"Ugh! Spike, can you believe this!?" Twilight Sparkle hurled the paper to the table with an audible thwap and glared at the offending headline. "Twilight Sparkle Can't Read Celestia's Hornwriting" it blared in bold block lettering, featuring a picture of her holding up a scrap of parchment towards Spike. Panic had been written across her face at the time, and it hadn't been until ten minutes later that she realized Celestia had accidentally sent her a note written while drunk.
Scandal of drunk letter writing aside, Twilight was mortified at the suggestion that she couldn't read her mentor's hornwriting. She could read anypony's hornwriting! Even Sweetie Belle's! This wasn't just an article in tremendously bad taste, it was insulting! And wrong too! She hated it when these stupid articles got things wrong! It just made it worse somehow!
And it was hardly the only one. Her entire table was strewn with magazines and newspapers painted from top to bottom in inane and stupid sounding articles about her every day life. Everything from where she ate, to what she ate, to who she ate it with seemed to be fodder for every tabloid and local newspaper from here to Vanhoover. The less said about what had been written about her hobbies, the better.
And as for Spike? Well, she was still getting letters from angry 'dragons rights activists' from all over Equestria about her enslavement and mistreatment of an innocent baby dragon, forcing him to do toil and suffer under the abusive and all powerful Equestriarchy. At least he found the letters amusing, even if she did need to defuse a few magical mail bombs at least twice a week.
But this was going too far. She could handle ponies being obsessed with her eating habits. Fine, I need to be a good role model for the younger fillies and colts, so I should probably not eat six Hayburgers in one sitting. And she could tolerate the articles about her personal opinions, even the stupid everyday ones. Fine, fine. Ponies take things Celestia says out of context all the time. Price of being a Princess in Equestria is having your opinions analyzed. She could even just barely live with fluff pieces about what she did with her spare time. After all, Cadence has to deal with articles about the stuff she and Shiny get up to.
But this, this she could not stand. This she would not stand. Suggesting that she could not properly read, interpret, and then carry out the commands of her sovereign and her mentor with absolute precision and perfect timing was a bridge too far! No, she would not stand for this! Nor would she sit for it! Something had to be done, and so Twilight turned to her most reliable and most powerful weapon against the absurd and villainous. The Elements of- Wait, those were still in the Tree.
Right. A letter to Celestia it was! "Spike, I need you to take a letter that we might rout this vile and scurrilous slander!" she proclaimed pompously, then grimaced as she realized how incredibly dumb her voice sounded like that. "Ah, that is to say..."
"Eh, no worries Twi," Spike grinned, grabbing parchment from one of his many hiding spots and producing a writing quill from one of the jars on the kitchen counter. "Let me guess. 'Dear Princess Celestia...'" he said slightly mockingly, but it was not in Twilight's spirit today to take him to task for it.
"Ahem." She huffed, then lifted her head high to intone the words. "I am writing to ask for your advice on how best to deal with the recent troubles I've been having with the Equestrian press. Given your long history with them, I had hoped you might have a solution which would allow me to get back to reading about the Mayoral elections in Manehatten and the recent labor struggles in Baltimare. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle." Spike's writing had gotten much quicker over the past few years, and he finished almost on time with her dictation. A few moments of rolling and one burp of dragon fire later, the letter was off to its destination.
It took Celestia exactly sixty seconds to respond, with Twilight just starting to wrench her mind onto more relevant topics like what she was going to have for lunch and how she might acquire some Hayburgers without anypony noticing she'd gone out. Spike's belch was audible from all the way across the library, and as he rushed in with parchment in claw she noticed he looked awful confused. "It uh..." Spike began, stumbling over his words. "It just says two words. 'Confuse Them.'"
Twilight stared at him in disbelief, snatching the parchment away and glancing at it quickly. Sure enough, in quick and sharp hoofwriting the words 'Confuse them.' were written, with a dash and a large ornate C to tell Twilight who it was from. Confuse them? How? With what? Surely Celestia didn't want her casting a Want-it Need-it spell on something and throwing it at the hordes of reporters lurking in wait around her home. How could she throw them off her scent? How could she make all of these stupid, inane articles stop being so attracti-
The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning striking her castle's topmost spire. It was a thought so utterly brilliant, so perfect, so totally and incredibly genius that she was struck quite dumb by the sheer magnitude of the possibility. It would be risky, oh yes. Difficult too. But it was the kind of gambit her mentor might very well have been proud of. Of course, it would have to be perfectly executed or all she would do is make her problem worse. But... but.... The phrase 'that's so crazy it just might work' truly did apply here, even if Twilight had been sure it would only ever apply to Pinkie Pie and the plans she made when she was drunk.
Still. It was a better idea than doing nothing at all. "Spike, would you be so kind as to go ask Rarity and Sweetie Belle to come over?" She said, very carefully. "I think I know exactly what to do."
~~~~~~~~~
"So, that's the basic situation." Twilight dropped the considerable stack of papers in front of Rarity, who eyeballed them disdainfully. "But I think I've got a plan." She leaned on the fancy wooden table, which invariably made Rarity flinch a little. Twilight lived in a castle now. She was expected to have slightly better manners than she'd displayed previously. But as far as Twilight was concerned, everything in here belonged to her anyway and so she would use and abuse it however she darn well pleased. Still, it never hurt to be polite, so she took her hooves off the table and smiled bashfully.
Rarity nodded her head in acknowledgement of Twilight's momentary faux pas, but did not comment on it. Twilight coughed, and soldiered on. "Essentially, I'm going to play their own game against them. I'm going to come up with the most absurd headline in the history of Equestrian press, and frame it as the biggest story ever reported on." That got one raised eyebrow from Rarity. She was interested. "Then I'm going to start it in a small town paper and bill it as an 'exclusive' interview with me, even though I'm not going to say a single thing that could possibly be of consequence. In fact, I'm going to make every possible effort to make the entire thing as utterly nonsensical as possible." That got two eyebrows. Rarity was now intrigued. "That way, every single paper and reporter will think I'm trying to cover up the story somehow, and they'll all be mad to copy it for themselves. Hopefully, none of them will stop to realize how insane the whole thing is until it's too late." She grinned brightly, clapping her hooves together. "If I'm lucky, it'll be such a massive scandal against the papers that they'll be forced to leave me alone for a while!"
The fashionista leaned back in her chair and pressed her hooves together. "It's got verve and style, I'll give you that much darling." Rarity carefully drawled, focusing unerringly on Twilight. "But it's going to take one devil of an article to distract the paparazzi away from you, dear. It took them almost five years to stop harping on poor Princess Cadenza when she ascended to her position." Rarity tossed her mane, and Twilight grimaced as her continued ignorance about public life in Equestria continued to be exposed. "Still, not a bad notion at all." She blinked. "Wait a moment. You're certainly not going to say that..."
"Yes, Rarity. I'd like Sweetie Belle to reopen the Foal Free Press and conduct my interview." She beamed at her, and Sweetie Belle squeaked in such surprise that she tumbled off of her chair still holding onto her pastry. "They've already got a reputation as a rather scandalous little rumor rag, so it won't be hard to turn on all of these bottom feeders to the story." She clopped her hooves cheerfully upon the table, unable to keep from smiling at her own brilliance.
Sweetie had managed to climb back up atop her chair, pastry still held aloft by foalish telekinesis and looked a little nervous. "Th' last time we did that we got in trouble, though..." She dry-washed her hooves, pasty seemingly forgotten as it hung in midair like a little sugar bomb waiting to hit the ground and give her cleaning staff yet more conniption fits.
Twilight had anticipated that reaction, and grinned. "True, but that just makes it all the more likely you'll be listened to. Besides, we're not going to keep it open permanently. Once all of those other news agencies either buy or steal the story from you, we can rebury the bloody thing." Which would be a good thing as far as she was concerned. That little newspaper had caused so many problems...
Sweetie perked up instantly at that. "Wait. Bought the story? Like, I'd get paid for writing it?" Sweetie might not be in her teenaged years yet, but like all foals she had wants and desires which her allowance could not always stretch to contain. No few of those desires likely centered around her Crusader friends, and Twilight knew she was all but bankrolling their latest escapades. Whatever. Her friends would forgive her... eventually.
Twilight nodded, still grinning. "I'll even throw a little sweetener in the pot too, just in case they all try to steal it from you." She cocked her head at Rarity, and noticed her tolerant amusement. "What do you think? Am I insane, or might this work?"
Rarity just shook her head. "Darling, I have no idea. But we've tried rather more elaborate plans in the past, so why not?" She shrugged, then grinned brightly. "If nothing else, it might be rather fun to try and give the press a taste of its own medicine."
~~~~~~~~~
It was almost suspiciously easy to get everything set up. The old printing presses were dragged out of the Ponyville school storage locker and a typewriter was salvaged and enchanted so it would do all the typing for Sweetie. Ink and paper were easily acquired and stacked to the ceiling of the room she'd appropriated for the task. Sweetie Belle sat opposite of her wearing a jaunty reporters cap with a big paper card stuck into the brim, the word 'PRESS' upon it in bold block lettering that Twilight had always wondered about. Was that just to make it easier to read? Why didn't anypony use a more visually appealing font? There were so many printed fonts to use that could be easily read and still look less like a rent statement.
All around her, a room full of similar but different hats sitting atop the heads of a small army of stuffed dolls. Even Mr. Smarty Pants was present in the front row, wearing the press badge for The Equestrian Times. Where Sweetie had gotten all of those hats, Twilight didn't know.
Still, whatever. She had bigger cucumbers to fry right now and no time for such stuff and bother. "Right!" Sweetie Belle squeaked happily . Twilight sometimes seriously wondered if that girl was ever going to get over her vocal tics, or if she was going to grow up like Twist seemed destined to do. "So, you want nonsense, right? Well have I got a treat for you." Sweetie grinned around her typewriter, holding up a sheaf of paper covered in terrible hoofwriting. "Scootaloo went around to all the other fillies and colts and got all sorts of questions we could ask you! She wanted a byline and a cut of the action for it, but I figure that was a small price to pay."
Questions. From every filly and colt in town. Had this not been her plan all along, Twilight might've recoiled in abject horror at the thought of what an entire town full of children might try to ask her. But... This would be perfect. "Fire away, Sweetie." She proclaimed, and leaned back to wait for the storm.
Sweetie pushed the little gem on the enchanted typewriter to start it up, and grinned. "First question: Is Celestia your real mom? And if not, do you wish she was your real mom?"
Twilight might've facehoofed at that, but... Ooo, that would be rather amusing. "Actually, I've got two mothers. Twilight Velvet had me as a filly, but Princess Celestia is the one who helped me become reborn into an Alicorn. I love both my mom's, but it does make Mothers Day kind of confusing."
Sweetie giggled, "Okay, so what's your favorite kind of snack?"
Twilight grinned. "I enjoy eating the homework of naughty little foals who try to cheat, and hay fries seasoned with the tears of the unworthy." She giggled at that one too. Now they were getting into a rhythm. Then... "Can't have the Foal Free Press get all the attention, Sweetie. Let's have another from the audience."
Sweetie's eyes sparkled, and she rushed to the back of the room and put on a gruff tone of voice. "Princess, Princess! Joe Schmoe from the Manehatten Herald!"
Twilight nodded solemnly to him. "Go ahead!"
Sweetie grinned from behind the big teddy bear with a derby. "Why does the sun rise in the morning, but not in the evening?"
Twilight gave a pondering look, before answering. "Well, I think the Princess likes to enjoy her cake in the dark."
Sweetie rushed across the room again, stopping behind a big bunny figure wearing a bowler. "Carrot Soup from Vanhoover Press! What's the hardest part about being a Princess in Ponyville?"
Twilight gave off a pfft sound. "The complete lack of quality pickled beets and lime marmalade." She nodded to another side of the room. "Yes, you, with the funny hat."
Sweetie nearly fell over giggling at that one, but she ducked behind Mr. Smarty Pants and put on a high pitched, happy voice. "What's your favorite thing to do for fun?"
Twilight giggled a little at that one. "Easy. Destroying world-threatening horrors with love and tolerance and, should that not work, with giant energy beam battles." She nodded again to another of the stuffies, this one a cute duck. "You sir, the one from Trottingham."
"Trottingham Dealer, yer majesty!" Sweetie snarked in a very Pipsqueak voice. "How do you butter your bread in the morning?"
"With Apple Family Apple Butter, of course! Available at your local Barnyard Bargains and all other fine retailers." She winked cheekily at the crowd. "I get mine straight from the source, of course."
Sweetie took a breath, then grinned brightly, running over to a turtle plushie that looked a lot like Tank. "Cloudsdale Gazette, Princess! What's your opinion on required bedtimes?"
Twilight smirked. "I believe all fillies and colts ought to be allowed to stay up as late as they want to, provided they're either reading a book or learning something new." She beamed. "All other foals must obey a bedtime. So decreed Twilight Sparkle." She nodded to a Rainbow Dash plush in the back. "Yes, you with the funny looking mane!"
Sweetie piped up again, "Cloudsdale Courier, better than those stinkos at the Gazette! Inquiring minds wish to know: What’s the deal with pears?"
Twilight had to wonder who'd asked that, but she liked her answer even more. "They're a strange fruit shaped like an Apple with a neck. Their true purpose is sinister." She pointed again. "You, from the Equestrian Inquirer!"
Sweetie was putting on quite the show of voices today. "Can you swim, Princess Twilight?" She asked in a very Big Macintosh style voice.
"Yes," Twilight began... then grinned. "But doing so turns me into a Seapony and I can only do it when nopony else is looking." She nods, unable to take the grin off of her face. “Shoo be doo.” This was fun! "Anypony else?"
Sweetie Belle waved her hoof. "Foal Free Press, Twilight! Which one is better, breakfast or lunch?”
Twilight slapped her hoof against the table, getting into the mood of it. “Breakfast, because no other meal of the day lets you have what would be a dessert in any other meal as your main course.”
Sweetie giggled, then ducked behind a stuffed Daring Do. “What do you think about not letting pegasus fillies not fly until they’re thirteen?”
Twilight fluffed out her wings and intoned ponderously, “To them I would say, ‘You can’t take the sky from me.’.” Yeah, that’d confuse them alright. Where was she getting all this from? She wasn’t normally given to whimsy.
Sweetie chuckled brightly and tossed her mane. “Right, lets wrap this up. Just a couple more.” She examined the paper ream by the typewriter, then grinned at her. “Ooo, I like this one. Princess, do you think of Spike as your son?”
Twilight felt her cheeks color a bit at that. “Yes, and he really ought to stop reading so many comic books and get to bed on time instead of talking about the Power Ponies for hours on end.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, that boy ain’t right.”
Sweetie nodded at that one. Maybe she had heard him ranting about them herself at some point. “Last one. Let’s go out with a bang.” She giggled softly. “What’s the best part about living in Ponyville?”
Twilight paused, then smiled faintly. “As everypony knows, all Princesses are crazy. Which means I fit right in here with the rest of the crazy ponies.”
~~~~~~~~
“So what do we title this bloody thing?”
Rarity’s snarky comment was sadly quite on the nose. Interesting and hilarious or not, the interview would be useless if she didn’t have a good headline to grab the audience with. She glanced at all the titles on the newspapers on her table… and then couldn’t help but chuckle.
“How about ‘Twilight Sparkle Verbs Article Nouns.’ ?”
Author's Note
This is what happens when I write when sleepy.
Author's Note
Thanks to Inky Jay for the questions, and to all of you for so much support and enjoying this fic so much. Here is my promised 'second part'. Written in about two hours.
This was fun. Maybe I'll do something like this again in the future.
Intended Consequences
The news spread far more slowly than she’d thought it would, but spread it did. Like good peanut butter over the world’s biggest slice of bread, the article slowly oozed out over the Equestrian press landscape. Although it wasn’t until the Manehatten Times decided to slip Sweetie Belle a packet for her work and purchase ‘exclusive’ rights to the story that things really took off.
The article hit every major paper in Equestria, and most of the minor ones. For a little while, Twilight toyed with the idea of suing all of the papers who didn’t buy the rights from Sweetie just for the giggles. But, well, that was the Time’s job now, and she had bigger cannolis to stuff. For a little while - a couple of weeks, really - the bizarre interview and analysis of it dominated the headlines. And for once, Twilight was thoroughly amused by the results.
Someponies thought it was part of an elaborate conspiracy to do… something. Twilight’s favorite was the supposed plot to resurrect Nightmare Moon as a child and use her power to seize control of the Equestrian government through cuteness and what the papers were calling ‘feels tactics’. (An idea so absurd it had actually made her laugh for a full three hours. She’d spent the time coming up with hilariously bizarre stories about said child on some of the holidays in Equestria and how Luna would likely react to her existence…)
Spike had gotten awfully fond of the one where she was going to become a supervillain and force everyone to read boring, stuffy history books all day until they worshipped her as a goddess. He’d also taken to calling her the Libmareian and getting extra chores for doing so. But the best one, even if Twilight didn’t like it as much, was the one where it was apparently part of an elaborate scheme to make herself Celestia’s wife. The Princess hadn’t stopped calling her cute pet names in her letters since THAT one hit the pages.
Some had rightfully deduced that she’d been mocking the Equestrian press, and had taken to writing lengthy and naval gazing articles on the importance of a free press in Equestria. Some of them had even decided to use this opportunity to snipe at their competition, which had turned into weeks-long wars of ‘opinion pieces’ which amounted to snowball fights via ink and paper. Soon enough, her name was all but forgotten as an all-out war between opinion piece writers raged across the pages. The sheer variety of insults and namecalling involved was astonishing, even for somepony as well read as she was.
And as for others? Well, one couldn’t get everything one wanted. While most of the major papers were now dealing with ridiculous conspiracy theories and editorial wars the rest of them had gone back to regular news, wisely deciding to remain above the fray. The smaller papers, however, had decided to redouble their efforts. Apparently, her story had sold very well in many smaller markets like Ponyville. Equally apparently, small town ponies loved their new princess so much that when it was confirmed she was as insane as they were, they wanted to know more about her and thus had sent scads of low-level local reporters to find out..
So while the crowd of reporters outside had gotten decidedly smaller and less nosy, there was still a crowd. Worse still, they were now actually being extremely polite and friendly with her whenever she passed by. Catcalling stupid questions and even stupider opinions at her in the hopes of brewing up some funny. They’d even set up an authorized tent city outside the boundaries of her castle property, and had started to talk to her as though she was an acquaintance rather than a Princess. It was maddening.
How was she supposed to get rid of a bunch of ponies who were being so NICE to her!? It wasn’t like the crazy conspiracy theorists who kept trying to break into the castle. Those ones she could imprison or ship off to Canterlot for trial. These ones had been baking her brownies! And bringing her news about small town Equestrian culture! And asking her if she’d found a special somepony to settle down with!
Those were the most numerous questions, actually. The crowd of small reporters had taken to betting and speculation as to who she would inevitably end up married or mated to in town. Morbid curiosity had turned up the astonishing fact that a lot of them were secretly pulling for one of her five closest friends, with the next most popular choices being Spike or Discord. (Big Macintosh and her brother were apparently darkpony candidates amongst some of the female reporters. Which was simultaneously disturbing and a little strange.)
None of this would have bugged her if it wasn’t well known that Rainbow Dash had put down fifty bits on herself to win and that Fluttershy had made a bet, but nopony knew who she’d put money down on. Word was that Princess Celestia had even gotten in on the action, and the strange and bizarre fascination with her personal relationships was starting to grow in Canterlot as an amusing sideshow.
For a while, Princess Twilight had contemplated moving out to the Castle of the Two Sisters and hiding there until this all blew over. Surely it would only take a century or two. Maybe she could spend her time figuring out how to make all of her friends Immortal so she’d have somepony around to talk to.
Though she’d probably have to make them Alicorns for that, which was really a terrible idea. And really, what moron would think her and her entire group of friends as Alicorns would be an interesting or even GOOD idea? Applejack would probably lose her hat over having wings and a horn all of a sudden, and that wasn’t even getting started on what insanity Pinkie Pie might be able to get up to. She wasn’t even going to get into Rarity, Period.
But whatever. She couldn’t run away from her problems. And really, where would she run TO? Where the buck would she go? Roam? Cloudsdale? An alternate universe? Actually that last one wasn’t such a bad notion, she was pretty sure she could cook up a spell or two. Maybe she could go to someplace where Trixie was the heroine of everything and Twilight could finally get some bucking peace and quiet…
Feh, that was an even worse idea. Who knew where she might end up if she did go somewhere? Probably somepony’s depraved fantasy universe with bad original characters as the villains and an author who couldn’t admit when they had written absolute drek. Ugh. She’d deal. Somehow. Knock Knock Knock Well, at least the Mail was still on time. Who knew, maybe one of today’s papers would be extra entertaining.
Twilight swung open the window to greet her Mailmare, the golden-maned pegasus with an unconquerable smile. “Morning, Dee.” She chirruped, and got a big grin from her. Her mailmare was a small shaft of sunlight on a gloomy day every time Twilight saw her. What sort of life she had, Twilight didn’t really know, but whatever badness she went through she always found a way to smile about it.
“Morning Miz Twilight!” And Miz Twilight she would forever be to her Mailmare. Wings or no wings, castle or no castle. The mail was the mail, and she was Miz Twilight upon her mail forever and aye. “Got your usual packet here, plus a few other bits and bobs. Mostly junk.” Her Mailmare knew how much she didn’t like to be bothered with junk mail, and usually just disposed of it somehow. It was a small comfort in a world full of big uncomfortables. She hoofed over the heavy bundle of papers and magazines, plus what little mail didn’t qualify as junk mail.
A few bills from the maintenance company that took care of her place in Canterlot, and a letter or two from an admiring filly or colt who’d worked up the gumption to write to the newest Princess of Equestria. She loved those letters. The fact that where she lived was now basically common knowledge had helped more of them find their way to her door, and she was thankful for it. “Thanks Dee. Fly safe out there.” She waved, and her Mailmare departed to dispense her paper treasure upon the rest of the world.
Her papers and magazines hit the kitchen table with an audible thump and Twilight began scanning through them for the good ones. She’d held out hope that more papers would get over their insanity, but so far none had. Oh, there was that interview she’d given to that one little colt from Cleftland. He’d been the only one so far with the nerve to ask her for one, so she’d answered his simple questions pretty readily. Which might’ve been a mistake, but… well, she was beyond frustrated at this point. So why not have a little fun?
The papers thus sorted, the door to her kitchen swung open. “Mornin, Miz Twilight!” Sweetie Belle squeaked happily as she trotted in with a scroll bundled up into her saddle bags. Sweetie Belle had probably profited the most from this whole ridiculousness, and not just in literal money terms either. Cutie mark or no cutie mark, Sweetie had taken to her position as ‘The Princess’ Press Secretary’ with a vengeance, even if Twilight had never given her any such position nor had any such position been in the negotiations before Sweetie had invented it and then declared it to be a ‘thing’.
Which annoyed Twilight a little, but Rarity was so grateful for the peace and quiet around her Boutique that Twilight couldn’t help but try and humor the little filly. “So what’s on the docket today, Miss Sweetie?” She snarked back, hoping that sooner or later the little Crusader would get the bloody joke and quit this nonsense. But alas, Twilight’s speech to her once upon a time about working hard to learn something you enjoyed had apparently stuck quite firmly.
“Well I figured maybe we could try to get rid of that crowd outside with a mass interview.” Sweetie chewed on the end of a pencil, apparently having decided that was a thing that journalists did when they were thinking. “Like, kind of like what we did with me, but with an actual bunch of reporters. And then, we could try and convince them to only come back like, once every couple of months? And that way we could keep everypony happy while allowing you to get back to normal.”
Twilight blinked at that idea. Huh. It wasn’t a bad idea by any stretch of the imagination, which was such a rarity (Ha, Ha, Twilight. We are all very amused.) for Sweetie Belle that she was almost enthusiastic about the idea. “But…” She had to interject. “I mean, would they even go for something like that? And goddess alone knows what questions they might ask me…”
Sweetie grinned at her. “Twilight, that’s the whole point! They’re going to ask you things even more ridiculous than I could ever come up with! And besides, do you have any better ideas on how to get rid of them?”
That… that was a fair point. Huh. “Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot.” Really. What could possibly go wrong?
~~~~~~
Gathering the small town reporters in her living room was relatively easy. They were all enthusiastic about the chance to ask all of their own unique questions of the Princess, and everypony seemed quite on board with Sweetie’s proposal. “After all,” A pegasi from Tenneighsee had said, “We can’t print pieces like this all the time. Our readers would get bored! So long as we always know we can come back and write another one, we can give you some peace and quiet, yer ladyship.”
And so her living room couches, chairs, beanbags, and every spare cushion she could rustle up was being occupied by somepony in a cheap suit (Or no suit at all) with funny hats and “PRESS” cards in every font known to ponykind. Someone even had one in Comic Sans, and Twilight decided that somepony so bold, courageous and brave to use that abomination of a font in public deserved first crack at her. “Alright, settle down you lot!” She cried out, and pointed to the fontantly offensive pony. “You there, you first!”
“Thanks ma’am,” he said, rather blankly and uninterested if she thought about it. “Name’s Inky Jay, and I’d just like to get your personal thoughts on the percentage of the population that would actually survive a zombie apocalypse.” How in the world he said that with such a straight face, she did not know.
Still, fortunately for her, Spike was obsessed with Zombies. So she actually had a fun answer for this. “Well it depends on how many pegasi end up being idiots and letting themselves get infected and how many Unicorns get together to make the big city-shields they used to do in the old days, but I figure between forty and sixty percent could easily survive. However, given that most ponies are total idiots, we’d be lucky to get ten.” The reporter just nodded, scribbling in his notebook with a small head bob and looking uninterested as ever.
Twilight chuckled a little, and the rest of the crowd followed suit. “Alright, who’s next?” She wiggled her hoof in the air then pointed randomly. “You, in the beanie!”
“Yeah, yeah!” the mare squeaked, apparently trying to sound intimidating. “I’m Jen Nex from Space World magazine, and who cares about zombies! Ponies need to be worried about aliens! Why doesn’t anypony care about them anymore, Princess?”
Twilight had to giggle. “Mostly because Discord says all the aliens are boring, no-fun killjoys who drink too much Earl Gray tea. So apparently none of them ever want to come here, since we’re too much fun.” She almost felt a little sad, the way the mare’s face completely plummeted. “But hey, who can say? Given Discord’s idea of fun, we could all end up invaded any day now. I do hope they like books.” She made a wry face, and everypony laughed. Even the mare.
She shook her head then hummed. Ooo, somepony from Truest Words! What were they doing here? “You there, with the monocle!” She called out.
“Heavenbound at your service, Your Majesty,” the pony said, making a slight bow that spoke of Canterlot high life. “How about we ask some questions that actually mean something hmm? My colleagues and I have truly been alarmed by this large growth in poorly written, unrealistically emotional drivel aimed at foals on the cusp of adulthood. Does not the vanishing of proper literature from shelves alarm a reader such as yourself as well, Princess Twilight?”
Twilight grinned. Ooo, he was trying to get a serious answer out of her. Not going to happen today! “Mostly I’m alarmed at the complete defanging of the proper Vampony archetype. I mean, come on. Vamponies’s do not sparkle. They have never sparkled, and several Vamponies I know have taken serious umbrage with the implication that they do.” She snorted derisively. “And nevermind the opinion of Princess Luna’s personal guard on their romanticisation. They would like you to know that they do not, in fact, suck blood. They’re fruit eaters and would very much like young impressionable fillies to stop asking to ‘join their coven.’” Then she grinned. “As a total side note, my Vampony friends would like those fillies to know that they’d be happy to give them their addresses…” That got more laughter. Good. “But seriously. If you’re going to write something about emotions and drama, don’t take yourself too seriously. Down that road lies Steppin King.” She pointed quickly. “Next question. You.”
The pony she had selected was the grungiest she could see. “Yeah, cool, so while we’re talkin’ about books and shit, can I please get a royal assist on telling all these complete idiots to stop mucking up the amateur writing guilds with bucking sad flank shit based on other books! What the tartarus yo!? If I wanna read about somepony writing his suicide note, I’ll go to a bucking hospital! Sweet Celestia.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way, and Twilight had the distinct impression he had ended up talking to himself more than her there near the end.
Twilight grinned broadly. Now this one, she could get behind. “Sure. Hey, all you newbies out there! Listen up. We know life is tough sometimes, and that sometimes you’re down in the dumps. We get that. All writers get that. But there’s better ways to purge your emotions than trying to strum on the most depressing heartstrings you possibly can with every page you write. Seriously, cut that out.” She coughed and chuckled. “Quit with the nihilism already. Life’s pretty good when you get right down to it. Alright, enough of that for now. Different topic, Anypony?” And while she was looking, she couldn’t help but notice the pony do a small hoof pump to himself.
“Yes, I’ll take it,” somepony from the crowd said. A unicorn, wearing one of those very clearly cheap suits. “So, I’m with the business magazine, Over the Counter, and we try to help everyday ponies understand the world of business. So, I’d like to ask if you think that the rules and regulations that are a part of the larger companies are just owners trying to live out their fantasies of being in Princess Celestia’s place?”
“Personally, I think most businesses institute rules because otherwise somepony else there would. And thus, yes, I pretty much agree with you.” She grinned brightly. “I don’t blame them, mind. There’s nothing quite like feeling like an all powerful goddess figure with total and petty authority over your workers. I guess most of them just want to feel like a real Mare.” She winked. “Though I can say from experience that Filthy Rich does it because he actually wishes he was a princess. He wears his daughter’s Tiara on weekends. Next question!”
“ARE PILLOWS REALLY MADE FROM PEGASI FEATHERS!?” some random voice exploded from the crowd of reporters.
“Well, Not most of them, but-”
“COULD I HAVE A PILLOW STUFFED WITH YOUR FEATHERS PRINCESS TWILIGHT!?”
She blinked at that one. Then laughed softly. “Only if you sign a written contract not to sell it, and only if you promise to write ONLY about real, hard charging news stories for the next year.” Sure, that was technically bribery, but hey. Why not? “And you don’t get to open the pillowcase either.” She admonished. She knew for a FACT she had a giant pile of feather discards somewhere. How Pegasi dealt with keeping wings clean and straight their whole lives…
Ahem. “Alright, gimmie something fun to answer!” She waved her hoof towards some of the small-paper reporters. “Somepony from around Trottingham!”
“Noddingham Journal ‘ere asking the Princess if she’s ever tried giving herself a dog’s nose to see what it’d be like?”
Twilight grinned. “Nah, I just turned Spike into a dog and got the explanation from him. He says that smelling everything in the world is not nearly as awesome as it’s made out to be. I can report, however, that having another creature’s nose is a very strange experience, and not one I’m terribly inclined to repeat.” Her nose actually twitched at that one. Stupid hands. “Alright, somepony from the Manehatten area?”
An Earth pony, wearing a simple ball cap raised his hoof, and without waiting for her to point to him, asked, “It’s not really ‘bout you Miss, but your friend, Rainbow Dash.”
Oh boy. Well, she supposed this was inevitable. Alright, remember what Cadence said. Never commit to anything, just make absolutely sure they know you’ve made absolutely no decision at all or else you’ll be dealing with this for years… “Alright, well - I’ll answer as best as I can, I suppose.” She hedged, hoping this wasn’t too lurid.
“Does her tail really have hyper-elastic abilities?” he asked, looking for all the world like this was the most important question to ever be asked in Equestria.
Well, that was new. “Er… I beg your pardon?” She blinked. She genuinely had no idea what he was going on about there. “What do you mean by ‘hyper-elastic’?”
“Never seen somepony’s tail stretch like it does when that other Earth pony friend of yours grabs it before she tries to fly off. What’s up with that?”
She blinks, then grins. “Well, I would say that when it comes to Rainbow Dash, there’s absolutely no limit to how much of a butt she can be.”
~~~~~~~
“So how did it work?” Two weeks later, and all the press had seemingly gone home. And yet, so far, she hadn’t seen much change in her newspapers. Maybe it was taking time to get the stuff to print?
Sweetie Belle gnawed on her pencil. “Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. The good news is that we’re not likely to have a slew of press reporters camped outside of your doorstep and I don’t think the newspapers are going to be printing stuff about your day-to-day life any longer.”
Well that was certainly a relief. “And the bad news?” She braced herself, wondering just how bad it could be.
Sweetie Belle held up one of the major newspapers. ”Twilight Sparkle Likes Rainbow Dash’s Butt” Twilight facehoofed. “They’ve gone to shipping.” She groaned and smacked her head into the table. Wonderful.
