MLP - Friendship and Pleasures

"Next please."

A.K Yearling smiled at the little girl wearing a battered old safari hat, exchanging a few words as she signed off on the girl's copy of Daring Do's latest adventure. The day was half gone but the line of fans and readers hoping to meet their idol was still as long as when the book-signing began, well whatever, it was lunch time and even authors needed to eat, placing the 'gone to lunch' sign on the table, Yearling began to pack up her things as the fans groaned and broke apart, making their way to their own lunches or to other stands where the authors had not gone to lunch, and at the annual literary summit in Canterlot, there were plenty of them to go around.

Jamming her hat onto her black mane and wrapping her favorite, purple shawl around her neck, Yearling was just about to leave when a nasal whine caught her attention;

"Excuse me? Ms Yearling? A moment of your time if you please?"

Yearling sighed as the fan came round to her front, and gulped as his bulk towered a half-head over her as he waddled into view;

"Ms Yearling, I just wanted to discuss some plot points that I feel you have, understandably, muddled up in your latest novel."

Yearling stifled the groan that had almost burst from her lips, keeping her tone reasonable, though in her mind she was anything but, Yearling looked up at the fan and replied;

"Well that is very interesting but I'm afraid that I have other engagements that demand my attention,"

Yearling began Edging around the mound of fat that made up most of the fan himself;

"Any queries can be posted onto my website..."

"But Ms Yearling!"

The sweat and fat that fell onto her bronze, muscular arm was a cold, oily mass that sent a ripple of revulsion through the very core of her being, but her attempts to pull away only served to further enrage the mountain of flesh that had her in it's grip;

"Umm...excuse me?"

At this point, Yearling's predicament had begun to draw attention from the other fans at the summit, but out of the hundreds of attendees, it seems only one had the guts to do something about it.

"Sorry for bothering the both of you," The fan released his grip and turned to the newcomer, allowing Yearling to clear as much distance as she could between her and the irate fan; "But Ms Yearling was supposed to meet me for lunch...?"

The 'lunch date' excuse? That's...kind of cute.

Unfortunately, the fan did not buy into that;

"Please sir, as if the esteemed Ms Yearling would be caught dead standing next to you," The fan sniffed, flicking the newcomer's shoulder dismissively as he continued; "And who are you supposed to be dressed as? The Grim reaper?"

"Comfortably as possible, actually." The newcomer was seemingly unperturbed by the fan's aggressive proximity, as if the threat of imminent violence was as much a part of his life as having three square meals a day;

"And you are bothering Ms Yearling."

The fan's volume jumped up an octave in an attempt to intimidate;

"Sir."

Thrusting his beet-red jowls right into the newcomer's hood covered visage, the fan continued;

"This is a matter of utmost importance, the very fabric of the literary universe that Ms Yearling has created is under grave threat, a threat that must be resolved immediately before it is too late!"

The fan had started bellowing, to Yearling's great consternation;

"Now sir, there are two options available to you, get out of my way," The fan ticked off a finger; "Or better yet, get the buck out of my way. Your choice."

The fan folded his arms, waiting for the newcomer's reply.

The newcomer tugged his hood so that the black fabric would fall and cover his face;

"How about a third option? Leave on your feet, or leave under mine."

The fan's eyes widened a split second before his right fist exploded into motion.

Yearling had no idea what happened next, it was as if the seconds that occurred between the fan's wild haymaker and him going airborne in a tangle of limbs and flesh had just winked out of existence. All Yearling could gather was an impression of unstoppable fluidity, an inexorable current that had went beyond mere physical strength, pure power that allowed the newcomer to overcome the weight disadvantage and sweep the overabundance of excess of its feet, so terrible was the impact when the fan hit the floor that it was as if the newcomer was trying to drive the burden of blubber straight into the red carpeting, through the crust of the earth and into its molten core.

The summit's security chose that moment to arrive, and Yearling finally remembered to breathe as both the newcomer and the fan were buried under a mountain of bodies.

***

The room was an old storeroom re-purposed for use as a place where summit attendees could rest for a moment if they were feeling under the weather. Despite the thorough scrubbing the place had obviously received, Yearling could still see the signs of storage that no amount of cleaning could erase, outlines left in the wall where dust had not touched and a few stray boxes that were lying forlornly in a corner.

"Ms Yearling? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, thanks." Yearling replied, forcing a tired smile onto her razor-sharp features, which she hoped wasn't as pale as she felt;

"Is everything alright out there Jameson?"

"Oh aye, everything is cleared up." Jameson perched himself on a spare chair and pressed a bottle of water into Yearling's hand;

"Tubby had been sent packing and security has calmed everyone else. I asked them to give you some time to yourself to pull yourself together after that dreadful scare, if you get my drift."

Yearling patted Jameson's hand in thanks, she wouldn't trade her faithful manservant for all the gold in the world.

"Wait! what about the person wearing the hood?" a few drops of water splashed onto her blouse; "I've got to thank him for his help!"

"Woah, easy there Yearling," Jameson slowly pressed her back into her chair;

"The security sent him packing together with Tubby once they were escorted out the premises," Jameson continued; "I tried to protest but..."

"Oh, he deserved better than that." Yearling sighed.

"Well he did ask me to give you this."

Yearling took the envelope that and Jameson had given her, and with practiced movements, slit it open. A CD case tumbled out onto Yearling's palm, followed by a plain white card that had been attached to the case's cover, which had been dislodged from its perch.

Yearling didn't know when the tears came, she only knew she was crying when Jameson placed a worked-roughened palm on her shoulder, frantically asking her if she was alright.

Taking a deep breath, Yearling swiped the tears from her rose-red eyes, tucked the CD case into her handbag and got to her feet;

"Thank you for your help Jameson, but I must be going, my fans need me."

And with a sweep of her shawl, Yearling was gone.

Bewildered, Jameson picked up the dropped card, and smiled as he read its contents.

"Guess there ARE those kinds of people in this world."

***

Dear Ms Yearling;

This is a just a token of my appreciation, I picked the songs based on your Facehoof profile, but God knows how unreliable they can be.

There is no need for any repayment or anything of the sort. This is just something that I would like to do, to thank you for your work, and for the stories that have been a major influence on my life.

Through your words you have blessed many, now allow me to be a little blessing on you.

The Pleasure will always be mine;

Burdens.

***

"Hey Pleasure! Look!"

Derpy came running down the aisle to place a copy of Daring Do's latest story onto the table where Pleasure had half his assignment strewn across its surface, totally ignoring Ms Cheerilee's dirty look;

"You're in the story! Look!"

Pleasure scanned the passage Derpy had indicated, where Daring Do was being assisted by a man wearing a black hood throwing the blind cannibals of the deeps left, right and center in a blur of motion, like an inexorable force of nature, the eye in a maelstrom of violent, physical chaos.

Turning to the front, Pleasure read the dedication that was printed just inside the cover;

Dedicated to the people who makes writing a 'Pleasure'

"Seriously Derpy, you're reading too much into things.

Fin