Namby Pamby's Revenge

by Booker Longlegs

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Featherweight, Other, Original Character, Random
Length: 3493

When the Foal Free Press' punch is spiked, it's up to Featherweight to find out who did it. The only suspect is former editor in chief, Namby Pamby. Is she just an unlucky bystander, or is this her form of revenge?

The Foal Free Press' weekly meeting/party was great. Except for the fact that somepony spiked the punch and now almost the entire crew is in the hospital vomiting. As editor, it's Featherweight's job to find the guilty one. Unfortunately, the only real suspect is Featherweight's friend and rival, former editor Namby Pamby. Featherweight doesn't want to believe it, but as his proofreader says, what wouldn't she do to get ahead?

Published 2015-05-05 00:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-05 00:50:02 UTC

The Party

Featherweight looked around himself. The Foal Free Press was having its weekly meeting. It was usually pretty boring; going over all the little details to ensure the paper was kept running smoothly. Consequently, Featherweight had decided to have a small party after every meeting to keep himself and the others from going insane. It wasn’t anything special, just some cakes and punch, but it made the meetings more bearable.

He was frowning now as he saw an unexpected guest mingling with the others. It was Namby Pamby, former editor-in-chief. Technically, anypony could come to the parties, but it was generally understood that they were just for the Foal Free workers. On top of that, Namby had started her own newspaper company after graduating, which was now the Press’ biggest rival, the Foal’s Daily. Featherweight wondered why she was there, but decided to let it go. Despite the rivalry, Namby and Featherweight were good friends, and he could see that the blue pegasus wasn’t hurting anything.

At that point, Featherweight’s proofreader, Major Edit, walked up to him. Edit was a gray unicorn with a red mane and tail. While Featherweight was the one that approved the content, Edit was the one who checked for grammatical and spelling errors. Edit was holding two glasses of punch, and he offered one to Featherweight. He took it and then they both looked around, sipping their punch. “Looks like everything’s running smoothly,” Edit commented.

“Yeah,” said Featherweight, “I’d call this meeting a success.”

“I’ll drink to that,” They tapped their glasses and drank some of their punch. “Say,” Edit said, “have you noticed that Namby Pamby’s walking around?”

“Yeah, I saw.”

Edit grinned. “’Course you did. I’d notice too if my marefriend was walking around.”

Featherweight blushed. “She is not my marefriend.”

“Riiiight. That’s totally not the reason you haven’t kicked her out yet.”

“No, but if you keep up I might kick you out,” Featherweight took a sip of his punch as Edit chuckled, “Besides, why would I kick her out? Everypony here was her co-worker at some point.”

“Still, best not forget she’s your rival.”

Featherweight laughed, draining the rest of his punch. “What do you think she’s gonna do, sabotage us?”

The next day, Featherweight stared around at the empty press room. It was time to start working, yet everypony was conspicuously absent. Edit walked in and stared at the empty desks. “Where is everypony?” he asked.

Featherweight shook his head. “No idea. I was waiting to see if anypony would show up.”

“Well, let’s go and find them.” Edit said. He and Featherweight went to see the head of production, only for his mom to point them to the hospital. Worried, Featherweight and Edit ran to the hospital. They burst in, asking the nurse about their friends. She pointed them to a wing that was currently inhabited by the Foal Free workers. They were all green in the face, and every so often they would bend over a bucket and vomit. Strangely, the puke was made entirely of rainbows. The head doctor, noticing them staring, came over.

“Yes, it’s quite astonishing,” the doctor said.

“What’s wrong with them?” Featherweight asked.

“They’ve all tested positive for Cuteonium,” said the doctor.

Featherweight looked confused. “What’s Cuteonium?”

“It’s an element that enhances cuteness,” the doctor explained, “It’s typically used by mothers to pretty up their foals for pictures. If taken a little at a time, that’s all it does. However, when you use too much…” sounds of vomiting came from the direction of the patients, “Well, there’s only so much cute a body can take.”

“How did they take it?” Edit asked.

“That’s what’s confusing,” the doctor said, “None of the parents say they used Cuteonium on them last night.”

“Last night?” Edit said. When the doctor nodded, Edit turned to Featherweight. “The party. That’s the only time when they could’ve gotten this Cuteonium.”

“But I didn’t put any into the punch. Even if I had, we both had some and we’re not choking on rainbows.”

Edit got a thoughtful expression. “Did you drink any more after our talk?” He then looked as if he’d realized something, as the doctor hurried over to a patient requiring his attention.

“No, I didn’t,” said Featherweight, wondering where Edit was going with this.

“Neither did I. That means that whoever spiked the punch did it after we drank some.”

“But who would do something like that?”

“Remember what we were talking about?” At that moment, Featherweight realized what Edit was getting at.

“No,” Featherweight said flatly, “she wouldn’t do something like that.”

“She was the only one there who had any reason to do this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Namby’s my friend,” Featherweight said angrily, “I know her, and I know she wouldn’t do this.”

“She might be your friend,” Edit said harshly, “but she’s also your rival. What wouldn’t she do to get ahead?” Featherweight turned around and stormed out of the hospital. Edit ran after him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to look for evidence. Namby wouldn’t have done this, so it must have been somepony else.”

“Frankly, I don’t see anypony else with a reason to do it.” Catching the look on Featherweight’s face, Edit added, “Although, I will agree that this isn’t like her. I’m willing to save judgement until after we find some proof. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Gathering Evidence

Featherweight looked around the party room. “Okay, so maybe we didn’t think this through…” The room was cleaned up from last night.

“Well, this is the schoolhouse,” Edit said, “It has a janitor.”

“So, any evidence that may have existed is just gone now?” Featherweight asked.

“Probably,” Edit sighed, “Still, it won’t hurt to look around.” They began their search, eyeing the clear floor and spotless walls with little hope. Idly, Featherweight lifted the tablecloth of the table that had the punch bowl and caught sight of a bottle. He reached for it eagerly, but paused before calling Edit over. “What is it?” Edit asked.

“I think I’ve found our bottle of Cuteonium,” Featherweight said, “I was about to grab it, but then I thought we could dust it for hoofprints. I need you to pick it up with your magic.”

“Hoofprints?” Edit asked skeptically, levitating the bottle, “How are you going to manage that?”

“I got a detective kit for my birthday,” Featherweight said, “It came with a hoofprint dusting set.”

“Ah, I see,” Edit said, “Not a half-bad idea. Why don’t you go get it? I’ll stay and search for more clues.”

“Good luck with that,” Featherweight said glumly, “Be back in a second.” Featherweight rushed out, flew home, grabbed the detective kit, and flew back to the schoolhouse. Edit was sitting dejectedly at the table, with the bottle sitting next to him. “No luck?” Featherweight asked. Edit shook his head. “Well, maybe this will shed some light on the subject.” Featherweight said, opening the kit.

Featherweight rummaged around for a bit before pulling out some powder and a blush to apply it with. “Alright, let me see it.” Edit levitated it in front of Featherweight, and he applied an even coat all around the sides of the bottle. He then gently blew the excess dust away, to reveal…nothing. “Well, that was a bust.” Featherweight said, sitting across from Edit. “Still, now we know the culprit was a unicorn.”

Edit looked up with interest. “What makes you say that?”

“Only a unicorn could handle the bottle without leaving prints,” Featherweight explained, “So only one of them could’ve done it.”

“Here’s a thought,” Edit said slowly, “Why would the saboteur have left the bottle?”

“They dropped it?” Featherweight suggested.

“Maybe,” Edit said, “but the party wasn’t exactly what I’d call loud. They would have heard if they’d dropped the bottle.”

“So, you think it was done on purpose,” Featherweight mused, “But, why would that mean my theory was wrong?”

“If it was left on purpose, then the saboteur could have wiped their hoofprints,” Edit said, “Meaning it could have been a pegasus or an earth pony.”

“So, essentially you’re saying that it could have been anypony?” Featherweight asked. Edit nodded, and Featherweight asked, “So, we’re right back at square one?” Edit nodded again, and Featherweight let out a frustrated groan.

Edit looked at Featherweight. “Hey, I remember something I heard once. ‘Once you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth, no matter how strange.’”

“That’s the thing, though, we haven’t eliminated anything!” Featherweight said forcefully.

“Maybe not,” Edit said, “but it means that the most likely scenario, that isn’t impossible, must be the truth. And right now, the most likely scenario is that Namby’s the culprit.”

“We have no evidence proving that.”

“Not hard to do when we have no evidence, period.”

“…Good point,” Featherweight sighed, “I guess we should go ask her about it”

“I guess so.”

Featherweight knocked on the door to Namby’s office. The Foal’s Daily was bustling with activity. Featherweight looked around gloomily, thinking of the Press and its current state of emptiness. The door opened, and Namby stood in the frame. “Featherweight!” she said enthusiastically, “What a welcome, though unexpected surprise.”

Featherweight managed a weak smile. “Hey there, Namby. Would you mind if we came in? We’re kind of here on business.”

“Of course, of course, come in,” Namby stepped back and allowed Featherweight and Edit to enter. They took the seats in front of Namby’s desk while Namby sat in her chair. “Now, to what do I owe this honor? I would have expected you to be hard at work managing your own paper.”

“That’s kind of why we’re here,” Featherweight said, “Remember the party last night?”

“Yes, of course. It wasn’t exactly a big party, but then I’m not expecting Pinkie Pie levels when you hold them every week,” Namby laughed.

“Yeah, well, at the party somepony spiked the punch with Cuteonium,” Featherweight paused, looking for a reaction from Namby. He got a blank look.

“Cuteonium?” Namby said, “What’s Cuteonium?” Featherweight shared a glance with Edit. Either she’s a great actress, or she didn’t do it.

“It’s nothing serious,” Featherweight said, “but it did put my crew out of commission. They’ll be puking up rainbows for a few days.”

“That’s terrible!” Namby exclaimed, “I’ll be sure to report this in my paper, get the town on the lookout! Who are the suspects?”

“That’s the tricky part,” Featherweight said hesitantly, “Assuming that the saboteur didn’t poison themselves, the suspects are me, Edit…and you.”

Namby looked stunned. “There’s…really no other suspects?”

Featherweight shook his head. “Everyone who was at the party is either in this room or vomiting up pure cute in the hospital.”

“S-So you think I…” Namby stammered.

“No, I don’t think you did it,” Even as Namby looked relieved, Featherweight added, “But, when the workers come back, we’ll have to report it, and when we do, we’ll have to include everything we know. That includes that it was sabotage…and the suspect list.”

“H-How do you know that it was sabotage?” Namby asked desperately.

Featherweight let out a dark chuckle. “Unfortunately, that’s about the only thing we know for sure. We found the bottle of Cuteonium, which we believe was left intentionally, with no hoofprints on it.” As Namby looked downtrodden, Featherweight said gently, “Look, I don’t think you did it, and it hurts me to see a friend like this, but you know the first rule of good journalism just as well as I do.”

Namby sniffed. “’A good journalist reports everything they know, because their readers are reading for the truth.’ But, Featherweight, that story would ruin me! Even if you only list me as a suspect, I’m the only one who’d be taking the blame! I’ll lose my business, my home, and my good name!”

“I know that,” Featherweight said, “and if it was just me I’d keep it secret, but the crew’s going to want answers as to who made them suffer like this, and I won’t be able to lie to them. From there, they’ll print the story, and from there…” Featherweight trailed off.

Namby looked to be on the edge of breaking down. “Please…go.”

“Namby-“ Featherweight began.

“Please!” Namby shouted. Then, in a more reasonable tone, “I understand your situation, Featherweight. Truly, I do. Right now, though, I need to be alone.”

“Okay,” Featherweight and Edit stood up. “We’ll do everything we can,” Featherweight promised, “and you’re free to do your own investigation, but I wouldn’t expect a miracle.” With a heavy heart, Featherweight left Namby alone in her office. He hadn’t quite made it out of earshot before he heard a sob behind him.

Author's Note

If you laughed at their idea of journalism, keep in mind that they're young.

War!

Featherweight watched helplessly as the Foal Free workers got themselves worked up into a frenzy. It was three days since the party, and the fully recovered group had come to Featherweight demanding answers. He had reluctantly told them everything he knew, and now they were all riled up. They were currently debating on what they should do.

“I say we poison her crew with Cuteonium!” shouted a printer.

“No, that’s not fair to the crew,” argued a reporter, “It was her plan, so she should be the one we hit!” The argument continued for several more minutes, with everypony having their own suggestions. Featherweight couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at some of them. Either those ponies had really hated the experience, or they had some vicious imaginations. Eventually, the expected conclusion happened. It was agreed that they’d print the information in the paper and “ruin that she-devil’s reputation.” The group rushed out toward the schoolhouse, with Featherweight bringing up the rear.

As they came closer, Featherweight was trying to come up with ways to soften the blow for Namby. Unfortunately, all he could really do was use the version of the story that was least vindictive, and considering the mob’s behavior, that wasn’t going to mean a whole lot. He was still racking his brain when he bumped into the pony in front of him. Confused, he looked ahead and saw the schoolhouse. The entire group seemed to have stopped in front of it. He pushed his way forward and was met by one of the strangest things he’d ever seen.

The entire front lawn of the school had been converted into a war zone. There were trenches dug, barbed wire everywhere, and spiked walls. Right in front of the door was a command center, and in the command center sat Namby Pamby. She looked disheveled; her eyes were bloodshot, her mane was a mess, and she looked a bit crazed. “Namby!” Featherweight called, “What are you doing?”

“I’ve spent the last three days trying to find who really did it!” Namby called back, “Trying to clear my name! But, I’ve got nothing! I have no idea who spiked the punch, and last night I decided I didn’t want to hang for someone else’s crime! So, I came here and prepared all of this for you,” She gestured at the defenses, “Good luck trying to print that story now!” She started laughing, and Featherweight came to the conclusion that she’d had a nervous breakdown.

“Any doubt I might have had that you’re the culprit was just erased, Namby!” screamed one of the reporters, “Come on, everypony! Let’s get her!”

“Wait!” Featherweight cried, but the group had already charged into the battlefield. Namby ducked behind her fortifications, then emerged wearing a general’s hat, a couple of pouches, and riding a bicycle. She rode toward the defensive line and began patrolling it. When the attackers hit the line, they tried tearing down the fortifications, but as soon as they did, Namby started throwing newspapers at them from the pouches. Her aim was deadly accurate, and she threw them like a machine gun. Soon enough, the attackers had fallen back against the relentless assault.

Featherweight stood there, looking angry. “So, how did that go?” The group looked around shamefully at each other. “Did any of you even listen to what Namby had to say?”

“Yeah, she set all this up to stop us!” said the head of production, “That proves she did it!”

“Before that.”

“Oh,” the production head looked uncomfortable, “Ummm….”

“She said,” Featherweight enunciated carefully, “That she was trying to clear her name.” Understanding dawned in everypony’s eyes. “Now, why would she say that and do something this incriminating? Because she’s freaking out about being falsely branded saboteur.” At that moment, Namby’s insane laughter could be heard. Huh. Featherweight thought, Convenient.

The group thought about it, and now that they’d calmed down they could see the logic. Those who knew Namby could also see now that she wouldn’t have spiked the punch. Featherweight took a look around to be sure everypony was listening. “Okay,” he said, “I’m going to talk to Namby alone.”

He advanced to the defensive line, careful to stay out of throwing range. “Namby! Can we talk?”

“Why, so you can distract me while your friends break through the line?” Namby said, “I don’t think so!” She pulled out a button and, laughing maniacally, pushed it. All along the line, automated defense turrets sprang up. They locked onto Featherweight, and all of them shot newspaper at him. He yelped, and made a hasty retreat.

“She’s too far gone!” Featherweight said in despair.

“What do we do?” asked the photographer.

“Maybe if we solve the mystery,” Featherweight said slowly, “she’ll calm down. Edit, we need to review the facts.” He paused. “Edit?” He scanned the crowd, realizing Edit was nowhere to be found. Everything clicked into place. “Edit!” Featherweight yelled. He ran back onto the battlefield. “Namby, I figured it out! Edit’s the guilty one!”

“Another trick, eh?” Namby said, “Maybe I should-“ At that point, three days of no sleep caught up to her, and she passed out. Featherweight stared for a second, then shrugged.

“That works,” He turned to his crew. “Alright, half of you open up the school again, the rest come with me.” The group split up, and Featherweight led the way to Edit’s house. He was just walking out of the door with a travel sack when Featherweight and the rest came into view. He turned tail and ran for it. Featherweight and the other pegasi took to the skies. They quickly caught up and surrounded Edit.

“Why’d you do it, Edit?” Featherweight asked.

“I was trying to get rid of the competition!” Edit said, “Honestly, you should be thanking me!”

“Edit,” Featherweight said slowly, “We run a school newspaper. Namby has an actual newspaper which is how she supports herself. You were willing to ruin a pony’s life for a business you’ll only be a part of for a few years.” Edit shifted uncomfortably, and Featherweight continued, “Speaking of school, you’re still in it. What were you hoping to do after running away?”

Edit opened his mouth, paused, and then said, “Curse logic. Logic and hindsight.”

Epilogue

Featherweight and Namby looked at the newest edition of the Foal Free Press.

Foal Free sabotaged! Resident proofreader Major Edit the culprit.

“So, looks like everything turned out okay in the end,” Featherweight said.

“Yes, it is quite the marvel,” Namby said, “Who would’ve believed it, from Edit of all ponies?” She sighed, and Featherweight shifted.

“Look, Namby, I’m really sorry for everything that happened,” Featherweight said.

“As am I, Featherweight. As am I,” Featherweight winced, and Namby asked, “What? Was it something I said?”

“No, no,” Featherweight said, “You have every right to blame me-“

“Blame you?” Namby interjected, “I don’t blame you. Now, Edit, definitely, but not you.”

“But I-“ Featherweight began.

“What you did,” Namby said, “was give me a warning, and a promise to do everything you could, a promise that you kept. You believed in me, and convinced the others to do the same. You found the true culprit and cleared my name. Why would I blame you?”

Featherweight grinned sheepishly. “Maybe because I blame me?”

Namby laughed. “That would do it.” She got a thoughtful look. “Still, if you feel that bad about it, maybe I should have some form of compensation.”

“Compensation?” Featherweight asked nervously.

“Yes, a bit of revenge if you will. Perhaps you should take me out to dinner?”

Featherweight looked shocked for a moment, then a grin broke out across his face. “I think that would be the best way to set my mind at ease.”

Namby returned the smile. “Then let’s go.” They set down the newspaper and, holding hooves, left the schoolbuilding.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. This idea just came to me when I was re-watching Ponyville Confidential and I wanted to see how far I could take that one joke. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.