A Regular Thanksgiving


                                            PROMPT: https://boards.4channel.org/mlp/thread/34669808#p34670434


                                            >”No offense, Berry, when you invited us all to a bar, I thought it’d be to drink. Even if it is the middle of the week.”

                                            >You look up at Vinyl Scratch – who had just spoken – and Octavia, the last of the four you’d invited to arrive.

                                            “Iz just cuz I have a private booth ‘ere, Vinyl.”

                                            >A table that, for once, was completely empty of glasses.

                                            >The two file onto the bench next to Cheerilee, who’d arrived only a few minutes prior.

                                            >”Judging by the crowd,” Octavia said, “It’s about our foals.”

                                            “Close, but nah.”

                                            >Cheerilee looks shocked. “If not that, then what?”

                                            >You look over those three, then to Derpy at your side, and sigh.

                                            “Look, Derpy and I ‘ave been here all day. You know we’re not the best talkers, but we can do some thinkin’ if we have to. She and I together got one whole working brain, I figgur.”

                                            >Derpy snorts, but doesn’t object.

                                            >”How many did you have to grease that one brain up?” Octavia looks between you and Derpy with a flat expression.

                                            “None.”

                                            >The expressions of shock on all three is comical.

                                            “Y’see, this is the kinda thinkin’ that y’can only do dry. So y’all can excuse me if I’m a bit testy. Sobriety gives me a hangover.”

                                            >Octavia leans forward. “Do go on, then.”

                                            “What this is about is… we all got stallions who left us.”

                                            >”Well, Derpy got kicked out of her flight,” Cheerilee said. “A little different.”

                                            “And it weren’t no fault of her own, so what’s it matter?”

                                            >Cheerilee shrugs. “It doesn’t.”

                                            “She still got stuck with her filly and that’s my point. Lasses, how long’s it been since Anon came t’town?”

                                            >Vinyl and Octavia share understanding looks, while Cheerilee simply busies herself trying to answer the question. “About seven months, I think.”

                                            “An he’s been real nice to our foals. Giving us time to relax, or to, well, figure ourselves out.”

                                            >”He’s the best there is,” Vinyl says, with an emphatic nod.

                                            >”For the foals at least,” Octavia adds.

                                            “For us too; don’t think I haven’ noticed how you two got more gigs.”

                                            >Octavia narrows her eyes again. “Since when have you been paying that much attention to us?”

                                            “Since our foals started getting along like alcohol and flames. I’m not a good mother, Tavi, never have been, but I still look after my filly. And that means everyone she spends time with. And I’ve been lookin’ after her real good, as of late.”

                                            >”The four really do enjoy being around each other,” Cheerilee says. “They’re always in class together now.”

                                            >”And you are right, it’s given us some time to ourselves,” Octavia adds.

                                            “And that’s thanks to him.”

                                            >Four nods answer you.

                                            “And...”

                                            >You look down at the tabletop, before looking back up and scanning the three pairs of eyes in front of you.

                                            “And there’s more than that. He wants to keep this a secret, but it’s one of the things Derpy and I been thinkin’ on. So I’m gonna tell ya and you better listen good.”

                                            >Yes, you have their attention. Octavia’s leaning forward in her seat again, and Cheerilee’s no longer glancing at the booth’s dividers instead of you whenever you stop talking.

                                            “We were talkin’ ‘bout your new gigs earlier, Tavi, Vinyl. Didja take a look at the back row? Real close?”

                                            >The two shake their heads.

                                            “Anon was there. With your little colt. Way in the back but he was. Now if I got the math right – sorry Cheerilee but I’m pretty bad at it, ‘specially when that venue served drinks and I think I was two and a half deep when I saw them – the ticket price for him to get himself and your little one in was more than you’d paid him for the night.”

                                            >Vinyl’s jaw drops, while Tavi looks to the tabletop, then away to where it joins the wall.

                                            “An’ speakin’ of ya, Lee, I’m sure ya know your filly’s been doing better in her studies, but y’don’t see Anon’s time spent at the library with her.”

                                            >Cheerilee’s eyes are wide, now, and you nod at her.

                                            “Honest truth. He doesn’t just foalsit, lasses, he raises them.”

                                            >Derpy looks across their sobering expressions, then to you.

                                            “And...”

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            “Sorry gals, you know I ain’t one for words. But I’ll try t’do this justice.”

                                            >You put your hooves on the tables, then look to them as if they distract you, softly rapping them against the table a few times.

                                            “Well, Derpy came to me with this idea a bit ago. Her filly… moment of distraction, I’m sure, but… She called him dad. Didn’t think anything of it. Probably didn’t even realize she did. But she called him dad around Derpy and that got Derpy thinking in the way only she can, y’understand. She came to me with it, and I got to rememberin’ all my observations, and here we are.”

                                            >When you look up from your hooves, you still have all their attention.

                                            “Lasses, he’s been raising our foals, but he hasn’t been taking them from us. He’s been teaching them to believe in us. Taking them to your gigs, you two. Showing Cheerilee’s filly how important her mom’s work is in the one way that matters. And...”

                                            >Back to your hooves goes your gaze.

                                            “Look, I, uh, I take my brewery work home with me too much. And my filly’s old enough to know that ain’t right. And she… she’s been getting further away. But Anon… let her… well she’s got a faith in me she didn’t half a year ago. And last night, before I got real bad, she came to talk to me. Didn’t say much, but said she was there for me, when the time came I thought I could talk to her.”

                                            >You blink back some moisture from your eyes.

                                            >You thought you got all this out of you already.

                                            “And last night was the first time I let myself cry in front of my filly. And it was like the calendar rewound. And everything was better again, even if just for the night. So I’m thinking...”

                                            >You look back up at the three ponies staring at you, and Derpy nudges your side.

                                            “I’m thinking it’s about time Anon’s raising his own foals for a change!”

                                            >When none respond, you look back down again, ears back and burning.

                                            “If our foals already think of him as a father, and already treat each other like siblings, maybe we make it official. So he’s not doing all the work to support us alone.”

                                            >When you look back up, those eyes that had bored into you were now looking at each other, as if the ponies at the table only now became aware that others they sat with existed beside you.

                                            >And then, more than one nod.

                                            “He wouldn’t work alone, because we’d have each other.”

                                            >Vinyl looks to you. And she’s grinning. “You parched mare, that’s insane enough it’s worth a shot.”


                                            * * *


                                            [THE NEXT AFTERNOON]


                                            >You called them The Regulars because they were the only foals you had to sit every day between school letting out and the workday ending.

                                            >Most of your other jobs were at night, when parents wanted some alone time. Stallions usually picked their foals up after school.

                                            >But you knew these hours you shared with them were special. Little colts and fillies had a lot to do, and a lot of energy to do it with.

                                            >So they were also The Regulars because they were your honorable soldiers, to be marshaled and drilled to do homework and play nice and practice camaraderie and protect each other from the meaner foals who picked on them for their broken families like a proper little squad of ponies.

                                            >Today, however, you had a special treat.

                                            >You’d been cooking all day, and couldn’t stop by to pick them up at school. That’s fine; they know to muster at your house.

                                            >And though it had surprised you at first, they always did. Without fail.

                                            >Foals like them could be trouble at times – their rival squad that you less frequently sat, The Crusaders, were known for trouble – but after you’d given them their collective nickname and their marching orders, they’d always presented for inspection at your house promptly.

                                            >You like the little family you’ve been putting together for yourself. A family of those who hadn’t much of one, but that was proper. You’re far removed from any family you had too, here in Equestria, so you could relate.

                                            >That’s why you started doing this, after all.

                                            >You take the last dish out of the oven. You were never much of a cook, but food here is easier to cook than back home, and you’d been getting a lot of practice in on those nights work ran late.

                                            >It had only been a few months, but today was a special day, when cooking was concerned.

                                            >At least, for you. For ponies it was just another Thursday.

                                            >But if it was special for you, it’d be special for The Regulars too.

                                            >You heard your front door open as soon as you placed the last dish on the table. The four Regulars filed in, chattering excitedly.

                                            >Upbeat first, always. Just because the gender roles were backwards here didn’t mean you weren’t going to teach them right; the other three were the ultimate gentlemares to the youngest, the only colt. That meant opening doors and giving the way. You weren’t sure if he was Vinyl’s or Octavia’s; Vinyl was a bit older but it didn’t matter much, considering Upbeat couldn’t be more than barely into double digits. Didn’t help neither of his two mothers was a pegasus.

                                            >The only one who’s mother was a pegasus, Dinky, was a unicorn, and next in the room. Second oldest, second only to the other unicorn, Ruby, whose mother was also not a unicorn. Both were younger teenagers. Pony genetics make your head hurt.

                                            >The last was simpler. Halfway between the older pair and the colt in age is a young earth filly named Joyance. She looks very much like her mother. Thank goodness some things make sense.

                                            >The four stop dead when they see the spread on the table.

                                            >”Are we staying late today, Mister Anon?” Joyance asked, her tone as excited as the gleam in her eyes.

                                            “Not quite, but I wanted to give you to a very special dinner. Today’s an Earth holiday, so I figured I’d treat you all.”

                                            >The three look between the food and you.

                                            >Kids and their bottomless stomachs.

                                            “Yeah go, go! Sit down already, sheesh.”

                                            >The four happily – and noisily – put themselves on four of the five other seats at the table, you stand behind your own.

                                            >Their eyes flit between you and the food, just waiting for the signal.

                                            “Not yet. Today, for me, is called Thanksgiving. Straightforward name, just like a pony holiday, right? We give thanks.”

                                            >You pick up a meatless casserole and rest its dish on the back of the chair you stand behind. One of several dishes on the table, obviously, but one you could carry around easily enough.

                                            “So I want to hear what you’re all thankful for before I serve you. And you don’t get to say the food! That comes after.”

                                            >Upbeat kicks his dangling hind hooves, forelegs propping him up on the table, until he kicks too hard and flaps his wings for balance. “Uh, uh,” he stabilizes himself, “Friendship. Mh-mm! Miss Cheerilee always says it’s important, but I didn’t have lots of friends before. Now I always feel happy and safe and and and like I’m always flying!”

                                            “Very nice, Upbeat. Joy’s mom is right.”

                                            >The filly puffs up at this.

                                            “You all gotta stick together out there. At the end of the day, you gotta be able to count on each other. Makes life a whole lot easier to take on.”

                                            >You spoon out a heaping helping of casserole onto the young colt’s plate, then rest it on the back of his chair as you had yours earlier.

                                            “Who’s next?”

                                            >”Time!” Joy practically shouted it. “School and play and work and it was all so long. But now it goes so fast! I never thought about being thankful for time but now I am because I can enjoy it now but that means it’s gone sooner.”

                                            >You chuckle as you walk over to her, and her plate.

                                            “Yeah, isn’t that a pain? You either have more than you need or less than you want, with no between. If only time flies when we weren’t having fun, and slowed to a crawl when we were, huh?”

                                            >She nods as you spoon her serving.

                                            >”I’m thankful for you, Mister Anon.”

                                            >You look up to the younger of the two unicorns, Dinky.

                                            “Oh?”

                                            >”Yeah. You help so much, and still find it in you to do something like this. I’m not the smartest unicorn, Anon, but I know you do more for us than you’re getting paid to. So thank you.”

                                            >You beam at the unicorn, and give her her serving.

                                            “I’d say I’d do it for any foals under my care, but being honest, I like taking care of you four. Some say familiarity breeds contempt, but I don’t think that’s true.”

                                            >”Anon, what’s contempt mean?” Upbeat asks.

                                            “Ah, don’t worry about it.”

                                            >The four of you look to Ruby Pinch.

                                            >”I’m, uh.”

                                            >She wilts under the four pairs of eyes, but finds a hardness inside her and flashes it.

                                            >”I’m thankful for mom!”

                                            >She looks to you, then. “I talked to her a couple nights ago, Anon. Just like you said. She’s still my mom, no matter what. And she proved it.”

                                            >Ruby looks around the table at the other foals, then. “And all our moms got problems and are busy but that doesn’t change anything. So you better be thankful for your moms too! We’re with Anon every day but we go back to them every night, a bed to sleep in and a roof over our heads and food on tables. “

                                            >”Yeah,” Dinky says, “And I don’t care what people say about her.”

                                            >The two younger foals look at each other, then nod.

                                            >Ruby gets an extra large serving.

                                            “Family’s important. Family brings you into this world, brings you up in it. Good family shows you how everything is, gives you time to figure out your place in it, and helps you realize that. Families might not always be good, but you gotta give them the chance, don’t give up on them until you have no other choice. Sometimes they just have trouble showing they care.”

                                            >You’ve completed your round of the table, set the casserole back down, and finally take your seat.

                                            “I’m thankful for all of you.”

                                            >Four sets of shiny foal eyes greet the statement.

                                            “I’ve come to see you as my family, in a way. My job’s great, but you four in particular give my life a structure, and a purpose. I never had kids of my own, but I’m happy to be a part of your lives. You give my time here meaning.”

                                            >You extend your arms over the table.

                                            “And as I said, I’m sure we’re all thankful for food! And I won’t keep it from you any longer. Let’s eat!”