Sweetie Belle and The Best Present Ever

by igotastewgoing

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Rarity, Flim and Flam, Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 13743

Sweetie Belle takes it upon herself to get Scootaloo the best present ever. But can she overcome the high standards she's set for herself?

After Scootaloo gets Sweetie Belle an incredibly generous gift, Sweetie Belle finds herself struggling to think of some way she can repay her. She finally decides on giving Scootaloo the one thing she's always wanted more than anything else, but can she manage to pull off such an ambitious endeavor, especially when she's holding herself to the standards of her big sister?

And what are Flim and Flam trying to push on her?

This is a story about the perils of being too hard on oneself, and realizing that sometimes, all it takes to repay a friend is to be yourself. It's meant to flow just like an episode of the show. Nothing outside of what you'd expect from a CMC-centered outing.

A short story I wrote for a friend. Hope you enjoy!

Published 2015-01-18 04:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-18 04:30:03 UTC

Sweetie Belle and The Best Present Ever

SWEETIE BELLE AND THE BEST PRESENT EVER

With eyes locked in steely determination, she dissected the situation before her.
The stakes were dire. The left flank was unacceptably exposed, and her cavalry was dangerously close to being too far out of range to be of any help. Meanwhile the command was pinned down, under constant siege. A wrong move now would bring everything crashing down around her. Everything was riding on her making the right tactical choice. The time for debate was quickly running out, and as the enemy was pressing forward without mercy, and she knew that she could not delay much longer. The time to act was now.

The beads of sweet collecting on her brow betrayed the confidence she tried so hard to convey as it wavered in sight of the onslaught of the enemy forces surrounding her remaining units. With a glaringly obvious gulp as she swallowed the nerves that had collected in her throat, she raised her hoof and gave the command, sending her brave forces into the fray to attempt a desperate, likely suicidal defense.

Her enemy smirked. Their response was quick and lethal.

With a series of biting taps the opposing knight leapt over her bishop and then two of her pawns before landing deep into her territory, knocking her queen off the board and out of the game.

"King me!" Applebloom declared. The smug grin that spread across her face was full of sickly sweet satisfaction.

Sweetie Belle threw her head back and rolled her eyes in frustration. There was little salvaging the situation now. This would be the third game in a row that she had lost.

"Ugh!" she groaned. "I hate chess!"

"Aw, don't be sore," said Applebloom. "Y'all get better at it. Ya just need ta practice."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to keep track of all these rules," Sweetie Belle said as she dismissively flicked her king piece off the board. "I thought the knight could only jump over one piece at a time."

"Naw, that's the rook," said Applebloom. "Unless yer next to a bishop. Then y'all can jump as much as ya want to. Unless ya go backwards. Then ya can only do it once. Unless ya got a Super King."

"But you went backwards there and you jumped a bunch!"

"Yeah, 'cause I was next to a pawn! That's the exception. Unless a'course yer on the right side of the board. Then the rules're reversed. My right, that is. If it's yer right, then it's opposite."

Sweetie Belle crinkled her nose.

"I don't get these rules. It's like they change all the time."

Applebloom gave a haughty shrug and began resetting her pieces. "It can seem like that sometimes. Chess is a pretty sophisticated game. So whatdaya say? Best four outta seven?"

Sweetie Belle apathetically nodded. She picked up her fallen king and began putting her units back in position, although she was finding it difficult to remember the horrendously complex methodology involved.

"So, on even numbered rounds it's the mirror image setup?" she asked.

"Naw, that's odd numbered. Since it's round four, it's alphabetical."

"This game is so weird."

As they set up for the next game, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle stopped as a strange combination of scraping and grunting coming down the road to Sweet Apple Acres. They turned to look through the rows of apple trees that lined the path to the barn they sat in front of, and saw a most peculiar sight.

Coming down the road, slowly and with great effort, was Scootaloo. Her teeth were bared in great excursion, and trails of sweat from under her helmet streaked the dirt that caked her face. Her tail was bristling with twigs and barbs, and her scooter was dripping with mud that had not fully dried. Behind her, being dragged from the back of her scooter with rope and leaving great gouges in the dirt, was the source of her struggles: a vaguely desk-shaped object that was covered with a befouled blanket and was clearly far too heavy to be a one-pony job to move. She was putting forth a heroic struggle, and each push forward with her legs gave the impression of being a life-or-death affair. Her small wings were a blur of motion as they did their limited best to help with the process, though it was clear that their contributions were minuscule at best. Through it all, Scootaloo still managed to wave at her friends as she rounded the corner and came into view.

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle stood up and trotted towards her, all thoughts of chess or Applebloom's insane version of it forgotten as this new mystery presented itself. Bounding down the road with curiosity ablaze in their eyes, they approached their weary and dirty friend and her new possession.

"Scootaloo, what happened to you?" said Sweetie Belle as they reached her.

"And what in crabapples is that?!" asked Applebloom.

Scootaloo took off her helmet, exposing the matted and wet mane underneath, gasping with relief as she did do. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she managed to answer between gulps of air.

"It's…something for…Sweetie Belle!" she answered breathlessly. A grin had managed to work its way through the dirt on her face, and a tinge of excitement flashed in her eyes as she got off of her scooter and began untying the ropes holding the blanket in place.

"For me?" asked Sweetie Belle. "What in Equestria did you do?"

"Well, I was just cruising around the outskirts of town, you know, practicing my moves on my scooter," Scootaloo continued as she worked on removing the ropes. "And I went by Cranky Doodle's house, and he was getting rid of a bunch of stuff. Just throwing it out! I saw something awesome that I thought Sweetie Belle would like, so I asked him if I could have it."

"And he said okay?" asked Applebloom. "That's kinda surprisin'."

"Well," said Scootaloo, "At first he didn't really want to do it, but I kept asking him and asking him and asking him, and eventually he said 'Kid, if you can drag this thing off by yourself and just stop talking, then not only will I give you the thing, but I'll throw in the blanket and ropes, too!' Can you believe that?! All I had to do was stop talking! It was awesome!"

"Wow!" Applebloom said. "That is a good deal! So what is it?"

With a flourish, Scootaloo removed the last of the ropes and whipped off the blanket. Underneath was an old but fiercely sturdy looking contraption of old wood, metal, and all manner of gears and bobbins. While dusty and gently spotted with bits of rust, the sewing machine still possessed much of the luxury and fine-tuned craftsponyship of a superior instrument suited for a master tailor.

Sweetie Belle gazed upon it in quiet awe.

"Scootaloo," she eventually whispered, "This…this is for me?"

"You like it?" Scootaloo asked as she ran a hoof over the machine's smooth wooden leg. Her eyes were bright and full of hope.

"I…I love it!" Sweetie Belle managed to sputter out with a slight squeak.

"I knew you would! " Scootaloo said as her glowing smile widened. "Cranky told me it's a really great machine. Used to be top-of-the-line back in the day. It still works even though it's pretty old. That's how you know it's good! And since you did such an awesome job on our costumes for the talent show without even using something this nice, I'll bet with this baby you could do crazy radical stuff!"

"I wouldn't even know where to start!" Sweetie Belle marveled as she gazed upon the complex machinery. "That's way more complicated than anything I've ever used before."

"You'll figure it out," said Scootaloo. "Who knows? Maybe this will be your first step to being as good of a seamstress as your sister! Might even get a Cutie Mark out of it!"

Now Sweetie Belle was even more surprised.

"You really think I could be as good as Rarity?" she asked as her eyes widened. "She's like…amazing at that stuff."

"Why not? I think you've got the talent! We both do!"

Applebloom nodded. "Absolutely!" she said. "Heck, you made our capes n'everything! And it's the best cape I ever wore!"

"It's the only cape you ever wore," Sweetie Belle reminded her with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, sure. But it's still a really nice cape. I'll bet you can make something even better!"

Sweetie Belle was at a loss for words. "Scootaloo," she said after a moment to collect her thoughts, "Thank you so much. You really didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me."

Scootaloo smirked and patted the sewing machine.

"Aw, it was nothing," she said. "I saw something my good buddy and fellow Cutie Mark Crusader could use to be more awesome at what she does. And I'm obligated to help everypony be as awesome as they want to be! That's what Rainbow Dash says a true friend does!"

As she said that, some of the mud that covered her from nearly mane to flank fell to the ground with a wet thump. Sweetie Belle took a close look at her friend, and saw more clearly the scratches and sweat and filth that had accumulated on her body. Doing some quick geography in her head, she recalled that Cranky Doodle lived clear on the other side of Ponyville. Judging by Scootaloo's appearance, she must have trekked across the muck and mud of the roads to the south that cut through the ponds and creeks. She must have dragged that horridly heavy looking thing behind her for miles.

Sweetie Belle smiled, biting down on her lip somewhat in order to stop it from quivering on account of the happy tears welling up in her eyes. Throwing her hooves around her dirty friend's shoulders, she gave Scootaloo a big hug.

"Thank you!" she said afterwards, coming away with mud on her face. "I promise I'll put it to good use!"

"That's what I wanted to hear!" said Scootaloo. "I just have one request for you both."

"Whassat?" asked Applebloom.

"Get Big Mac to put this in a cart for me, please. I'm so tired that I think I might hurl."

A few hours later, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom were sitting next to the front door of Rarity's house. The cart from Sweet Apple Acres was parked outside, now empty except for the unconscious form of Scootaloo, who had taken the opportunity to pass out in the back. Her rear hooves, draped over the edge and still muddy from her excursions, were the only aspect of her which was still observable to the others save for the light snores which managed to float up over the commotion from inside the house. Apparently Big Mac was not being as cautious with the process of moving the sewing machine inside as Rarity would have preferred.

"AH!" she could be heard squealing. "NO, NO, NO! Be gentle! That's mahogany! Don't push it across the floor like some common Clydesdale clod! Lift, you fool! Are you even trying?!"

"Eyup," came the breathless, exasperated reply. Even his voice sounded sweaty from exertion.

Sweetie Belle was not paying much attention to the ruckus inside. Instead her mind was firing wildly about everything else that she suddenly felt obligated to do. She didn't even notice until Applebloom gently nudged her leg, but she had been being talked at.

"Y'alright, Sweetie Belle?" she asked. "Ya seem all distant n'stuff."

"Yeah," Sweetie Belle replied. "I'm just thinking."

"What 'bout? Ya look serious."

"Well, yeah," she said. "I still can't believe what Scootaloo just did for me. It's kind of crazy."

Applebloom smiled. "Well sure! Us Cutie Mark Crusaders're always lookin' out fer each other. A true friend always goes above and beyond. That's what we do!"

"Right," Sweetie Belle said with an air of trepidation. "And now I have to think of a way to pay her back. I want to get her something really nice. Like super nice. Like, making-her-feel-as-good-as-I-felt nice."

"That sounds swell!" said Applebloom. "Watcha thinkin'? There's Sugar Cube Corner! Scootaloo really likes lemon cakes. Ya could git her one the size of her head! Or I hear Flim and Flam opened up a crazy pawnshop just outta town. Ya know, right on the border where they say the mayor can't press no charges on anypony cause it's outta her jurisdiction or whatever that means. They'd prob'ly have somethin' real neat there! OH! Or maybe Fluttershy'd find ya a muskrat for her! Those're cool!"

"Who would want a muskrat?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Who wouldn't?" Applebloom asked back.

Sweetie Belle considered the prospects of owning a pet muskrat, but quickly came to the decision that it probably wouldn't be the best choice for Scootaloo. Much of that had to do with the fact that she wasn't entirely sure what one of those things was anyway. And a lemon cake the size of a head seemed slightly excessive, as delicious and admittedly epic as that sounded. On the other hoof, maybe there was something to checking out Flim and Flam's store. Where was the harm in simply looking?

"I say we check out the pawnshop," she said. "Those two are pretty crazy. Scootaloo likes crazy. Maybe they'll have crazy stuff she'd like!"

"Okay!" Applebloom said. "Just don't tell my sister we're goin'. She weren't none too happy 'bout them openin' that place. Said somethin' 'bout them bein' 'slimy reprobates,' whatever that is."

"Reprobates?" Sweetie Belle said with a raised eyebrow. "They're not bugs, they're unicorns."

"Is that what that word means?"

"Yeah. I think your sister's a little confused."

As a dull thud sounded from inside the house, they heard a frantic voice cry out.

"Oh, do be careful of the hassock! NOT THE ARMOIRE! As Celestia is my witness, Big Macintosh, if you scratch that veneer I will end you!!!"

From the cart, Scootaloo gave a sharp snort and shifted around. Mumbling "Veneers are dumb," she then rolled over and went back to sleep, resuming her snoring within seconds.

"Tomorrow afternoon we'll check their place out," Sweetie Belle said. "I'm sure we'll find something there for her!"

* * *

Flim and Flam's Fantastical Free-trade Flea-Market of Fanciful Frippery was situated in a little nook in the trees, immediately before the bend in the road which led to the bridge crossing the stream marking the southern border of Ponyville. The small wooden building, for all its unassuming construction, was awash with color. Flags and streamers bedecked the walls outside, and a massive banner as wide as the building itself hung over the door adverting the name of the store in giant, gaudy, old-timey lettering. It looked more like the entrance to a circus than a pawnshop.

As Sweetie Belle and Applebloom approached the "Septuple-F," as the brothers had tried to get it colloquially referred to as, they couldn't help but recognize certain items making up some of the infrastructure. The railings were braced with familiar looking wagon wheels, some of the walls were a very specific shade of red, and all manner of whistles and gears were strewn about the exterior, a few of which seemed functional, but mostly they appeared to be decorative.

"Did they take apart their cider machine to make this building?" Sweetie Belle asked as they walked up the porch steps and onto the small deck.

"Looks like it," Applebloom replied as she looked down at the welcome mat. "I think this used ta be the conveyor belt."

Sweetie Belle put her hoof on the door, but paused before opening it. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "I mean, these guys did try to steal your farm. They were pretty shady."

"Well sure," said Applebloom. "I don't trust 'em fully. But they were good at makin' cider. An' Granny Smith really liked that tonic of theirs. Maybe they ain't fully bad!"

At that the door promptly swung open, causing Sweetie Belle to flail wildly in the air before falling inside, landing on her face with an "Oomph!" Applebloom's eyes went wide in surprise as the two infamous brothers appeared on the other side of the now-open door and, with their well-oiled, duel-pronged assualt, began doing what they did best.

"'Not fully bad,' you say?" pondered Flim.

"That's what I heard, brother!" answered Flam.

"To be sure! And we thank you for that vote of mild confidence!"

"A heartening sentiment, indeed!"

"But not wholly accurate!"

"Not in the least!"

"In fact it's nearly erroneous!"

"A trifling percentage of truthfulness at best!"

"For you see, not only are we not fully bad, we're not even not fully not good! Now if you sensible young consumers are as intelligent as you clearly seem to be—"

"Look smart as a whip!"

"—Then you'll understand that finely detailed and nuanced statement to mean that there is nopony in the repurposed goods industry—"

"Or purposed goods industry!"

"—Whom you can trust more than Flim and Flam!"

"None more reputable!"

"Why just look at that above the register! What more proof could a pony need?!"

Sweetie Belle raised her still-sore face from the floor and followed the brother's hooves to look at what they were both gesturing in well-practiced unison towards. A wooden sign was prominently on display, hanging above the cash register amongst a jumble of random curiosities, proclaiming in finely carved lettering:

"If you are unsatisfied, we will eat our hats!"

"Seriously?" she asked. "You'll eat your hats if we don’t like something we get here?"

"Official return policy, my dear!"

"Iron-clad!"

"Has never once happened, though!"

"Still the hat I was wearing when we opened this place!"

"Everypony leaves satisfied!"

"Could never eat good ol' Eugene!"

"Fear not! I wager he'll stay thoroughly un-ingested!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way, brother!"

As the brothers were regaling them with their spiel, Applebloom stepped inside and helped Sweetie Belle pick herself up off the ground. While dusting her off, she looked at her and shrugged.

"Seems like a decent policy ta me."

"Well met, young Applebud!" said Flam as he patted Applebloom on the head. "You see, brother, I told you when we had the pleasure of being publicly humiliated by those Apples and unjustly run out of town on a figurative rail that this one was the best of the whole bushel!"

"Bloom!" said Applebloom as she crinkled up in nose in indignation.

"And bloom you will into a fine young filly, my dear!" said Flim.

Ignoring Applebloom's growing annoyance, Sweetie Belle took a cursory look around the store. There was so much clutter consisting of the most random and nonsensical things, a chaotic assortment of what could only be labeled as "stuff," that she couldn't make mane nor flank of it. This place had not won her confidence.

"I don't know," she hesitantly said. "I'm not sure Scootaloo would like anything here."

Flim and Flam recoiled together in shock.

"Inconceivable!" wailed Flam.

"Implausible!" bellowed Flim.

"Ridiculous, even!"

"I daresay you've hit the nail on the proverbial head, brother!" Flim said as he dashed over to kneel between Sweetie Belle and Applebloom, placing his hooves around their shoulders. "Why there isn't a pony in Ponyville—"

"Oh, don't short change yourself, brother! In Equestria!"

"Apologizes, Flam!—In the whole of Equestria!—Who wouldn't find precisely and accurately exactly what they're looking for in our humble place of business!" He then turned his attention to Sweetie Belle. "Now! This good chum of yours. What is it that they would want most? Out of anything under the sun or the moon? I guarantee we can provide it in some way, shape, form, design, idea or general approximation!"

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment, but it wasn't long before the answer was obvious.

"Flying," she said. "Scootaloo wants to fly more than anything."

Flim and Flam looked at each other with the sunrise gleaming behind their eyes. Their smiles stretched all the way to the brims of their hats.

"The gift of flight, did you say?!" asked Flim, drawing Sweetie Belle in close until they were nearly muzzle to muzzle. He was holding the sides of her face in his hooves and nearly lifting her off the ground as he did so. "Please, I beg of you, tell me that I did not mishear that!"

"Say it's the truth!" implored Flam, on the verge of joyful tears.

"Rah rit's dah toof," she said through puckered lips as Flim's hooves continued squishing her face like putty.

He immediately dropped her and ran with his brother to the other end of the store, as Sweetie Belle collapsed back on the ground at the sudden release. She picked herself up off the floor for the second time since they had arrived, and watched in cautious curiosity as, with a rising cacophony of noise, the two salesponies began moving boxes and trinkets and crates and shelves around in wild haphazardness. They efficiently cleared the way towards the back of the store where, underneath a dusty tarp, something quite large was looming in the corner.

"Serendipity, brother!" they could hear Flim shout from somewhere amongst the commotion.

"Good fortune shines upon us!" Flam called back.

"And upon these valued clients!"

"It's just the thing!"

The large object under the tarp began floating through the air towards the front of the shop, held aloft by the brother's magic that surrounded it with a pulsing green glow. Gently, they lowered it to the ground before Sweetie Belle and Applebloom, and then took their positions at either side of it. The thing was just a bit taller than they were, roughly oblong shaped and much wider on top than it was on the bottom. In fact it was so wide that it nearly spanned half of the store.

"Behold!" cried Flim. "I present to you, your friend's wildest dreams come true!!!"

Together they ripped off the tarp. Underneath was what could only be called an apparatus, for that was the best word to describe it, of wood and canvas. The body was slim and had no covering of any kind—it was simply a naked frame which was probably much lighter than it looked. It was tapered at the rear and became wider at the front where, amidst a cluster of levers and cranks, a seat was installed in what seemed to be a cockpit. From those levers ran a series of ropes, each of which was threaded through several pulleys before emerging higher up the device, connecting to wings of canvas, rope and a slim wooden skeleton holding it all together.

Sweetie Belle had never seen anything like it before, but to her it looked like some kind of bizarre wooden bird.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's called the Ponithopter!" said Flim. "It allows ponies, once bound to the cruel confines of the earth, to soar among the clouds like a bird or pegasus or anything else majestic!"

"Truly a gift of extraordinary magnitude!" said Flam.

"And easy to operate!"

"Safe for colts and fillies of all ages!"

"Why your granny could fly it!"

"You'll be hard pressed to keep her away from the thing!"

"She won't need to try hard because she'll be flying away from her, brother!"

"A perfect escape plan for any occasion!"

"And it really, really works!"

"GUARANTEED!" they finished together.

"Wow," said Sweetie Belle, still taking in the spectacle of the strangeness before her. "That's certainly…something else."

"Whadda ya think, Sweetie Belle?" asked Applebloom. "Ya said ya wanted ta get her somethin' real special. I'd say this is pretty special."

"I think it's neat!" she said. "I think Scootaloo would really like it."

"Of course she would!" said Flim. "After all, that's our promise! We don't risk our hats lightly, you know!"

"And it can be all yours!" continued Flam.

"For the measly price of...oh, shall I say it, Flam?" asked Flim as he turned towards his brother.

"I don't know, Flim. It's nearly highway robbery on their part."

"Almost indefensible!"

"We should be pressing charges against them!"

"Offering ourselves up on a platter!"

Sweetie Belle groaned. "How much?" she asked.

Flim stroked his chin as he looked down at her, then threw his hooves into the air.

"I'll most likely die a pauper for this," he said. "But I can't argue what's on the price tag. For you, my lovely young filly, I must practically give it away for five hundred bits."

"FIVE HUNDRED?!" they cried out together.

"That's everything I have!" said Sweetie Belle. "I'd even have to use that money my grandmother gave me to put in savings!"

"I had no idea flyin' was so expensive," said Applebloom.

"Small price to pay for the ability to feel your spirit rise above the clouds." Flim said with a coy grin.

"Unless of course you don't want to see your friend experience a life-affirming event," Flam added with a dash of condemnation in his voice.

"You do want to see your friend happy, don't you?"

"Otherwise what would they think?"

"They'd think her stingy and ungrateful, brother!"

Sweetie Belle hated to admit it, but she felt a hot pang of shame slice through her chest. The brother's words had cut a little too close to the core for comfort. It was unnerving how they were able to see her own insecurities like she wore them like a pair of horseshoes. And their underhanded tactics were almost about to work on her when she felt Applebloom bristling by her side.

"HEY!" she yelled. "We ain't gonna be smooth-talked or guilt-tripped inta buyin' yer stuff! C'mon, Sweetie Belle! It ain't worth emptyin' yer whole wallet on account'a these two! Good day!"

Sweetie Belle took a last look back at the Ponithopter as Applebloom led her back out the door. Flim and Flam looked an unsettling combination of angry and dejected as they stood next to it, gazing upon it like a houseguest who wouldn't leave as the door slammed closed.

"Well that was a bust," Applebloom said as they neared the bridge back towards Ponyville. "Those guys're jerks! I can't believe I gave 'em the benefit of the doubt!"

"Yeah," said Sweetie Belle. She didn't feel like saying too much more. She was still processing those harsh words that had been sprinkled with enough truth so as to make them even worse.

"The Ponithopter could have worked, though," she said after they had been walking for a minute longer. "I just had no idea how expensive it would be."

"S'alright. You'll think of somethin' else."

When they had reached the middle of the bridge, Sweetie Belle hopped up on the railing to sit. She dangled her legs off the edge, and absently kicked them back and forth while she thought. There were a lot of things buzzing about in her mind, but none of them were very useful.

"Whadda 'bout that lemon cake idea? Or the muskrat? Those still on the table?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "No. I can't just get her cakes or muffins or muskrats or whatever it is that Flim and Flam are trying to sell. No way. I'd want to do something amazing like my sister would. She's always doing these incredible things for everypony. Heck, she makes them stuff herself."

"Well then, why don't you?" suggested Applebloom. "If ya don't wanna buy her somethin', why doncha make her somethin' instead?"

A grin grew across Sweetie Belle's face until she was smiling ear to ear.

"Applebloom, that's it!" she cried out as she hoped down off the rail. "I'll make her something! And I'll use that sewing machine to do it! It'll be perfect!"

"Alright!" Applebloom cheered. "Sounds like a master plan of CMC proportions!"

She suddenly stopped her celebration. In a lowered voice she asked, "Do ya actually know howda use that big ol' thing?"

Sweetie Belle paused. Her expression of concern was quickly replaced by a dismissive grin.

"I'll get Rarity to show me how it works," she said. "How hard can it be?"

* * *

"Now, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said as she reached over her sister's shoulders to scoot the fabric inch by inch into place, "The most important thing is to get everything lined up properly! Otherwise it's just going to become a disaster again! There! That's better. All properly lined up now, you see?"

Sweetie Belle crinkled her nose at her sister's overbearing nature which always bubbled to the surface when it came to teaching anypony about sewing. The new and Rarity-approved orientation of the cloth seemed nearly identical to what Sweetie Belle had just done before it had been adjusted, but Rarity was excruciatingly exacting when it came to these things, and a matter of millimeters was to her a matter of life and disgrace. Sweetie Belle had had quite enough of it already, but seeing as Rarity was the only pony she knew who was capable of figuring out this contraption, she had quickly come to accept that she would simply have to take all of it in stride. Hopefully she might learn something amidst all the nagging and nitpicking.

Slowly and with what she deemed to be great caution, Sweetie Belle pushed down on the pedal underneath her hoof. The rusty springs gave a protesting groan before sharply screeching, sending the bobbins spinning and the needle hammering down into the cloth as it shot forward with alarming speed. Before Sweetie Belle could react, her project had bunched up at the other end of the machine, with the needle continuing to plunge into it, causing a wild knot of thread to begin to rise up around it as it did so.

"Waagh!" Rarity cried out. "Stop! STOP!"

Releasing the pressure on the pedal, Sweetie Belle groaned as Rarity once again began the process of removing the tangled up mess from the machine. This was the fourth time in a row she'd done that.

"I told you before, dear," she said in the voice she always used when Sweetie Belle had been consistently screwing up, "You really must be more careful with how hard you push down on that! Gently, now!"

"I know that!" Sweetie Belle whined. "I thought I was being gentle! But this stupid thing is super sensitive!"

"It's not stupid, Sweetie Belle," said Rarity. "That's how most good machines are. They require a practiced touch. And even though I would simply love to have this myself, it's yours now. But I won't have anypony misusing it in my house, so I'm going to make sure you know what you're doing! It shan't go to waste under my roof!"

"Ugh!" Sweetie Belle groaned again. "This stinks!"

"Well, you were the one who begged me to teach you how to use it," Rarity dryly retorted. "So take it or leave it."

Sweetie Belle made a face and once again weighed her options. Was all this worth dealing with Rarity's instruction?

"I need to be able to make something for Scootaloo," she decided. "So I guess I'll take it."

A grin found its way through the frustration on Rarity's face.

"It really was a wonderful gift. Of course I have nice sewing machines, already. But there's just something so wonderfully revivalist about using this big, lunking thing. I wouldn't mind making an entire new line of dresses with it. Ooo! They could all be retro! Hoity Toity would love the fact that they were made with one of these! I'd bet he'd run the whole line! I can see it now! Old Fashioned looks using Old Fashioned Techniques! And you can really tell, too. The stitching is simply not the same without—"

"That sounds great, Rarity," Sweetie Belle said as she cut her sister off before she could get too excited. "And maybe you can borrow it sometime. But right now I've got to learn how to use it!"

She was thankful that Rarity at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Yes, of course," she said. "Apologies. Now, let's start again, shall we? And this time we'll be sure not to push too hard on the pedal, yes?"

With a deep breath, Sweetie Belle calmed herself. The fabric was placed before her, and she again maneuvered it into place. This time Rarity didn't have to adjust it. She only nodded, leaning in close to Sweetie Belle's ear and whispering "Carefully, now."

She pushed down the pedal, so lightly that it didn't seem like it would do anything. Slowly and steadily, the needle bobbed up and down, pulling the cloth with it.

* * *

About noon the next day Rarity and Sweetie Belle were enjoying a light lunch of thin snapdragon sandwiches and tea when Applebloom came knocking. Answering the door with half a sandwich hanging from her mouth, Sweetie Belle showed her in. Applebloom bubbled with excitement, barely able to contain herself from trotting over to Sweetie Belle's room to see what she had made for Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle did not share her friend's enthusiasm. Instead she was approaching downright gloomy as she went to one of the pony-shaped dress forms and pulled off a scarf from around its neck, and gave it to Applebloom.

It was a simple thing, without frills or decorative embellishments apart from the mélange of colors which clashed and grinded up against one another, having been made from a number of different fabrics of varying styles in a kaleidoscope of barely ordered chaos. What little order there was stemmed from the obvious point of there being no order to begin with, as well as the fact that it was, for all its bizarre color schemes, an adeptly made, thick, comfortable scarf which would function just fine in its purpose.

"Woah," said Applebloom as she held the scarf in her hoof, before throwing it around her neck and tying it. "You made this?"

"I know it looks weird," Sweetie Belle said. "I was thinking that all those different colors were kind of like her. You know, all crazy and wild, and not caring what anypony else thinks of her. Plus she's always trying to be like Rainbow Dash. So I tried using every color in the rainbow, so it'd be like her hair. I figured that would help remind her of that when she was alone. Kind of like a "What Would Rainbow Dash Do?" kind of thing. I don't know. I guess it's kind of stupid. I'll think of something better."

Applebloom looked confused as she modeled the scarf. "But this ain't stupid," she said. "It's awesome!"

Now it was Sweetie Belle who was puzzled. "It's just a scarf," she said.

"Yeah, but it's somethin' ya made yerself," said Applebloom. "That counts fer a lot. I'm sure she'll love it!"

Sweetie Belle shook her head as if trying to exorcise a bug from her ear. "No," she said. "I can't just give her a dumb scarf and expect that to make up for all that she did for me! Did you see how far she dragged that thing?! I owe it to her to give her something amazing! I can't just give her this thing and expect that to be good enough! Rarity would make something a million times better!"

"I don't think it hasta be amazin'. I'm sure she'd be happy with whatever ya made her." Applebloom gently tugged at the scarf around her neck to emphasize her point. "I mean, ya learned howda use this big honkin' thing just to make somethin' fer her. And ya put a lotta thought in ta what ya wanted ta say with it. Just 'cause it ain't necessarily nice as somethin' yer sister'd make, that don't make it bad."

Sweetie Belle threw her head back in exasperation. "You don't get it! That's the whole point! Rarity represents the Element of Generosity. She's always doing amazing things for ponies. Everything she does is perfect! Everything! So everypony including Scootaloo is going to expect the same of me! They're going to look at this thing and say 'UGH! Rarity's sister sure doesn't care as much about her friends as she does! What an ungrateful loser! She's a lousy friend!' I've got a lot to live up to, and that ugly little thing I managed to scrape together by the strap of my saddlebag doesn't cut it!"

With calculated flair, Sweetie Belle took a few dramatic steps towards Applebloom, leaned in close, planted her hooves (also dramatically) and declared with an intense whisper and wide, pulsing eyes:

"It's gotta be the best present ever!"

Applebloom's eyebrows raised.

"Best ever?" she asked.

"Yeah. And I'm going to make it myself."

Applebloom shrugged. "So," she asked after a moment, "Whassit gonna be?"

"I've got an idea," Sweetie Belle answered. "Come with me."

As they reached the crest of a knoll overlooking Ponyville, Sweetie Belle paused and sat down underneath the large oak tree that stood at the top. She removed the saddlebag she had draped across her back and set it down on the ground beside her. Applebloom followed her friend's silent lead and plopped down next to her to lean against the tree. There they sat in silence as the sounds of nature surrounded them, along with the shouts and laughs of the colts and fillies playing down by the riverbank. There was an intense game of tag raging, which under normal circumstances they would have been keen to rush out and join. Other ponies on the outside of the game were flying kites as they ran along the edge of the water, the strings held firmly in their mouths stifling their laughs.

"Why are you still wearing that?" Sweetie Belle asked Applebloom after they had been sitting for a moment, pointing to the scarf still tied around her neck.

Applebloom hesitantly fiddled with it before answering.

"It's a good scarf, Sweetie Belle. I kinda like it."

"Fine. It's yours. Just don't tell Scootaloo I made it for her. Actually, don't tell anypony I made it. It'd save me the embarrassment."

"Okay."

A strange look came over Applebloom's face as she removed the scarf. As she held it in her hoof and stroked it gently, for a moment her face flashed a twinge of sadness. If Sweetie Belle didn't know any better she would have thought that Applebloom felt sorry for it. That didn't make any sense to her at all, but she didn't have time to deal with her friend feeling bad over a dumb piece of fabric.

"So, what're we here for?" asked Applebloom as she tied the scarf up into her mane underneath her usual bow.

Sweetie Belle pointed towards the sky above the crowd.

"That," she said.

Applebloom followed her tilted her head inquisitively.

"Yer makin' her a kite?"

"No," Sweetie Belle said. "It's what I'm going to make her into."

Now Applebloom looked back at Sweetie Belle, tilting her head even further in the opposite direction.

"Yer gonna make her into a kite?"

"NO!" Sweetie Belle said in mild irritation. "Not a kite. More like a bird."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, letting the theatrical flair soak in before she whispered, gazing into the near distance with stars in her eyes:

"I'm going to make Scootaloo fly."

Applebloom sat back on her haunches and looked back up at the kites. The wind had picked up somewhat, and they had begun to lazily snap up and down in wild rolling dives.

"I'm confused," she said. "How're ya gonna do that?"

"That trip to Flim and Flam's gave me an idea," Sweetie Belle answered. "That Ponithopther would have been a great gift. But I'm not gonna make her one of those. I'm going to do one better! I'm going to make her a suit. One with wings. Wings that she can use to fly like she's always wanted to."

"They have those?" Applebloom asked.

Sweetie Belle turned around, rummaging through her saddlebag. From it she produced a thick, slightly dusty tome. Inside were patterns and instructions for all manner of costumes, most looking like they were for plays. Flipping to a page with a prominent dog-ear, she tilted the book towards Applebloom to show her an illustrated design for the outfit in question. It was a full-body suit with wide cloth wings stretching between the front and back legs of the model. There were feathers covering the whole thing, as well as a beak.

"I looked into it," she said. "They're called glide-suits. It's kind of like becoming a kite, but you can control where you go instead of being on a string. They're big in daredevil type stuff."

"Sounds like somethin' Scootaloo'd be into. An' that's one of 'em? Looks kinda like a chicken. Scootaloo ain't gonna wanna look like a chicken."

Sweetie Belle shrugged a little.

"Well, not quite," she admitted. "This isn't exactly a glide-suit. I couldn't find a design for one of those anywhere. But I did find this in a book that Rarity had. It's a costume for some play. And it's not a chicken, it's supposed to be a bird."

"Chickens are birds."

"It's the closest thing I could find," she continued, ignoring her. "But I figure if I can make some modifications to the design, it'd work just as good as one."

Applebloom studied the design again. "Seemed awful complex," she said. "There's all kinda steps an' notes. An' notes 'bout the steps. Look, there's even notes 'bout the notes! I seen less complicated instructions during a barn-raising! An' this ain't even the one's s'posed ta fly?"

"Yeah."

"An' yer sure ya can make that yerself?"

"I can try my best."

"Well then, if ya can pull it off," she said after a thinking for a moment, "I reckon that'd be a swell gift…"

Sweetie nodded her head and smiled. "Good! That's what I thought, too!"

Then Applebloom continued. "An' I wanna stay supportive n'all, but I feel obligated ta state the obvious. Are ya sure it's gonna be safe? I mean, if yer makin' it yerself that is. Ya'll don't have that much experience sewing, ya know. An' we don't know nothin' 'bout flyin'."

A slight twitch appeared in the corner of Sweetie Belle's eye, but still she puffed out her chest and gave a dismissive wave of her hoof.

"It'll be okay!" she said. "Don't you worry about that. I know a way to make sure all those details will work out just fine."

"Ya do?"

"Yeah," she casually said. "We'll just use math! That solves everything!"

Applebloom appeared to consider that for a moment. "That makes sense," she said before adding, "But we stink at math."

"I told you," she said. "I've got this under control. I've got somepony who is all about that math stuff."

* * *

"Thus, as we can extrapolate by following this simple equation: The force is simply one half the fluid density, times the size of the body, multiplied by speed squared, times the function of the ratio of inertial forces to viscous forces!"

Sweetie Belle was reeling in mild shock. Her throat was a dry wasteland, her mouth had become a small, puckered speck under her nose, and her eyes were wide, pulsing saucers thick with bewilderment and awe. She hadn't blinked in minutes. She only stared ahead at the chalkboard filled with numbers, alien symbols and, for some bizarre reason, letters. The latter of which was an anomaly she had yet to get a satisfactory explanation regarding. (Seriously, she thought, Why are there letters? This is supposed to be math, not spelling!) Meanwhile Applebloom was busy buffing the floor with her hoof as she aimlessly kicked back and forth in fidgety boredom.

Twilight Sparkle was still holding the proud, grand gesture she had ended her lecture with, and maintained it with a smile until it became clear from the stunned ponies before her that she would be finding no applause here to reward her intelligence. The smile slowly slid off her face, leaving instead the frown of a pony who realized that the past forty-five minutes had been utterly wasted. She looked back over her shoulder at the chalkboard she had filled from top to bottom with equations and graphs.

"Well, I may have gone slightly over-the-top," she said with a forced laugh. "I got so caught up in the excitement of fluid densities that I simply lost myself in the moment! But that's the general idea! I'm ah…I'm not sure how else to explain it. It's ah…it's math! Hooray!"

Her cheer, which would have been charmingly nerdy under most other circumstances, in this case ended up being a failed attempt at humor which was lost on the poor fillies who had just suffered through something that for them had approached torturous.

Sweetie Belle shook her head to clear the cobwebs of confusion from her brain. It had been such a simple question: How can you make something fly? They hadn't expected it to turn into a full-blown dissertation, complete with a slideshow. Now that she thought about it, Sweetie Belle had to wonder why in Equestria Twilight Sparkle even had a slideshow of aerodynamics and the nature of flight already loaded in a projector and ready to go at a moment's notice in the first place.

Thinking better than to even ask, Sweetie Belle instead leaned over, slid the large fashion book from her bag and opened to the marked page.

"Look," she said as she got up and walked over to Twilight, shaking out the stiffness from her legs, "I just need to know if this thing can actually work."

"What, the costume?" Twilight asked as she held the book in front of her. "It's clothes. What do you mean "Can it work?""

"I mean can we make this thing fly or not?"

Twilight contemplated the question for a minute. Sweetie Belle could almost see the numbers flashing behind her eyes as the calculations percolated inside her head. After a moment of intense staring and analysis, she nodded and began pointing her hoof at various places on the diagram as she spoke.

"If the subject was under a certain weight, and you had a strong enough material, moved this back, reinforced the bracing here, here, and here, added a stabilizer, angled the wings at the proper degree, and achieved a fast enough velocity at launch, then I suppose it could work."

Sweetie Belle's face lit up with joy. "That's great!" she cried. "Do you think you could draw something up for me?! Like, instructions on all that? And the math, too. For like, the angles and degrees and whatever. If you could do all that, that would be great."

A flash of misgiving crept across Twilight's face. "Wait a minute," she said. "You two aren't planning on using this to try and fly are you? That would be super dangerous, and it'd be pretty irresponsible of me to do this for you if you're just going to go out and hurt yourselves. Are you trying to get your Cutie Marks in flight or something? Most ponies use balloons for that."

Sweetie Belle saw Applebloom pale with horror. She seemed about to say something, but before she could, Sweetie Belle laughed a bit too loudly and too quick to be fully convincing.

"Ha ha ha! No!" she said with a huge smile. "This is for the…the science fair! Ms. Cheerilee said she's giving a great prize to whichever team comes up with the best project! Nopony's going to actually be inside it. We're just going to use a dummy. For a model. Yeah."

Her smile was not returned.

Hesitantly she added, "It's okay if you make the plans for it. She said we could get some outside help, as long as we came up with the idea and made it ourselves."

"The school science fair isn't for another three months," Twilight replied as suspicion dripped from her tongue.

Horsefeathers, Sweetie Belle thought. Of course she'd know that.

With only a moment's hesitation, Sweetie Belle smiled even wider and answered, "We're getting an early start!"

This time Twilight did smile back. "Oh, I see!" she said. "Always good to start early! Well in that case, sure! I love diagramming things out!"

"Oh thank you!" Sweetie Belle sighed. "That helps us out a lot."

Next to her, Applebloom was squirming in apprehension, but as Twilight turned away to walk to the other side of the room, Sweetie Belle shoot her a look that said to say nothing. As Twilight sat down at her drafting board to make the blueprints, Sweetie Belle climbed up on a stool to watch as the design began to take form. While that was going on, she asked in as casual of a fashion as she could manage:

"So, hypothetically, if somepony wanted to achieve that launch velocity you mentioned, how would you do that? In theory, that is."

"Well," Twilight said, obviously too engrossed in being clever to pay much attention to either what she was saying or the painfully obvious implications that were attached to it, "I suppose I'd use some sort of cannon from a decent elevation. That should give you the speed and height you'd need. Here, let me calculate the incline and amount of powder you'd need for that."

"Excellent," said Sweetie Belle with a wicked grin.

This plan was coming together beautifully.

Later, on their way back home, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom made a detour on their way through Ponyville to pass by Sugar Cube Corner. There in a window on the second story, Pinkie Pie was methodically placing jars out on the windowsill. They were all full of a similar substance, but comprised of various colors.

"Hey, Pinkie Pie!" Sweetie Belle called out. "What're you doing?"

The eternally cheerful pony finished her careful placement of a jar, waiting until the sunbeams had penetrated the glass just so, and then waved out to her in glee.

"HI SWEETIE BELLE!" she yelled. "Wanna come help me make sun-dried frosting?!"

"Sun-dried?" Applebloom asked as her face turned a subtle shade of green.

"Frosting?" Sweetie Belle finished, feeling her stomach turn.

"Yeah! It's great! It's frosting, but it's dried in the sun! Gives it a real kick in the flank!"

Swallowing her disgust, Sweetie Belle instead shook her head and smiled.

"No thanks, Pinkie," she said. "We're good. But if you're not too busy with that, I sure could use your help with something."

"Oooooo!" Pinkie Pie replied. "Whatcha need?! I always love to help out! I'm good at all kinds of stuff! Parties and all things related to them, naturally. But I'm also good at bike riding, hula-hooping, bubble-blowing, wood etching, finding those little brown thingies you sometimes get in rice, imitations, a little bit of light plumbing, macramé, kickboxing, impressionist art as well as plain-old-pressionist art, deep sea diving, I know a lot about rocks, and sometimes when I sit down on chairs it makes a SUPER FUNNY but kind of embarrassing sound which you normally can never pull off again to prove to everypony that it was the chair and not you doing anything embarrassing but I can TOTALLY MAKE IT HAPPEN AGAIN MOST EVERY TIME."

"Wow," said Applebloom. "That's impressive."

"Yeah, I got mad skills."

"We don't need anything like that, though," said Sweetie Belle.

"What do you need then," Pinkie asked. "Does it have something to do with those blueprints you've got in your bag?"

Twilight's plans had been too big to easily fold up, so Sweetie Belle had been forced to jam the rolled-up tubes of paper in her bag, leaving the majority of them looming above her, flopping over slightly like a series of bizarrely big antennas.

"Something like that," she answered. "What we need is some artillery."

"The Party Cannon?" Pinkie said with a hoof to her chin. "I dunno. That's a pretty tall order. It's the most advanced piece of party-accessory-deployment-hardware around. YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SOMETHING THAT HARDCORE?"

"It's not for a party," explained Sweetie Belle.

Now Pinkie looked confused. She scratched her head and asked, almost to herself, "Well if it's not for a party…then what in Equestra are you using it for?"

"Science," Sweetie Belle declared.

"Science?"

"Science," she repeated, "And the greater good."

With both blueprints and the Party Cannon in tow, Sweetie Belle arrived back home. The drawings were falling out all over the place, as well as the reams of dark, tough-looking fabric that had begun spilling out of her bag. Her trip out to the fabric store had been a successful, if also confusing and startlingly expensive one. It was getting late, and she could smell that Rarity had already finished preparing dinner. She was not expecting a warm reception as she clumsily backed her way through the door, attempting to keep it open with her backside whilst bringing the Party Cannon inside, pulling the tow-rope with her teeth.

"Sweetie Belle!" she heard Rarity gasp from the kitchen. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Ahm tyin' ta gut dis hoopid fing emfide!"

"Pardon?" Rarity said. "Less rope in your mouth when you speak, darling."

Sweetie Belle spit the rope out, causing the Party Cannon to drift slightly back outside. She grunted in annoyance.

"I am trying," she repeated breathlessly, "To get this surprisingly heavy THING inside so I can finally stop lugging it around!"

"Wasn't Applebloom helping you earlier?"

"She had to go home. I had to bring this all the way from Sugar Cube Corner by myself."

"Oh," said Rarity. "Well, put it in your room. I won't have something that garish in the foyer."

"You know, you could help," Sweetie Belle said as she gathered up the cloth that had spilled out of her bag and stuffed it back in.

Rarity playfully scoffed as if it was the most pleasant light-hearted joke she had ever heard.

"Oh no, we won't be doing that," she said. "Now hurry up and put that away. I'd ask what you need it for but I have a suspicion that I don't want to know. I made you dinner. It's almost ready, so please be quick about it, if you don't mind."

"Bring me my dinner in my room!" Sweetie Belle called out over the sound of the Party Cannon rumbling across the wood floors. Rarity balked at the command.

"And why should I do such a thing?!" she heard her sister call after her from down the hallway.

"Because!" she called back. "I've got work to do!"

* * *

Today was the day that everything would be put to the test.

She had worked tirelessly for nearly the entirely of the past grueling week, spending more sleepless nights than she cared to recall hunched over that sewing machine. Soon the results of her efforts would be known, for better or for worse. As she stood at the edge of the roof of the tree-house, gazing out over the rooftops of Ponyville peeking out above the trees, Sweetie Belle felt the cold hooves of anxiety clutching tight in her stomach. But there was no turning back now. She had come too far, and there was too much at stake for both her friend and her own pride.

"Okay, s'all ready to go," Applebloom called out from behind the Party Cannon. She did not sound too enthused.

Sweetie Belle turned away from overlooking the dizzying height below and found herself staring down the barrel of Pinkie's contraption. Normally it would be used to initiate joy and shenanigans, but knowing the potential pain that the next few minutes may very well hold in store for her, it was impossible to see it as anything other than the gapping maw of some horrible beast. As she turned away from the edge the wings of her suit caught the corner of the roof as they dragged behind her, causing her to stumble ever so slightly. She spared a glance to inspect them for damage, and found them to be just as unseemly as before but still intact. They were as good as they were going to get.

She felt every bit of the sweat, sore hooves, and stress she had poured into this thing. Yet little had gone the way it was supposed to. For all her effort and notable improvement, the stitching was still crooked, the joining of the sections appeared piecemeal and off-kilter, and the wings looked rickety and unwieldy.

Throughout the whole outfit the dark blue, ribbed material was tenuously held together by stitching that was frankly amateur at best, although it was a noted improvement over her first few attempts. It bore the signs of numerous attempts at fixing, unfixing and re-fixing the piece, culminating with a series of triple and quadruple lines of stitching that were gratuitously redundant: Over-kill clearly made in desperation after a long session consisting of multiple failures.

Still, it was the best she could do. And now it was time to see whether or not her best was good enough to keep her from splattering all over the very hard-looking ground.

"Are ya sure yer sure 'bout this?" Applebloom asked as she put away the materials she had used to load the Party Cannon up with Twilight's calculated payload. The look on her face was not one of encouragement. If anything she seemed more nervous than Sweetie Belle.

"Yes, I'm sure," Sweetie Belle answered with as much iron in her voice as she could muster up. "There's only one way to test this. And you said you didn't want to. So I'm doing it myself."

"I didn't wanna do it 'cause it's crazy!" Applebloom wailed. "What if it don't work? Ya might really hurt yerself!"

Sweetie Belle frowned, pushing out her bottom lip and steeling her eyes with determination. She adjusted the somewhat ill-fitting suit around her shoulders one last time, and then pulled the hood over her head as the elastic material snapped down, completely covering her ears and mane. The effect was that she looked less like a pony and more like somepony had shaved an extremely large flying squirrel and painted it a dark blue. The wings connecting her front and rear legs wobbled back and forth in the breeze and the gesticulations she made as she spoke.

"It'll be fine! We've got math on our side!"

"But what if the math is wrong?!"

"It isn't!"

"Sweetie Belle, this is really dangerous!"

"I know that!" she said. "But this isn't for me. It's for Scootaloo. I promised something special, and I'm going to give it to her!"

"But that don't mean wreakin' yerself! She wouldn't want ya ta do that!"

"A true friend always goes above and beyond," Sweetie Belle said, her voice breaking as she threw her friend's own words back at her. "That's what we do."

Applebloom didn't say anything in response. She seemed too stunned to speak. Instead she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head. Sweetie Belle had had enough of this. She slid the goggles attached to the hood over her eyes.

"Prepare for launch," she said as she turned back towards the mouth of the cannon.

Applebloom sat down next to the cannon's wheel and crossed her front legs in defiance.

"I ain't doin' it," she said.

A painful tapestry of memories flashed before Sweetie Belle's eyes. Every moment she failed to live up to her own expectations. Every moment anypony had ever said she wasn't good enough for something. Every moment anypony had doubted her. Every moment she looked at her sister and felt a pang of envy. She saw it all at once.

You do want to see your friend happy, don't you?

Just 'cause it ain't necessarily nice as somethin' yer sister'd make…

Otherwise what would they think?

I'm going to make sure you know what you're doing!

An' yer sure ya can make that yerself?

They'd think her stingy and ungrateful!

That's what we do.

Something inside her snapped, and without even thinking about it, with a mighty roar she leapt over Applebloom and ran to the back of the cannon. She grabbed the pull-fuse with her teeth, and brought it with her around the other side back to the front and, before Applebloom could stop her, leapt hooves-first into the gaping hole. She fit snuggly inside, almost to the point of being painful. A split second before she pulled the cord, she had the passing thought that maybe, while wearing the outfit at least, she was a little bit too big to fit comfortably inside the Party Cannon.

She made a mental note to check Scootaloo's croup-size before launching her.

Yanking as hard as she could with her teeth, Sweetie Belle pulled the cord.

* * *

With Sweetie Belle's mighty tug, the Party Cannon's payload was unleashed. A low, echoing thud shook the tree-house and the forest all around Ponyville, grabbing the attention of most everypony within a few miles radius.

On the other side of town at Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack figured someone was overzealously trying to fix a gopher problem, which reminded her of several chores she had forgotten about, mostly having to do with pest control.

Being the closest to the explosion, Fluttershy was understandably shaken by it as she tended the garden outside of her home in the woods nearby. However, she was too busy rounding up the poor startled crickets to investigate the origins of the sound. As a matter of fact, the more she thought about it the more frightened she became, so she decided to force herself to not worry about it. This did not work out very well, and she ended up spending the rest of the afternoon worrying anyway.

Back at home, Rarity heard that dreadful thing firing off and figured that whatever mischief Sweetie Belle had gotten herself into, it was none of her business. While that may seem cruel and neglectful, in Rarity's defense, it never once occurred to her that Sweetie Belle could actually fit inside the Party Cannon, let alone the thought that she would launch herself out of it if she could.

Still carefully placing the frosting on the windowsill at Sugar Cube Corner, Pinkie Pie heard the familiar explosion, and immediately snapped to attention. Facing the direction the blast came from, she lifted her hoof and gave the crispest, most reverent salute she could manage. With chest puffed out in Pinkie Pride, she called out with great gusto, "PARTY ON FOR SCIENCE, LADIES! PARTY ON!" Those ponies on the street below who observed this display were the most confused as to what was happening.

Twilight Sparkle heard it faintly through the window of her home, where she was sitting on her bed, as usual reading up on something highly academic and, in her mind at least, intensely interesting. A thought in the back of her mind began doing a little dance, insisting that she had overlooked something. But try as she might, she just couldn't put a hoof on what it was. Before long it was gone again, losing out to what she considered to be a truly engrossing book on non-constructive mathematical proofs.

As for Rainbow Dash up in the clouds above, she alone was not made aware of any of this nonsense happening. It was early in the afternoon when this all occurred, meaning it was primo power-nap time, which gives explanation to the abovementioned fact that the explosion had grabbed the attention of most everypony. But to her credit, she would have checked it out had she been awake for it.

Meanwhile, back down on the ground, Scootaloo was riding her scooter down one of her favorite trails, which followed the river bank on the other side of Ponyville from where Sweetie Belle and Applebloom currently were. As she heard the sound, she scanned the sky to check for thunderclouds, remembering that Rainbow Dash hadn't said anything about any scheduled rain today. Not able to see much of the sky while surrounded by trees and curious as to whether or not plans had changed, she found herself wishing, as she did several times a day, that her wings would get to growing so that she could finally fly.

* * *

Sweetie Belle felt very peculiar.

She was have difficultly naming the exact sensations she was experiencing, but none of them were pleasant. There was a bit of pain, no doubt, especially on her flank and also around the part of her midsection which had been touching the lip of the cannon. But that wasn't the main feeling going on. The main feeling was one of catastrophic wrongness.

That and frosting. Lots of frosting going on there, too.

It was everywhere—Splattered across the roof of the clubhouse, the grass down below, up in the trees across the field and somehow even in the trees behind her. All around there was brightly colored frosting coating everything. It was a mad collage of pastel snow in the middle of summer, and Sweetie Belle was sitting at ground zero of it all. Or, more to the point, she was sitting in ground zero.

Still seated firmly inside the Party Cannon, Sweetie Belle sat in stunned silence. When she had pulled that cord, the first thing she experienced was the sound of the explosion, which she had logically expected. The next thing she had expected to happen was to start flying through the air, but that never ended up happening. Instead she had felt the impossibly bizarre sensation of her rear end blocking thirty pounds of frosting from being fired out of a cannon.

Naturally, since Sweetie Belle was not large or fat enough to create a total seal around the mouth of the cannon, not all of the frosting was stopped by her body. In fact the vast majority of it did end up firing out the end. However, due to the nature of the blockage, it had not been in one solid clump as was designed. Instead the explosion had had more of a massive splattering effect, with her body functioning as a kind of crazy, irregular nozzle. It had been like putting a firecracker in a bucket of paint.

Sweetie Belle was utterly covered with the stuff. No inch of her body was untouched. She was already feeling frosting in places that she wasn't even aware that she had. A part of her tried to stay strong in order to maintain what little dignity she may have still possessed, but another part of her had simply given up, and was already hysterically laughing at herself internally.

She hadn't yet decided which option she was going to go with. Both likely involved movement, and that was currently the last thing she wanted to do. She worried that if she moved, she might discover frosting in even more places. So instead she just sat in silence in the cannon as frosting dripped from her face, hooves, legs, and everywhere else.

Applebloom came into view, cautiously peeking around the lip of the cannon. She had not escaped the fury of the Party Cannon's payload either, and had a copious amount of frosting stuck in her mane, as well as most everywhere else. That being said, she still had gotten off comparatively scot-free.

"Y'all right, Sweetie Belle?" she asked.

She slowly took off her goggles. Her shell-shocked eyes were now the only thing not buried under her pastel mask.

"I feel so funky."

Applebloom reached in and helped her remove herself from her sugary tomb. As she slid out of the cannon, the effect and sound was not unlike pulling a boot from knee-deep mud. A good portion of the remainder of the frosting followed after her, mostly in a giant clump accumulated on her backside.

"What happened?" she asked. "What's with the frosting?"

Applebloom's expression turned to one of guilt.

"That may have been my fault," she said as she started wiping the gunk off of Sweetie Belle and herself. "Kinda. I mean, I loaded it just like Twilight said! But I guess I shoulda checked ta see what Pinkie Pie had in there already, huh? I'm real sorry!"

When enough frosting had been removed so as to allow her to, Sweetie Belle stood up and inspected the harm done to her wing suit. The damage was total. The stitching on the wings had all been ripped out by the force of the blast, completely shredding them and leaving them dangling in limp tatters. The rest of the suit had not done much better, as tears and splits had appeared across nearly every seam along the bottom half. Even to Sweetie Belle's untrained eye, it was clear that it wouldn't be worth trying to salvage. Her gift to Scootaloo was destroyed before she had even had a chance to see if it would have worked.

She didn't know what to do. She wanted to cry, laugh, and kick something all at the same time. But more than anything else, she just wanted to have something work out the way it was supposed to.

"It's okay," she quietly said. "You were right. It was a bad idea anyway."

Applebloom put a hoof on her shoulder.

"It's was a good idea, Sweetie Belle," she said. "I just think y'all bit off a bit more'n ya could chew, is all."

"Maybe," Sweetie Belle sad as she wiped away the last of the big globs from her face. "I just want to go home. I'll see you later."

"Ya sure?" Applebloom asked as Sweetie Belle started the climb down the ladder. "I could come over if ya don't wanna be alone."

She paused at the top rung, chewing on her lip with sad eyes.

"No. I've got a decision to make."

What that, she descended the ladder and began the long walk home.

* * *

The Frostingpocalypse, as it came to be known, had all been cleared up by the time Sweetie Belle was preparing for her big unveiling a few days later. She still felt slightly off, and she wasn't sure if her coat or mane would ever be the same again, but more or less she and everything else was back to normal.

Well, most everything that is. There was a certain box with a heart-shaped lock hidden far back in her closet at home that was considerably empty now. Rarity didn't know about that yet, and if Sweetie Belle had a say in the matter, she never would. Or at least, for as long as possible.

But Sweetie Belle didn't have time to worry about that right now. She was too busy preparing the grand reveal. She busied herself preparing the huge present that she had, with tremendous effort, managed to conceal in the large bushes outside their tree house. Methodically she adjusted and readjusted the tarp and the ropes holding it down. Everything had to be perfect, and she wanted the moment to be absolutely amazing when she pulled that rope on the corner to unveil Scootaloo's gift.
It better be perfect, she thought to herself. It's cost me enough.

She had gotten it just about right when she heard Applebloom calling from the small path leading to the tree house. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she called back, and walked out of the bushes to meet her.

"Howdy, Sweetie Belle," said Applebloom. "Whatcha doin'? Y'all said ya wanted ta meet me here?"

Sweetie Belle nodded. "I need you to go get Scootaloo," she said. "I've finally done it! I've got something for her! It's a huge surprise, and I have to be here to unveil it, so you've got to bring her here!"

Applebloom raised her eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean?" she asked. "Y'all didn't say nothin' 'bout this. Whaddid ya get her?"

Sweetie Belle excitedly waved her over to the bushes. She didn't have to do much more than show her the familiar-shaped lump under the tarp. Applebloom gasped.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

"Yep! Scootaloo is going to fly in the Ponithopter!"

She didn't say anything in response, which Sweetie Belle found surprising. Truthfully she had been concerned about getting yelled at, and Applebloom had an eerie way of channeling her sister's folksy wrath disturbingly accurately when she was angry enough. But instead of giving her the berating she half-expected, Applebloom just looked at the tarp with an expression that was difficult for Sweetie Belle to read. Whatever her mood, it was clear that she was deep in thought.

"So, what do you think?" Sweetie Belle asked once she had grown anxious enough.

Applebloom nodded. "I think I know exactly how I'm gonna get her over here."

"Great!" Sweetie Belle said with a great sigh. "For a minute I thought you were mad."

With a last look which may have been approaching pity, Applebloom turned around and started trotting back the way she came. As odd as her reaction had been, at the very least she hadn't been angry, although Sweetie belle had still found it confusing.

She could barely contain herself. After only waiting an absurdly short amount of time, she got in position, and hid. She couldn't wait to see the look on Scootaloo's face.

"Sweetie Belle! Hey, Sweetie Belle, where are you?!"

Scootaloo was going full-tilt down the path leading to the tree house. Her scooter bounced along, catching air as her little wings pulsed with excitement. She was winded by an obviously long and hard dash to their hideout, but she seemed too joyous to be fatigued. The stars in her eyes were twinkling, and even from a distance they shone in broad daylight. The smile on her face threatened to pull a muscle.

Watching from her hiding spot in the bushes, Sweetie Belle was confused. Had Applebloom spoiled her surprise?! It was nice to see her so happy, but if her big reveal had been blown Applebloom would be in big trouble. All the same, with a hoof on the rope she prepared to call Scootaloo into the bushes, and present her with the Ponithopter.

Then Sweetie Belle noticed something strange.

There was something around Scootaloo's neck. It was a clumsy, gaudy-looking thing made up of nearly every color and different material one could usually find in any random drawer of fabric scraps. It was wild and rebellious, flaunting its uniqueness as it flowed in the breeze without a care as to what society may have expected of a scarf. It was doing its own thing. It was full of moxie and undefeatable spirit. And around the neck of the pony who wore it like it was an extension of themselves, nothing had ever looked more natural.

"HEEEEEEY SWEETIE BEEEELLE!!!" Scootaloo yelled again between heaving gasps. "This scarf! I can't believe this scarf, Sweetie Belle! It's amazing! IT'S! SO! AWESOME!"

Sweetie Belle was stunned. She dropped the rope, and took a look back at the Ponithopter, still covered in its tarp. As big, extraordinary, and expensive as it was, it suddenly didn't seem quite so impressive after seeing the look on Scootaloo's face as she wore a weird, confusing-looking scarf made by a rookie doing her meager best.

She stepped out of the bushes and into the clearing. Scootaloo saw her almost immediately, and somehow, her smile got even bigger.

"You are absolutely, off-the-charts, crazy-talented, Sweetie Belle!" she cried out as she bolted over to give her a gigantic bear-hug that threatened to bruise ribs. "Thank you so much! It's all colorful and wild and crazy and in-your-face! And it's just like Rainbow Dash! It's even got all the colors that are in her hair and everything! I love it! I love it! I love it!"

Sweetie Belle was finally allowed to breathe once Scootaloo let go of her. As she continued to hold her close, Sweetie Belle was smiling.

"You're welcome, I guess!" she said. "But…how did you get that?"

Scootaloo laughed. "What do you mean? It was on my pillow with a note that said 'Thanks for the sewing machine! I made this for you!' If that wasn't from you, then I don't know who else I got a really big sewing machine for!"

She had a feeling she knew who the culprit was. Despite the trickery, she supposed that she owed them her thanks. But something still didn't make sense to her.

"You really like it that much, Scootaloo?" she said, scratching her mane in embarrassment. "I mean, it's just something I threw together. It's not really anything that special."

Scootaloo laughed again. "Of course it is, silly!" she said. "It's from you! And that makes it the most special thing ever!"

Sweetie Belle felt something welling up in her eyes, followed by warm streaks running down her cheeks. With a smile as big as the friendship she felt swelling up in her heart, she brought Scootaloo in for another hug. This time it was Sweetie Belle who hugged the hardest.

"You know, Scootaloo, I was having the hardest time figuring out what to get you. You got something so amazing for me, and I wanted to return the favor. I kind of went a little crazy, I think. A lot crazy, actually. I thought I had to be something I'm not."

"All you have to do is be yourself, Sweetie Belle," said Scootaloo. "I'm your friend because I love you because you're you!"

Sweetie Belle smiled into her pal's shoulder. "Thanks for being my friend, Scootaloo," she whispered.

"Thank you back, Sweetie Belle."

They hugged until Sweetie Belle had gotten rid of all the problems of her past week. As they broke their embrace, she knew that everything was back to normal. If anything, it was better than ever. With a youthful laugh, they headed back down the road to town.

"Let's go find Applebloom," said Scootaloo. "She's gotta see this thing!"

"Yeah," Sweetie Belle said with a grin. "I'll bet she'll get a kick out of it."

"By the way, what were you doing in the bushes?" Scootaloo asked.

"Err…um…nothing," said Sweetie Belle. "I thought I saw a squirrel with a moustache."

"Whoa. That'd be cool."

Scootaloo then did a double take as something above her caught her eye.

"Is that frosting up in that tree?"

* * *

It was a bright, chipper afternoon down at Flim and Flam's Fantastical Free-trade Flea-Market of Fanciful Frippery: A day for great deals and better bargains. The knickknacks were on clearance, the trinkets had been freshly polished and organized, and they had even gotten in a recent shipment of objets d'art. Much of that had to do with the brothers having more space to work with after getting rid of that gigantic flying piece of broken down garbage in the back.

What a near-catastrophe that had been. That contraption hadn't even worked back when they had coerced it out of that cantankerous old donkey's possession. It had been one of their easiest swindles to date—it had been practically given to them. The donkey's only requirement of was that they not talk to him anymore. And while that was honestly a lot to ask of Flim and Flam, at the time they had considered it too good of a get to pass up, and they had shut their mouths, taken the infernal device and left. Who knew that it would end up sitting around taking up an incredible amount of space for so long with no takers?

Until that wonderfully easy-to-read young sap had walked through their door, that is. At first they thought her big-mouthed Apple friend had ruined their sale (as all those confounded Apples were wont to do), but Flim had told Flam that they'd set the hooks in her. And sure enough, a week later he was proven right once again, as always.

Flim finished polishing up the last of their jewelry, made up of the very finest in genuine imitation Equestrian diamonds. As he breathed on the last of the lockets, then rubbed a sleeve across it to buff it to as much of a shine as a pony could expect to get out of this cheap material, he took a look around his store and nodded. With a quick smile and a jaunty flick of the brim of his hat, he turned to his brother across the room.

"Flam!" he called. "What say you, brother? Are we ready to met the eager public?"

Flam tipped his hat back at Flim.

"I dare say we are, Flim! Looks to be a smashing good day for business!"

"Well then! Let us not disappoint them!"

Together they sauntered to the entrance's double doors and, each taking one, opened them to a flourish of fanfare cranked from a calliope install in the wall above the egress.

"GOOD MORNING PONYVILLE," they called out together. "AND WELCOME TO FLIM AND FLA—"

It was then they saw a sight that they stopped their routine cold. Waiting outside by the steps was that little filly they had sold that horrible device to. Standing behind her was a beautiful but very angry looking unicorn who, based on appearances, had to be her sister. Lastly there was a hulking red stallion with a simple expression and a piece of straw hanging out of his mouth. The brothers remembered him to be one the Apples, which one he was they didn't know, keep track of, or care. He was hauling a cart which contained a distressingly familiar-looking mass under a canvas cover.

"Ah-ha, um, yes. Can we help you fine ponyfolk?" asked Flim with a slight tremble in his voice.

"Nope," said the big stallion.

"Rarity," the little one said to the older one, "These are the gentleponies who currently have the money Grandma gave me. I believe you're more qualified to handle these negotiations."

"Yes, of course Sweetie Belle," the one they called Rarity said with bone-chilling frost in her voice. Her radiant eyes of deep blue were bulging with anger, pulsing to the point of vibration, and staring right at them. A horrifying rictus grin was carved onto her otherwise handsome face as she spoke through her teeth.

"Now," she said as the brothers looked on in fright, "Tell me about this return policy of yours."