The Pony Reunites With His People

I am pleased to report that The Pony's reunion weekend was a success. He even took time away from his busy computer-gaming, fanatsy-fiction-writing schedule to sit on the couch and talk to me about his activities. Or so I thought. Until the conversation lagged, and I told him, "You can go downstairs now if you want. I really appreciate you staying up here to tell me about your reunion."

"Meh. I'm not sitting up here for you. I'm up here because of my phone."

Let the record show that in the house of Thevictorian, communications are spotty at best. Cell phones don't work underground, and don't work all that well inside the house. The Pony has true unlimited internet on his phone, so he tethers it and games away to his heart's content on the basement couch. But not at a high speed. This afternoon, he had been grabbing that phone every time it chimed to him.

"Oh, are you talking to your friends from MSA? Did you get some phone numbers this time?"

"Uh huh."

"The old ones from the summer, or did you meet new ones?"

"Two new ones. Well. Three. One guy goes to a school that will compete against us as Scholar Bowl in a couple of weeks."

"And the other two? Are these guy people, or girl people?"

"What do YOU think?" That sly grin above his too-long, Amish-evolving goatee made the gender clear.

"Are they close?"

"One is only 46 miles away."

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yes! We had some workshops, and played games."

"What did you have for dinner?"

"Pasta! Spaghetti AND lasagna!"

"Did you have some of each?"

"Yes, and a single breadstick, and a salad which I forgot to put dressing on, so it was not very good."

"Couldn't you go back for the dressing?"

"I could have. But I didn't, because I was sure I would spill something off my plate."

"How was the Halloween dance? Did other people go in costume? Did they recognize you as a Walmart employee?"

"Yes. Some were in costume. They knew mine the minute they saw the back. For a while, I sat with Alex from Target, and Jake the State Farm guy."

"That's appropriate. You all seem to have the same sense of humor when it comes to costumes."

"Yeah. For the first half hour, people kept coming up and saying, 'What are you wearing, Jake from State Farm?'"

"What other costumes were there?"

"Um. We had three Clark Kents, and an angel, and some Star Trek guys I didn't recognize, and one group came as the whole Wizard of Oz cast. There was an extra Dorothy with a basket on her arm with a stuffed dog, but she wasn't with them."

"Too bad nobody came with a bunch of stuffed cats on their shirt, like that Hanes commercial guy wearing the white kitten T-shirt."

"That would be just creepy!"

"Why? It would be stuffed animals pinned to a T-shirt!"

"Oh. I though you meant STUFFED kittens, like that one dad got you at the flea market."

"Yeah. Well. That's REALLY creepy. So...nobody was Superman, all were Clark Kent?"

"Mom. We're the nerds. They had the Superman shirt on under a plaid shirt, though, so they could rip it open and show they were Superman."

"And some were from Star Wars?"

"STAR TREK! You must never make that mistake around my people! Just, no."

"SORRY! I forgot what you told me. So, did Dad get in the hotel whirlpool?"

"I don't know, and I don't even want to think about that!"

"I'm surprised you didn't stay and go to breakfast."

"Meh. I'm not good at goodbyes. Besides, I woke up at 7:00, and breakfast wasn't until 9:00. What was I supposed to do for all that time?"

"Maybe you could have got some hugs. Did you dance last night?"

"Yes. I danced all night."

"Like...line dances? Or one on one."

"Mainly line dances. But I DID ask a girl to dance. She told me no."

"And it didn't crush your spirit?"

"No. She said she didn't like to dance."

"You could have told her you didn't know how, either, and you could both practice. But at least you asked. I'm proud of you. What are you going to do this afternoon? You could walk the mini pony."

"Nah. There's no grass for him now."

"There's grass right there in the front yard! Or you could practice driving your truck."

"Nah. My legs are sore from three hours of dancing."

Still. Baby steps. Our little Pony is going to turn out all right.