Princess Twilight Sparkle: Dead At 18
TELEPORTATION INVARIABLY FATAL, WARNS LEADING SCHOLAR
Overnight Stringer
Canterlot Times
Princess Twilight Sparkle died and was replaced by a copy three months ago according to a highly placed source at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.
“Teleportation – that is, moving something from one place to another without going in-between, is impossible,” said Standard Benchmarks.
According to Standard Benchmarks, teleportation spells are actually duplication spells. “You make an exact duplicate of yourself at your target, then erase the original. Obviously. Much simpler. The pony we all know as Princess Twilight Sparkle is actually just the most recent copy of the princess, created after her latest casting of the spell. From a certain point of view, she isn’t the same princess that we crowned at all.”
It is unclear whether she knows that her previous copies have all been destroyed, but Standard Benchmarks believes so. “She knows too much,” he said.
Separate memorial services for the Twilight Sparkle who saved Equestria from Discord and the Princess Twilight Sparkle who saved Equestria from Tirek are planned for Sunday at 1 and 2 pm at Grave News’ Mortuary Services.
“I can’t believe this!” Twilight shouted, slamming the newspaper down on the illusory map in her throne room.
“I know, right? They didn’t even mention how many times I died,” Spike said, shaking his head from his own smaller chair.
“That’s not what I meant, Spike!” Twilight smacked her hoof on the paper. “I mean, who even writes something like this?”
“Well, it says his name right there beneath the headli—”
“And Standard Benchmarks isn’t a scholar! He’s a janitor! He moves around furniture and laboratory equipment. He isn’t even a unicorn!” She threw her hooves in the air. “Why would anypony even ask him how teleportation worked?”
“You gotta admit, his name is kind of ambiguous. Standard Benchmarks, Benchmark Standards…”
“Ugh.” Twilight collapsed face-first onto the crumpled newspaper.
“Well, just look on the bright side. You really like orchids, right? You can just show up at the memorial services, eat all the flowers, and be done with it. I mean, what are they going to do, arrest you? You can’t charge a dead pony with disrupting a funeral.”
“Lilies, Spike. They use lilies at funerals.”
“I’m pretty sure they use orchids as well,” Spike said, scratching the back of his neck.
Twilight slumped. “It doesn’t matter, Spike!” She sighed. “Today’s Saturday, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
“I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning.”
Spike smiled weakly, hopping off his throne to walk over and pat Twilight on the head. “They probably just wrote it to sell papers. I mean, it’s not like anypony would actually believe something like that, right?”
“Um,” Fluttershy said from the doorway, “are you alright, Twilight?”
“I’m fine,” Twilight muttered into the crumpled paper.
“Oh, good. Because you looked like you were upset. I can come back later, if now is a bad time.”
The paper rustled as Twilight slowly lifted her head to shake it. “No, it’s fine. I was just getting annoyed at the newspaper.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy hung her head. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault they told everypony in Equestria that I was dead a hundred times over.”
“Yes. That was terribly insensitive of them.”
“I mean, it isn’t like Princess Celestia doesn’t teleport, and nopony writes stuff like this about her.”
Fluttershy pawed at the floor awkwardly. “Does it hurt?”
“Them printing a dumb article about me? I mean, maybe a little, but at least it isn’t as bad as the time Weekly Equus News claimed I was Celestia’s secret lovechild.”
“Which time? Before or after you were coronated?” Spike asked.
“Both!”
“I wasn’t asking about the article.” Fluttershy stared at the floor. “Though, I’m sorry that it hurts.”
“It’s alright, Fluttershy. What were you asking about, then?” Twilight tilted her head. “You aren’t still worried about my wing, are you?”
Fluttershy shook her head. “I meant when you teleport. That doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Twilight blinked. “Why would it hurt?”
“Doesn’t being erased from all of existence hurt? Or does it happen too fast?”
Twilight stared, her mouth hanging open.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just go now—”
“You actually believed this garbage?”
Fluttershy recoiled as if struck. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”
Twilight groaned, rubbing her face with her hoof. “No, it’s fine. It’s just, I would have thought you would have realized just how ridiculous it was.”
Fluttershy paused at the threshold. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you know all about nature and animals and stuff. They’re pretty complicated, right?”
Fluttershy nodded her head. “They are pretty fascinating.”
“So you know a lot about biology and anatomy and stuff, right?”
“Right.”
“Didn’t you stop and think about just how hard it would be to copy all that stuff?”
“Well, um… I did think about that a little at first. I mean, the brain alone is made up of a trillion cells; how could you get them all in the exact right place?”
“You see?”
“But then I thought about that parasprite you created when you were fighting Trixie, and I realized that you could create life.”
“I can’t create life! I can’t even create something simple like a chair, much less a living creature!”
“But, then, how—”
Twilight sighed. “Summoning. I summoned a parasprite that we led into the Everfree Forest, then banished it afterwards.”
“Oh. That does make a lot more sense; I thought looked kind of familiar.”
“See?”
“But, um, I also saw you turn a frog into an orange. How did you do that if you can’t create a living thing? An orange is a thing.”
“Oh!” Twilight brightened, sitting up. “That’s because of morphic fields. You see, you’re not really changing one thing into another, you’re just making reality think you’ve turned it into something else. It is much easier than actually trying to turn one thing into another permanently; that would require way more energy and concentration. It also means that when the spell wears off, you revert to your original state. That’s why it isn’t perfect; your body still remembers what it is supposed to be, on top of what it is. That’s why we looked like ourselves when I turned us into breezies, and why we remembered it afterwards, and why the frog was still jumping around after I turned it into an orange.” Twilight tipped her head. “I mean, I guess you could use trimming magic, but that would get really messy, and there’d be no way of undoing it.”
“Trimming magic?”
“Like they use on sculpted trees. The difference is – well, it is probably easier to show than tell. Spike, why don’t you get my chalkboard, and I can just go and explain this to you?”
Fluttershy paled. “That’s alright. I need to go feed my animals anyway. Thanks anyway, Twilight.”
“No problem!”
Fluttershy paused at the door. “I’m sorry I believed that silly newspaper article.”
“It’s alright! I realized that I never really explained how it worked to anypony else, and I can see how it might be confusing.” Twilight smiled cheerfully.
“Thanks.” Fluttershy retreated through the doorway as Twilight slumped back onto her throne.
“Ugh. Well, that was awkward.”
Spike fidgeted with his claws. “So do you think our other friends all believed that newspaper article?”
“Probably not. I mean, Fluttershy is a little panic-prone, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure they’re fine.”
“Twilight! I have to talk to you!” Rainbow Dash shouted as Twilight stepped out the front door of her castle.
“Of course,” Twilight said flatly, swinging the great gates closed behind her with her magic.
Rainbow Dash zipped down from the sky and flared her wings to land beside her friend. “What’d you say?”
“Oh, nothing.” Twilight said brightly. “What did you want to talk about? Is some monster attacking Ponyville? Again?”
“Huh? No, no monsters as far as I’ve seen. Why would there be?”
“Well, it is Saturday.”
“Oh come on, Twilight! It’s not like that many monsters attack on Saturday. I mean there was what, Discord and the bugbear?”
“And the Ursa Minor. And the parasprites. And the hydra. And Cerberus. And Tirek. Not to mention Nightmare Moon.”
“Actually, that was more on Sunday morning.”
“Whatever.” Twilight waved her hoof. “What is it?”
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Just… don’t teleport me again without asking, okay?” She paused. “Actually, scratch that. Just don’t teleport me again period.”
Twilight groaned. “Is this about that newspaper article?”
“Yes!” Rainbow Dash waved her hooves. “I mean, destroying somepony and creating an exact duplicate of them? That’s horrible!”
“Rainbow—”
“I mean, I get why you do it – you need it to fight big nasty monsters and stuff.” She paused. “And to get across the kitchen, but whatever. Look, point is, I don’t care if you do it, but I’m the fastest flier in all of Equestria. Every time you copy me, there’s another one of me in the afterlife. What happens then, huh? Are there two of me just sitting around in the afterlife, both trying to be the fastest? There can only be one fastest pegasus, Twilight!”
“Well, no, becau—”
“And what about my mom? How do you think she’d feel if I showed up and was like, ‘Well, sorry, Mom, but now there’s two of me because Twilight really needed to get to Canterlot on time.’”
“That’s not how—”
“That’s lame, Twilight!”
“RAINBOW DASH!” Twilight shouted.
Rainbow Dash blinked. “What is it, Twilight?”
Twilight’s chest heaved. “That’s not how it works. And worse still, you’ve been teleported before! Did it feel like you were being ripped up into a million tiny little atoms and then reassembled from scratch in a new location?”
“How would I know what that feels like?”
“That’s not the point!” Twilight’s hoof cut through the air. “The point is that you’re going from one place to another while briefly passing through the immaterial æther. It even feels that way! Don’t you remember how when we were running from those dragons with Spike and we were still running when we came out the other side? I even tripped and fell!”
“Oh, yeah. Huh. Oh well.” Rainbow Dash shrugged and began to turn away. “Well, I guess you can keep teleporting me or whatever.”
“Besides, even if it did work by destroying you and making an exact copy, it’s not like there would be more than one of you anyway.”
“Huh?” Rainbow Dash stopped. “What do you mean? Is that some weird like, science thing, where you can’t tell the copy apart from the real thing because they’re exact duplicates or something? Because I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.”
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s because you have no soul.” Twilight waved her hoof dismissively.
Rainbow Dash scowled. “Wow. That’s really racist, Twilight. What are you going to do next, start calling Applejack a mud pony?”
“What’s a mud pony?” Twilight tilted her head.
Rainbow Dash stared. “Really?”
“Look, Rainbow. Apparently I have to go explain to all my friends that I’m not actually killing them every time we teleport, so I might as well get that out of the way before someone starts a panic.” Twilight began to walk away, only to have Rainbow Dash land in front of her.
“Hey, wait. What do you mean by me not having a soul, huh?”
“Nopony has a soul, Rainbow Dash. I thought everypony knew that.”
“What?” Rainbow Dash fell back a step. “So you mean, if I die, that’s it? Like, I wouldn’t exist anymore?”
“Er, I guess. As far as anypony knows.”
Rainbow Dash’s eyes dilated. “So like, when you said you were afraid I’d broken my neck after that stunt, and you’d never see me again, you meant never ever? As in, not ever?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s why we were so worried about you.” Twilight leaned forward. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I gotta go.” Rainbow Dash flared her wings and launched herself into the sky, leaving Twilight in a cloud of dust.
Twilight coughed, waving her hoof in front of her face as she stared up at the rainbow-colored trail. “What got into her?”
“Pinkie Pie? Are you here?” Twilight asked, sticking her head in through the front door of Sugarcube Corner.
“I’m in the kitchen!”
“Oh, good,” Twilight said as she started walking forward. “Someone having a perfectly normal—”
Twilight gawked. Piled high on every available surface of the back of the bakery were cakes. Black cakes with white fondant frills stacked on white cakes with black fondant frills. Purple cakes with black frosting, and black cakes with purple frosting. Even as Twilight watched, an oven dinged and Pinkie Pie bent over to remove several more of the things, setting the cakes up on the counter before she scrambled over to grab several bowls full of frosting in her hooves.
“Oh, Twilight, you’re just the pony I wanted to see! Well, one of the ponies I wanted to see, anyway.”
“What is all this?” Twilight asked, stepping up to examine the closest cake.
“Funeral cakes, silly!” Pinkie Pie stuck a spatula into one of the bowls, scooping out some frosting onto one of the cakes in front of her. “Or would they be memorial service cakes, as there isn’t any body?”
“Wow. That’s a lot of cakes for one funeral.” Twilight read the inscription on one of the cakes. “Seven-hundred and ninety-two? You numbered them?”
“One funeral? Are you crazy? Nopony would need that much cake.” Pinkie Pie paused. “Well, unless it was Princess Celestia’s funeral. Or maybe Princess Luna’s.”
“Maybe? You don’t think as many ponies would show up for Luna’s funeral?”
“Oh, no. I just was thinking that it wouldn’t be enough. Celestia really likes cake.”
Twilight sighed. “You do realize it was just that one time, right?”
“Why do you think she started secretly ordering cakes from me instead, silly?”
Twilight looked up from the cake. “What?”
“What?” Pinkie Pie blinked innocently.
Twilight shook herself. “So if these aren’t all for one funeral, why do you need so many of them? I think I would have heard if seven-hundred and ninety-two—
“Actually, it is seven-hundred and ninety-six. The last four cakes are in the oven.”
“—seven-hundred and ninety six ponies died today. It would have been in the paper.”
“But it was in the newspaper! Speaking of which, what kind of cake do you want?”
“What kind of cake do I want for what?”
“Your funeral, silly!”
Twilight grimaced. “That’s a bit morbid, isn’t it?”
“That’s what I thought! But then I thought, ‘Pinkie, if I died, wouldn’t I want my friends to know what kind of cake I wanted?’ But then I realized I wouldn’t be there to eat the cake, and then I thought I should ask everypony else what kind of cake they wanted, so they would get the right kind of cake. And then I realized that everypony likes a different kind of cake, so I’d really have to make a bunch of cakes. But then I read the newspaper this morning and realized—”
“Is this about that newspaper article about me?” Twilight asked suspiciously.
“Yup! And that’s why I wanted to know what cake you wanted. I never got to ask the rest of you.” Pinkie Pie’s ears drooped. “Not even number eighty-two. I really liked her.” She sniffed.
“Pinkie—”
“And that’s why I wanted to know! Because with seven-hundred and ninety-six of you, I figured, why not make a cake for Twilight? At least, I think there’s seven-hundred and ninety-six. That’s all I counted. You didn’t teleport when I wasn’t watching, did you?”
Twilight groaned and started to step forward before stopping. “Pinkie, why is there cake on the floor?”
“Because I ran out of space on the counters, duh!”
Twilight rolled her eyes and lit up her horn, blinking across the room to where Pinkie Pie was working. “Pinkie Pie—”
Pinkie Pie gasped. “No! Now I’ll never know what kind of cake she wanted!” She grabbed onto Twilight. “Please don’t do that again without telling me!”
“I won’t. But Pinkie—”
The pink pony’s eyes widened. “And now I need to make another cake! Oh, where did the flour go?” She pushed away from Twilight, dashing over to the cupboard and lifting a deflated-looking sack.
“Pinkie!” Twilight slammed her hoof into the floor before glancing down at it.
“Yes, Twilight?” Pinkie Pie said, smiling.
“I’m not dead.”
“Well, of course you’re not dead. But past-Twilight—”
“Isn’t dead either. She’s me. Teleportation doesn’t work like that.”
“Oh. I was wondering about that.”
“You were, huh?” Twilight said wryly.
“Of course! I mean, making an exact copy of somepony would violate the no-cloning theorem. I was wondering how you were getting around that.”
Twilight licked her lips. “You mean the idea that it is impossible to make an exact copy of the quantum states of a system?”
“Uh-huh! But then I remembered about the mirror pool, and decided that it must be more of a guideline.” Pinkie Pie stopped mid-step. “Should I make cakes for them, too?”
“Who?”
“You know. The other Pinkie Pies who came out of the pool!”
Twilight fell back onto her haunches. “You mean the mirror clones? I just sent them back to the pool. I didn’t kill them! Why would you even think that?”
“Well, you kind of killed King Sombra and Queen Chrysalis.” Pinkie Pie tapped her hoof to her chin. “Well, at least I’m pretty sure they’re dead. Though I guess that was really Princess Cadance and Shining Armor. Hm. No wonder Tirek went after you instead.”
“Pinkie Pie. Tirek went after Shining Armor and Princess Cadance, too.”
“Oh? That was silly of him. He’s lucky we were the ones who beat him.”
Twilight groaned.
“So, uh…” Pinkie Pie glanced around her kitchen. “You want some cake?”
Twilight drug her hooves as she walked towards the Carousel Boutique. “Oh, please-please-please let Rarity not be working on funeral gowns.” Sighing, she stepped up to the front door and knocked. “Rarity, are you in there?”
“We’re in here!” Spike called.
“We?” Twilight shook her head and pushed the door open, blinking at the sight of Rarity fussing over Spike as he sat on her couch, grinning. “Uh, what’s gotten into her?”
“Oh, Twilight! It is simply awful!” Rarity wailed.
Twilight sighed. “Please tell me this isn’t because you’re making funeral gowns.”
“Of course not.”
“Thank goodness—”
“They’re terribly tacky. All that black. And the veils?” Rarity shook her head and tsked.
“I know, right?” Spike said, shrugging.
“Oh, I knew you would have good taste, Spikey-poo.” She patted him on the head before her hooves slid down around his shoulders to tug him into a hug. “And now I shall never see you again! You’ll be whisked away by Twilight, and the next time I see you, it will be a new you, and you will be gone forever!” Rarity’s eyes shimmered.
Twilight set her mouth. “You know what? No. I’ve already gotten this from three ponies, I’m not getting it from you, too. I don’t die every time I teleport, the pony who was interviewed by the Canterlot Times was a janitor, and you’ve been teleported before and know you weren’t disintegrated.”
Rarity paused mid-sniffle. “But it was just so—”
“What? Convincing? That I kill myself every time I teleport? That I make an infinite number of copies of myself? That I can make copies of myself? Because I’m pretty sure that if I could do that, beating Tirek would not have been a problem.”
“Well, yes, but—”
Twilight jabbed her hoof at Rarity. “And worst of all, you are a unicorn! You should know all this! Creating a copy of me, with all my powers, would take more magic than all of the ponies in Equestria have! If it was all unleashed at once, it would destroy all of Equestria between here and Canterlot! Do you think I would just unleash that kind of power so I fetch a book from the other side of the room?”
“Well, no, but—”
“No! It is completely ridiculous!” Twilight strode across the room towards Rarity and Spike. “And I am sick and tired of all my friends thinking that I keep killing myself for no reason!”
“Come on, Twilight. It’s not that bad,” Spike said, raising his hands.
“And you!” Twilight rounded on her assistant. “You already know all this! Why didn’t you tell her?”
Spike rocked back and forth on Rarity’s sofa. “Well, uh, you see, it’s kind of a funny story—”
“Spike. Castle. Now.”
“But, Twilight—”
Twilight glared.
“I’m going!” Spike hopped down off the couch and ran out the door, Twilight’s eyes following him across the room.
Twilight waited for several seconds before whirling around the face Rarity. “And you need to stop leading Spike on like this! This is not okay! He goes to sleep with a little doll that looks just like you! It even has blue eyes!”
“Yes, it is darling, isn’t it?” Rarity leaned forward. “Just between you and me, it was the mane that gave me the most trouble. I never realized how impossible it was to be so fabulous.”
Twilight’s eye twitched. “You made it for him? You?”
“Yes.” Rarity tilted her head. “Is something the matter?”
Twilight bit her lip. “You know what? Yes, there is something ‘the matter’.” She lifted her hooves to make the appropriate marks in the air. “I try telling him that you’re not interested, that you’re a grown mare, but every time I think I’ve got him convinced, you start batting your eyes at him and then it starts all over again. You need to do it.”
“Twilight, you are taking things far too seriously. Didn’t you have a crush on somepony when you were little?”
“Yes! And I told her, and she told me what you should be telling Spike, and I got over it!”
Rarity blinked. “She?”
“That’s not important!”
“No, I think—”
“He has dreams about you, Rarity! Ice cream dreams! He has them so often he has given them names!”
Rarity froze. “Ice cream dreams?”
“Yes!” Twilight sat back on her haunches and gesticulated. “Involving nothing but you, him, and a whole lot of ice cream.”
Rarity’s mouth worked soundlessly as Twilight glared at her.
“Well?” Twilight said eventually, her shoulders falling.
“I’ll have a little talk with the dear.”
Twilight glanced up at the town clock before slowly rising to her hooves. “An hour should be enough,” Twilight said as she slowly rose to her hooves and began to trudge back through the Ponyville market towards her castle. To her left, Crafty Crate was closing up his stall, pulling down the cover over the front window. To her right—
“Howdy, Twilight! Or am I a stranger to you, seein’ as you’ve probably used that magic of yours since yesterday afternoon.”
Twilight groaned. “Not you too.”
Applejack ducked her head. “Shucks. Somepony already made that joke?”
“Joke?” Twilight blinked.
Applejack lifted her hat. “Yeah, you know. On account of the paper?”
“The paper? That was a joke?”
“Well, I reckon it musta been. I mean, what kind of pony would believe that magic of yours kills you every time you use it?”
“Oh, just about every pony in Ponyville.”
Applejack stepped over next to her friend. “That bad, huh?”
“Fluttershy wanted to know if it hurt. Rainbow Dash thought I made multiple copies of her in the afterlife. Pinkie Pie baked me a funeral cake, one for every time I teleported. And Rarity was fussing over Spike, as if she would never see him again. Rarity! And she’s a unicorn!”
Applejack furrowed her brow. “What does bein’ a unicorn have to do with seein’ that article was a load of what comes outta a pig sty?”
“Nothing, apparently.”
“Heh, that’s funny. I’ll have to give her a hard time about it the next time we talk.”
“Believe me, it is less funny than you think.”
Applejack shook her head. “Oh, sugar cube. Don’t you fret. Their hearts are in the right place, even if they ain’t got a lick of sense between ’em. Reckon maybe I don’t either, given the way I keep runnin’ off after you chasin’ after monsters like Tirek and Discord.”
Twilight chuckled weakly.
“But I ain’t lost all my sense. Fact is, I knew that article was only fit for washin’ hogs the moment I saw it.”
Twilight’s ears pricked forward. “Was it because of the violation of the Heiheberg uncertainty principle? Or the fact that creating a bunch of biomolecules out of thin air includes a mixture of potassium and water and would likely react before you could fully form the body and result in a violent thermodynamic reaction?”
“Uh, neither. Shoot, I don’t even know half of what you just said there.” Applejack tipped her hat. “All I know is you, and you know magic. And I know you never woulda used it on Spike or a single one of your friends if you knew it killed ’em and made another pony in their place.”
Applejack stopped as she realized that Twilight wasn’t walking beside her anymore. “Twilight?”
Twilight sat in the middle of the road, tears running down her cheeks.
“You okay there, Twi?”
“Just fine,” Twilight muttered, rising to her hooves to wrap Applejack in a tight hug.
Applejack awkwardly patted her friend on the back. “That bad, huh?”
“I’m just happy somepony finally figured that out.”
Applejack smiled uncertainly. “Er, uh. Anytime.”
“Come on,” Twilight said, letting go of her friend and stepping off down the road. “I’m sure Spike and Rarity are done talking by now.”
“Huh?”
“Hello?” Twilight called as she pushed open the doors to her castle. “Is anypony… home?”
Twilight gaped. Filling the front hall of her castle were hundreds upon hundreds of very familiar looking cakes.
“Hoo-ey, that’s a lot of cake,” Applejack said. “What’s the occasion?”
“Twilight’s not-funeral, of course!” Pinkie Pie shouted, springing out of the kitchen, only to land on one of the cakes and send frosting splattering across the floor.
“Pinkie.” Twilight finally managed. “Did you bring all the cakes to my castle?”
“Uh huh! I figured, since they were made for your funerals, they were all your cakes anyway, even though you weren’t dead.”
Twilight twitched. “What am I going to do with seven hundred and ninety-two cakes?”
“Seven hundred and ninety-six, actually,” Pinkie Pie said sheepishly. “I figured I might as well finish off the last four I had in the oven.”
“I ’spect she meant, what was she supposed to do with all those cakes?”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “Well, eat them. Duh!”
“Yeah, we’ll even help!” came a raspy voice from the back of the hall.
Twilight leaned to the side, trying to look down past the disorganized rows of pastries. “Rainbow Dash?”
“Yup!” The pegasus rose up, flying unsteadily over the top of the cakes to join her friends by the door, a shiny red helmet perched on her head, matching pads adorning all four of her legs.
Twilight blinked. “What’s with the pads?”
Rainbow Dash fidgeted. “Better safe than sorry? I mean, I wouldn’t want to have an accident and die and—”
Twilight held up her hoof. “You know what? Forget I asked.” She glanced around the room. “So, uh, cake?”
“Ooh! Fluttershy is even bringing ice cream!” Pinkie Pie beamed.
“Fluttershy?”
“Yeah, Spike gave her his emergency ice cream supply. Said he didn’t need it anymore.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “That dragon sure must like ice cream. He had enough for two ponies to take a bath in it at the same time!”
Twilight slumped to the ground and threw her hooves over her face. “I hate Saturdays.”
