The Weasel of Griffonstone

Smile and wave. Smile and wave. Smile and wave.

The political metas of today are quite frankly and unapologetically stupid. Smile and wave. It’s all they ever know. Smile and wave. And somehow the strategy wins the seats. Smile and wave. No one cares about policy changes or the economy. Smile and wave. At least I don’t have to kiss babies.

I’m not smiling and waving.

What we griffins need is a change to our society. We need someone to take the mantle, to show the fractures in our bandage taped economy. For the good of Griffonstone, we need to change our very way of living. We don’t need any idols, nor do we need friendship. (Though announcing such a proclamation publicly would do my popularity no good) We need strong leadership. We need an inspiring figurehead. We need a new King Grover.

And that’s where I come in; not smiling, not waving.

Some may call me a weasel. Others say I’m an inspiration. As to how I would describe myself, well, I’ll say what I need to win. And I’ll do whatever I can. Well, almost everything. Everything but smiling and waving.

It’s poetry I tell you. The newspaper gobble it up. Sure, they mudsling me, and sure, my popularity isn’t the highest, but bad publicity is still publicity, right?

I spoke to myself as I paced around my office. My secretary, otherwise known as my sister, serves as my silent audience.

“The Weasel of Griffonstone. This is a smash piece.” My sister laughed and flung the newspaper across my desk. “Why must you argue against strategy? You don’t want to smile and wave, yet you lack any support. What are you expecting? A magical dragon to show up with a crown? Grow up.” Though I sense she hates me, she can’t seem to leave my side.

“Because it’s stupid.” I said.

“Winning seats is stupid?

“Being inauthentic is stupid. You’ve met the other gubernatorial candidates. They’re all stupid. The griffons, our griffons, are as well educated as a peanut. Don’t you think it’s all stupid.”

“What’s stupid is your stubbornness. You can change your attitude once you’re in office, but winning is about swaying the voters. Would smiling and waving really hurt you so much?” She scoffed. “The Weasel of Griffonstone is a fitting name.”

“Are you here to help me or harass me?” I took my painful seat and buried my disgusted face in my claws. “You can be a little nicer.”

I don’t know what it was about it, but my sister laughed. “Me? Be nicer? Look around. There’s nobody here. Know why?” She sighed. “They hate you, that’s why. Nothing about you exudes relatability. You’re a grumpy old weasel complaining about how things were better in the past, and you fear the changes of today. Times are changing, and you must too. This gubernatorial election is rather important.”

“Smile and wave?” I asked. “Is that the change you want to see? Inauthenticity? Lies? Garbage.” I had leaned so far back in my seat I nearly slipped and fell on the floor. “The change I want to see is realism. I’m tired of smiling and waving.”

“Look at yourself. Look at us. Gaun, look at the world around you. For pony sake, we’re at the height of civilization and you’re living as if that dang cyclops is still marching around terrorizing the populous. Things aren’t as bad as you make them out to be.” She stood up and flung the curtains from the window overseeing the town square of the Third District. “Things aren’t what they used to be. You’re as stubborn as a mule. Well, even mules take offense to you. Did you even see the festival?”

I pulled my lazy chair across to the very same window that hurt my eyes. Sure enough, the square was full of balloons and streamers. The statue in the fountain held up lights strewn from building to building. It was disgustingly happy. “It’s so irresponsible.” I wanted to vomit. “Disrespectful to our history.”

“I’m all you have left.” My sister opened the window and stuck her head out. She smiled and waved to the pedestrians below who cheered back. She spoke to me as she did so. “Look how happy they are. I’ve never seen such purity and peace since Pinkie and Rainbow were here.” She then spun around and sat in the window. “You’re not suitable for a position like this, to be making gubernatorial actions. They’re right about you. You’re a weasel, and you can’t realize the hammers they’re bonking on your head.”

“Those are moles.” I corrected her. “And gubernatorial is a stupid word.”

She puffed her chest and sighed in exasperation. “Do you even know what today is?”

“Today is a day that will go down in history.”

Her glare pierced my soul. “Today is a day you’ll either be abandoned or redeemed, and for your sake, I hope it’s the latter. Have you ever been outside today? You look awful. Go outside. Join the festivities. For pony sake, live a little.” She left no room to retort and marched to the door. “A true weasel would have a better chance at winning than you.” And she slammed that same door in my face.

~~~***~~~

The sun flew across the sky, and soon the moon arrived. I had since closed my window, but the happy sounds of the streets infected my ears like a vampire to light. I had yelled for them to stop, but they couldn’t hear me.

I had done nothing but argue with my sister, and after she left, I did nothing more. When the lamp’s fire flickered out, I decided to return to my home. Only problem was, to get to my house, I would have to cut through the festival. It was either that or march through the disgusting background streets. I was tired, and simply wanted to reach home as fast as possible.

Balloons popped to my left, and to my right was a bell which rang with nearly each downward swing of a hammer. Creatures of all kinds were covered in makeup resembling every type of animal, and the smells of candies and pastries were impossible to ignore. Ahead of the fountain was a stage, and in front of the stage was a crowd of cheering creatures, and on the stage was a creature smiling, waving, and singing. The glare of the blinding lights covered my vision, even when I squinted. I bumped into another creature, and though his drink spilled, I remained dry as he took the brunt of the content.

“Watch where you’re going.” I said. “I’ve got places to be.”

“I’m so sorry sir.” He propped himself up. That same unwavering smile remained, even while he was drenched in the remains of his smoothie. “My vision isn’t quite the best. Wait times and all that, I’m sure you understand.” He blew the feathers from his face, giving me a better glimpse of his petite figure. He looked weak, yet happy. “Did I spill anything on you? Shall I clean you up?”

“I’m quite fine.” I said, perhaps a growl behind my tone. “Where are your glasses?”

He looked around with swirls in his eyes, like I had fifty heads all in random places. “Oh, I don’t have any. The wait times are quite long for doctor appointments. The wait list still stretches on, you know?” He had grabbed napkins and cleaned himself up, though the smoothie left him rather sticky in front. “But alas, what can be done? Things never seem to change.”

I wanted to go home, but for whatever reason, he raised my interest. “Why don’t you do something about it? Yell at a doctor or something.”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to cause drama. I do what I can. I get by.” He finally cleaned his face. “It’s been years, but I make do with what I can.”

“Yeah?” I awkwardly shrugged. “And what are you going to do about it?”

He shrugged too, nearly mimicking my own actions, and motioned us to the side to stop others from tripping over us. “I don’t really know. I keep hoping for change, but nothing ever happens.”

“Is it the politics?” I was rather brunt, but I hardly cared.

“The politics? Oh no no no. Well, maybe. I don’t know.” He sighed, mimicking my sister. “Politics are a rather touchy subject. I do my best to avoid those conversations. Never works out well for anybody.”

“Who will you be voting for?” I lacked a filter tonight.

“Huh? Well, I’m not sure. I can’t say I know many of the candidates. They always seem to be the same.” He threw his napkins away as cleanly as he could. “You’re a rather interesting fellow. I don’t think I’ve met anybody so…direct? Upfront?” Even in his state, he smiled. “My name is Hawly. May I ask for your name?”

“Gaun.”

“Gaun? Like the Weasel of Griffonstone that every creature is laugh-uh, talking about?” He squinted his eyes, then opened wide. “I recognize you. You really are the Weasel of Griffonstone.”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Gaun.” I just wanted to go home.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend. But uh, what are you doing here? I didn’t take you for a festive kind of griffon.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to get home. Now, if I may.” I motioned him aside, but he didn’t move. I cleared my throat, but he didn’t catch on.

“If you may what?” I didn’t take him for someone very smart. “Oh, you’d like to be walked home? I’d love to keep you company.” He finally stepped to the side, but he stepped to my side, not his. “I’d love to walk you home.”

“No, I’m quite alright.” I’m not sure how I had enough restraint to not push him away, but somehow, I stayed sane. “I will take my leave.”

“Of course, of course!” He smiled, and though I headed away, he stayed by my side. “How did you enjoy the festival?”

“I didn’t.” I emphasized my passive aggressiveness, but he didn’t catch on. So I continued. “I spent the day in my hot and cramped office with my sister’s criticisms for company and the sounds of child laughter infecting the atmosphere.” I just wanted to go home.

“Wow, well you must be really tired then.” I don’t know why Hawly followed me. He couldn’t accept social cues of any kind. He would stay in my company whether I liked it or not. “I take it you were working on your campaign?”

“It’s that gubernatorial season, what do you think?”

“Guberna-what?” He picked his ear. “These speakers have really hurt my ears tonight.”

“Some term Pinkie Pie coined. It means, ah, it doesn’t matter.” (I wouldn’t be able to explain it myself, not without my sister)

“Oh, okay.” He waited in awkward silence, then interrupted my gubernatorial thinking. “Tomorrow is another weekend. Why don’t you stay and enjoy what’s left of the night?”

“Because I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“Aw come on. Here, I’ll buy you a treat. It’s the least I could do for the drink I spilled.”

I turned to look at the festival I had almost left. The heat of the freshly baked nighttime pies waved in the air. I wanted to run back home, or even fly, but… “I guess I can’t turn down free food.”

“Oh yay! I don’t have very many friends, but I’ll do the best I can. Come, come! Let’s grab a seat and I’ll bring you a, say, would you like a smoothie too?”

“Sure, whatever.” I waved him away, and he gallantly flew off to find whatever he wanted. I hadn’t quite listened to him. I found a place to sit, my elbows on the table, and I watched the stage from the back. Creatures crowded the front of the stage. The singer was still performing, and even a grumpy old griffin like me had to admit it was rather nice. I fell into a trance before Hawly returned.

He sat across from me and set my smoothie nearly in my claws. “I hope you like it. It’s my favorite flavor.”

“And that flavor is…” I asked.

“Um, it’s blue flavor. I don’t know. I couldn’t see the menu, so I just pointed.” He was quick to drink from his smoothie, and he grabbed his head. “Brainfreeze! Brainfreeze!”

“Drink slower.” I did the same. It was blueberry.

He laughed. “I can’t help it, it’s so delicious.” He smiled too. “So, is your uh, mean persona genuine?”

“As genuine as ever. I’m the most genuine of the guterbanori-uh, whatever the word is.” Now I was tripping over the word. “I’ve had enough with the smiling and waving. It’s all fake. It’s-hey, are you even listening?”

He flicked an ear, but his head was turned from me. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I am. But look.” He pointed at the stage. “Isn’t it nice to relax and live in the present? Not worry about all the ugly politics of our times?” He sighed, this time a quiet and content one, like the world no longer existed in conflict. “She’s so pretty.”

I could hardly see the stage by now, but I was able to make out the glimpses of the stranger. “Yeah, she sure is.” I wasn’t happy to admit it, but I prided myself in my genuinity.

“And the voice of an angel. She understands the struggles of the everyday creature. I wish politicians were like her.” He clutched his head again.

“Brainfreeze?” I asked. He nodded. I smirked a genuine smirk. “I guess she’s rather nice.” She jumped up on a podium, and I finally made out who she was. “That’s my sister.”

Though he was nearly blind, Hawly turned around. I think he didn’t trust my genuinity. Though he could hardly see, he did understand. “Really? Her? And you? I mean no offense sir, but I’m rather surprised. She’s so opposite of you. I think she really knows what creatures want.”

“I uh, well…” I watched her sing and dance, the genuine happiness overcoming any sense of dread she felt earlier. “I uh, I guess she does. Huh.”

“And she’s so pretty too. I think you’re lucky to have someone like her in your life.”

“I uh, um…well, I uh, I guess I am.” The lights had begun to settle, and with it the bleakness in my mind. I stood up. “Well, um, thank you for your time. I think I have some thinking to do.”

He stood up too, and stretched out his leg. “Would you like me to walk you home? I don’t live too far from here, so I can take the detour.”

I sighed for the millionth time, but no longer poorly. “I think I’d like that. Thank you.”

My sister smiled and waved as we left.