A Magical Way of Working

I consider myself a decent stallion. I’m not horrible, I’m not great; I’m just decent. I try and do the right thing and keep an open mind. I try to be as friendly as possible, even to those who are mean to me, and believe that every pony deserves the benefit of the doubt. But to be honest, my mother was the one who taught me this. Being a nurse, she had a patience and kindness towards others that no pony could explain. She just passed the lessons onto me. You see, my mom lived by a philosophy; that there was good inside every pony, no matter how deep it was. I've been living by that philosophy my entire life, and it has worked for me so far.

I can honestly say that after working for Trixie for two weeks, I was starting to think that my mom's philosophy was just a load of horse dung!

I have met many ponies who were considered unbearable, and I thought they were pretty bad, but compared to Trixie, they were looking like CANTERLOT GENTLECOLTS! I have never met any pony more cruel, rude, or so...so...FULL OF IT! Seriously, I had spent two weeks with her and I felt like gouging my own eyes out. I mean, after I was hired so quickly, I thought my dreams had come true. Over the course of time, however, I had started to regret my choice more and more. I finally realized why the ad in the paper asked for a pony with lots of patience. Of course, maybe it's best if I started at the beginning.

After my...ahem...quick interview and getting the job, my first objective was to make Trixie tea. If it wasn't for Fine Print telling me what tea to make, I probably would've messed it up. It still didn't help me not knowing how the stove worked, but eventually, I got used to it. I went to Trixie's room and gave her the tea. At that point, I thought everything was fine, until she threw the cup at me. "TRIXIE DRINKS HER TEA WITH TWO SUGAR LUMPS! NOT ONE!" she scolded as the cup came flying towards me. Luckily I ducked, but it was still uncalled for.

Still keeping my composure, I kindly said, "Sorry Tri...Great and Powerful Trixie. Can I make you another one?"

"Just forget it!" she snapped back. "Trixie has lost her thirst. Clean up those cup remains and begone with you. Trixie has to concentrate." I quickly swept up the broken remains of the teacup and went back into the living space.

Now for anypony else, that would've been their red flag, but still trying to be patient, I thought, "She's just having a bad night. I'm sure she'll be better by tomorrow." Man was I wrong with that. Trixie woke me the next morning at 8:00 to dust the furniture. Now I didn't mind cleaning, I mean I helped my mom clean many times, but the problem was that nothing was clean enough for Trixie. Then when I did clean it enough, there was no "Thank you" or "Good job," just an "It'll do." That was a nail to my head. Still keeping a positive attitude. I then asked if there was anything else?

"Trixie will be performing in Ponyville in a few hours," she said, "And you need to tow the wagon."

"Ok," I said, "So you need me to take the wagon to the station to hook it up?"

"Trixie's not going to waste money on trains when the destination is right below us!" she snapped.

At that time, all I could think was, "Oh please tell me she's not gonna tell me to do what I think she's gonna tell me to do."

"You can tow the wagon straight to Ponyville," she finished. Now it's not as if I have never pulled a cart before. Heck, I helped my dad tow carts of lumber to his workshop many times. I had a pretty strong back, but the wagon looked way heavier and Ponyville was located at the BOTTOM of the mountain.

"Uh...Trixie?" She snapped a look at me. I just sighed and said, "Sorry. Great and Powerful Trixie (that was not going to latch on anytime soon). Not that I'm complaining, but towing the wagon down the mountain will take at least two and a half hours if we're lucky."

"Then I suggest you get moving," said Trixie, "Trixie has to perform in three hours." At that point, my eye twitched a bit. Another nail of Trixie pushed into my head. She really did expect me to be not only the assistant, or the cleaner, or the butler, but also the muscle? I'm pretty sure that wasn't in my job description. But, my job was my job, so I sucked up whatever problems I had and went outside to the front of the cart. I hooked myself up and started to pull. The good thing was that the wagon was not as heavy as I thought it was going to be. I mean it was heavy, just not unbearable.

"Thank you strong back," I thought. The bad thing was that EVERY HALF AN HOUR, Trixie would kindly remind me to pick up the pace. And I mean as kindly as a drill sergeant in the middle of boot camp. It seemed like forever, but finally at 11:45, we made it to Ponyville. I set the cart where she needed it, listened to her complaining about how she has less time to get ready because of me (another nail), and went onto the stage to perform. Now my job while she performed was to hand off her assortment of props to her whenever she called for them. Luckily I was right on cue, so she had nothing to criticize about me during handoffs. As I looked at the audience from backstage, their reaction to Trixie's magic was a little better than the audience in Canterlot. There were a few "oohs" and "aahs", and there was even a slightly better applause, but for some strange reason, at the end of the show, Trixie came backstage looking like she had just sat through a history lecture.

"Nothing but simpletons," she grumbled. "They're lucky I decided to even come back to this backwater town." I started to think that Trixie had a bit of history in this town, but I already knew better not to ask her. Since she had to wait until Fine Print got her another gig, I thought that Trixie would want to relax. When I brought it up however...

"Are you insane?" she snapped like I had just asked the most stupid question in the world. "Trixie is getting out of this town as soon as possible. Take me anywhere, anywhere that's not here!" So I towed the cart back to Canterlot (another nail), and we waited there until Trixie got another gig.

Two weeks passed by, and I had gotten to know the full "Great and Powerful Package," and golly-gee wasn't it fun? The criticizing of my cleaning, cooking, and fixing were already established. There was the ever popular criticizing of my personality, which I was quite fond of, and who could forget the criticizing of my appearance ("You look like a donkey covered in dust"). If you haven't picked up on the sarcasm I'm displaying, then I should try harder next time. And the best part of all was that two weeks had passed, and I only made 90 bits (she took 10 off cause I accidentally broke the coatrack). I couldn't even afford a sofa for my "house." I could honestly say that my patience fuse was thinning more every day. If it weren't for my mom's anger-relief methods, I would've probably blown up a week ago. And if it weren't for Fine Print getting that gig in Appleoosa, I'm pretty sure Trixie would've exploded from angst. This time we took the train (thank Celestia), but to my horror, we only took it to Dodge Junction! Apparently, Trixie bought the WRONG TICKETS! So did Trixie take responsibility? "You distracted me with your talking," snapped Trixie. "Now to make up for it, you get to pull the wagon. Hop to it Assistant!"

Oh that's another thing, throughout the two weeks I've worked under her, she never took the time to learn my name. A normal pony would think that would be an requirement, but not Trixie. She was fine with calling me Assistant.

So now I had to lug the wagon across the desert to Appleoosa. It wasn't THAT far I suppose, but it was still a trek. Pulling a cart in the middle of the desert with the hot sun shining down would take a lot out of you. When we arrived, I wanted so badly to lie down and rest, but according to Trixie, there was no time. I set the wagon up by the stage and she went on to do her usual stuff. As I watched from the side, I couldn't help but notice that my eyelids were getting heavier and heavier as the show went on. I tried to stay awake, but it was getting harder and harder with every second. At some point, I figured that closing my eyes for a second wouldn't hurt. Unfortunately, the second I closed my eyes, I was out like a light.

"ASSISTANT!"

I snapped awake and looked around frantically before seeing a furious Trixie in front of me. I could tell she was furious because her coat had turned a new shade of red. "Who do you think you are, sleeping on the job? You made Trixie look like a complete fool out there! Trixie called for her hula hoops, and what happened? NOTHING! Trixie ended up standing there for 30 SECONDS before she got them herself!" I looked out to where the audience was and saw that the show was over.

I groaned in frustration as I sat up. "I'm sorry Trixie-"

"GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE!"

"Whatever!" I was too tired to care. "I was exhausted from the trip, I just closed my eyes for a second. I'm sorry."

"I should've known better than to hire a slacker!" I perked up after hearing that. I had been nothing but patient with her, doing work for her and helping her out, and she called me a...SLACKER? "Well I hope that you enjoy no pay this week, because that's exactly what you are getting! I swear, I should've hired a monkey! It would have been more reliable than you!" Trixie continued to insult me, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy trying to drown her out, but her insults pounded more nails into my head.

Suddenly, I felt something. Something in the pit of my stomach. Something I have never felt before. It felt like...a flame. A little flame that started to grow with every insult Trixie threw at me. I finally realized that it was my bottled-up anger from the past two weeks, losing control. Normally I could control it better, but with the combination of my exhaustion and bottled-up anger, I was slowly losing control. I had to try and hold it back, but every insult Trixie said was like kerosene to the fire. It just kept growing and growing. I tried to remember my mother's anger-relief methods, but I couldn't think of anything when all I could hear was Trixie. Calling me unreliable, selfish, unorganized, when all the two weeks, I had done everything for her, was taking it's toll. The fire grew and grew and grew and if she would've stopped there, I could've done something to hold it back, but then, she said it.

"If your parents really thought that YOU were hardworking and reliable enough for Trixie's standards, then they're even DUMBER than you are!"

That did it. That was the last straw. I could handle my skills being insulted. I could handle my appearance being insulted. But NOPONY insults my parents. With that last comment, the fire exploded inside me like a raging inferno and turned around to Trixie's face.

"SHUT UP!"

There was silence. Dead silence. I was so mad I didn't know what to do but stare Trixie down. In the corner of my eye, I saw Print peeking his head from behind the curtains, and his jaw was so dropped you could fit a banana in vertically.  After a few seconds, her tone changed to threatening. "What did you say to Trixie? You apparently don't know what respect is-"

"I SAID SHUT UP YOU UPTIGHT, CONCEITED, WICKED MULE!" I shouted again. This time, Trixie stopped talking and her face changed from anger to shock, but I wasn't about to stop. "You talk about respect like you should automatically receive. Respect is something you have to earn, and from what I've seen the past two weeks, you don't deserve the TINIEST bit of respect! All you think about is yourself and how "great" and "powerful" you think you are! You treat everypony like their beneath you and you treat me like dirt. NO! THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT! You treat ME like dirt you trotted on, chewed up, spit out, and trotted on again! I now understand why your last assistant quit. I can't understand why anypony would want to work for a heartless witch like you! In fact, I bet that if you did an x-ray of your heart area, all you would find was a PICTURE OF YOURSELF 'CAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU LOVE! I would rather cover myself in paper cuts and be thrown in a vat of SALT than work another week for you. I can't take it anymore. You wanna fire me? Go ahead. In fact, I quit! I would find a better job working as a JANITOR! Good-bye 'Great and Powerful Trixie!'"

Without giving Trixie a chance to yell back, I turned around and stomped off the stage. The fire had now died out. I had gotten everything off of my chest. I should've felt relief...so why did I feel bad? As the tension died down, I wondered if I should go back. "No," I told myself. "That would just give her power. If you're gonna move on, you can't look back." So, without looking back or giving a second thought, I raced back to the wagon to grab my stuff and head for the station.