Impossible Numbers' Flashfic Anthology, Volume Fourby Impossible NumbersChaptersBuild Me Up, ButtercupEvery Year, UnwaveringLoyal PrerogativeA Touch DraconicAn-NOI-ancesWeird Ways of AskingNeither Sugar Nor Spice, But Everything NiceBuild Me Up, ButtercupApple Bloom left the attic, rubbing her head. “Ow… Applejack, this yours?” she said, hefting the guitar. “Hm?” “Ah moved some stuff for Granny, it fell and hit me –” Applejack gasped. “Mom’s old guitar!” Silence breathed… “She used to play that to me every evenin’.” Applejack placed her hat over her heart. “Such sweet music.” “So why’d you hide it away?” “Ah didn’t! Mom did.” Apple Bloom strummed a few cords. “Mom?” “See, she only used to play for family. One day, Granny reckoned Mom could make it big as a professional country singer. Mom started OK, but then… she got some… uncompromisin’ honesty.” “Bad review?” Applejack squirmed. “Abandoned music overnight. High-standards industry, music.” Apple Bloom strummed it. “Then why’s this still tuned?” “Apple Bloom!” “Well, someone still cared for this. Who?” “Put it back! It hurts, rememberin’.” “Oh. S-s-sorry.” Applejack whispered, “Ah’m sorry, Mom. Ah only meant professionally…” Every Year, Unwavering“There’s been some miscommunication,” said Professor Fossil apologetically. “We suspended access to the dig site –” “My former home, Professor,” insisted Rockhoof. “…to your home, sorry, yesterday. We must’ve received the incorr–” “I have a geas! A warrior of the Mighty Helm, once placed under a geas, will yield against nothing.” Sadly, Fossil knew this; she specialized in his time period. She hurried aside. Rockhoof placed the cake on the earth, bowing his head. “The 1,038th year since the birth of Swordbeater. Dutiful father. Proud blacksmith. A great friend.” Fossil knew better than to interrupt. Now Rockhoof would follow the ancient ceremon– “Thank you for your time,” he said. Surprised, she coughed. “I’m sure we could spare you more?” “I’ll return again for the others. Besides, the dead should not impose too much on the living.” She smiled warmly. “Please stay. As archaeology professor, I’ll be the judge of that…” Loyal Prerogative“We’ll let you be our princess,” said the earth pony, “s’long as you act princessy.” Platinum leaned towards Clover. “These are loyalists?” “Earth ponies have… different views of loyalty, Your Highness. Possibly a side-effect of democratic traditions?” “I only wanted to play croquet!” Before today, Platinum would’ve sent mages to quash earth pony “rabble-rousers”. But new Equestria needed less self-absorbed leadership. Besides, Equestrian farmhooves had developed a two-way relationship with royalty. They did not pass laws and wear ermine, and princesses did not mess with farmland. “These fields have the right slant –” whined Platinum. Clover coughed warningly. “Have… the… right… type of slant. I was… measuring them. With croquet hoops! Soon be cleared up! Superlative fields, good farmer!” “You’re learning, Your Highness.” Clover beamed proudly. Respect other ponies’ needs. Platinum hated learning. It made her sweat with effort. However, she had non-unicorn subjects now. “Noble-ess obli-gay” was her watchword. A Touch Draconic“…pony head, eagle claw, lion paw, snake tail: you never wondered about the rest? My overall shape? The name? Dracon-equus?” Fluttershy examined Discord, horns to wings. “I noticed it when we first met,” she admitted. “It was… scary.” Discord lounged. “Think. Dragons do what?” “Eat anything?” “Keep going.” “Live for centuries? Resist magic? Fly?” “Hoard!” “…you hoard chaos?” “Dragon-like. So I hope you appreciate the meaning behind this.” His talons snapped. When Fluttershy sneezed, her coffee turned into a kitten. “Oh my.” She blinked. “Wow…” “Just magic away the extra eye if it’s distracting.” “Chaos as a gift… It’s very…” Fluttershy giggled. “…you.” “Paper birthday cake?” “Thank you! I’ve wondered what it’s like to be other creatures.” Fluttershy grinned, fangs sprouting. “I never thought about dragons, though.” Scales erupted. “Wow. Starting my own hoard…” “Dragonhood becomes you, Fluttershy! Just as ponydom became me. Another slice? For your second mouth there?” An-NOI-ancesSome called her “No Identity”, because she left no impression. Her big sister, Golden Harvest, called her “my baby carrot”. The birth certificate said “Odd Job”. Stupid name. Unfortunately, it fit like a glove. If sis needed help tending carrots, Odd Job helped. If sis needed help cleaning the house, Odd Job had the broom. If sis needed headache pills, Odd Job kept them on standby. She’d have preferred “Orange Juice”. “Odd Job” was what she got. All the time. Her soul screamed, “NO!” Her little mouth droned, “Yes, sis.” Because she had one weakness; should her big sister sway, or smile painfully, or nearly faint, she had to help. One pony couldn’t run a farm solo. Odd Job had to make her ask for help. And the sight of her big sister swaying less, or smiling rosily, was just enough to compensate a filly for mucking in the mud. Weird Ways of Asking“Daddy’s sending me to the prestigious University of Canterlot.” Diamond Tiara waited for the right reaction. “That’s nice.” Without looking up, Apple Bloom continued adjusting her cider-o-matic. “Canterlot.” “Ah heard. Pass the wrench while you’re here?” “Which means,” continued Diamond in her talking-to-slow-ponies voice, “I’ll be away for a year.” “Great. Send letters.” It took what little self-control Diamond had to not strangle her. “Don’t you care? I’m going to Canterlot! While you’re stuck here!” “And we’ll love that!” Finally, Apple Bloom tittered and faced her, blushing. “Sorry. Bad joke. Ah’ll organize a goodbye hoedown. It’s… not much.” Diamond saw her wince and took rare if misunderstood pity. “No need. Daddy’s organizing a farewell soiree.” “Well, maybe one’s for family and rich folk, other’s for friends and… not-rich folk?” “We’re friends?” Smiling, Apple Bloom returned to wrenching. “Shoot, we’ve been friends ages. Ain’t it obvious?” Relieved, Diamond sighed. “Thought so.” Neither Sugar Nor Spice, But Everything NiceSour Sweet fired the arrow. Hit the outer ring. Eye twitched. Immediately drew another. Fired. Again, hit the ring. WHY was she FAILING!? Only her parents watched, several yards away. Several yards from each other too. Dad cooed, raising a teacup. Mom growled, fist shaking. Sour Sweet drew her third. She imagined the target was Dad, with his sappy, meaningless inanities. Nice guys finished first!? She fired. Hit the inner ring. ARRGH! Drew her fourth. Next, she imagined it was Mom. Screw everyone! Do anything! She wasn’t the much-despised CEO of Grindstone Technologies for nothing! She fired. Bull’s-eye. Her own eye twitched; Dad swooned, Mom muttered, “About time.” But Sour Sweet, Daddy’s pwecious widdle angel, thanked them soooo hard! Inside, she fought not to shoot either of them. No, she’d learn from their extremes. Their mistakes. She fired a fifth. Skewered the first bull’s-eye. She’d always hit the sweet spot.
Build Me Up, ButtercupApple Bloom left the attic, rubbing her head. “Ow… Applejack, this yours?” she said, hefting the guitar. “Hm?” “Ah moved some stuff for Granny, it fell and hit me –” Applejack gasped. “Mom’s old guitar!” Silence breathed… “She used to play that to me every evenin’.” Applejack placed her hat over her heart. “Such sweet music.” “So why’d you hide it away?” “Ah didn’t! Mom did.” Apple Bloom strummed a few cords. “Mom?” “See, she only used to play for family. One day, Granny reckoned Mom could make it big as a professional country singer. Mom started OK, but then… she got some… uncompromisin’ honesty.” “Bad review?” Applejack squirmed. “Abandoned music overnight. High-standards industry, music.” Apple Bloom strummed it. “Then why’s this still tuned?” “Apple Bloom!” “Well, someone still cared for this. Who?” “Put it back! It hurts, rememberin’.” “Oh. S-s-sorry.” Applejack whispered, “Ah’m sorry, Mom. Ah only meant professionally…”
Every Year, Unwavering“There’s been some miscommunication,” said Professor Fossil apologetically. “We suspended access to the dig site –” “My former home, Professor,” insisted Rockhoof. “…to your home, sorry, yesterday. We must’ve received the incorr–” “I have a geas! A warrior of the Mighty Helm, once placed under a geas, will yield against nothing.” Sadly, Fossil knew this; she specialized in his time period. She hurried aside. Rockhoof placed the cake on the earth, bowing his head. “The 1,038th year since the birth of Swordbeater. Dutiful father. Proud blacksmith. A great friend.” Fossil knew better than to interrupt. Now Rockhoof would follow the ancient ceremon– “Thank you for your time,” he said. Surprised, she coughed. “I’m sure we could spare you more?” “I’ll return again for the others. Besides, the dead should not impose too much on the living.” She smiled warmly. “Please stay. As archaeology professor, I’ll be the judge of that…”
Loyal Prerogative“We’ll let you be our princess,” said the earth pony, “s’long as you act princessy.” Platinum leaned towards Clover. “These are loyalists?” “Earth ponies have… different views of loyalty, Your Highness. Possibly a side-effect of democratic traditions?” “I only wanted to play croquet!” Before today, Platinum would’ve sent mages to quash earth pony “rabble-rousers”. But new Equestria needed less self-absorbed leadership. Besides, Equestrian farmhooves had developed a two-way relationship with royalty. They did not pass laws and wear ermine, and princesses did not mess with farmland. “These fields have the right slant –” whined Platinum. Clover coughed warningly. “Have… the… right… type of slant. I was… measuring them. With croquet hoops! Soon be cleared up! Superlative fields, good farmer!” “You’re learning, Your Highness.” Clover beamed proudly. Respect other ponies’ needs. Platinum hated learning. It made her sweat with effort. However, she had non-unicorn subjects now. “Noble-ess obli-gay” was her watchword.
A Touch Draconic“…pony head, eagle claw, lion paw, snake tail: you never wondered about the rest? My overall shape? The name? Dracon-equus?” Fluttershy examined Discord, horns to wings. “I noticed it when we first met,” she admitted. “It was… scary.” Discord lounged. “Think. Dragons do what?” “Eat anything?” “Keep going.” “Live for centuries? Resist magic? Fly?” “Hoard!” “…you hoard chaos?” “Dragon-like. So I hope you appreciate the meaning behind this.” His talons snapped. When Fluttershy sneezed, her coffee turned into a kitten. “Oh my.” She blinked. “Wow…” “Just magic away the extra eye if it’s distracting.” “Chaos as a gift… It’s very…” Fluttershy giggled. “…you.” “Paper birthday cake?” “Thank you! I’ve wondered what it’s like to be other creatures.” Fluttershy grinned, fangs sprouting. “I never thought about dragons, though.” Scales erupted. “Wow. Starting my own hoard…” “Dragonhood becomes you, Fluttershy! Just as ponydom became me. Another slice? For your second mouth there?”
An-NOI-ancesSome called her “No Identity”, because she left no impression. Her big sister, Golden Harvest, called her “my baby carrot”. The birth certificate said “Odd Job”. Stupid name. Unfortunately, it fit like a glove. If sis needed help tending carrots, Odd Job helped. If sis needed help cleaning the house, Odd Job had the broom. If sis needed headache pills, Odd Job kept them on standby. She’d have preferred “Orange Juice”. “Odd Job” was what she got. All the time. Her soul screamed, “NO!” Her little mouth droned, “Yes, sis.” Because she had one weakness; should her big sister sway, or smile painfully, or nearly faint, she had to help. One pony couldn’t run a farm solo. Odd Job had to make her ask for help. And the sight of her big sister swaying less, or smiling rosily, was just enough to compensate a filly for mucking in the mud.
Weird Ways of Asking“Daddy’s sending me to the prestigious University of Canterlot.” Diamond Tiara waited for the right reaction. “That’s nice.” Without looking up, Apple Bloom continued adjusting her cider-o-matic. “Canterlot.” “Ah heard. Pass the wrench while you’re here?” “Which means,” continued Diamond in her talking-to-slow-ponies voice, “I’ll be away for a year.” “Great. Send letters.” It took what little self-control Diamond had to not strangle her. “Don’t you care? I’m going to Canterlot! While you’re stuck here!” “And we’ll love that!” Finally, Apple Bloom tittered and faced her, blushing. “Sorry. Bad joke. Ah’ll organize a goodbye hoedown. It’s… not much.” Diamond saw her wince and took rare if misunderstood pity. “No need. Daddy’s organizing a farewell soiree.” “Well, maybe one’s for family and rich folk, other’s for friends and… not-rich folk?” “We’re friends?” Smiling, Apple Bloom returned to wrenching. “Shoot, we’ve been friends ages. Ain’t it obvious?” Relieved, Diamond sighed. “Thought so.”
Neither Sugar Nor Spice, But Everything NiceSour Sweet fired the arrow. Hit the outer ring. Eye twitched. Immediately drew another. Fired. Again, hit the ring. WHY was she FAILING!? Only her parents watched, several yards away. Several yards from each other too. Dad cooed, raising a teacup. Mom growled, fist shaking. Sour Sweet drew her third. She imagined the target was Dad, with his sappy, meaningless inanities. Nice guys finished first!? She fired. Hit the inner ring. ARRGH! Drew her fourth. Next, she imagined it was Mom. Screw everyone! Do anything! She wasn’t the much-despised CEO of Grindstone Technologies for nothing! She fired. Bull’s-eye. Her own eye twitched; Dad swooned, Mom muttered, “About time.” But Sour Sweet, Daddy’s pwecious widdle angel, thanked them soooo hard! Inside, she fought not to shoot either of them. No, she’d learn from their extremes. Their mistakes. She fired a fifth. Skewered the first bull’s-eye. She’d always hit the sweet spot.
