[I want to eat the other half so bad, I can't stand myself right now. Death is what the living carry with them and I'm gonna be like Mr. Waddle's comes down to the...]
Reverend Waddle: Is not the first time i've caught a mare dancing at the top of the tables , but usually the one doing it is a drunk Chief Matilda . . .
You thought that the fusion between Mr.Waddle and Berry Pinch was a joke? It was not. Meet Berry Waddle. If you request specific fusions, you might keep something like this from happening again.
Pinkie looked up at Mr. Waddle as the elderly pony spoke. “Who’s coming? Is it somepony new? Oh, I always love meeting new ponies! Can we throw a party for her?”
The stallion looked down at Pinkie and smiled. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to stay, Pinkie. She’s a busy mare, after all. But you can try to put a party together if you’d like. I dare say it’d be a nice thing to do; Rosie’s job isn’t exactly an appreciated one. Not too many ponies are happy to see her come by.”
Pinkie frowned. “That’s not very nice of them,” she said.
Mr. Waddle shook his head, gently. “No, it isn’t. Still, I can sort of understand where they’re coming from. To me, she’s the most beautiful mare I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I dare say some ponies would find her to be dangerous or a threat. Still, that ain’t her fault; she’s just doing the job she’s been tasked with doing.”
Pinkie nodded, sort of half listening while going over the necessary preparations for a party in her head. “So what does she look like, Mr. Waddle? I’d hate to accidentally pass her in the street and not say hello.”
“Well, she’s a pale yellow-green, with a mane just a few shades darker, and the most brilliant grey eyes I’ve ever seen. Her cutie mark’s an hourglass, although,” he said with a chuckle, “I dare say it’s the most unusual hourglass cutie mark anypony’s ever going to see. The rest of it, well, it varies. The first time I saw her, it scared the fool out of me. Don’t quite recall why, but it did. That day, I’d have done anything in my power to never have to see her again. Instead, years later, I ran into her out in Baltimare, a few days after I’d first arrived at the seminary. Met her on a good day, I guess - she’d laced a bunch of flowers in her mane, and she was just standing in the park, almost like she’d been waiting for me. Maybe she had; I had a tendency to walk through that park after classes.” He grinned at the memories. “Rosie didn’t exactly flirt with me, although I dare say that might have counted as a first date to some. Still, I respected her, Pinkie.” Mr. Waddle briefly glared down at the rambunctious young pony. “I’d suggest you’d be wise to do the same when you do meet her. Rosie’s nopony to take lightly.”
“I’ll try; it’s just that I get so excited all the time. After all, there’s so much to be excited about!” She thought for a moment, then started listing out the party supplies.
Pinkie’s sense of timing was excellent. She’d just gotten the party started, with a few of Mr. Waddle’s friends and a promise from Rainbow Dash to help her clean up afterwards, when the doorbell rang. Pinkie ran to open the door, and outside it was a young mare, by appearance somewhere just older than Pinkie, but carrying an aura of ancient age. Even without the description she’d gotten, she’d have known this had to be Mr. Waddle’s old friend Rosie.
“Um, hello. My name is Pinkie Pie, and when Mr. Waddle said you might be coming by, I thought I’d throw a party for you, but…” The pink mare shrugged, looking away in embarrassment. “I don’t think I really understood.”
A sudden peal of laughter pulled Pinkie’s attention back, to where Rosie stood with tears streaming out of her eyes. “Thank you, Pinkie. Not many people would be willing to throw a party for me. I think, though, that you would have even if you had known who I was… you may not remember it, but we did meet once before, and I don’t think it was a very good day for you. I’m glad to see things have gone better for you. And no, I’m not too busy to attend a party, if the invitation is still open.”
The party lasted for about an hour; it seemed that many of Mr. Waddle’s friends were familiar with Rosie as well, and Pinkie felt that the visiting mare had at least had a chance to have a good time. But all too quickly, the festivities came to an end, and Rosie stood up.
“I’ve enjoyed this time here with you, but I do need to get back to business.” She turned to Mr. Waddle. “Old friend, it’s time. I won’t insult you by asking if you’re ready; I’ve known for a long time that you were. You’ve helped me to make some good friends over the years, and now, I think I get to say ‘thank you’ for that.” She stepped toward him. “Let’s go; you have no idea what’s waiting for you, but I do, and I can’t wait to see the look on your face when we get there.”
Mr. Waddle stood up, and extended one hoof to the green mare with the empty hourglass emblazoned on her flanks, and a smile flitted over his face as Chloros, the equimorphic personification of death, carried him gently into those trackless fields that lie beyond the bounds of the mortal world.
Norse Pony critiques: Hm. I like your concept here very much. The execution is mostly very good; there were only a couple of rough patches.
Pinkie's final line in the first scene bothered me - it struck me as sort of... self-aware? Reflexive? Telly? Some combination of all of the above, perhaps. It just sat wrong with me.
The description of Rosie as "carrying an aura of ancient age" surprised me with its tellyness. The general quality of your writing is such that it came as a surprise when I hit that bit, because it's a really weak way to express that concept, particularly because that's a concept that is begging for description.
And finally, the name-drop of Chloros struck me as a little twee. I would have accepted it without question if there had been, for instance, a bit showing her transforming into her death-form, where she ceased being Rosie and became Chloros. (I did like the Chloros->Rosie link in the names, though, that was clever.)
I really wish you'd given us more about the history between Mr. Waddle and Rosie. The taste we get tells us very little, and tells us nothing at all about why him? It would have been fascinating if, for instance, his work as a priest - and thus, his work tending to the dying and the dead - had brought him into contact with Rosie many times over the years.
And one grammar nit to pick:
A sudden peal of laughter pulled Pinkie’s attention back, to where Rosie stood with tears streaming out of her eyes.
The comma is unnecessary. The sentence would work perfectly well without it.
The few I’ve experienced were unprofessional at best and rude at worst. Maybe just luck of the draw. But the changes they requested seemed almost arbitrary, not adding anything to the story other than some stylistic alterations.
I also do slush reading for a print rag. The difference aside, I can tell you that taste ends up being a large part of the process, unfortunately. Secondly, these guys aren’t professionals, but they should at least act polite. If you get crap from them, don’t let it tear you down. Chase your dreams. Do what you love and people will enjoy it, regardless of what a couple editors say. There are probably other venues like fanfiction.net , fimfiction.net , and some board communities that’ll really warm your hooves. If you enjoy writing, please, don’t give up. You’re already special.
