Featherweight scampered noiselessly up the steps to the schoolhouse, the freshly-signed permission slip clenched firmly between his teeth. He was so excited he couldn’t keep from running. The fair was in town! He couldn't wait!
He skidded silently to a stop in front of Miss Cheerilee's desk. He scanned the surface to see where it should go and he quickly recognized Apple Bloom's distinctive scrawl on a nearly identical slip, and he placed it precisely on top. He glanced up at Cheerilee for approval.
After a quick perusal, she nodded. “Thank you, Featherweight," she said, looking down at a checklist. She murmured to herself as she checked his name off. “That leaves just Archer, Twist, Truffle Shuffle…”
Featherweight had to suppress a smile as he headed over to his desk. Truffle Shuffle would get his turned in. He wouldn't miss fair food for the world.
“…and Scootaloo.”
As if summoned by the speaking of her name, Scootaloo appeared, bursting through the door and sending up clouds of dust. She proudly set her own permission slip on the desk and pranced back to her desk.
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow when she saw Rainbow Dash's scrawl on the 'guardian' line and sighed. At least she could tell that Scootaloo hadn't tried to fake it; Rainbow's signature squiggle, honed by hours of practicing for when she'd be the one giving autographs, was very distinctive. Still, would it kill her to finish her last name? Ratnbow Da--. That's what it looked like.
She put these thoughts aside as the bell rang and a few final students trickled in. She stood up and walked to the front of the classroom. “Good morning, class!”
“Good morning, miss Cheerilee!” her class chorused back.
“I'm happy to see how many of you have turned in your permission slips for the traveling fair next week.”
“Woo hoo!” Her class gave a few cheers of excitement, and she smiled and waved them down.
“Now, if you haven't, you only have until tomorrow to do so. I know we're all going to have a good time together.”
“Miss Cheerilee?” Diamond Tiara had her hoof raised.
Cheerilee smiled. “Yes, Diamond Tiara?”
“Aren't there restrictions on the rides?”
Cheerilee blinked. “Well, yes; some only permit one rider, others have a height restriction…”
“What about weight restrictions?” she asked pointedly.
Cheerilee hesitated. She hated being set up, and that's exactly what this felt like. Still, she had to give her student the benefit of the doubt. “I suppose; but I'm fairly certain that won't be an issue.”
“Oh, no; I'm thinking the other way. What about ponies being too light to ride?”
Cheerilee frowned. She had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly where this was going. “I’m sure every ride has its own restrictions depending on what kind of ride it is,” she said in an attempt to disarm her.
It didn’t work.
“Oh. Ok. Because I'd be afraid if somepony wouldn't be allowed to ride a ride for being too much of a… featherweight. Not everypony can be normal, you know?” She glanced over at Featherweight and just smirked.
Featherweight frowned, and his ears dipped slightly as he wilted. It wasn't his fault he had rolled poorly on genetics. So what if he was a little smaller than most ponies his age? That didn’t make him any less of a pony.
As one, the Cutie Mark Crusaders turned their collective scowls on Diamond Tiara. They knew from personal experience how unpleasant her perspective of 'any pony not like me is inferior' was, and felt a small sense of camaraderie for the little pegasus.
Cheerilee scowled as well. “Diamond Tiara,” she warned.
Diamond Tiara put on her most innocent look. It had gotten her out of most of the trouble she should have been in.
As offensive as it may have been, though, it hadn't been explicit enough to have violated one of the class rules. She really needed to reword them, didn't she?
She decided to settle for continuing on. “Speaking of weight, how many of you remember our discussion on mass last class?”
* * *
Later that night, Featherweight looked in the mirror. His reflection looked back, wearing a black sweater and black face paint. Featherweight pulled the black hat over his head and smiled. He had work to do.
Bright and early the next morning, Cheerilee's class arrived at the fairgrounds. Laughter and excitement filled the air as happy foals chattered about the rides and food they were about to experience.
“I want waffle cake.”
“I’m gonna ride the zipline!”
“Deep fried cheese! On a stick!”
“Pretzels! I’m getting a pretzel! The huge, salty kind!”
“Caramel apples!”
Sweetie Belle frowned and glanced over at her friend. “Can't you get those whenever you want?” she asked.
“Yeah; but it ain't the same as at the fair!” Apple Bloom protested. “They’re, like… greasier here.”
“Does that make them better?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Apple Bloom hesitated. “Well, no; but-”
“Then why would you get one?”
“Strawberries! I want strawberries!”
“I want an elephant ear!”
Snails nudged his shorter friend. “Hey, Snips, why do they call it an elephant ear if it doesn't actually come from an elephant?”
Snips froze, and Ruby Pinch accidentally bumped into him. He didn't notice the impact, nor did he feel her judgemental look as she stomped around him. “What if they do come from elephants?” he whispered.
“They don't come from elephanth,” Twist said disparagingly as she walked past. “It'th jutht fried dough with thinnamon thugar.”
Snails sighed, relieved. His elephant ear plan was still a go!
As they approached the entrance gates, Miss Cheerilee's ears pricked up. Giggles. And not the kind that came from somepony telling silly jokes or making funny faces.
Her ears pinned. She'd been a teacher long enough to know that kind of giggle. Either somepony had said 'sex' or ‘penis’ or some other taboo word, or something else 'naughty'. Maybe it had been as innocuous as a misheard phrase, and would sort itself out after a few giggles.
This was not the case. The giggles increased in intensity, and now there was nudging and foals pointing up. Cheerilee followed their hooves… and blanched as she saw the flag flying proudly over the fairgrounds; or, rather, what had replaced the flag. For instead of a patriotic or colorful flag or even a silhouette of a pony laughing, there flew instead atop the flagpole a pair of light purple panties, attached by one corner, blowing gently in the breeze.
Diamond Tiara blanched, too. Those panties looked familiar. Awfully familiar. Terribly, awfully familiar.
Silver Spoon nudged her. “Hey, Diamond, those look exactly like y-”
“I know exactly whose they look exactly like!” Diamond hissed. Then, she paused, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait a minute. How do you know what my panties looks like?”
“We play dress up, remember?” Silver Spoon said, her voice hesitating just the tiniest bit.
“Not like that, we don't.”
“I- I'm pretty sure we do,” Silver Spoon insisted.
“And I'm pretty sure I'd remember lending you my panties!” Diamond hissed.
“Wait. Tho thothe are your pantieth?” Twist asked.
Diamond Tiara froze. “Uh- No!” She fell back into the time-honored mares’ tradition of feigning offense when the argument was lost. “Ugh! What is wrong with you? Don’t you have a candy cane to suck on or something?”
Twist frowned and looked away. “I can make more than jutht candy caneth,” she protested quietly.
Had it just been earth ponies in Cheerilee’s class, there it might have ended, aside from a few more chuckles. But Ponyville is a town known for being a place where all three kinds of ponies live in harmony, and Cheerilee’s class included earth ponies, unicorns… and pegasi.
Tornado Bolt volunteered herself as delegate. She spread her wings and flew up high, peering intently at the flag. She squinted, cocked her head, then looked down and rendered her verdict. “That's her cutie mark on them, alright!”
As the foals around her giggled and looked at her, Diamond's ears burned bright red; but the worst was still yet to come.
Tornado Bolt made like she was going to get them down, but she suddenly recoiled, putting considerable distance between her and the offending clothing. “Ugh! They've got skid marks!” she announced.
“Ewww!”
Cheerilee grimaced. She knew she had a solemn responsibility to bring her class back under control. Still, as horrible as it was to say, she didn’t feel as bad as she should have felt. As much as she hated seeing one of her students be the center of such negative attention, she really found it hard to feel much sympathy for Diamond Tiara.
Face burning bright red and eyes looking firmly at the ground, Diamond Tiara almost missed Featherweight's little smirk.
Almost.
* * *
Featherweight's wings had been flared with excitement nearly the whole time. This was awesome! He moved his camera out of the way and took alternating bites between the apple bits and the fried cheese on a stick. Why would you need to decide? Why not both? Why not everything?
He glanced down at the wristband gracing his foreleg. It granted him unlimited rides on as many rides as he wanted. They had been a student package deal; or maybe the thought of keeping so many tickets straight around so many foals had just proved too daunting. Either way, he was going to take full advantage of this.
He scampered past where the cutie mark crusaders were attempting to get their cutie marks in throwing rings over the necks of small glass bottles. Their voices cut through the noise of the crowd.
“What would this even look like as a cutie mark, anyway?”
“I dunno. Keep throwing!”
Featherweight finally slowed to a stop when he arrived at the rides section. Now, for an earth pony or a unicorn, most of these rides would be amusing at best. But pegasi have wings, and when their wings are strapped down, it adds an extra sense of thrill and danger.
And thus it was that Featherweight was sitting excitedly inside an enormous teacup, seatbelt buckled securely and wings trapped against the seat back. They had room for at least three, but he'd managed to sneak on alone.
At least, or so he'd thought.
His eyes widened as hooves hit the floor of the carriage. Not so much that he'd been seen; but rather who those hooves belonged to.
“Featherweight,” Diamond Tiara said, her grin looking positively predatory. “My… friend. So good to see you.”
Featherweight gulped as she sat next to him and pulled her buckle tight.
“I couldn't help but notice that your reaction in particular to… my colors being flown this morning was a little bit off.”
Featherweight cracked a smile before realizing that that might have incriminated him.
Luckily, Diamond Tiara didn't seem to notice. “Now, before you ask, it's not Silver Spoon. She confessed to taking a pair, sure; but to wear.” Diamond pursed her lips. “She also said she liked the way they felt when she wore them, which is not less creepy at all and probably means I'll have to burn them all when I get home and go buy some more.”
Featherweight grimaced. He'd never understood the whole panty thing, but he was pretty sure that Silver Spoon had crossed some unspoken filly rule.
Not that he’d ever wear panties. Nope. Not for him. Not at all.
Diamond Tiara continued. “So I found her something else to do for a while, just until I get to the bottom of this. But I'm sure she'll be fine and we'll all get along just perfectly afterwards.”
Silver Spoon wiggled inside the box and then glanced out at the crowd. This wasn't nearly as fun as Diamond Tiara had made it sound. In fact, it was a little disturbing. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic.
“And now, fillies and gentlecolts, watch in awe as the Great and Powerful Trixie, saws this young filly… in half!”
Silver Spoon's eyes bulged out. “What?!” She looked back and sure enough, that hack magician reached inside her suitcase and pulled out a chainsaw and revved it up!
Silver Spoon screamed as loudly as she could and continued screaming until she ran out of breath; whereupon she gasped for air and then screamed again.
When she was out of breath and her screams had died once again, Trixie knocked on the box with a hoof. “Trixie hasn't even started cutting yet,” she deadpanned.
“Oh,” Silver Spoon said, ears flicking down. “Uh… sorry?”
“Behold!” Trixie tried again, raising and revving the chainsaw.
“Aiii!” Silver Spoon shrieked.
“Will you stop that!” Trixie hissed as the audience laughed. This wasn't how this trick was supposed to be performed! This was supposed to be a stunning feat that awed the crowd, not a joke to make them laugh! She tried again, making a valiant effort to hide the scowl from her face. “And now, Trixie will-”
Silver Spoon screamed again.
Trixie buried her face in her hooves. Adjusting her hat firmly over her horn, she leaned in close and pulled a long string of handkerchiefs knotted together out of Silver Spoon's ear. This prompted a giggle from some of the younger foals, and it shocked Silver Spoon into silence.
And if that wasn't enough to keep her quiet, it certainly was when Trixie stuffed the whole ball of them into Silver Spoon's mouth.
Silver struggled with the fabric in her mouth, but she stopped and her pupils shrunk to pinpricks as she heard the chainsaw begin again.
Trixie moved the saw quickly, and suddenly there were two Silver Spoons. Or, at least, two halves of one Silver Spoon. Understandably, she shrieked again, but this time it was (thankfully) muffled by the handkerchief in her mouth.
Trixie scowled at her. “Yes, yes, and now come the jokes about needing less food and fewer socks and the slightly off-color joke about when you're out on dates and-” Trixie's patience suddenly wore out, and she dropped the chainsaw. “You know what? Trixie was lied to. You are a terrible lovely assistant in that you are neither lovely nor a good assistant and Trixie will be in her trailer!” She threw her hat down in disgust, turned away, and stomped off the stage through the curtain.
She was only offstage for a few moments before she burst back on and scooped up her hat and placed it carefully back stop her head. “Also, be sure to come back for Trixie's next show, starting in one hour! Great feats of magic, and logic-defying stunts await!” She bowed as she backed off stage amidst magical fireworks and fanfares of trumpets from nowhere.
All of this was lost on her assistant. Silver Spoon spat out the handkerchief. “Wait!” she called through the fireworks, looking at her lower hooves. “Put me back together! Fix me! You have to- Trixie! Trixie!”
“But if not her, then who could it be?” Diamond Tiara mused. “We have protections against unicorns. Earth ponies couldn't get into my room without being noticed by at least one maid. It would have to be a pegasus.”
Featherweight shrugged. There were many pegasi in Ponyville.
“Don't play innocent with me, Featherweight,” Diamond growled, jabbing him in the chest with a hoof. “You’re small, you’re creepy, you can fly, and you’re silent. You’d be the perfect little sneak thief. I don't even need to prove it was you. Just a few words to my daddy, and you're going to be in a world of hurt!”
Featherweight gulped.
“And would it kill you to say something? Just once? It's so hard to know if your threats have been effective if you can't get your target's reaction.”
Featherweight shrugged.
Diamond Tiara opened her mouth again, probably to say something else demeaning; but then the ride started. Slowly, their teacup began to spin. She grabbed tightly onto the bracing bar, and Featherweight lifted his hooves into the air. He glanced over at Diamond Tiara, who seemed to be turning slightly green, and he offered a reassuring smile and nod.
* * *
Diamond Tiara leaned over the garbage can and heaved once more. Featherweight patted her back comfortingly as he held her mane back, but it didn’t help; the ride had made her sicker than the time Pinkie Pie had tried to poison the whole town.
Diamond Tiara shoved him away and continued her offering to the trash can god. At least she had managed to take her tiara off. She didn’t think this could possibly get any worse.
And then she thought heard the whirring of a camera shutter.
Featherweight held up the last of the pictures and exhaled. Perfect. They’d all come out perfectly.
He buffed a hoof against his chest proudly. Really, though, was there any other option when he was involved?
He placed the developed photo on top of the finished pile and smiled. He decided to celebrate with a cookie. The only problem was his brother was in the living room, lifting weights, and if Featherweight had a cookie, he’d probably want one, too. Except Bulk Biceps could eat a lot more cookies than Featherweight could. And if he started on the cookies, they'd soon be out of cookies. And Featherweight knew he couldn't just make more; he'd used all the baking powder baking the last batch.
Featherweight scowled, but he was not to be denied his prize. He closed his eyes, leaned against the doorway, and thought.
Before he had time to put a plan together, though, the doorbell rang. A perfect opportunity! Not knowing or caring who was at the door, he slunk out and crawled over to the refrigerator. He'd have to walk; pegasi can hear wingbeats better than any other ponies.
His ears did pin when he heard the voice of Filthy Rich, but he quickly brushed it off. The cookie was calling him.
Like a spelunker, he reached the base of the fridge and slowly crawled his way to the top, his hooves balancing precariously in the handle and between the fridge and the wall. It wasn't long before he had reached the top. He reached out for his prize, and it seemed like the day was won.
But he had celebrated too soon; his rear hooves lost purchase on the slick fridge surface and he found himself sliding backwards even as he held the cookie jar tightly. Too startled to react or even to flap his wings and too intent on a cookie to let go of the jar, he toppled over backwards and crashed into the ground.
Bulk Biceps spun back around to see Featherweight sprawled out across the kitchen floor, surrounded by cookie bits and wearing the cookie jar as a hat. He lifted the jar from over his eyes (as cookie crumbs rained down on his shoulders) and grinned sheepishly at his older brother.
Bulk Biceps sighed and looked back at Filthy Rich. “He does tend to get himself into predicaments, doesn't he? He's a good kid. Dumb-” Here he glanced backwards. Featherweight, his mouth full of cookie, looked up, chewed once, made an attempt to swallow and gave what he hoped passed for a disarming smile, “-but a good kid,” Bulk Biceps finished.
Filthy Rich exhaled. “Be that as it may, the report that he took pictures of my daughter without her permission-”
Featherweight shot upright and waved both hooves back and forth, as if signalling an incomplete pass. He stepped backwards and motioned with his head, inviting him to follow. When they started towards him, he scampered back to his room and pulled out the stack of pictures. He held them out for Filthy to examine them.
He did so, and his eyebrow raised as he flicked through them. They were all candid shots, and all of them were of foals; but they were all high quality.
Well, from a foal's point of view, that is. Filthy sincerely doubted the picture of Snips and Snails posing with the Bearded Mare would win any photography awards; but they certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“He’s the editor of the Foal Free Press,” Bulk Biceps said with a hint of pride.
“So he is,” Filthy said dryly. He hadn't forgotten who had held that job previously.
Finally, he came to the picture of Diamond Tiara.
She was laughing uproariously as a cornflower blue magician in a ridiculous pointed hat pulled yet another dove out of nowhere and gave it to a very uncomfortable-looking silver filly, who looked as though she had enough birds on her already that they could have lifted her up if they’d all flapped at once. He cracked a smile and held them back out. “I'm sure she's just overreacting a bit,” he said. “Sometimes she has a different perspective on things, after all.”
After he'd left, Featherweight exhaled and turned to go back into his room… and bumped right into his brother.
He grinned, but Bulk Biceps was not fooled. “There's more pictures than that, huh?” It didn't even have to be a question.
Featherweight shrugged.
Bulk Biceps leaned down… and then grinned nervously. “Any of… you know…?”
Featherweight drew the outline of Fluttershy's mane with a hoof and raised an eyebrow teasingly.
“Yeah,” Bulk Biceps said.
Featherweight dug under a stack of old newspapers and pulled one out. Fluttershy, wearing a wide smile, was crouched down, introducing herself to a young golden ewe at the petting zoo.
Bulk Biceps reverently took it. “I'm gonna… deliver this,” he said, half requesting and half pleading.
Featherweight made a shooing motion. Bulk nodded and flew off.
Now that he was gone… Featherweight turned back to his stack of papers. He had some other things to do.
* * *
Diamond Tiara was hosting a fancy tea party complete with craisin and white chocolate chip cookies, and only the finest ponies were invited: she, herself, and hers truly.
So it was a bit of a surprise when there was a knocking at her window. She glanced over… and she scowled angrily as she recognized the pony there.
She aggressively threw open the window. “What?!” she demanded.
Featherweight held out an envelope. Squinting suspiciously, Diamond Tiara took it and dumped the contents out on the ground.
It was a negative of her mid-trash can offering. She blushed furiously and with a furious shriek, she stomped on it repeatedly, grinding it to little bits with the edge of her hoof. She looked up and smiled triumphantly… but Featherweight seemed to be ok with that. He shrugged and offered a winning (if slightly bucktoothed) smile.
Diamond Tiara squinted. “So… you're offering a truce?” she tried.
Featherweight held up a hoof. On one condition. He pointed at the plate of cookies and licked his lips.
Diamond Tiara scowled, but chose one to give him. Sure, it was the smallest, ugliest cookie there (which wasn't saying much; they had a high standard of cookies in the Rich household) and held it out.
Right as Featherweight reached for it, though, she dropped it.
He looked down, betrayed, and then looked back at Diamond Tiara…
And smirked.
A horrifying thought occurred to her, and the blood drained from her face. “That wasn't the only picture you took, was it?”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Featherweight slowly shook his head.
Diamond's heart began to race. She looked down, as if hoping the pattern in the bedsheets could provide the answer she sought, and then looked back up. “I can offer you more cookies than you could-”
Her voice trailed off as Featherweight shrugged, holding the five cookies he had swiped. With a mocking salute, he turned and flew away, chuckling to himself and shoving cookies in his mouth as Diamond Tiara shouted desperate pleas, angry pleas, and then threats after him.
He hadn’t actually taken any other pictures of Diamond Tiara; but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Her paranoia would provide better revenge than just leaking a photo in the Foal Free Press next issue.
Some might feel that being so small and quiet would be a disadvantage; but Featherweight certainly didn't think so.
It was all a matter of perspective, really.