Lipogram

by NorsePony

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Random
Length: 1182

A story written without using the letter "E".

This is a lipogrammatic story. That is, a story in which I did not lay hands on that most common symbol, “E”. You shall not find a solitary copy of that symbol at any point in this story, including in this summary (barring that singular anomaly, naturally). I did this odd thing as a trial to my ability as an author—it's a workout, if you will.

Published 2012-03-11 15:54:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-03-11 15:54:02 UTC

First (and Only) Part

Sunlight bursting through a front window of Rarity's shop lit viridian silk. “Oh, Opal, look at it! Isn't it simply grand? Rainbow Dash will look stunning in silk of this color. I must fashion a Gala gown for that pony instantly! But. . . how shall I occasion Rainbow, who has such an antipathy to fashion, to allow construction of such a gown? Ah! Inspiration has struck! I will ply Rainbow with food; a full stomach will indubitably charm that stubborn pony into allowing it.”

Soon, Rarity and Rainbow sat down upon barstools at Rainbow's usual pub-n-grub. Normally, Rarity would not allow anypony to find so much as a snowy hair in such a low-class hangout, but on this occasion, a singular anomaly was all right.

Food was piling up at Rainbow's bidding, and Rarity was wincing, imagining many bits jumping from coinpouch to barpony without so much as a “how do you do.” Rarity could not avoid a sigh, but said brightly, “Rainbow, darling, I did ask you out to lunch with a goal in mind, and I should wish to say what it is.”

At that, both Dash's suspicion and brow did lift cautiously, but that cobalt pony said, “Hm, I think this goal of yours is not to my liking, or you would not buy food in such quantity. So, spill it, what do you want?”

“It's only a small favor, hardly anything at all. Only a day ago, I had occasion to sign for a box, and within that box was a bolt of a particular kind of silk, spun by royal silkworms, from Oligarchia. This bolt I now own practically glows with a viridian color, which I know will contrast dazzlingly with your coat, so—” Rarity saw a cobalt hoof lift, and cut off abruptly.

Rainbow said, “Am I rightly catching on to your notion? You wish to craft clothing of that silk, but additionally, you wish to craft this clothing to fit yours truly?”

“You grasp my proposal's nub, it is just as you say. So, what is your conclusion?”

“I say no. I can claim no passion for this aim of yours—I'm just not into it,” Rainbow said around a straw through which a daisy malt was climbing.

Through downturning lips, Rarity said, “Wait a bit until you clinch your opinion on this, for I wish to inform you of a thing which may cast a contrary light on my proposal.”

“You don't say? Spit it out, I ask you.”

“All right, I shall. I was studying a copy of this month's Fashion Monthly, and what should I find but a story about Soarin', co-captain of—“

Dash sat at barstool's lip, taut with fascination. “Go on, go on, what did this story say about him?”

At that, Rarity did allow a small smirk to form, for it was plain to any unicorn in a transactional vocation that Rainbow was raring to buy. “It said that Soarin' has a fascination with silk—royal silkworm silk in particular—and with any pony clad in it. It also said that Soarin' would, without fail, go to our upcoming Grand Galloping Gala. So I thought that any pony who has a craving to join his organization might wish to obtain a Gala gown which is bound to knock him for a loop, so that such a pony—that is, you—could smooth your way to an audition.”

By now, Rainbow was fully sold, nodding along with Rarity's words. “That is a grand plan, Rarity, and I wish to put it into action instantly. Both of us should go now and start on fitting my gown.”

“A fantastic plan, my darling! You and I shall go to my shop forthwith.”

And so it was that Rarity and Rainbow Dash did walk to Rarity's shop, which was known to all as a habitat—nay, a fountain—of chic and luxury in this tiny town. Upon arrival, Rarity bid Rainbow to climb up on a fitting platform so that Rarity could start on trying various fashions of viridian for a cobalt pony.

Rarity had had a goodly amount of thoughts about how to craft Rainbow's gown, and instantly got going. Rarity's hoof was firm and work was quick, and soon Rainbow was in a gown of that particular viridian color which so grandly points up a cobalt coat. A split cloak of a rich grassy color sat upon it, its color contrasting alluringly. Piping of a cobalt color matching Rainbow's coat ran diagonally along both cloak and gown, giving both parts a dynamic look, as though Rainbow was constantly in flight.

In a mirror, Rainbow drank in a pulchritudinous vision, and said, “My gosh, this is fantastic, Rarity, and thanks, but. . .”

Rarity said, “But. . .?”

Looking through squinting lids and talking through tight lips, Rainbow said, “It's good, but it wants a sort of a twist. I don't know what. . .”

Rarity was taut with worry. “Spit it out, Rainbow! What do you want of my gown, this magnum opus of fashion which I had to construct just for you? Say it. Say it, I command you!”

Rainbow was backing away from Rarity's assault of words, but valiantly said, “I think I know what I want of this gown. Could you possibly chill it by, say, a fifth?”

=/==/==/

As days will, day and night ran past two by two, until abruptly it was an important day. Rarity and Rainbow Dash, in two Gala gowns of distinct and gracious look, brought approving scrutiny and discussion from all and sundry. That snowy unicorn was, naturally, savoring any and all such thoughts which any pony might focus on such a lady as Rarity. Slipping away during Rarity's idyll, Rainbow Dash sought out Soarin' to show off to him what a grand Grand Galloping Gala gown a fashionista compatriot had built, and how alluring it was against a cobalt coat.

Soarin' was blown away. “Is that actual royal silkworm silk?”

Rainbow brought a hoof to a silky collar. “Possibly,” that pony said, smugly.

Soarin' trod a hair's width forward, and Rainbow found that his sigh, fragrant with pastry, was mingling with Rainbow's own. Soarin' took an instant to corral his wits, and said, wistfully, “Royal silkworm silk. . . from Oligarchia?”

Rainbow was not in any transactional vocation, but it was still plain as day that Soarin' was willing—possibly raring—to buy, and that cobalt pony took it in hoof to draw him in. “It is, in fact, from Oligarchia. I'm partial to this silk for my flight suit too, you know. It clings to my body most. . . smoothly.”

Soarin' was anxious to concur. “I am of that opinion too. I always contract with Oligarchian royal silkworms for my flight suits, as only that fabric fits to my liking, and its way of cutting through a high wind is admirably singular.”

Rainbow Dash did hook an arm through his, and, favoring him with a wink, said, “Shall you and I discuss our admiration for silk as I buy you a pastry?”