The Coffee Shop (Homeless Pony Thread) WIP

>Day Coffee Shop in Equestria.
>This is bullshit.
>You shouldn’t have to do this.
>A man deserves to have clean coffee in the morning.
>Not this muddy water with chunks still in it.
>You carefully pour the contents of the sauce pan into your mug.
>Though you tried your best, a few coffee grounds made their way into the cup.
>You take a spoon and drop cold water into the mix.
>The coffee grounds slowly descend to the bottom.
>You need to start using a filter.
>Maybe you can invent one?
>It wouldn’t be hard, just some metal with small holes in it.
>Or you could try that thing that is used to dust cakes with powdered sugar.
>That’s pretty close to what you need.
>Oh well.
>You put your mug aside to allow it to cool for a moment.
>You used to go to a coffee shop.
>Well, it was the only one in town.
>More of a coffee hut really.
>Behind the counter was the always happy pony, Morning Glory.
>Though times were always tough for her she always put on a smile.
>The problem was that business was always poor for her.
>Ponies aren’t very fond of the bitter flavor of coffee.
>She tried in vain to cover it with sugar and cream, but still there were few takers.
>You take a slow sip from your mug.
>Ugh.
>You burned the grounds again.
>Still, you need your coffee to make it through the day, so you drink it anyway.
>Morning wouldn’t have burned it.

>She would have made it smooth, with just a dash of cream.
>It was a shame when you walked up to the burned down shack.
>You expected it to be back up after a week or two, but that never happened.
>Apparently all her money went into that shop.
>The coffee beans from Saddle Arabia aren’t cheap.
>Maybe when it burned down she just gave up.
>She could have taken it as a sign to close permanently.
>That was two months ago.
>Ever since you’ve been forced into making your own drinks.
>You put your cup on top of the mountain of plates in your sink.
>One day you’ll get around to washing them.
>A quick look around reveals clothes scattered around.
>Papers discarded on the floor.
>Wrappers cover your counter space.
>Fuck it.
>You’ll clean later today.
>Once a week whether it needs it or not.
>First you have to buy some groceries.
>You bend over and pick up the weather flier off the floor.
>Thunderstorms are scheduled from noon to tomorrow morning.
>It has sprinkled the last two days, so you are happy that after tonight’s rain it will be over.
>The pegasi usually schedule several days of weather.
>Maybe it helps with the crops?
>You put on a light jacket.
>
>It’s a short walk to the market.
>You fill your canvas bag with necessities, and even a few treats for yourself.
>You’re going to make chili for yourself.
>With the right combination of spices you can make it almost taste like it has meat.

>You sling the canvas bag over your shoulder just as it begins to rain.
>The ground is already soaked from yesterday.
>You decide to walk through the park on your way home.
>Your hood keeps water off of you, so you don’t mind the weather.
>In the distance you see a cardboard box just off of the main path.
>It looks water logged and it is struggling to stay up.
>Ponies are pretty clean.
>Why would someone just leave a box out?
>Maybe it fell off of a cart.
>You walk closer to get a good look at it.
>When you approach you notice that there is a sad and dirty pony sulking inside.
>She notices you and beams, “Hey, Anon. The usual?”
>After a moment her eyes open wide in shock, and slinks back into the box.
>A hoof tries to close what passes for the door.
>The soaked cardboard melts at her touch and slinks on the ground.
>It has writing on it.
>The sign reads, “5 bits hoofjob, 10 bits fulltime, 20 bits anything.”
“How did you know my name?”
>You crouch down to get a good look at the pony but she tries to hide herself.
>Inside is a dirty chestnut mare.
>Mud is caked on her matted coat.
>Her mane covers her face and water drips off of her snout.
>”You misheard me.”
>She tries to look away.
>You’ve seen this pony somewhere before.
”Do I know you?”
>”No, go away.”
>Her eyes dart toward you and then back away.
>It couldn’t be…
“Morning?”
>Her ears perk up, but she doesn’t look back.
“Morning Glory? Is that you?”
>She looks up at you, trying to choke away tears.
>”Uh… hi, Anon.”
>Your legs are getting tired from crouching, so you put a down a knee to help you balance.
>You don’t care about the mud.
“What are you doing here?”
>She ignores your question.
>”Go away, Anon. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
>She looks thinner than you remember.

“We’re expecting thunderstorms tonight.”
>”I don’t care.”
>You take a deep breath.
“Do you… do you need help?”
>”I don’t need anything, Anon! Go away!” She snaps at you.
>Morning Glory bares her teeth at you like a wild animal.
>Lightning flashes and you can make out a small bag that she is trying to hide.
>That must be all she has left.
>You look again at the sign.
>Times are tough, and she had to resort to selling herself.
>But she never was a good business pony.
>Clearly she is no better off than before.
”What will you do for 20 bits?”
>She drops her anger and looks down.
>”You can read can’t you?”
>She says in a sad tone.
>You want to ask her how is business, but from her thin frame you can tell it isn’t going well.
“I haven’t had any decent coffee since…”
>No, don’t mention that.
“How much for the usual?”
>She gives you a confused look, before a hoof shows you her box.
>”I don’t sell coffee anymore, Anon.”
>How are you going to say this?
“I tried making some myself, but it isn’t the same. I always burn the beans.”
>She glares at you.
>”Don’t make fun of me, Anon.”
“I’m serious. I have some stuff at home. How much for a cup of coffee?”
>She opens her mouth, but quickly chomps the words away.
>After a moment she offers, “Twenty bits.”
>That’s highway robbery.
>A cup should cost two, maybe three bits max.
>The rain begins to fall down in sheets.
>You decide not to argue with her.
>A hand moves on its own and you count out your bits.
>”I only have eleven.”
>She frowns at your offer.
>Suddenly you remember something.
>You pull out a punch card, and hand it to her.
“I know I only have nine stamps, instead off ten to get a free cup, but maybe you could give me a discount this time?
>Her hoof shakes as she looks at the card.
>It was a promotion from her old coffee shop.
>”I didn’t think I’d see this again,” her voice wavers.
>She looks up at you with teary eyes.
>”Eleven is fine.”


>You watch as she places a few things in her small bag.
>When she steps out you can see her more clearly.
>Her coat looked bad earlier, but in the light she looks terrible.
>Morning looks tired, like she hasn’t been sleeping well.
>Her mane is unkempt and her coat neglected.
>She looks at her soaked box, almost like she is deciding if it is worth saving.
“Forget about it,” you reassure her.
>She just makes a jerky nod and you motion for her to follow you.
“I live this way.”
>She follows behind you to hide a slight limp.
>What happened to her?
>She used to be such a friendly pony.
>Seeing her in this state…
>It’s unthinkable really.
>Doesn’t she have friends to help her?
>You both walk in silence.
>In a few minutes you arrive at your house.
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you say as you open the front door.
>You remove your muddy shoes as you enter, and she brushes her hooves on the door mat.
“Uh… I forgot to mention… I wasn’t expecting company, so I haven’t cleaned up yet…”
>She looks around at the piles haphazardly discarded on the floor.
>Her stop when she looks at the dishes.
“I was just about to wash those…”
>“That’s alright,” she says finally. “I don’t mind.”
>You push aside the wrappers on your counter and start unloading your groceries.
>Morning’s eyes follow the apples.
>A hoof reaches over to grab one before she retracts it quickly.
”You can have one…”
>Without further ceremony she snatches one and devours it in three chomps.
>You watch as she rides the way of bliss.
>How long has it been since she has had a decent meal?
“Help yourself.”
>You place two more apples in front of her and she quickly eats both.
>She looks at you with the slightest glimmer of a smile.
>Like she finally has some hope.


“My restroom is over there,” you point at a door. “If you want, you can take a shower while I do the dishes.”
>”Why- why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”
>You give her a confused look.
>A few months ago she was a cheery pony.
>To be sure, the fact that she is the only pony in town who makes coffee is a weak connection at best.
>You can’t blame her for being skeptical.
“Friends help each other out… That reminds me…” You walk past her toward the linen closet.
>You pull out a fresh towel and some girly soap.
>The bottle is yellow and has a smiling mare.
“I bought this by accident when I got here.”
>She takes it with one hoof.
>“You thought the one with flowers was for stallions?”
“They all looked the same to me.”
>She takes the towel next, clearly unconvinced.
>”I’ll… go clean up…”
>You just give her a nod as she enters the restroom.
>While she showers you do your dishes.
>Luckily you were smart enough to rinse them after you ate, so they were easy to clean.
>Then you tackle the wrappers.
>You walk around with a bag and collect the trash.
>Again, it was only surface deep so it doesn’t take long.
>Finally you grab your clothes and pile them in your room.
>You can wash them later.
>As you are dropping off the last pile, the door to the bathroom opens.
>Steam escapes and you are assaulted by the smell of lilacs.
>Morning stops immediately when she sees you.
>She probably thinks you were trying to hear her clean up.
>Like some kind of sicko.
>Her mane and coat still glisten with residual water.


>She is starting to look like the pony you remember.
“I was just cleaning up…”
>She looks at the pile of clothes, and smiles.
>”That’s good. Thanks for the shower. I feel a lot better now.”
“You’re welcome.”
>”Do you have a brush?” She asks while touching her mane.
“No. I keep my hair short.”
>She makes a little frown.
>”That’s alright.”
>She walks past you to the kitchen.
>”Wow. You did clean up.”
>She did take thirty minutes in the shower.
>”So what do I have to work with?”
>You move next to her to show your tools.
“I’ve been boiling the grounds in this sauce pan, and then I pour it out into a cup.”
>She gives you a look like you are crazy.
>”You boil the coffee? No wonder it comes out burned. You’re not supposed to let it get that hot.”
”How am I supposed to know? We have machines back home that make it for us.”
>”You could use a Prench Press.”
>You just offer her a shrug.
>You would probably have to order that from a specialty catalog.
>She shakes her head.
>”Alright, let me work my magic.”
>She ushers you out to protect her trade secrets.
>In the meantime you clean off your coffee table and lounge on the couch.
>”You don’t mind if I have a cup too, right?” She yells from the other room.
“No. Go ahead, and just a little cream and sugar.”
>”You usually take yours black.”
“Yeah, but I’m in the mood for something different today.”
>”Alright.”
>You glance over some advertisements.
>They never have anything good on sale.
>”Careful, it’s hot.”
>Morning Glory trots over holding two mugs in one hoof.
>She places yours in front of you on the table, and she sits on the loveseat.
>Davenport recommended that you get pony sized furniture as well as larger specialty ones.
>Your table has two human sized chairs, and three fit for ponies.

>Likewise your couch is human sized, but the loveseat is built for speed.
>You don’t have guests often, but when you do it helps to have things for them to be comfortable.
>You reach over and grab the mug.
“It smells great.”
>”Careful, it’s hot.”
>You blow on it gently to cool it down.
>You watch as Morning Glory takes in the scent.
>She visibly shudders as she inhales.
>”It’s been too long since I’ve had a cup,” she explains.
>She takes a tentative sip, and she slinks into the sofa.
>Morning closes her eyes and you see her relax for the first time today.
>”I needed this so bad.”
>You just chuckle at her.
“Me too. This is a lot better than I can make.”
>She takes another sip.
>”Not just the coffee… the shower, somewhere warm… everything. It feels good to feel like a pony again.”
>You want to enjoy this moment, but your curiosity gets the better of you.
>You put the mug down.
“What happened, Morning?
>She looks up at you and fakes a smile.
>”What do you mean?”
>You shake your head.
“Com’n you can tell me the truth. We’ve known each other for… a year?”
>She looks into her cup like it has the answer.
>You both sit in silence for a while.
>Morning takes a sip of her drink, and you pretend to look at advertisements.
>Just as you’re about to give up, she breaks the silence.
>”I thought I turned off the stove. Heh, but there must have still been an ember in there.”
>Her hooves play with her now empty mug.
>”When I woke up the place was on fire. It was too far gone. I was lucky to get out.”
>She puts the cup aside.
>”I should have double checked.”
“But you can’t be sure it was your fault.”
>She looks at you with sad eyes.
>”Everything I owned was in there. I had to stay with friends for a while. They were nice at first, but I could tell I was overstaying my welcome.”
>Morning takes a deep breath to calm herself.

>”I wanted to open a coffee shop again, but they all thought it was a bad idea. Just like Dad.”
“Why didn’t you go to your parent’s place?”
>”I told them that everything was going great. That I was making something of myself, but you saw the place. Some days you were my only customer. I couldn’t go back.”
>She looks away from you, but her wavering voice tells you all you need to know.
>“I was on the streets for a few weeks before…”
>Her voice cracks.
>”You know…”
“Morning… I-“
>”Are you done with your coffee? I’m done with mine.” She snatches your mug before you can react and excuses herself to the kitchen.
>Part of you wants to follow her.
>To reassure her.
>But, the sobbing from the other room stops you.
>She needs to be alone for a little bit.
>You shouldn’t have pushed her.
>She would have told you eventually, right?
>After a while you hear the faucet turn on, and walk over to investigate.
>Morning is rewashing your dishes, even though they are already clean.
>Well, clean by your standards.
>You watch her clean a few, then she puts them aside to dry.
”Morning?”
>”These were still dirty,” she says without looking back.
>She is probably trying to keep busy so she can ignore her real problems.
>”There, all finished,” she says more for herself than you.
>Morning turns to face you with a determined look.
>Her eyes are still red from crying.
>”Thank you again, Anon, but I need to get back to work.”
“It’s going to rain all night.”
>A flash of lightning and the following thunder emphases your point.
>”Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”

>She walks past you and takes her bag of bits.
>You dart in front of her, but she moves around you.
>”Wait. You’ll get sick if you go out there. Why don’t you stay here?”
>”I don’t want any charity, Anon.”
>”Who said anything about charity?”
>She places her bag down.
>”You know I can’t pay you.”
>”Friends don’t charge eachother for things like this.”
>”I don’t have any friends.”
>”What about me?”
>She opens her mouth, but her eyes tell you all you need to know.
>Morning has to stay strong to deal with her issues.
>It doesn’t matter how many people she pushes away.
>”Just stay tonight. If you feel the same way tomorrow, I won’t stop you. You don’t even have to say goodbye.”
>Her resolve wavers at your offer.
”I have a spare guestroom. Well, it’s more of an office with a futon…”
>”And you don’t want anything in return?”
”I wouldn’t mind some coffee with breakfast,” you say half-joking.
>She presses her lips together as she considers.
>You turn away as if she had already agreed.
”Let me show you.”
>You walk slowly, and breathe in relief when you hear her hooves follow.
>You turn on the light to the relatively clean room.
>It doesn’t get much use, as you prefer spending time in the living room.
”What do you think?”
>She looks around and touches the futon with a single hoof.
>You can't tell what she is thinking.
>Part of you is ready to accept her walking out.
>She turns to you and asks,
>”What do you want for breakfast?”