Twilight gets Stoned and Stares at her Hoof
Twilight Gets Stoned and Stares at her Hoof
Twilight Gets Stoned and Stares at her Hoof
Admiral Biscuit
The reorganization of the library was complete. At least for this week. Twilight had come up with a clever new system, organizing the books by subject, and grouping like books together. Halfway through, she’d had to revise her plans, since it seemed a crime to split up the Daring Do books, even if Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone belonged in Temples: Ancient or Haunted, and Daring Do and the Rainbow Factory clearly was more closely related to Weather: Bizarre Speculation. Sorting fiction by genre and author name was more practical, even if it wasn’t as neat.
Best of all, Spike hadn’t been there to complain about the third reorganization of the month, letting her complete her task with minimal interruptions. She’d given him the evening off, and he’d left before dinner, wearing a nice set of clothes. He was growing up so quickly. . . .
As much as Twilight liked strenuous mental activity, by the end of a long burst of focus, she needed something to help her unwind. Princess Celestia had already said she wasn’t to send any more letters about shelving systems, so that was out. She’d read every book in the library, and unfortunately there wouldn’t be any more until next week. Plead and cajole as she might, she couldn’t get Mayor mare to increase her budget.
I could sell some books that nopony reads, and use the money to get new books, she thought, before shoving that thought into the deepest darkest recesses of her mind. For a library to get rid of a book—that would be akin to Fluttershy kicking out a malingering animal. Not Going To Happen.
Tea is nice, she thought. Uncaffeinated tea helps me relax in the evening. She could have a nice cup of tea or maybe two, and write in a journal about her ingenious organization system. She walked into the kitchen and set the teapot on the stove, before opening her tea cabinet, and looking at the neat ranks of teas there.
Her attention was quickly drawn to a cloth sack, closed with a drawstring. It had been a gift from Zecora after she’d helped the zebra get her hooves on a banned spellbook from Canterlot: a good librarian helped her friends find the book they wanted, after all. She’d gone with Twilight to the flower trio’s shop to buy it, insisting on paying with her own bits.
Twilight looked at the bag warily. No longer a neophyte when it came to herbs, she'd learned from Zecora's Poison Joke cure that nature worked in marvelous ways, and not only did she need to eat her timothy hay to grow big and strong (like Mom had always told her), there were plants which could do more for a mare.
Her inner skeptic shouted that a plant was not as orderly as a unicorn spell. Its effects were, at best, random, and varied from mare to mare. Of course, there were dangerous plants—not the least of which was the aforementioned Poison Joke. Some giant flowers held Tatzlwurms in their roots, and of course there were a number of flowers which looked pretty, but could poison a pony.
In short, Nature was a cruel bitch with a twisted sense of humor.
It was hard to imagine, though, that something which looked so much like shredded tea leaves could be harmful, even if it did smell vaguely like a skunk's asshole. Or so she'd heard—she'd never personally familiarized herself with that part of a skunk.
Well, Daisy was in a happy mood when she sold it, Twilight thought. She did say it cheered her up. She's not normally so giggly. In fact, she's normally more of a 'running in terror from bunnies' type of mare.
The instructions for use were quite simple. It could be made into tea, or baked into brownies. Twilight didn't feel comfortable using the oven when Spike was absent—it was a silly phobia, but she'd burned her foreleg quite badly when she was a foal—so tea it was.
Once it was brewed, steeped, and poured into a small China cup, she took her first experimental sip, swishing the liquid around in her mouth to fully experience the flavor. Bitter, tasted like a skunk's asshole—-not that she had firsthoof experience in that—and left a foul flavor in her mouth.
Twilight almost dumped the cup out and gave it up as a bad job, but a diligent researcher never quit on the first try. If she'd been a quitter, she would have stormed off after her first wine sample at Rarity's wine-tasting party, or walked out in disgust two rounds into Rainbow's I'm-almost-a-Wonderbolt-let's-play-Truth-or-Dare party. Both of those had turned out quite well in the end. So, too, might her tea.
★ ★ ★
"Twilight?" Spike pushed the door of the treebrary open. "Are you still up?"
"No," she called back.
"Oh thank Celestia." Spike scampered over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. As much as it had pained him to do so, he'd wiped the lipstick off his face as he walked home. He couldn't do much about the hickey on his neck, but it hardly showed through his scales. He straightened his rumpled shirt, just as he caught Twilight's reflection in the mirror. She was halfway up the stairs, sitting on her rump, a hoof held in front of her face.
"Twilight?"
"I have hooves," she said, without even looking up. Twilight reached out and touched one hoof with the other, wiggling it in front of her muzzle. "Isn't that weird?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess." Spike looked down at his hands. "I never really thought about it, y'know?"
"Why not?" Twilight didn't give Spike time to answer. "I could—what if I had hands like yours? What do they feel like?"
Spike flexed his fingers. "I—guess I don't think about it much. You know, you used to have hands. Remember going through the mirror portal?" I was a dog there, he muttered just above his breath.
"They could hold tacos. How can you hold tacos with hooves?"
"Sheesh, Twilight, were you in the basement playing with funny chemicals again?" He sniffed the air. "Doesn't smell like chemicals, but—"
"Tea," she muttered. "I ate all the cookies, I think. Are there any cookies left?" She picked her hoof back up off the step and examined it again, turning it around in the lamplight.
Spike shook his head. "I don't know what you're on, but count me out. It smells like a skunk's butt in here."
Author's Note
A One-Shot-Ober fic
