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?”
Side-Character Convention
Spike, ever so slowly, brought the letter down to the table. His free hand brought the cup of tea back to the saucer upon which it once sat. He stood, stubby legs shaking as he waddled to the bed, and picked up a single pillow.
This, he slammed into his face and screamed.
He whooped and hollered, and cried with joy as he danced merrily, occasionally bumping into the shelves and counters in the cramped space he called his trailer. Grasping the sealed box and letter, he rushed out, the door slamming shut behind him.
~~~~~~~~~
Plate. Cup. Spoon. Plate. Cup. Spoon. Plate. Cup. Spoon.
It felt strange, having to do this ritual so soon after the last meeting, but he simply shrugged it off. It was, after all, a special occasion, and he even broke out the tiara that matched his maid outfit. He then grasped the seven nametags that bore the members of this ragtag group. One by one, he placed them with due diligence, careful that they lined up just right with the seats they corresponded to.
Gilda.
Great and Powerful Trixie, The.
Prince Shining Armor.
Princess Cadence.
Scootaloo.
Silver Spoon.
Spike.
Smiling, he returned the costume and matching headpiece to the box in the closet, placing a blanket over it to help hide its existence. Poking his head out of the doorway into the hall, he whistled before taking his own seat at the head of the table.
He was met initially with stares, emotions ranging between anger and lust. Each pair of eyes were focused on him. He coughed, bringing up both claws to his mouth. “Look,” he began, “I know that many of you were busy with your own projects—”
“Too bloody right!” Cadence said, lowering her pair of white Chopards, “I was in the middle of shooting on my soap opera.”
“Which one?” Scootaloo beamed up at the pink alicorn.
“To Have and To Hoove,” Cadence replied, returning her sunglasses to their upright position and pulling out a phone, tapping away at the on-screen keyboard.
“Woah… I love that show.” Scootaloo melted into her seat, placing both of her front hooves on her chest. “I like to imagine that Spikey and I—”
“Seriously?” Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow, then scoffed. “I can’t believe you’d star in that garbage.”
“It bought me a house in Monte Carlo.”
“Good point.”
Gilda growled and slammed her hand onto the table, causing everyone’s gaze to drop down to the bandaged talon and its owner. “Look, I don’t give two shits about all this. I just wanna know why you interrupted me while I was getting it on with Gemstone.”
“Ooh, Gemstone?” Shining smiled, placing his hooves into his hands. “I always liked her mane, such a wonderful shade of vermillion—eep!” He was quickly silenced by a stare from his wife.
Spike sighed, waving his hand. “Let’s... just get to why we’re all here. You see,” he began, pulling the box out from underneath the table, “I got this package from a big company over in Japan who wants one of us to sponsor their product! This could be a huge deal!”
A general chatter arose from the group before the door slammed open, and the heads turned towards the source of the noise.
In the doorway stood two ponies.
On the left sat a pale peach-colored earth pony, her mane intercut with blue and white, and a ribbon wrapped around her neck. On the right, a slate-gray earth pony with a purple mane and tail, wrapped in a simple frock.
Coco Pommel and Maud Pie; the former fidgeting uncomfortably, and the latter staring off into space.
“Uh…” Spike hopped off of his chair, waddling over towards the pair of intruders. “What exactly are you two doing here?”
“Rarity told us that there was no room on the cruise ship for me, and Maud said shuffleboarding was against her religious views, so we decided to see if you all had room for us.” Coco fidgeted again, glancing at the group assorted inside. “I—I’m not sure if they have any extra chairs for us…”
Maud wordlessly stepped past the drake and took a seat between Gilda and Spike’s now-empty seat, staring down at the coffee in front of her. Coco shuffled in behind her and took a seat between Silver Spoon and Scootaloo.
Spike shuffled back to his seat and coughed. “Well, um… let’s continue, I guess.” Picking up the letter, he read it aloud, repeating the occasional phrase in an attempt to recite it correctly.
Good evening, side character Convention. Sending samples 'Stallion' selection and our brand is pushed to you would either. Will get a cut of the sale. Originally we this is wanted on the main cast they refuse, now we are seeking to participate in this great honor. From your friends in on the Smile of the Sunshine co., Ltd.
“And,” he added, “they only want one of us to put on the product.” Silence permeated the room as everyone stared at Spike, most with mouth agape. The first to speak up was Cadence.
“The bloody hell was that pile of shite?”
“Well,” Trixie began, standing up, “I do believe this is a call for the obvious fan favorite. Trixie shall become the new mascot for Smile of the Sunshine company, limited!” She jumped onto the table, raising a hoof into the air.
“Since when were you ever fan favorite?” Silver Spoon huffed, tossing a silver fork at the blue unicorn. “You were only in like, two episodes. I was in way more, so I should be the obvious choice.”
“What about me? I’m an orphan!” Scootaloo waved her hooves wildly in the air. “Or,” she amended, “people like to think I am.”
“Well, if anyone’s going to go overseas, it should be me. Right, Shining?” Cadence lowered her glasses and shot a venomous glare at her husband, who nodded feverishly for several seconds before falling out of his seat, unconscious.
Maud simply stared at Boulder and shrugged. Gilda shot a look over to the gray pony, a growl forming on her beak. “What… Are you trying to be more uncaring than I am?”
“I don’t even know who you are.” Maud continued to stare at her rock, reaching for her cup of coffee.
“You son of a bi—”
“Enough!” Spike slammed his now-empty cup back into the saucer, causing every head to turn to face him—except Maud, who had now placed her pet rock upon the table and stared at it expectantly. “Now I, for one, am not going to listen to you all arguing. So, let’s try and figure out how we can decide who gets to take up this offer.”
Everyone grew quiet once again.
“Draw straws,” came the sudden outburst from Coco. “I… I used to have to do that as a kid. I guess it’d work here.”
“Okay.” Spike hopped out of his seat once more, shuffling his way into the closet and digging out a set of straws, one of which he bit the end off and spat out into a garbage pail. “So, who wants to draw first?”
“Well,” Trixie began, standing up again, “I do believe this is a call fo—”
“Oh, sod off, you pikey,” Cadence interjected, “nobody even remotely likes you! You’re a bitch!”
“Oooooh.” Scootaloo leaned in, excitement growing on her face.
“Did you just—I can’t—how dare you—” Trixie began to mumble incoherently, before huffing and jumping towards the alicorn, the sounds of hooves impacting on flesh resounding throughout the room. Scootaloo jumped next to the brawl and began to cheer.
“O-oh my,” Coco uttered, making herself smaller in her seat.
“Hmm...” Maud turned her gaze back towards her pet rock, eliciting a growl from the griffin next to her.
“Wait…” Silver Spoon stood up and walked towards the box, quietly poking it with a hoof. “Shouldn’t we see what they actually want to market us for?”
The fighting stopped near instantaneously, and everyone turned towards the gray filly. Cadence carefully removed her hoof from Trixie’s mouth. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea,” she muttered, carefully trotting over to the box.
Spike jumped back up into his seat and sighed. “You’re right, I should’ve actually looked to see what was inside first.” Carefully, he placed one talon on the end of the box, dragging it down the length of the tape and unsealed it. He waited until everyone else gathered around before flicking away the flaps and taking in the sight that awaited them.
His eyes grew wide as he stared, and his mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’. Gasps came from everyone around him, and several comments wafted up into the air.
“How would that even fit?” muttered Cadence, her hoof going over her mouth and an aura of magic raising her glasses.
Scootaloo simply stared wide-eyed, then glanced back at Spike with an almost dream-like stare.
Trixie quickly placed her hooves in front of Silver Spoon’s face. “This isn’t for your eyes, child!” She shuddered and peered once more into the box, before adding, “Trixie is still up for the task. Her standards have fallen… considerably, in the past few days…”
“I’ve seen bigger,” Maud said simply, heading back to her seat.
“Oh, that’s it. I’ve had it with you and your shallow appy—apara—” Gilda’s face contorted into confusion at the end of the sentence.
“Apathy, you chav,” Cadence chimed in, her eyes never leaving the box.
“What she said,” Gilda finished, bringing a fist up to eye level. “You and me, let’s rock.”
“Sure.” Maud sighed, reaching into her frock and yanking out a large, cylindrical stone. She slammed it into the side of the griffon’s face, and pounced on her as she hit the ground, slamming it repeatedly on her victim’s skull. “Good boy,” she eventually said as she stood, patting the rock softly on one side. The meek, dying caw of a bird rose up from the ground, which went quietly ignored as Spike closed up the box again.
“So, um, I’ll…” He shuddered, pushing the box further away from them. “I’ll let them know you’ll accept the job, Trixie. First, though, I’m gonna take a shower.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as they began to file out, with Maud turning off the light as she slowly strolled out of the room.
“Um… can I see it?” Shining called out weakly to the empty room. “H-hello…?”
