Side-Character Convention

Plate. Cup. Spoon. Plate. Cup. Spoon. Plate. Cup. Spoon.

The arduous process repeated for each of the eight spots on the table, in front of each chair. Once this was done, it was repeated with napkins and slits of paper folded into the shape of a triangular prism, each with a different name on it.

Gilda.

Great and Powerful Trixie, The.

King Sombra.

Princess Cadence.

Scootaloo.

Silver Spoon.

Spike.

Lovingly placing down his own name last, Spike carefully removed his maid outfit and returned it to the box in the back of the closet. Honed concentration marked his every movement as he carefully poured coffee into each and every cup. Finally placing the full platter onto the table—carrying biscuits, cream, milk, sugar, and a vase containing a single rose—Spike wiped his brow. A glance at the clock told him it was time.

Opening the door, he called down the hallway to the various characters grouped together. “We’re ready!” He waltzed back inside, sliding into his seat. The others filed in haphazardly, looking awkwardly at each other, the room, or the drinks left by their seat.

“Right, well, I’m proud to call together the Third Annual Side-Character Convention.” Spike clapped his hands together, and pointed at the griffon. “Gilda, would you care to read off last year’s minutes?”

“Psh. As if.” She tossed a clipboard into the baby drake’s face, who nearly toppled over backwards in his seat. “Only dweebs and losers know how to read.”

“Yeah, okay. They’re not that important anyway, I guess.” Spike peeled the clipboard and paper off of his face, and cleared his throat. “First, I’d like to welcome our most recent additions to the group; King Sombra, antagonist of this year's season premier and former ruler over the Crystal Empire, and Scootaloo. Round of applause, please.”

A light clapping rippled through the room, with Sombra looking around in disdain. Scootaloo mumbled to herself, and Spike was willing to guess it was about the fact that her last two requests to join were declined.

“That’ll do. Now, this being the third time we’ve come together, I’d like to discuss the possibility of a spin-off program for the show.” A collective chorus of groans echoed throughout the room. “Naturally, as I am both the most-used within the show and head of this little congregation, I would have the lead role, but I’m welcome to having a second lead. You’re also all welcome to star in the show—”

“Oh, can it you waste of airtime,” cried Trixie, adjusting her hat so it didn’t fall in front of her fury-filled face. “The last time you tried to pitch that idea to Trixie, Trixie said she would not be anything less than the star of the show! Besides, it’s not like you have any leadership qualities. Your episodes should tell you that much.”

“Yeah, because your episodes are soooo great,” muttered Silver Spoon, taking the silver spoon she was given and waving it in the performer’s direction. “‘Oh, look at me, I have a fancy amulet and making Snips’ and Snails’ horns touch! That means they’re gay, hahaha!’ Seriously, woman.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you can talk without your nose buried in Diamond Tiara’s plothole,” Scootaloo interjected, and began laughing at her own joke. The problem was that her laughs sounded more like wheezes, and it wasn’t much of a joke, so it ended up with everyone staring weirdly at her.

“Before you kick off, do remember Shining and I are the only sorry sods here with a decent CV that people actually like,” groaned Cadence, using a northern English accent. She then pulled out a mirror and began examining herself.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Silver Spoon interjected, “I’ve never heard you speak like that.”

“It’s called acting, you sorry wanker, not that any of you bellends would know what that means,” Cadence muttered, toying her mane with a hoof.

“Crystals!” Sombra stated, banging his shadow hoof on the table. Gilda nodded in agreement, offering him a hoofbump, which he ignored.

Spike burped a ball of fire, singeing Shining Armor’s hair and lighting the rose on fire. “Enough! It’s bad enough I couldn’t hang out with Twilight and her friends. I don’t want to listen to you guys arguing all the time. Look, we’ll figure out who gets to do what later. First, let’s figure out what kind of show we want to make in the first place.”

The room quieted down, minus the occasional audible sip of coffee, and the clattering of the coffee as it returned to the plate it rested on. Suddenly, an outcry bursted the bubble of quietness. “Sitcom!”

Faces swiveled to look at the pink alicorn and her husband. “What? Sitcoms are great! I watch them all the time, and they’re hilarious! It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Cadence sighed, placing a hoof to her face. "Shush up, Shining.”

Shining Armor responded quickly with a solid “Yes, ma’am,” and brought his coffee to his lips.

“Ooooookay.” Spike scratched something off of the paper on his clipboard, and looked around the room. “Anyone else have suggestions?”

“Well…” Scootaloo began kicking her legs back and forth, looking up in the sky. “What if we did, like, a romantic soap opera, and it’s about a female pegasus fighter in the war, and she’s really really awesome, and comes back home and has to deal with her weird crazy family and she falls in love with a guy named Sp—er, Mike, and then they go to the beach and the moon comes out and then Mike says ‘oh, S—er, Scott, I love you so much! Make love to me’ and then they start kissing and they go at it and she’s all ‘oh, I love you so much, Spike!’ and then they have a baby and live happily ever after!”

“... What?” Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow in surprise, followed shortly by the other. “Wait, Spike? Scott? What?”

Scootaloo blushed profusely, and slammed her face on the table. “I liked it,” muttered Shining, who was quickly silenced by a look from his wife.

Spike, meanwhile, looked as if he were about to gag. “That, um… that’s not going to happen.” He glanced around the table at everyone else. “Does anyone have a good suggestion?”

“Crystals!” Sombra stated yet again. Gilda attempted another hoofbump, which was also ignored.

“Wot if we did a spy thriller?” Cadence looked up from her hoof file as she suggested this, levitating the coffee to her lips. “You know, the dashing agent spy saving the girl from the evil madman and foiling his plot? I mean, I guess that’s more of a movie, but we could do one of those shows that have a bloody long run for an entire series.”

Spike wrote it down on his clipboard, looking around one last time. “Anything else?”

Gilda waved her talons in the air. “We should do, like, a murder mystery. I can bring the dead bodies, and we can try and find the murderer. Before you ask, it’s me.” She cracked a smile with her beak somehow, unsettling most of the others.

“Okay…” Spike scooted away from her direction a bit, and glanced at the next item on the list. “Right, so now let’s talk about the show’s subplots. Let’s go alphabetically… Gilda, does this say Mexicolt drug trafficking?”

Gilda nodded, pulling out a knife and carving shapes into the table with it.

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing that. Let’s see… Trixie, this is a PG show, we’re not doing BDSM.” This was met from a wordless outburst from the aforementioned unicorn. “Sombra, we already did crystals. Shining Armo—dude, we’re not doing a song about hair curlers.” Shining huffed, crossing his hooves and leaning back in his chair.

“Cadence has—wait,” Spike said, looking up from his clipboard, “you didn’t put anything down for your subplot.”

“Right. I already talked to some of the writers about this. Apparently, pregnancy with another stallion isn’t on with the kids.” Cadence stuck her tongue out in disgust, followed by taking another sip of her coffee.

“You know, if you’re unhappy with our marriage, you could just tell me.” Shining Armor glanced towards his wife, but jumped when she suddenly glared at him. He fell backwards onto the floor and began groaning in pain.

Spike was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide how to handle this situation. He deemed it too awkward, however, and simply continued with his list. “Scootaloo—eugh, no. I don’t even want to know what half of those things mean. Silver Spoon, your entire character is based off of being Diamond Tiara’s companion, so we can’t do an episode where you go camping by yourself and learn how to call upon the woodland creatures to… ‘feast upon’ your enemies.”

“Oh, like your idea is any good,” muttered Silver Spoon, who then turned her head towards the window and chirped. Her head drooped after a few seconds of nothing happening.

“Actually, it kind of is.” Spike cleared his throat again, and jumped up onto the table, holding his hands outward. “In the most recent entry in the Spike legacy, I—your fateful hero—had to manage all of the main character’s pets while trying to earn enough gems to create a cake. The next logical step is obviously bank robbery! Eh?”

The room grew quiet for several seconds.

“‘Legacy,’ hah! If you recall, I saved you from hittin’ the ground like a burst of spunk, you sorry tosspot.” Cadence chuckled to herself, running a brush through her mane.

“Trixie thinks that, no offense, but that has to be thestupidest idea you’ve had since diced bread.” Giggling circled around the room, and Spike stomped back into his seat angrily.

“Fine, so we’ll let Twilight decide our subplots… again.” Several ponies groaned, and Spike glanced down the list. “Finally, we need to talk about income. It takes a lot to rent out this room, and while your donations help, it’s not enough to keep it for more than a few minutes. I’ve graciously footed the bill until now, but we need something to bring in the cash.”

“Crystals!” Sombra stated for a third time. Gilda desperately nudged him for a hoofbump. This time he growled as he reached down and bit her talon off. Gilda stared at the severed appendage lying on the floor, a high pitched squeak escaping her throat.

Spike opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly interrupted. “Actually,” Silver Spoon interjected, “that’s not a bad idea. Crystals can bring in a lot of money from several places, especially dumb designers too stupid to realize that putting gemstones on a dress isn’t that great of a fashion statement.”

“Oright, sure, whatever.” Cadence looked up from her romance novel. “I have an entire empire full of bloody crystal thingies, go ahead and use those. Not like I give a shit.”

“Cool. Now we just need to figure out how to get the word out there.” Spike glanced around the table. “Any suggestions?”

“How about an infomercial?” Shining asked, his voice projecting from the floor where he remained laying in pain.

“Trixie likes this idea,” mused the showpony. “She can be like one of those mares on the Hoof Shopping Network, talking about their dumb product and giving blatant lies while wearing too much makeup and under a bunch of lights that probably causes blindness in elongated bursts. It was the role Trixie was born to play!” She stood up on the table this time, holding one hoof up in the air.

“Yeah, if your ego doesn’t block the shot first!” Scootaloo began wheeze-laughing at her own ‘joke’ again, much to the chagrin of everyone else at the table.

“In… fo… mer… cial! Got it.” Spike put his pen and clipboard down, and leaned back. “I think that’s it, guys. That calls the end of the Third Annual Side-Character Convention. Anyone else have anything to add?”

“Crystals.” Sombra muttered, turning into a shadow and floating out the window, where he was promptly disintegrated by the sun.

“Okay, well, if that’s it, I guess I’ll see you all later.” Spike waved them all out, and everyone headed towards the door, grumbling. The baby dragon jumped up to flick the light off before shutting the door, sighing contently.

A few hours later, Shining Armor pulled himself off the floor and looked around the now-empty room. Cups were discarded randomly across the table, and chairs left around the table in disarray. “Guys? Where’d you go?”