Dead Puppet Theater

“Boo.”

“Well hello to you too.”

“Damn. That usually works.”

“Sorry, not this time. How's Dash?”

“She's doing... better. I honestly feel terrible about what happened. As should you. The deception is one thing, but the injury...”

“Heh, sorry. But can you really blame me? A few years celibate'll do that to ya...”

“That it will.”

“Seriously though, thanks for that. It was fun to really live the fantasy, even if my acting was terrible.”

“No problem. Anything for a fellow performer.”

“So, what's next for you guys?”

“We have a show scheduled in a couple weeks in Canterlot. Dashie can rest in the meantime.”

“'Show?' That's what you call them?”

“I find that 'appointments' sounds rather... impersonal.”

“Whatever you say. Listen, I got race to get to myself. I'll give you a ring if I need you again.”

“Please do. Oh... and Spitfire?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't do what I do for no reason. Give them hell out there.”

“Thanks, same to you...”