice and decided to dabble in surrealism.”

What?! Sea Scroll forced his mouth shut. His words lost their signature collected eloquence when compromised by emotion. If his temper had been reined in, he would have told Coppertone how Florian had taught him to express one’s anger through physical assault.

“Nice! That surrealism movement was very big in art history, especially after the reign of Discord.” Coppertone chimed, oblivious as always.

That’s it, I’m done. If Sea Scroll had wanted to walk away from the situation when he first caught sight of Florian, then now he wanted to disappear completely. Find an excuse, find an excuse . . .

He cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to leave to . . . over there.” Smooth as sandpaper. Hopefully she didn’t notice his awkwardness and interpret it as a sign of submission.

Coppertone lowered  his ears. “Alright. We’ll talk later, then.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sea Scroll grumbled, turning around and walking away without so much as a second glance behind him.

Dumb mare! Question the honor of her precious doodles once, and get put on her blacklist! And he despised surrealism.

Sea Scroll strode over to the thankfully empty sitting area around the fireplace, where Beulah stood disapprovingly in the nearby corner. His golden eyes bore into his surroundings like everything around him had done some horrible crime—furniture included.

Well. . . at least I’ll be with the best company in the house. Not that

that was saying much.

The songs booming from Jet’s speakers began to blend together, and soon Sea Scroll forgot just how long he had been in this hell hole. His head and chest pounded with the heavy bass until he wanted to scream in frustration. What little intelligible lyrics were in the first place had been drowned out, though he could safely assume it was all targeted towards the lowest common denominator.

Over twenty minutes must have passed before he realized that the track changed. His sharp senses enabled him to pick up the same four chords being a arranged in a slightly different fashion than before. So this is the garbage foals are listening to these days?

Judging by how loud the beat in the background was, he honestly couldn’t blame them if they weren’t able to recognize the lyrics at all, not that anyone cared.

As if reading his mind, Beulah commented on the music as well. “I used to wonder whether Ponykind was evolving or devolving. It’s times like this that I think it’s safe to assume the ladder.”

Sea Scroll raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a fan of this tripe, either?”

He had been convinced that Beulah was silently immersed in the music with his unfaltering blank expression.

Beulah shot him a sarcastic look that screamed “You don’t say . . .”

Brat. “You didn’t strike me as the type to enjoy it; it’s just refreshing to hear a counter-cultural remark from the mouth of a teenager. Most teens I’ve met are more concerned with their flank size than they are with Ponykind.”

“New flash, I’m not ‘most teens.’” Beulah snapped.

“Aside from the attitude, you’re not.”

The ‘music’ continued to blast through his ears, attacking him with a deep bass drum and a painfully high note at the same time, causing his skull to vibrate. He needed to protect his only means of hearing from ruin. “Maybe we should go outside where we can actually hear ourselves think!” Sea Scroll shouted over the song.

Beulah nodded. “Let’s.” 

Blessed silence, or at least relative silence greeted them as they stepped onto the worn deck. Beulah slunk a little farther down, and Sea Scroll followed suit.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Celestia. I thought I was going to have a premature stroke from listening to that trash.”

“Welcome to my life.” Beulah drawled.

“Heh.” Sea Scroll made to speak, but found himself drawn to the scene in front of them. Perched atop a substantial hill, the lodge offered a unique vantage point of the surrounding countryside. It’s just like a picture book.

The river cut through the heart of the valley, glistening like spun silk. Hugging its banks were thousands of trees. Varying shades of leaves blended together in a natural, almost achingly beautiful oil painting. There off to the left stood Saddlewood, sturdy houses butted against the treeline, daring the very source of its wealth to take control one more.

“Do you like it here?” Beulah’s hoarse voice cracked in the midday stillness.

His heart skipped a beat. “What? Like it here, in Saddlewood?”

The stallion rolled his eyes. “Duh.”

“I. . .” Why are you asking me? A part of him wanted to give the town his usual, condescending spiel. But, the thought of lying left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had to be honest. “. . . despite a few difficult ponies and less than pleasant experiences, I’d say I like the town well enough. It’s very beautiful. At least compared to most of Equestria. Have you seen Manehattan lately?”

Beulah nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.  Sea Scroll had to wait a few seconds before realizing the kid couldn’t be trusted to keep the conversation alive.

“What about you, do you like it here?”

“It’s alright.” Beulah said without a minute’s thought. “Not the ideal living situation for me, but I’m sort of out of options.” He didn’t make eye contact, but rather stared into the general distance as if he gave Sea Scroll the abridged version.

That was . . . needlessly cryptic. Sea Scroll made to respond, but for once he found himself not sure of what to say.

He settled for a lame, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Whatever.” Beulah sighed in an exhausted tone of voice, even though he had done essentially nothing all day.

Another awkward silence. Just keep asking questions. . .

“I forgot to ask, Beulah, what exactly do you do for a living?”

It was very likely that the teen was unemployed, or maybe a delinquent recently kicked out of school, but that didn’t explain how he could afford to pay rent. Unless, of course, Coppertone paid it for him, but Sea Scroll liked to think Beulah had a little more integrity than that.

“You might not respect me anymore if I tell you.” Beulah said with a bitter laugh.

What’s the big deal, you work for the black market or something? “You don’t know if I even respect you to begin with.”

Surprisingly, this earned an actual smile from the ill-tempered unicorn colt. Well, it was more of a smirk, but anything other than a frown or a morose stare was welcome.

“Touche. I’m a part-time waiter, for your information. At that diner that’s only a short walk away from here.”

Beulah . . . a waiter? Either ‘service with a smile’ wasn’t a rule in the diner he worked at, or by some miracle, he actually knew how to be pleasant.

“That’s it?” Sea Scroll scoffed, “With all that ‘you won’t respect me anymore’ nonsense, you had me thinking you were a trained assassin or something.”

The smile quickly faded from Beulah’s face. “I couldn’t be, anyway. . . not with this head injury.” He gestured to the piece of cloth wrapped around his forehead.

Huh. So that ‘hachimaki’ is more than just bad fashion.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story. All you need to know is that it’s all thanks to this that I’m working at a diner and living with these goons.”

Why did he feel the need to be cryptic all the time? It always left him at a loss for words, and nothing irritated him more than lacking a witty comeback or thought-provoking response. “That’s. . . very unfortunate.”

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.”

Sea Scroll knew that shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but he could not help getting annoyed at his companion for the remark. “Someone like me? What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Beulah said with an impertinent lack of remorse for his rudeness. “You just strike me as sheltered. Like you’ve never felt what it’s like to be truly out of options.”

Sea Scroll had been called sheltered on more than one occasion, but only now did he feel like he was being insulted by such a label. “Oh really? Maybe you’re just too self-involved to comprehend any personal struggle outside your own. I would expect that from someone your age.”

“Maybe it would be best if we just didn’t discuss this.” Beulah growled.

End the conversation when things aren’t in your favor, then. Fine by me. Desperate to break the awkward tension that had settled like a shroud, Sea Scroll turned to the window. Not much had changed, save for the fact that Heartbreaker had wandered over to graze with River Ripple. He snorted at the thought of such a petite, skinny creature consuming as many snacks as she did. Honestly, where did she put it?

Then, drawn by a powerful, entirely unwelcome curiosity, he focused on Florian. The mare stood beside Jet and Coppertone, laughing and grinning from ear to ear. He soaked up her warmth, hypnotized by the almost ethereal quality of her unfettered mane. “Say, Beulah, what do you know about Miss Blossom?”

Beulah leaned casually against one of the support posts, his lethargic body language almost coming across as apathetic. “Florian? Not much. I know she’s a therapist.”

“Oh.” Sea Scroll felt a slight twinge of  disappointment.

“Kind of a badass, too. I wouldn’t mess with her, nor would anypony with a functioning brain.”

I guess throwing a couple tantrums make you quite the alpha dog here in Saddlewood, and not just in the office. “Treating her like an angry god will only go to her head in the long run. I say it’s good for her to be challenged once in a while, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That’s what they all say.” Beulah commented, almost grimacing at the window.

Sea Scroll snorted. “Come on! What does that say about your masculinity if you live in constant fear of some anal mare?”

He lowered his ears, but continued in a near-monotone. “We don’t live in fear of her, we just respect her. I don’t know what it says about your masculinity if you feel threatened by that.”

Why you! “I never said I felt threatened, only skeptical about this ridiculous status-quo.”

“So in other words, ‘threatened?’”

“You really are difficult, you know that?”

 Beulah almost smirked. “I’m just making sure you’re challenged enough. It’s good for you.”

Though he hated having his own words used against him, Sea Scroll had to give credit where credit where credit was due. He allowed himself a small smirk, holding out a hoof.

“What are you doing that for?”

“It’s a sign of friendship, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” Beulah gave his hoof a curt shake.

“Excellent.” Tired of pulling teeth for conversation, Sea Scroll started back towards the hall. “Now that we’re on relatively decent terms, I’m going to go back inside and mingle. The ‘music’ seems to be dying down, anyway.”

Beulah glanced at the scenery. “Suit yourself. I’ll be out here just . . . chilling.”

More like laze about. Well, at least he’s tolerable, Sea Scroll mused on his way inside. The noise had faded to a dull rumble and they had ceased their pathetic excuse for dancing. A quick scan of the room revealed Jet, Florian, and Coppertone all holding identical books. Judging from the broad smiles on their face and animated conversation, they were having a good discussion. Though he loathed the idea of being in that mare’s presence, literature had to be the only subject he could hope to connect with them on.

Coppertone looked up from his book at Sea Scroll, grinning like they hadn’t just seen each other less than thirty minutes ago. “Hey there, Sea Scroll.” he chimed, patting the empty cushion next to him. “I didn’t think you were going to join us today! Go ahead and sit down.”

Why do ponies always assume that I want to sit down? “Yes, well, unlike someponies, I’m not socially inept.” Sea Scroll shot back, gently pushing the cushion aside. “I just chose to spend my time with Beulah.”

Florian’s mood visibly darkened, reading the book mere inches from her muzzle with an almost pained intensity. Sheesh. It’s not like I’m bringing a plague down on you. Well, at least she was loathing him quietly.

“I never said you were, Sea Scroll. ” Coppertone chuckled, “Never said you were.”

That doesn’t mean that you didn’t insinuate it. He turned to Jet, who was lounging across two cushions and reading through his book with a satisfied, even smug look that most teens got when flipping through a  vapid magazine. The colt licked his hoof, turned the page, and continued to scan the text with the same dopey stare.

“Funny. I didn’t know you could read, Jet.” Sea Scroll said with a smirk. He immediately regretted this as the remark caused everypony to look at him with surprise and burst out into a fit of laughter.

The heat rose from his solar plexus into his face, making his cheeks burn. “What, what’s so amusing?”

Jet suppressed another giggle, pushing a clump of his thick black mane out of his face. “You think it’s funny that I just read, man? Dude, I wrote this book.”

Sea Scroll’s immediate thoughts on this new development all spilled out of his mouth at once. “What?!”

Florian laughed even harder at his reaction than she did his misconception. “He’s an author, asshat!”

“Yes, I gathered that much,” Sea Scroll snapped, the heat in his face rising to his ears. Jet didn’t have the right to be an author. He hardly had a grasp on the standard Equestrian language to begin with and was far too young to know what he was doing. I wonder if he bribes his publisher.

“Ponies are full of surprises.” The blue-and-grey maned package of sanctimony said. “You never know what to expect from your friends.”

Jet nodded vigorously in agreement. “And the best part is, I’ve probably written more books than you’ve critiqued.”

Sea Scroll felt suddenly inclined to take a seat after all this, and obeyed those inclinations without a second thought. “I doubt that.” he spat,  punctuating the words with an air of superiority.

Florian nudged Jet. “I have to agree with Sea Scroll on this one, he probably writes reviews on the small print you find on the back of packaging.”

“True, true.”

Every queen bee had her hench pony, whether said queen bee was a spoiled filly or simply an adult mare who behaved like one. Pitiful really. A change of subject was in order. Something, anything that could put him back in advantage of the conversation. He found salvation in no time. “What is it you’re all reading, anyway?”

Jet jumped at the question with unsettling enthusiasm. “My first attempt at writing something for the ladies! And it’s a smash hit.”

Coppertone and Florian smiled like a mother and father proud of their son’s achievement. Suck ups, the whole lot of you.

Determined to show Coppertone how a real stallion should act, Sea Scroll added, “Keep in mind that popularity isn’t an accurate measurement of a book’s quality. What’s it called?”

Jet shoved the novel in front of him, giggling. “‘My Big Fat Pegasus Wedding.’ It’s about a  young unicorn who falls in love with a pegasus, but her stupid bigoted family doesn’t approve of the match because of her fiancé’s ethnic background. Just to show them how independent she is, she decides to have a wedding based off pegasus culture and traditions.” He accentuated his summary with erratic hoof gestures.

 There are no words.

“It’s actually a pretty riveting novel that covers delicate issues such as racial tension while still maintaining a sense of humor . . . and romance.” Florian added.

What makes you qualified to make that judgement? You don’t have a degree in literary criticism. Before he could make a rebuttal, Jet pointed to the text on the back of the book. “See? Her review is on the back of the book.”

“It sounds like a glorification of unrealistic teenage fantasies.” Sea Scroll stated calmly, pushing the book out of his personal space. “If you like to pander to a hormonal and whiny demographic, far be it from me to stop you. But a young mare running away and putting together a wedding specifically to spite her parents will only encourage filial disobedience in the end.”

Florian was quick to defend her precious book. “A story about two irrational racists who learn to accept others through love for their daughter will encourage tolerance more than anything else. Besides, you have to give the kids some credit. They know better than to say and do everything they read in novels.”

Jet jerked a nod. “Yeah, Florian knows where it’s at.”

Excuses, excuses. “If you need to tell yourself that to justify that you, a full grown mare, are reading juvenilia targeted at pre-adolescents, then go ahead and tell yourself that.”

Coppertone positioned himself between the three ponies like a hoofball referee preventing a scuffle. “Hey guys, we’re all just here to have fun. It’s not a debate.”

Florian promptly ignored his efforts at diplomacy, snarling at him from over the pegasus’s wing. “You haven’t even read a single page of the book and yet you’re already deciding your opinion on it. I hope you don’t do that for all your critiques.”

“As a matter of fact, I thoroughly read through every book I critique.  Sometimes more than once.” Sea Scroll sniffed, “But you’re right. Let’s take a look at this, now shall we?” He levitated the title out of her hooves.

“Hey!”

“Now, now. I’m not going to harm your book in any way, I’m simply going to take a look at the first few pages . . . if that’s okay with you, of course.”

“I don’t suppose I can stop you.” Florian grumbled.

“Smart girl.”

Finally, back in my domain. He stood up and opened the book to the first chapter, reading aloud a passage.

 “The whimsical city of Cloudsdale floated serenely in the evening sky, gracing the humble land below with a cool shade. The wispy clouds were tinged a romantic shade of pink and the setting sun resembled a dying candle in the distance. Rosedust observed this beautiful scene unfold with a look of despair on her features. She had much more pressing matters on her mind.”

He can’t be serious. Sea Scroll turned to Jet, raising an eyebrow.

Jet shrugged. “What?”

“I would point out that this is painfully cliche—and that you used the word ‘shade’ twice in two neighboring sentences—but I would be a fool not to address how wordy and melodramatic this is. You’re not being payed by the adjective, are you?”

The oafish grey pegasus didn’t bat an eyelash at his work being disparaged. “I was making the narration all flowery. Chicks did that, right?”

“I’m sure ‘chicks’ don’t ‘dig’ being treated like creatures that can be manipulated with mere frivolity.” Sea Scroll said, ensuring his patronizing tone of voice was apparent, “Rather demeaning to the opposite sex, don’t you think?”

Florian rolled her eyes. “Right, because it’s only acceptable to demean mares who deserve it. What do you know about what mares fancy aside from your own mother, anyway?”

“Oh, snap!” her hench pony added.

Sea Scroll pursed his lips tightly. “You’d know a thing or two about wooing mares, wouldn’t you, Miss Blossom?”

Much to his satisfaction, she widened her eyes and opened her mouth as if to say ‘How dare you!’, but Coppertone interjected before the argument could escalate.

“Guys,” he said in an uncharacteristically firm tone, “we’re not going to let this devolve into a petty argument. Let’s all act like adults, okay?”

Jet raised his hoof. “I’m not an adult.”

“That’s aside the point.”

Sea Scroll nodded in respect for the beige pegasus. There had been a hoof-full of times that he felt as though he was surrounded by children since moving to Saddlewood, and finally somepony was putting the worst offenders in their place.

“I agree with Coppertone. My observations in no way warrant this level of tension. There might even be something positive for me to say about the novel if only you’ll let me continue.”

Coppertone flinched, but said nothing more. Florian, however, had another bone to pick. “How did you know that we secretly desire your praise and acceptance above all else?” she sneered, her voice raising a few octaves with sarcasm. She turned to Jet. “We better shut up, Jet, I hear Sea Scroll might let us lick his hooves if we’re good!”

Jet snickered.

What was with this mare and her use of embarrassingly vulgar language? It was unbecoming of someone who had so little redeeming qualities to begin with and blatantly went against Coppertone’s request for them all to act like adults. And yet, disengaging from the conversation was the last thing on Sea Scroll’s mind.

“The idea isn’t that it’s my personal approval you’re seeking, but that I speak for anyone with a higher Canterlot University Education.” He explained.

Florian crossed her hooves in front of her chest.  “What, suddenly you’re the only pony here with a Canterlot University education? Maybe you speak for anypony with clinical narcissism.”

 It had slipped his mind that they attended the same college.

Jet looked at Florian, then at Sea Scroll, raising his eyebrows and gasping. “Wait. Are you guys, like, old college ex’s or something?”

Sea Scroll stood abruptly, gut turning to ice.

“Oh, I’m sure he’d like that, wouldn’t he?” Florian snorted.

Sea Scroll flushed intensely, partially because of Jet’s inquiry, and partially because everypony was aware that he was flushing in the first place. That and he had stood up for no reason. “Don’t flatter yourself.”  he grumbled, sitting back down again.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Coppertone spoke. “H-hey, you know what’s interesting? Chapter, uh. . .chapter five is really good, you should read it.”

And here I thought I was terrible at changing the subject.

Even Jet looked at Coppertone awkwardly. “That’s the chapter where Rosedust purchases a cake.”

“Sounds more interesting than listening to these two throw playground insults around, anyway. I’ll give it a look.” Sea Scroll flipped through the pages until he reached Chapter Five.

Florian pouted, turning away from him.

Ignoring her, he glanced down at the page titled, ‘In Which Rosedust Purchases a Cake’. He wasn’t kidding. “So this is the chapter where the main protagonist . . . purchases a cake?”

“Yup.”

Sea Scroll glared at Jet. “But why? Does she meet or have an important conversation with another character?”

“Nah. She just get’s a nice cake.”

“What purpose could that possibly serve to the overarching plot?”

Jet blinked for a minute, then turned his gaze to the floor. “Acquiring a cake . . .so there can be one at the wedding.”

Celestia help him if that book was as much of a success as Jet made it out to be. Shooting him an, ‘I give up’ look, he returned the book to Florian.

She snatched it out of his magical grasp aggressively. “What, did you run out of batteries or something?”

Sea Scroll shook his head. “No, I just came to the realization that this isn’t worth my time or energy.”

“The again, what is?”

Definitely not you, he thought, but mustering up enough self-control, he replied, “A good many things, I’ll have you know. Nothing you’d be interested in I assure you.”

“Hm. Fair enough. Just don’t blame me if you suddenly drop dead. I hear critics are like sharks.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you’re not always and constantly berating other ponies’ work, you just kind of,” Florian lifted her hoof into the air, then let it fall limp, “Burn out like a light.”

Jet guffawed right on cue.

“You probably got that information from ‘The Big Book of Ignoramus’,” Sea Scroll scoffed, struggling to maintain his serene, detached attitude. “I hear it’s your go-to source of enlightenment.”

“Oh yes, it’s very helpful.” Florian giggled, “I’m so grateful you wrote it.”

Coppertone clasped a hoof to his forehead, groaning.

Ignoring the peanut gallery, Sea Scroll turned to Jet. “At least I wasn’t sacrificing my artistic integrity to appeal to the female demographic.”

“Okay, I have an idea!” The level of volume coming from the youngster made all three of them jump. “How about everypony who wants to read and talk about my book go over there with River and Heartbreaker. Then, the ponies that want to sit around and bitch all day stay over here!” He huffed for a moment, eyes flashing like umber daggers. “Does that sound like a plan, guys?”

An awkward silence lingered in the air like canon smoke. Then, with an imperious air, Florian strode over to Jet. “Sounds like an excellent plan, Jet. Why don’t we go over there and continue the conversation we were having before Sea Scroll came along?” Her haughty parting glare disquieted Sea Scroll in a way he scarcely could quantify. As if, by that simple gesture, she condemned him to a life of ostracization.

He stood as quiet as the cedar trees outside, waiting for Equestria knows what. Coppertone strode over, ears lowered. “Hey, um . . . I’m going to go over there with them.” The stallion’s gaze fell to the seating area where Jet, River, Heartbreaker, and Florian were congregating. “We’re just gonna be talking about about that book you aren’t really fond of. So . . .yeah.”

Sea Scroll’s limbs felt like dead weight as Coppertone slunk away. Peace and quiet. Excellent, I love peace and quiet. Solitude’s a pony’s best friend. Though his self-reassurances felt as fragile as porcelain in light of the group’s now animated conversation.

Sure solitude’s a pony’s best friend. At least when you’re trying to teach a class of stubborn kindergarteners who plug their ears and babble whenever you point out a simple fact. Ignorance is bliss, eh? 

Sea Scroll glowered at the happy clique, watching as the scene blurred together before forcing himself to focus on the floorboards. I suppose if I’m really such an inconvenience to everypony’s blind enjoyment, then my time would be better spent elsewhere.

Silence. A familiar, all pervasive silence as close to him as his own shadow. In it, he found comfort and inspiration. Some ponies might have claimed music helped one concentrate, but silence remained the only reason Sea Scroll managed to accomplish any task.

It was only the second time that the dusty old room seemed to welcome him with open hooves after a difficult day of listening to inane chatter which, when he became present for, turned into inane bickering. Not that

that was a new concept to him, not at all. If there was one thing he learned in college--aside from the numerous things that one ought to learn and then some-- was that intelligent ponies were never meant to mingle with the rest of society, as the results were normally explosive. Rather, intellectuals were better left to their own thoughts, unless he or she happened to come across a rare kindred spirit.

Having an obvious lack of ‘kindred spirits’ at the moment, Sea Scroll allowed his thoughts to become a sanctuary. Sitting down in front of his desk, he noticed that his notebook had been left open and instinctively slammed it shut out of habit. . . .oh, wait.

The door had been locked all day--there was no way anypony could’ve came in and read its’ contents. You’re paranoid, Sea Scroll. He opened the journal again, flipping through pages upon pages of excellent magicwriting until he reached the page that was empty save one half-written paragraph.

Now that he thought about it, he was feeling extra creative.

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