Prologue: The Fart Heard 'Round the World
Mayor Mare’s words echoed like a trombone, weaving in and out of topics that covered every subject. One moment it would be the weather, but the next second could be about prices. She would shout, soothe, and comfort, changing tones like an acrobat swinging from rope to rope.
Politics is just a performance. And I'm a professional actress
“Miss Mayor,” a straw hat farmer spoke, “with all due respect, mah’ squash were failin’ during that Cloudsdale weather crisis. Ah’ know we’re being a tad harsh on y’all but ya’ need to understan’ how hard it was on the squash…”
“Mister Greenhooves,” Mayor Mare replied in a measured tone, “I understand that the precipitation dilemma had a nasty effect on your crops, but Ponyville had no control over this matter.”
“Ah’ do know, ma’am, but yer’ overlookin’ my point. This town was founded on crops and culture. Ya’ can’t have one without the other. Crops should be the government’s first priority.”
Several members of the audience stood up.
“Hear, hear!”
“Darn’ tootin’”
Mayor Mare felt her stomach tie in a knot. The public was getting bolder.
Shuffling the stack of notecards in front of her, she silently chided herself for going first. If only she had let Golden Decree deliver the opening. After all, legislation made a great scapegoat.
“Look at this!” A pink mare held up a pair of brown, wilted flowers. “Your blunder cost me half a month’s work! I stayed up night and day growing these petunias! How on earth am I supposed to arrange a bouquet with this pile of twigs?”
Her declaration was met with little support from the stands.
After having been stuck in Town Hall for more than an hour, most of the audience was caught up in idle conversation or snoring in their seats. Even Mayor Mare herself desired the chance to take a rest in the blue armchair a few feet away from her.
“You must understand, Daisy, it wasn’t like we didn’t do anything. We appealed to Cloudsdale. We even sent weather teams to gather clouds in the wild.”
“And about that pegasi team. All they brought us was paltry clumps of water dust!”
“I’ve addressed Rainbow Dash on this.”
“And just where is she? She's in charge of this mess! ”
Like I know where the Element of Loyalty vanished.
The forum continued until Mayor Mare had fought, explained, and re-explained every single qualm directed her way. Eventually, the only noise she heard was of chairs creaking and ponies snoring.
“If there are no other questions,” Mayor Mare announced, “I’ll be giving the stage to Golden Decree, who will be glad to answer any legal questions pertaining to the Ponyville Municipal Code...”
She let her words trail away, backing away from the wooden podium as her grey-coated Head of Legislation strode towards the microphone.
At last, she could finally rest her rump and watch Golden Decree blabber nonsense that could put a hyperactive filly to sleep.
Well, Mayor Mare, you’ve done it yet again. And you didn’t screw anything–
She froze.
It started off as a rumble and grew into a roar as the sound of air escaping a bladder reverberated off the walls.
The creaking evidently stopped. Those who were snoring were now wide-awake. Even Golden Decree had paused to look back.
All eyes were now on her. Some faces were scowling. Others just scratched their forehead. A few had their hooves stifling the giggles that threatened to break the silence.
Her face glowing a bright pink, Mayor Mare slowly rose from her chair.
What…just…
The horrifying sound echoed throughout the hall once more. Mayor Mare yelped, her rump jamming back on the seat cushion. The audience flipped upside down.
The pervading silence lasted for just a few seconds.
Then came the thunderous roar of a million voices laughing. It penetrated the roof and amplified across the halls. They were cackling at her, the pinnacle of Ponyville. The representative of their town. Their leader!
Mayor Mare scrambled to her hooves, spectacles skewed over her snout. Several members of the audience rose out of their seats, applauding the stage.
“Hey everypony,” one colt shouted, gesturing towards Mayor Mare, “it’s the Fart Heard ‘Round the World!”
The crowd began to chant the phrase in a singsong manner.
Sweat beating down her forehead, the room began to spin as if she was riding a merry-go-round. This couldn’t be happening. This stuff happened to other ponies. But not her.
Stumbling to her hooves, the seat cushion clutched in her mouth, Mayor Mare backed away into the curtains.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
“Mayor Mare! What was that?” Golden Decree’s head popped out of the curtains like some demented jack in the box.
The sweat had now drenched her cushion. Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No. She began to rub her hoof fervently, trying to dry it.
“Mayor Mare, are you alright?” An olive green mare trudged through the curtains, her orange mane tied in a bun.
Why does this pillow feel deflated?
“Looks like somepony ate too many beans,” Golden Decree chuckled.
“Shut it, Legislation!” the mare quipped. “Mayor Mare, it’s me, Just Gavel—Your Horn of Jurisdiction?”
“I…” Mayor Mare trailed off, "Wait a second.”
Tugging at the pillow, she saw the cover come loose to unveil a bright red rubber sac. Scrawled in bold black text, it read The Joke’s On You Whoo-Hoo Whoopee Cushion.
“Starswirl’s beard!” Just Gavel gasped.
Golden Decree rolled his eyes. "Oh no, somepony planted a whoopee cushion on the Mayor’s chair? Call the Royal Guard! This could only be the work of Discord.”
“Do you take anything seriously?” Just Gavel smacked her hoof over Decree’s forehead, eliciting a small cry of pain.
Mayor Mare tried to give a hearty chuckle, but it came out as a stifled croak. “I think we’re being a little too rash. A harmless joke never hurt anypony.”
“Harmless joke? Are you hearing yourself?” Just Gavel shouted, the disbelief written all over her face.
“Just Gavel, please, it’s just a whoopee cushion. Maybe some little foal trying to have some fun.”
“It was a deliberate attack! On you, of all ponies!”
Mayor Mare stared at the cushion like it was the final clue to a royal plot. Soon, the voices of her supervisors dissolved into muffled sounds in her head.
Nopony would ever want to harm me? Just a foal having fun. But there were no foals present tonight…
She could hear the muffled voices of her advisors bickering.
“Sabotage?” Golden Decree was shaking his head. “Mayor, are you hearing this?”
“I—“ Mayor Mare's mind was in a maelstrom of shock and confusion. Why would anypony do this to her? The town loved her!
You must stay in control, Mayor Mare. Stay. In. Control.
“I—I stand by my verdict, and I think both of you are overreacting. Besides, who would have the tenacity, the will power, or the energy to pull off something like this?”
“For Celestia's sake it isn't that hard to place a whoopee cushion,” Golden Decree muttered, before being smacked once again by Just Gavel.
Chapter 1: A Weather Crisis
One Month Earlier
Why couldn’t I have just stayed in bed?
The cup of hot chocolate felt cold in her hooves, and the marshmallows had gone soggy. She brought the stale liquid to her lips, watching the mail mare stuff a pile of envelopes into the dilapidated birdhouse built the night before.
Is it really that hard to notice?
“Derpy!” She called out, pointing to her battered black mailbox. ”The mail goes there.”
“Oh,” the pegasus deposited the pile of letters by her hooves with a sincere smile.
“Mornin’ Medley. How you doing today?”
Medley felt like her legs were made of lead and that her eyelids had grown heavier during the night. However, she managed to twist her mouth into a grin.
“Hello, Derpy. I’m feeling excellent.” The words sounded hollow in her mouth, but Derpy didn’t seem to notice or care. Her voice still had that cheerful ring to it.
“Post Haste left the post office today, moving on to Canterlot. Pinkie threw him a great party. There were chocolate muffins. Blueberry muffins. Banana muffins. Strawberry muffins. Choco-Watermelon muffins—”
“Did he now?” Medley dreaded the thought of Derpy naming every single type of muffin until she forgot and repeated the process.
“Yeah…didn’t I just say that?”
“Oh Derpy, you misunderstand, I was just—” Medley paused, her mind picturing the entire day spent teaching Derpy about the rules of conversation. “Nevermind.”
Despite the awkward moment, Derpy continued. “So, heading off to work?”
Medley briefly nodded. “I’ll be off as soon as I finish a few errands.”
“Me too!”
“Aren’t you already at work?”
Derpy seemed to ponder on this thought, her hoof pawing the ground. “Oops,” she corrected herself, “I guess I am.”
“And I suppose you have other customers patiently awaiting your arrival, too.”
“Oh no!” Derpy’s eyes widened. “I totally forgot! I have to cover Post Haste’s route too! Sorry to greet and flee, but have a good morning, Medley!”
“You already…”
But Derpy was soaring past the clouds, leaving a few stray letters floating in her wake. Sighing to herself, Medley sifted through the bills and junk. So far, she found two coupons to Donut Joes, another invitation from Pinkie Pie, and her magazine subscription to Birdhouses and You.
Medley tossed the magazine over her mane.
“Some help that was,” she muttered to herself, “When will Parasol understand that I’m not an outdoors mare.”
“Medley! Hey Medley!”
Before Medley could turn around, she was plowed over by a yellowish blur.
The sickening sound of her 'birdhouse' being reduced to splinters filled her ears. Oh for Hayseed’s sake!
Snorting some dust from her snout, Medley saw a yellow pegasus mare with a wisteria mane and umbrella cutie mark.
“Oh shoot!” The pegasus got up, her eyes surveying the remains. “Looks like I wrecked the…what was that again?”
“Just my birdhouse, and nice to see you too, Parasol.”
Parasol tucked in her wings. “I’m taking it didn’t go well.”
“It only took me a whole month to figure it out. I think a hummingbird visited it a while ago, but he must have thought the sign that read ‘bird feeder’ meant ‘bird eater’.”
“Bummer.”
“Just another lost cause. Anyway, what’s so important that you had to smash my project, Parasol?”
“If you must know,” Parasol began, bringing Medley back to her hooves, “I was talking with Cloud Kicker.”
“And?”
“Well, we were thinking of collaborating for Nightmare Night.”
“Parasol, Nightmare Night isn’t in another couple months or so. Why would Cloud Kicker—”
“She wants to get a head start, and I told her that my idea would be off the charts.”
“We all know how Cloud Kicker loves ‘off the charts’,” Medley grumbled to herself.
“Anyhow," Parasol continued, “we’re going to dress Derpy up as the Muffin Monster.”
“Muffin Monster? What train of thought led you to that idea?”
Parasol’s face lit up, a devious smile on her face.
Uh-Oh.
“What do you get with pollution, greed, global warming, and carnivorous fish?”
“Parasol please—“
“Piranha Tidal Wave!”
Oh Medley, you should have seen this coming.
Once Parasol mentioned the title, there was nothing that could stop her from explaining the entire movie. “Hooves down the best flick I’ve seen! Soooo awesome! In the end they had this enormous fish burst through the buildings, sucking up ponies like they were plankton! If that director doesn’t win Best Picture of the Month, I’m quitting my job and running a donut shop.”
Medley facehoofed herself.
Parasol had a thing for cheesy spin-offs, and as a result, she would drag her off to watch flicks such as Hurricane Anaconda, Kitten Shark,Alien Manta-Rays, and Carnivorous Plants Gone Wild.
“But going back on topic, are you with us?”
“No and no.”
“I only asked one thing.”
“But knowing you, Parasol, you were going to ask me again.”
Parasol gave a reprimanding stare. “You know, Medley, this could be a real opportunity for you to mingle with Cloud Kicker. As far as I know, the only pony you talk to is—”
“You. I get that, but what I don’t get is going through all that trouble for a couple of laughs.”
Parasol shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind, drop by my place or something. We need at least four of us to operate the suit.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.”
Flashing her wings, Parasol gave Medley a mischievous smile. “You ready to make some weather? We’re meeting on the outskirts of Ponyville.”
/)(\
“Alright everypony,” Rainbow Dash barked, “before we tackle today’s workload…I’ve got some bad news.”
“Did someone take it too hard on a cyclone again?”
“Nah, nothing like that. Mayor Mare just got a letter from Cloudsdale, and apparently there’s been some sort of holdup in the precipitation. Some factory mistake or something.”
“So we’re just a few minutes delayed right?”
“Well…” Rainbow Dash folded her wings. For a moment, it was silent, save for the sound of a few pegasi scratching their heads.
“How long?” Medley finally asked. She had taken a spot towards the back of the group, hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible.
“Nopony knows,” Rainbow Dash answered, “They’re saying it might be a couple of days. But until they do, every pegasus here is on rainfall duty.”
There was a unanimous groan shared among the group.
“Hey, cut the whining!”
Thunderlane raised his hoof. “Can’t the farmers just use that dam of theirs until Cloudsdale gets their droplets back together?”
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “No can do, Thunderlane. Mayor Mare said they’re still repairing the dam. We’re going to have to do it the old fashioned way.”
“But she can’t expect us to go out there and start herding clouds around. We’d have to morph those clouds to suit the weekly schedule.”
“I don’t like it either, but Mayor Mare was cool enough to offer overtime pay for the whole gang.”
Parasol threw her hooves into the air. “Oh that’s just great! We’re getting extra pay from the government!”
Another series of groans followed as the weather team dug their hooves into the grass.
Several of the more veteran members complained that this never happened before. Others suggested that Rainbow Dash rush back to Town Hall and try to convince the Mayor dig into their reserve supply. But Rainbow Dash merely shook her head, repeating again and again that Mayor Mare had been firm with the order.
/)(\
Medley was paired with Parasol to go comb the Northeast region of the Everfree, searching for any stray cloud or anomaly that could be accumulated into a storm cloud.
However, most of the clouds they did find were minuscule in comparison to their usual workload. It took them less then thirty minutes to bring them back to Ponyville.
“You know what that cloud looks like?” Parasol gestured to one of the stray clumps of water droplets.
“What?”
“A mare-eating piranha.”
Medley was moving another clump the clouds together, taking them to one of the cooler areas of the forest, where they were most likely to form. “How do you absorb so much violence in your life, Parasol?”
“Eh, I guess I’m just use to it. Watched a ton of horror shows as a foal.”
“I’m still having nightmares from that slasher spin-off two weeks ago.”
“Don’t be such a silly filly.”
Medley’s tone grew solemn. “I’m serious, Parasol.”
“That seems to be the only thing you’re ever serious about.”
“What are you implying?”
Parasol was now moving her cloud clump, her eyes focused on the puffy white surface. “You’re too cynical to understand entertainment. I’ve tried to get you into every hobby I know, and none of them seem to fit the bill.”
Medley felt her blood begin to boil. “I accepted your birdhouse idea.”
“Oh yeah? And how long did it take you to clump that stack of twigs together?”
She fell silent, unable to admit that she’d given up after thirty minutes. For Medley, toiling for countless days just to build a little wooden house seemed inefficient and boring.
Parasol sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for getting short with you, Medley. I’m just a little pissed off at the whole Cloudsdale issue. You’d think a weather factory would be prepared for this sort of thing.”
“Well just goes to show you that any system has its flaws.”
Parasol chuckled. “That’s Cloudsdale for you.”
But Medley was no longer thinking about Cloudsdale. Her mind drifted off to a beige coated mare with a greying mane and a scroll as her cutie mark. She’d wanted to believe that the Mayor had taken their best intentions to heart. But her mind knew better.
“You know what that cloud looks like?” Parasol gestured to a cirrostratus group of clouds near the horizon.
“What?”
“A herd of mare-eating piranhas.”
“I think the proper term is school, Parasol.”
“Yeah, but that sounds silly. Why would piranhas need to go to school? Or have an education for that matter?”
“It’s the same reason we went to flight camp. We learned how to manipulate the weather. So maybe piranhas have to go class to learn how to eat ponies.”
“But then after they learn how to devour our flesh, why call them a school? They don’t call us a class anymore right?”
“You make a valid point. Maybe you can convince the Canterlot Oceanic Science Team to change the terminology.”
“I suppose I could, although I doubt those Canterlot snobs would let me get away with the patent.”
/)(\
To say the first week was grueling would be an understatement.
Medley and Parasol had to fight thrashing winds, dodge lethal lightning bolts, and somehow tackle a cumulonimbus thunderstorm.
By the second week, Medley’s life revolved around rising up before sunrise, and getting home after the moon reached its highest peak. She’d try to sleep, but most of the time her ears were still ringing with the sounds of thunder and endless pitter-patter of rain.
Rainbow Dash constantly reminded them of the extra pay they were receiving, though it seemed she was trying to motivate herself more than anything else.
Medley never bothered to check the mailbox. She already knew that the government only paid fifteen bits a day for overtime, enough to buy them a couple of energy bars.
By the third week, Medley had become a zombie. She slept when she could and worked when she couldn’t. There were pegasi who complained about the new schedule, but most of the time they were just venting out hot air.
Every night, Medley would toss and turn, thinking about how her life had turned upside down with one smack of a gavel.
Mayor Mare wasn’t a weather pony. She was a politician—a self-proclaimed braggart who fed off the adoration of her peers. So what if a couple of pegasi had to endure a few perils in the Everfree? If that meant she could keep the town happy, then it didn’t matter if they had to fight a hydra, too.
/)(\
By the fourth week, Medley sent out a sick note. She had picked up the feather flu, along with a half a dozen other weather ponies on her shift. After five days of bed rest, and occasional visits from Parasol, Medley felt strong enough to walk as far as her mailbox.
There were the usual bills and fees to settle, along with a tiny brown parcel, the official Ponyville symbol stamped upon it. Medley tossed that package into the rotting pile of wood that was once her birdhouse project.
BOOM!
Medley yelped, jumping for cover behind her birdhouse.
High above her roof was Parasol, currently positioned over a black storm cloud.
“Mornin’ Medley!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Medley shouted, her eyes sending daggers.
“Didn’t you hear? Cloudsdale finally got their act together. Dashie sent the rest of us home to catch up on bed rest and whatnot.”
Parasol stretched her hooves, her back resting against the cloud. “So being the kind friend I am, I figured paying a little visit to my best friend would cheer her up.”
“And you thought a lightning bolt would do the trick?”
“Oh please, Doctor Parasol figured you needed a laugh or two to reanimate you from the dead.”
Medley sighed. “How appropriate of you to use electricity.”
“Would you have preferred the whoopee cushion?” Parasol pulled out a bright red sac.
“I would have preferred a steaming hot stack of pancakes.”
“You know I’m no cook. Everything I eat”— Parasol squeezed the cushion, evoking a harsh, guttural noise —“comes out the other side.”
“Th—that,” Medley stuttered, “wa—was a terri—”
She couldn’t help it. Falling on the grass, Medley began to giggle. It started out as a hoarse whisper that slowly grew into a merry, high-pitched cackle.
“Would you look at that?” Parasol beamed. “I must be Starswirl’s apprentice. I’ve made the Terrible Medley laugh!”
“Oh shut up! I’m only laughing at your complete lack of humor.”
“Is that so? And all this time I thought some villainous enchantress took away your ability to laugh. Heck, I’ve done what dozens of slasher-comedy flicks have failed to do for the last four years!”
Medley’s laughter soon subsided, her grin replaced with a frown. “That was absolutely appalling, Parasol. Probably your worse attempt at comedy.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Parasol maneuvered her cloud towards the edge of trees. “I heard Thunderlane slept in today. Perhaps I ought to give him a little jolt out of bed.”
The sight of Thunderlane taking cover under his mattress nearly caused Medley to laugh again. But holding it in, she exhaled.
Parasol tilted her head. “You wanna come? A prank’s always better with two.”
“Isn’t there something else you could be doing?”
“I guess so, but whatever. I need a good laugh, and heck, so could you.”
She tossed the whoopee cushion towards Medley, who let it fall over the mailbox.
“Keep it. Must be some lucky charm or something to have that kind of power over you.” With that, Parasol vanished over the row of houses.
It wasn’t until Medley was by herself that she picked up the red sac. Brushing the dust off, she found some bold black text that read The Joke’s On You Whoo-Hoo Whoopee Cushion.
“I don’t get it. All it does is create a noise that sort of sounds like a fart. How’s that even remotely funny?”
And yet, the more and more she thought about it, the funnier it seemed to be. She recalled those awkward moments when, after eating one too many beans, somepony would break the silence with the sound of flatulence.
“Mornin’ Medley,” the familiar voice of Derpy greeted.
“Oh,”— Medley hid the sac behind her back —“hey there, er, Derpy. Didn’t you just deliver the mail?”
Derpy grinned. “Well of course I did, silly. But the Mayor tasked me with delivering this special letter to everypony in Ponyville.” She handed Medley a bright blue flyer.
“A public forum?”
“Mayor Mare said it was important. But I gotta fly, see you later Medley!”
“I—”
Derpy had turned the corner, leaving Medley by herself. Sighing, she began to read the flyer.
“Forum to discuss the recent weather crisis in Cloudsdale?”
Medley let the flyer fall to her hooves before smashing it into the dirt. “This is four weeks late! They’re responding to it now?”
Her stomach was grumbling. Why hadn’t the Mayor done this earlier? It would have saved her four weeks of trouble.
Why, she’s taking everything we stand for and shooting it out of her—
She paused, her eyes diverted to the little red cushion in her hooves.
Shooting it out of her flank eh?
Mayor Mare was too egotistic to expect a trick. And if the Mayor cares so much about this issue, it would be criminal for her not to attend.
Well Mayor Mare, we’ll see who’s going to be the issue tonight.
Medley snorted at the thought. That snort soon grew into giggling, which morphed into a deep, almost malicious form of laughter.
That night, whoopee cushion stowed carefully in her saddlebag, the mischievous mare headed out to Town Hall.
The forum was being held in the main hall, a circular room filled with colorful banners and a wooden dome. But as Medley entered, she saw that it was currently filled with several burly young colts unfolding chairs.
“Hey you!”
Medley turned around to face a burly brown stallion.
“Ummm…yes?” She expected to be given a stern warning for coming too early.
“Fetch some seat cushions in the storage closet in the back.” He pointed to a red set of curtains.
Guess I’m just another employee.
Flying over to the stage, Medley took note of the setting. Three chairs were situated in the back, with a wooden podium for the speaker. Slipping through the curtains, she found the tiny brown door marked "Storage”.
Most of the items were the essentials: inkwells, quills, and freshly printed scrolls. Medley found the cushions, neatly organized into shelves. Shaped like a balloon, they seemed to be filled with air.
A light bulb flickered in her head.
Medley pulled out the whoopee cushion. Then, after peeling off one of the covers, she slid the red sac into the satin cloth.
“Hey!” the boss had stuck his head out of the curtains. “We need those pillows! These officials still need to sit their flanks down on something!”
“Sorry about that!”
Tossing the spare pillow back into the storage closet, Medley felt her body give an involuntary shiver.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.
After set up, it was simply a matter of time before the forum began. Medley took a seat in the back.
Where are all the pegasi? So far, only earth ponies and a couple unicorns had shown up, most of whom were now congregating around the refreshment table.
Medley was unusually jumpy tonight. She continuously glanced at the clock, and would turn around every time the door opened.
But her patience paid off. The three main heads of government strode towards the stage, Mayor Mare making her way towards the podium.
Standing up there with a confident smile, she waved to the audience. “A wondrous evening, everypony! Let’s begin shall we?”
If Medley thought the weather team was pissed, she had underestimated the earth pony population. Farmers complained about dried up acres and lazy pegasi teams, pulling out wilted crops from their saddlebags.
No wonder none of the pegasi showed up. Medley tucked her wings in.
Meanwhile, Mayor Mare hadn’t even stopped to catch her breath.
Medley was watching an experienced actress at work. One moment the Mayor would be agreeing with the speaker, and the next moment she’d be tearing him down with cold hard facts.
Soon enough, however, the forum grew repetitive and the voices more and more monotone. A few ponies in the back began to whisper among themselves while others simply started to snore.
Any second now, Mayor Mare. For Celestia’s sake how long do these things run?
“If there are no other questions,” Mayor Mare announced, “I’ll be giving the stage to Golden Decree, who will be glad to answer any legal questions pertaining to the Ponyville Municipal Code...”
Finally.
Mayor Mare confidently walked back to her seat, the very same seat Medley had left the 'cushion' on.
The clock froze.
The Mayor’s rump sluggishly descended towards the satin seat cushion, engulfing it in her fur. Then, ever so slowly, the sweet sound of gas escaping a bladder erupted from her flank.
The chatter grew silent.
Those who were sleeping had their ears up, their eyes scanning the stage. Even Golden Decree turned around to face the back.
All their eyes were focused on Mayor Mare, whose face turned a bright pink.
Medley was scratching her head. I could have sworn that lasted a bit—
Mayor Mare tilted forward for just a second. And the roar of the fart filled the hall. A few ponies in the front covered their snouts, but Mayor Mare jolted back into her seat, vanishing under the stage.
Medley could see several members shaking their heads in disbelief, while others were covering their mouths.
Then, the audience’s dull faces contorted into grins. Without warning, the crowd erupted into full-blown laughter.
“Hey everypony,” one colt cried out, “it’s the Fart Heard ‘Round the World!”
Soon enough, ponies began chanting “The Fart Heard ‘Round the World” again and again.
As Mayor Mare stood up, several members from the audience rose from their seats to give her a standing ovation. Her sweaty hooves still clutching the cushion, Mayor Mare backed away into the curtains.
Medley had to rub her eyes in disbelief. With just one fart, she had swayed a bunch of disgruntled ranchers into a pack of laughing hyenas.
“What the hay was that?”
“Ah’ swear if this is one of Pinkie’s or Dash’s tricks, Ah’m gunna throw a fit bigger than a manticore riding a hydra up a volcano!”
“Which one of you tricksters had the grand idea to pull that off?”
“Beans, beans, the magic fruit. The more ya’ eat the more yer’ toot!”
“Darn tootin’!”
Medley could now see Golden Decree retreating to the safety of the curtains.
Was I too harsh?
She hadn’t expected the incident to escalate that quickly. Maybe a few snickers from the crowd, just to get some payback. But still, the meeting had been called to discuss a pretty serious issue.
Maybe that’s the problem.
She saw the wide grins of the townsfolk as they chatted, giggled, and smiled at each other. What was once a phlegmatic affair had turned into a full-blown party. It wasn’t boring or grim any more. It was fun.
And Medley was the cause of it. The thought that one fart had caused all this made her giggle. And soon, she began to roll over the floor, laughing like a little filly.
Because of this stunt, tonight’s forum would be the talk of the town.
Little did she know, though, that her little stunt would be the only thing the town talked about.
