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“ – And – accrues – a large – amount – of – darn it!” Twilight Sparkle cursed loudly, dropping the dry quill onto the wooden writing table with a light plink! The scroll she was writing on was dotted with spidery writing, and she gazed at it in dismay. She’d nearly been finished with her report, the data she’d collected from hours of studiously gathering information from the small bushel of Poison Joke scrawled across multiple sheets of parchment.
Twilight sighed heavily, nosing about for another ink pot. However, her searches came up unexpectedly empty; her horn glowed with a violet light for a brief moment as several drawers were opened and their contents floated weightlessly into the air, each one being neatly replaced as Twilight grimly realized that she had no more stores of ink. Deftly placing her research next to the Poison Joke so as not to either disturb the blue weed or the slowly drying ink on her notes.
Quickly placing her personal set of felt saddlebags onto her shoulders telekinetically, she called out for her ever-helpful assistant.
“Spike!” she said, her voice echoing throughout the Golden Oaks library. “I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes – I don’t know why, but we’re out of ink again!”
“Are you sure?” the little purple dragon asked, poking his head around the corner of the second floor study room door. “Maybe Pinkie Pie borrowed more than she needed…” he said thoughtfully as she trotted quickly past him, while Spike was scratching his chin with one talon.
“For what, ink-cakes?” Twilight snorted, opening the wooden door. “I’ll only be gone for a few minutes; do you think you can hold down the fort until I get back?”
“Of course I can!” Spike proclaimed assuredly, watching her from atop the stairs. “What kind of Number One Assistant would I be if I couldn’t?”
She smiled at his confidence, blowing a tuft of mane out of her face as she took off at a brisk pace down the street. She didn’t have anything to worry about; Twilight had confidence in Spike to take care of the library for five minutes. Besides, everything would be fine, so long as he stayed away from the Poison Joke. He hadn’t seen her bring it in, and she doubted he’d bother with it anyway, considering the last time the weed had been involved. Twilight shuddered at the memory of her floppy horn.
“Nothing could possibly go wrong,” she consoled herself as she approached the shop where she bought her usual supply, bits jingling cheerily in her saddlebag.
“No-oh-aw-oh-ow-ah-o!”
The pink blur slammed into her just as she was reaching for the door, knocking her clear from the steps. Twilight rapidly picked herself up from the Pinkie-pile, dusting herself off angrily.
“Pinkie Pie, what the buck was that for?” she demanded, stamping her hoof. Pinkie, however, was far too preoccupied.
“Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh! I’m too late!” the pink party pony pouted in despair, flinging her forehooves around her friend’s neck. “I’m too la-hay-ay-ate!” she sobbed hysterically, fountains of tears springing from her eyes.
“Gak! Pinkie, get off!” she pried herself free, trying to make sense of the situation.
Which, around Pinkie Pie, was usually futile.
“Will you just tell me what’s wrong?” Twilight groaned, tapping her hoof impatiently. “Too late for what?”
“You already said the forbidden words!” Pinkie wailed, eyes darting about nervously as if the universe might rend itself in two at a moment’s notice. She was ready to hop into any nearby protective barrels she could find, in order to find some protection from the potential end of all sanity.
Again, around Pinkie Pie, this was usually futile.
Twilight grumbled grumpily, pushing her now-tangled mane out of her face. “Look, Pinkie, I really don’t have time for this right now. I need to pick up some more ink so I can finish my research.”
Pinkie Pie froze, leaving her standing on two hooves. Twilight hadn’t even seen her steadily creeping into the nearby wooden barrel, and she remained stuck halfway out of it.
“… Ink, you say?” her voice rebounded from within the barrel nervously, and her bright and poofy pink tail deflated slightly. It gave her a slightly… flatter look.
“Yes, Pinkie.” Twilight said in exasperation. “I – wait, Pinkie? Where’d you go?”
One moment, Pinkie had been halfway inside the lidless barrel; the next moment, she was gone from sight. A quick check revealed that she was nowhere around. Twilight wistfully regretted never discovering just how her friend managed to do that. With a sigh, she shook her head and continued her journey for ink pots.
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Spike took a long drag from the makeshift blunt, blowing out a heavy ring of light blue smoke as he did so. The research notes didn’t look all that important, anyway.
It had been a simple matter to light the thing on fire after he had rolled it; a dragon was never in want of matches, after all. He had been almost certain that Twilight would be back sooner, but as the time slowly passed, Spike grew more and more bored.
Discovering the Poison Joke atop Twilight’s study desk had allayed said boredom almost instantly. The room melted away as he took another drag of the improvised Joke-Cigar, and for a moment, he wondered just how much more potent this weed was than his regular that he kept stashed in Owlicious’s belongings.
Hey, somebody had to take the fall for it if his hoard was ever found.
Briefly, the thought occurred to him that trying to smoke Poison Joke might be a bad idea.
Before he knew it, the entire blunt was gone, vanishing in a small puff of green dragon flame and blue smoke. There were only two things that Spike was currently aware of.
Number One: Spike was much, much higher than he expected he would be.
Number Two: Spike was very, very hungry.
“… Uh oh.”
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“Spike, I’m back!” Twilight sang happily as she opened the front door. Oddly, it was slightly ajar. She could have sworn that she latched it on her way out. “I have the ink, and I picked up some… ice… crea- oh, sweet Celestia.”
The tree house had been completely demolished.
Books were torn off of shelves, some in heaps and piles on the floor. A couple had been glued to the wall in some kind of bright orange paste, and some books had been stacked along the stairs on their edges haphazardly. The stacked ones were all cookbooks, for some reason.
Twilight stared in shock and horror, eyes glancing upward toward the chandelier and watching a single, flaming book dangling from one of the hooks with a small green fire on its cover.
“SPIKE! WHERE THE BUCK ARE YOU?!”
The flaming paperback book dropped to the floor with a small thunk. Twilight stamped it out as quickly as she could, surveying the damage. Oh, when she found Spike, there was going to be Tartarus to pay.
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“Uh… um… ugh… Ooh, I know!” Spike proclaimed loudly, the red splotches in the corners of his eyes dancing happily. “I’ll have seventeen double-daisy burgers, with six sides of hay fries. Oh, and a large honey soda, too.”
“For the last time, insolent drake – The Great And Powerful Trixie does NOT ‘serve’! Trixie ‘entertains’!”
“So, like, ‘entertain’ me with some munchies, dude.”
The angry unicorn shrieked in outrage, sparks flying from her horn as she leapt out of her carriage window at Spike, who sat next to it in a bright red little wagon. He held a small, cardboard wheel in front of him, giggling hysterically as he did so.
“Trixie is normally against mangling children, but this time, Trixie makes an exception!” she growled, charging the violet baby dragon.
He honestly didn’t mean to do it; Trixie had surprised him so badly that he wound up belching, directly into her face. Instead of a burning gout of flame, however, Trixie took a large puff of blue smoke to the muzzle, coating her head entirely. She flew past Spike and hit the ground rolling, tumbling back to her feet.
Thoroughly surprised herself, Trixie bounded back to her feet easily. “Ha! What a miserable attempt to… to… um… uh…” she thought furiously. Surely, she had been about to say something. If only her left hoof hadn’t suddenly become so interesting.
“… You – you – I mean – Trixie has never noticed that Trixie has no fingers.”
“I know, dude.” Spike said, leaning back in his wagon. “Like, little claws, n’ stuff.”
“Dude,” Trixie agreed with him, eyes widening as they reddened slightly.
“Dude.”
“… Dude.”
“DUDE.”
After several minutes of repeating themselves in a mellow fashion, Spike changed the subject.
“… Dude. You hungry?”
“Trixie is most hungry!” she nodded thoughtfully. She could have sworn there was something she was planning on doing today; ah, well. If she couldn’t remember it, it must not have been very important. “Trixie is more hungry than… than… than… than Trixie was ten seconds ago!”
“I know that feel, bro,” Spike said, offering a seat in his little red wagon. “we should get food, dude.”
“Dude!” Trixie proclaimed as she clambered in next to him. “That, like… rhymed, dude.”
“… HOLY BUCK, YOU’RE TOTALLY RIGHT!” Spike announced in shock. He swiftly patted himself down in panic, making sure he didn’t have any hooves. “… Maybe I’m, like… part zebra.”
“… Dude.” Trixie breathed in amazement. She’d never seen a dragon/zebra before. Except for now. And every other time she’d seen Spike before, apparently.
“… Hang on. Just what were we doing again?”
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“Snails! SNAILS!” the pudgy grey unicorn with bright orange hair yelled in panic to his lanky, green maned friend.
“Huh - whuzzat?” Snails exclaimed loudly, wiping drool off his chin. He slipped off the park bench he’d been napping on, dropping to the ground to discover the source of the hubbub.
“Snails! Snails, you’re never going to believe it!”
“I know!” Snails said, equally excited. “… Wait, what am I not believing?” he asked, confused.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie!”
“Yeah!” Snails cheered. “Hey, I’ve heard of her.”
Snips face-hoofed, the loud clop resounding throughout the park. “No, you idiot; I mean, Trixie’s running around naked!”
“… Aren’t we all naked?” Snails asked contemplatively after a moment of silence.
“That’s not the point!” his friend blurted, clearly agitated. “She’s singing about it!”
“… ‘kay.”
“With Spike!”
“… ‘kay.”
“A dragon!”
“… ‘kay.”
“WITHOUT US!”
“… ‘ka-“
“If you say that again, I swear to Celestia…!” Snips threatened, slapping him in the back of the head. “I need your help! I mean, we’ve been replaced!”
“Oh, no!” Snails gasped, hooves flying up to his face in terror. “Is it because I fell asleep? I didn’t mean to, honest!”
“No, Snails, I-“
“Is it because I forgot to turn in my homework?” the orange unicorn cut him off again in panic.
“No, Snails – “
“Is it because we brought that Ursa Minor to Ponyville?”
“No, Snails – “
“Is it because Ms. Cheerilee is angry at us?”
“No, Snails – “
“Is it because of that one time I tried eating a mud ball?”
“No, Snails – “
“Is it because I threw that mud ball at your mom?”
“No, Snails – “
“Is it because we were using those buzzy things from Trixie’s nightstand to swordfight with - ?”
“NO, SNAILS!” Snips snapped, slapping his friend upside the head. “She’s obviously been brainwashed!”
Snails gasped again in surprise. If he kept inhaling at this rate, he was likely to pass out. “Buh-buh-buh-buh-brainwashed?”
“Yeah, like the time she tried taking over Ponyville with that whacked out amulet!”
“Which episode was that again?” Snails wondered aloud, furrowing his brow.
“… Wait, what?”
“Nothing, nothing,” the unicorn said quickly. “Do you think we should get help?”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME?!” Snips squeaked furiously.
“Talking to me. Duh.” Snails pointed out the obvious. “Jeez, you’re not very bright.”
Snips slapped him in the head again.
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