Hoopy's Notebook

by Hoopy McGee

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Random
Length: 12378

A collection of short fiction

Sometimes, I just want to write something silly. Or weird. Or just plain strange. This collection of those stories, scenes, one-shots and writing experiments that don't quite rate their own stand-alone stories.

Default tags are Random and Slice-of-Life. Additional tags will be added in the Author's Notes at the beginning of each chapter, as needed.

Coverart by one of my favorite artists, Lightfalls

Published 2016-04-01 13:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-10-13 22:56:06 UTC

Every day is Monday

Spike had just started pouring his strawberry-frosted mini-haystacks into his cereal bowl when he heard Twilight coming down the stairs of the Golden Oaks library. He hesitated, jug of milk in one hand, in order to listen to the cadence of her hooves on the steps before letting out a satisfied grunt. Judging by the plodding, shuffling sound, with frequent yawn-breaks, Twilight had spent most of the night studying away, and was most likely severely sleep-deprived as a result.

"'Morning, Twilight," he said as the unicorn came into view. He poured the milk into the bowl, starting the process of getting the miniature haystacks nice and soggy. "Let me guess: another late night of studying?"

"Good morning, Spike," Twilight responded, taking a seat across the table from him. Her horn lit up, floating another bowl out of the cupboard and dumping a measure of the cereal into it. "Yeah, I was up late reading Starswirl the Bearded's 'Grimoire Tempus: Time, Space, and Other Relative Nonsense'."

"What, that thing again?" Spike snorted as he sprinkled powdered ruby over his cereal.

"Yes, it's simply..." Twilight trailed off, brow lowering in confusion as she stared at her number one assistant. "What do you mean 'again'?"

"Well, it's the same book you read the night before. And the night before that, come to think of it."

"What? No, I haven't. I just got it yesterday."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ha-ha. Good joke, Twilight. It's even funnier today than it was yesterday."

Twilight's horn glowed, shoving her cereal bowl aside. "Spike," she said, in a voice as serious as calculus, "I only got that book yesterday."

"Ah, no, Twilight. You got it on Sunday, remember? It showed up in the afternoon and you spent ten minutes giving Miss Ditzy the third degree because she'd forgotten to deliver it on Saturday."

Twilight wilted, looking a little ashamed at that. "Was I really that bad?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"I didn't mean to sound critical. I should apologize to her."

"You did that already, remember?"

"On Sunday, when I got the book?"

"No, the day after you got the book." Spike frowned at the frazzle-maned unicorn across the table from him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Spike." Twilight chewed her lip. "What day is today, then?"

"It's Wednesday morning."

Twilight's brow furrowed as she stared at him. "No, that can't be right. Can it?"

Spike pointed silently towards the wall calendar, which was the kind where you tore off each day. It was currently proudly stating that the day was, indeed, "Wednesday".

"This isn't possible," Twilight muttered. "This is supposed to be Monday morning. How could I lose track of two whole days?"

Spike chewed his cereal as Twilight started pacing in the kitchen. Years of serving as her trusted Number One Assistant allowed him to gauge her mood accurately, and he set his spoon in the bowl and pushed his breakfast aside just before she reached full freak-out stage.

"You didn't try out any of the spells, did you?" he asked.

"What?" Twilight stopped pacing, blinking over her shoulder at Spike. Her mane was frazzled and her eyes were a little wild, clear signs of an imminent breakdown. "Maybe? One or two little spells..." Her eyes bugged out as she sucked in a deep breath. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no! This is really bad. Really really bad! I must have done something, cast some spell, that resets my personal timeline every day!" A look of horror crossed her face. "Every day for the rest of my life is going to be Monday!"

"Oh, no!" Spike cried. "How horrible!"

"What do I do?" Twilight began prancing frantically in place. "I'll be trapped in Monday forever!"

"Maybe the Princess can help?" Spike suggested.

"Good idea! I'll write a letter—"

"I can't send a letter today, I'm all out of flame."

"What?!" Twilight stopped dead and stared at him. "That can happen?"

"I guess so. I used it all up yesterday during the big Ponyville Cookout Party, because we were counting on you to buy the propane for the grills!" Spike paused briefly. "Actually, if you're resetting every day, then that would probably explain why you didn't order it. Still, I've got to wait for my flame to recover before I can send any letters to Princess Celestia."

"How long?" Twilight demanded.

"Not until tomorrow at the earliest," Spike said.

"That's too late! I'll have reset by then!"

"Maybe you can take the train out there?"

"Good idea, Spike!" Twilight directed her manic, wobbly-eyed gaze at the nearby wall-clock. "The next train leaves in twenty-seven minutes! I'd better hurry!"

Spike considered asking if she really had the train schedule to Canterlot memorized, then thought better of it. Of course she did.

Five minutes later, with hurriedly-packed saddlebags resting on her back, an obviously-overwrought Twilight Sparkle ran out of the library door with a parting, "Be good, Spike!" lingering in the air behind her.

Spike, standing in the doorway, watched as she galloped off. "Huh," he said, then closed the door.

~~*~~

It was nearly midnight when Spike heard the library door open. He glanced up from his comic book to see Twilight, looking tired and worn out, trudging her way inside, leaden-hoofed and sagging. He briefly considered getting up before deciding Nah, my beanbag chair is way too comfy right now.

"Hey, Twilight," he said, placing his comic on the floor beside him. "How was Canterlot?"

Twilight froze in the process of hanging up her saddlebags, one of her ears twitching.

"Spike," she said eventually. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Who, me?" Spike asked, all innocent. "I don't know what you mean."

"I got to Canterlot in the late afternoon," Twilight said as she hung her saddlebags on a hook by the door. "I got off of the train, ran all the way to the palace and barged right into Princess Celestia's day court."

"You don't say?"

"I do say, Spike." Twilight stepped into the main room and stared down at him. "I blurted out the whole thing. The book, the late night studying, the spell, and the time resets. And do you want to know what the Princess said to me?"

"Oh, boy, do I ever."

"She sat there on her throne, in the middle of a court full of nobles, royal guards and petitioners. She looked down at me and said, 'But Twilight. Today is Monday.'"

"Huh," Spike said. "Go figure."

"I just want to know one thing, Spike," Twilight said, stepping closer.

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

Spike crossed his arms and glowered up at her. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before eating all of my ice cream."

Portents

It was one Princess Celestia's very favorite times of the year: Enrollment Day, when all the young unicorn colts and fillies tried to fill out the limited number of spaces available in her School for Gifted Unicorns. The weather for it couldn't have been nicer, with the weather pegasi to thank for the clear blue skies and low humidity. The day was bright and cheerful, the perfect compliment to all the eager young unicorn colts and fillies on the grounds, most of whom seemed incapable of walking when running was an option.

It was during a walk through the school's gardens that a strange phenomenon caught the Princess's eye. A wave of rainbow colors rippled their way through the sky in an expanding ring of prismatic brilliance, bringing Princess Celestia up short during her otherwise uneventful walk.

Celestia turned to watch as the wave passed overhead, the colors flowing across the sky like watercolors spilled across a canvas. A wave of nostalgia passed over Celestia as she reveled in the sight of it, as it had been centuries since a pegasus had last performed a sonic rainboom. Whoever had managed it was certainly a pony to keep an eye on.

The Princess had barely begun resuming her walk when one of the towers exploded. Or, at least, that was her first impression.

She turned to look at the tower and was mildly surprised to see the head and shoulders of a large and inexplicable dragon protruding from the top of the tower’s dome. The dragon, oddly chubby for one of its kind, blinked slowly in the afternoon sunlight.

Hmm. How peculiar, she mused. First the sonic rainboom, and now a dragon erupting out of the Testing Tower. This was shaping up to be a very interesting day, indeed.

She made her way to the top of the tower with some haste, summoning her own power in order to craft mighty shields and cunning wards. Celestia believed in being prepared, after all. Something was obviously attacking her school, something powerful enough to break through the ancient pre-existing wards around the school grounds in order to summon a dragon ally—a dragon which had looked little nonplussed to find its head poking out of a tower, but a dragon nonetheless.

Whatever creature that had summoned the dragon was at the top of the tower, and Princess Celestia was resolved to defeat it. Whether it was an ancient sorcerer bent on domination or one of Equestria’s seemingly-endless supernatural enemies seeking revenge, Celestia would stop it, just as she’d stopped every other threat to her little ponies over the centuries of her existence.

The door to the testing chamber at the top of the tower was vibrating, thrumming like a plucked bass string. Wild magic sleeted around her, crashing up against reality and trying to remake it in various subtle ways. Celestia added a few more wards and strengthened her shields, mentally and emotionally bracing herself to confront the enraged lich-king or vengeful demigod who could throw around such power, and opened the door. She was ready for anything.

Anything, that is, except for a tiny, purple filly hanging suspended in midair, glowing and twitching as unrestrained magic poured out of her.

That… is even more peculiar.

A quick scan showed that the filly wasn’t possessed, nor was she some eldritch creature disguised as a small child. It seemed like the font of all this power really was just an adorable little girl who was caught in the grips of an extremely powerful magical surge.

Taking a moment to orient herself, Princess Celestia glanced quickly around the room. The teacher evaluators were hanging in mid-air, their eyes wide as they stared at the filly with both awe and fear writ large across their features. A rather tasteful and unexpected potted plant stood next to an out-of-place cactus. The dragon’s foot was crushing a cart…

Celestia’s eyes wandered over to the dragon in the room. The cart was smashed to splinters underneath the massive creature, sad little bits of hay sticking out from between its toes. Obviously, the teachers had been pulling the old “hatch the egg” routine on this particular batch of prospective students. It was an exam designed to gauge a student’s reactions, how inventive and determined they would be, and how long it took before they gave up and accepted the impossibility of the task.

Her eyes flicked down to the crushed shards of eggshell underneath the dragon’s feet, feeling a chill of foreboding. It wasn’t a test that was meant to be passed.

Licking her suddenly-dry lips, Celestia turned away. She could deal with that later. For now, she had a young filly to pull out of an intense magical surge. Steeling herself, she put on her best matronly smile and placed a hoof on the young filly's back while countering the cascading wild magic with a strong counterpulse of her own.

The filly blinked, her eyes losing the characteristic glow of a magic surge, and she sank to the floor. As she did, the results of her magic faded, lowering the teachers to the ground and causing the cactus and potted plants to flash and resume their pony shapes, which would have been shocking enough on its own if it weren’t for the fact that the dragon merely shrunk to the size of a baby, rather than returning to an egg. Effects of a magic surge were rarely permanent, but it seemed like this baby dragon was here to stay.

Eyes that could stare for hours into the sun had no trouble at all reading the names of the applicants off of the list posted on a nearby wall. She finally had the name of the downcast and obviously guilt-ridden filly before her.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she began, only to be cut off as the filly began babbling.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Twilight Sparkle began. “I didn’t mean—”

“You have a very special gift!” Celestia continued, briefly relishing her proficiency at understatement. She continued on—though, if she were to be honest with herself later, she really had no idea of what she was saying. Preoccupied with glances over to the baby dragon—who was now, quite adorably, sucking on his tail—she spoke mostly on autopilot. Something about harnessing power, she would recall later, as well as an offer to personally teach the young filly about magic, an offer which Twilight enthusiastically accepted.

Though, not as enthusiastically—or as adorably—as the young filly had accepted her new cutie mark. Which, Celestia noted, was an exceedingly familiar six-pointed star, with five smaller starbursts arranged around it.

Finally, things were beginning to make sense.

The ecstatic Twilight Sparkle left with her parents soon after, leaving Celestia alone in the room with the young dragon. The teachers had all fled the moment the magic surge had ended, and Celestia couldn’t blame them in the least.

According to a few quick magical scans, the dragon was a perfectly healthy and normal example of its species, with no defects or magical after-effects to speak of. Celestia pointed her horn out of a nearby window and let off a flare spell. A Royal Guard arrived a few minutes later, just as Celestia finished carefully gathering up bits of smashed eggshell.

The Guard, a pegasus by the name of Highwind, saluted. “Highness?” he asked.

“Sergeant Highwind, excellent.” Celestia examined the bits of eggshell held in her magical grasp. Had she managed to get them all? “I seem to have found myself in possession of a young baby dragon.”

The sergeant blinked. “Ma’am?”

“He’s just over there, sucking on his tail. Adorable, isn’t he?”

Steel-grey eyes flicked towards the dragon and then back to Celestia. “Yes. Quite precious, ma’am.”

“Could you please find Mrs. Glitterful from the Resource Department and ask her to join me here?” Celestia asked as she began arranging the pieces of eggshell like a three-dimensional puzzle. “At her earliest convenience,” she added, which both of them knew as code for “immediately, if not sooner.”

“Ma’am,” Highwind answered, saluting crisply before turning to run out the door.

It took some time to properly arrange the pieces into an egg-shape, held aloft in Celestia’s magic, which managed to confirm that she did, indeed, have nearly all of the shell. There were still some gaps, however. Celestia frowned and decided that small amount that was still missing had likely been crushed to powder underneath the dragon’s formerly-massive feet.

She was still looking for a dustpan when a slightly out-of-breath Mrs. Glitterful rushed up the stairs, pausing outside of the door to catch her breath and mop her brow with a towel she’d thoughtfully brought along. Celestia pretended not to notice her presence while the other mare composed herself.

“You wished to see me, Princess?” Mrs. Glitterful asked when she finally came into the room. Her mane, golden streaked with grey, was in mild disarray, but there were no other outward signs that this mare had most likely charged across the campus as quickly as her hooves could carry her.

“Yes,” Celestia said. She held up the nearly-reassembled dragon’s egg. “This was one of yours, wasn't it?”

“Ah,” Mrs. Glitterful said, then clucked her tongue. “Did one of the applicants break the egg again?”

Celestia flicked her gaze over to the baby dragon and then back again. The young whelp had fallen asleep, still sucking on the tip of his scaly tail. The other mare hadn’t seemed to have noticed their diminutive guest as of yet. “It appears so.”

“Ah, well.” Mrs. Glitterful shook her head sadly. “Perhaps that poor child can re-apply when they learn to control themselves a little bit better.”

“Actually, I’ve decided to take this particular student on,” came Celestia’s careful reply. “It wasn’t her fault,” she added in response to the other mare’s questioningly-raised eyebrow. “The poor thing was in the grips of a rather powerful magic surge.” Again, an understatement. “Tell me, was this egg made any differently than the ones we’ve used in the past?”

“No, Princess. We’ve been making those dragon’s eggs the same way for as long as I can remember. It’s a pity about this one, though. I thought the green and purple looked quite striking together.”

“Hmm, yes. I agree. What do you make of this?” Celestia asked, floating the remains of the egg over.

“Oh, yes. Quite thoroughly smashed,” the art teacher replied, going over it with a critical eye. “Wait… that isn’t papier-mâché. Was it somehow transmuted to… is this porcelain?”

“Eggshell, actually.”

Celestia gestured over her shoulder towards the sleeping baby dragon. Mrs. Glitterful stared in blank incomprehension for a long moment before her eyes widened and she drew in a sharp breath. “How..?”

“I can only assume,” Princess Celestia replied softly, “that young Twilight Sparkle, while in the depths of her magic surge, expected the egg to hatch a dragon. So a dragon is exactly what she got.”

Mrs. Glitterful ran the implications through her head for a moment, and then she collapsed in a dead faint. Princess Celestia caught the mare in her magic just before she hit the floor.

It was almost as if the exceedingly well-timed rainboom had heralded the arrival of what Celestia could only call a youth of nearly-impossible potential. A rueful smile crossed the Princess’ lips.

“Yes. It seems as if we’re moving into very interesting times, indeed.”

Author's Note

I've been playing with this idea for a while, now. Granted, I don't think Twilight is quite so overpowered, but it's fun to think about.

Fillybuster

There was just something in the air on this particular morning—like a beloved song just on the edge of hearing, or the smell of the land after a rainfall—that filled Princess Celestia with a wistful yearning. Memories of crisp air beneath her made her feathers twitch as she went about her morning ritual of tea and meditation while enduring the ministration of her morning groomers—after all, the Princess does not brush her own coat.

That thought brought a slightly discordant note to an otherwise lovely dawn. When was the last time she'd gone flying simply for the joy of it? she wondered as she sipped her tea. She realized, with some despondency, that she simply couldn't remember.

With a sigh, she pushed that thought out of her head. There were many things on this day's docket, all of which required the personal touch of Equestria's sole princess. Trade agreements don't write themselves, after all, and the nobility expected a certain amount of pomp and propriety in their lives. Duty demanded only one thing: her absolute dedication. Such was her life, as it had been for centuries.

The Royal Groomers finished their morning attentions, bringing Celestia's coat up to a bright, silky shine, and her hooves to mirror-polished brilliance. Not that the hooves mattered much, she thought wryly as she slipped on her gilded Royal Slippers. The attendants left with identical bows, and Celestia allowed herself a quiet moment of solitary contemplation while she finished her tea. Then, with a sigh, she made her way to the door to begin the day's events.

The guards stationed in the hallway, a pair of unicorn stallions, straightened almost imperceptibly when she opened the door. For a long moment, Celestia regarded them, her lips pursed in thought.

"Highness?" the one on the right asked. Periwinkle, she thought his name was. "Is everything alright?"

Celestia made up her mind in that moment. "I believe I won't require an escort to the throne room today."

The two guards exchanged a look. "Your Majesty," probably-Periwinkle said, "we must provide for your safety—"

One elegantly-sculpted eyebrow arched at this. "This is the most secure wing in the castle, is it not?"

"Er... yes, your Majesty, but—"

"And I am powerful enough to raise the sun and moon every day, correct?"

"Well, yes—"

"And I am certainly old enough to watch after myself, correct?"

"Of course, Princess. However—"

"I simply wish some time alone, Periwinkle."

The two guards exchanged looks again. Celestia sighed. "I got your name wrong, didn't I?"

"I, uh... You may be thinking of my grandfather." Not-Periwinkle licked his lips and looked around, as if desperate for a route of escape. "You can call me Periwinkle if you like, your Majesty."

Celestia let out a mighty sigh and closed her eyes, counting slowly to ten. Unfortunately, the guards were still there when she opened them again. "I find myself in something of a mood this morning," she announced. "I shall be requiring some time alone. So, on your way with you. Back to the barracks, or whatever it is you do when you're not guarding the Royal Hindquarters."

Yet another look was exchanged. Celestia considered the possibility that her guards had somehow spontaneously developed telepathy. Her suspicions were only reinforced when they both bowed simultaneously and chorused, "Yes, Princess!" before turning at the same time and marching away.

Celestia watched them go for a moment before shaking her head. It shouldn't be so difficult, she thought, to simply get some solitude before I throw myself horn-first into the gears of the Canterlot bureaucracy. She began to make her way as slowly as she dared towards the throne room.

The solitude, unfortunately, didn't have the desired effect. Even as she made her way through the long, tastefully-appointed halls of Canterlot Castle, her mood only darkened further. A small, nagging voice in the back of her mind told her she'd been both unfair and unkind to her guards who, after all, only had her well-being at heart. No matter how their constant presence grated on her nerves from time to time.

It was while lost in these thoughts that Celestia passed a small, fuzzy lump which didn't really register at first. When the image finally made its way through, she came to a halt and turned, not quite sure if she'd seen what she thought she'd seen.

At first, it was as if her eyes were deceiving her. It was incredibly unlikely that a small filly, far too young for her cutie mark, would be standing in the hallway this close to the royal apartments. A small earth pony filly, wearing an adorable set of saddlebags over a pale golden coat, and with a mane as dark as the finest chocolate. A filly who was staring up at her with wide, incredibly blue eyes.

"You're Princess Celestia?" the filly asked softly, as if unsure of what she was seeing.

Celestia blinked, then looked up and down the absurdly long hallway, which vanished into the distance in either direction. Really, the castle is just too ridiculously huge, she thought as she looked for any signs of the filly's parents. "Yes, I suppose that I am."

"Woooow...." the filly said. "You raise the sun?"

"Yes, I do."

"And the moon, too?"

A pained smile crossed Celestia's muzzle. "I do, child. Where are your parents?"

A small frown appeared on the filly's face. "Dunno. I got lost."

With some alarm, Celestia noted that the child's lower lip began to tremble. Tears began pooling in those startlingly-blue eyes. "Now, now," she said quickly, "no need for alarm. I'm sure I can help you find them."

"You will?" The frown transformed instantly into a joyful grin. "Okay!" the filly exclaimed. "I'm Heather Mist!"

"Heather Mist. Such a lovely name! Do you recall which direction you last saw your parents, dear?"

"Umm..." Heather Mist's face screwed up in concentration as she first looked down the eastward length of the hallway, and then the westward. "I'm not sure."

Of course. Celestia checked a sigh. "Well, with no other direction in mind, shall we proceed to the throne room? I can send some ponies to find them after we arrive."

"Okay!"

The filly fell in beside her as she walked, and Celestia found herself moving at an almost glacially slow pace in order to keep from leaving the much smaller filly behind. I'm going to be late, she realized, and for a moment she felt a burning resentment. Not towards the filly, of course, but towards the situation. And, if she were to be completely honest, towards the parents who would let such a small child wander the palace freely.

Celestia glanced down and saw the look of intense concentration on Heather Mist's face. The poor girl was really straining to keep up, her short legs nearly blurring underneath her thin frame. For a moment, the Princess wondered if she should offer to let the filly ride on her back before dismissing the thought. The nobles would tell her that it wouldn't be proper, she decided. The Princess of Equestria didn't stoop to carrying foals around. She grit her teeth, once again feeling those invisible bonds of obligation that, sometimes, made her feel like she was suffocating.

Well, nopony can fault me for delivering a filly to safely, she thought, mildly surprised at the ember of fierce defiance that sparked in her heart. With a sense of gleeful rebellion, she slowed her gait even further, and was pleased to see the strain disappearing from Heather Mist's expression.

"Am I going to get in trouble?" Heather Mist asked.

"Not with me," Princess Celestia assured her. "I can't speak for your parents, however."

The filly bit her lip and studied the floor for a moment. "You could talk to my mom, though. Right? You could tell her 'Heather Mist isn't in trouble, because I say so!' Or something. Right?" A hopeful look peered up at her.

Celestia chuckled. "That's not something I can say."

Heather Mist pouted. "You can't? Why not?"

"Being a Princess doesn't mean I can do whatever I want."

The tiny filly let out a harrumph. "That's silly. Why even be a Princess, then?"

"To lead the nation as best I can," she said. And to listen to old blowhards who think their interest should be supreme because they're from the 'old blood', she didn't say. "To keep my ponies safe and happy," she added, while thinking, no matter the cost to myself or my sanity. "To lead by example, by always being my best, no matter how much I might wish to take a break and simply go flying one day. To listen to endless streams of petitioners, all of whom have navigated their way past the officials I set up to handle problems just like theirs, but who somehow feel it's not 'official' until the Princess signs off on it. To never have a moment to myself unless I demand it, and even then I feel guilty about doing so!"

She wasn't quite shouting, she realized as a cold horror crept over her. But, glancing down at a cringing Heather Mist, who had her ears pinned back in obvious fright, she realized she might as well have been screaming.

"I'm sorry," the filly whispered just before Celestia had the chance to say the same.

A breath caught in Celestia's chest, and she knelt down, scooping up the filly in a wing so large that it engulfed her completely. "Oh, child, no. No, I am sorry. I'm afraid I let my feelings get away from me for a moment. You have done nothing to be sorry for."

Heather Mist was weeping, though. Celestia could feel the damp spot on her otherwise pristine white coat. The filly mumbled something into her shoulder, and Celestia shook her head. "I couldn't quite make that out, dear."

"Y-you wa-anted to, to, be alone," Heather Mist said wretchedly, her breath catching in between sobs. "But you can't, 'cuz of me!"

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed. When did I become so short-tempered? she wondered What happened to my patience?. She nuzzled the filly beside her. "I've been having a rough time, recently, it's true. But I certainly couldn't be upset with a wonderful little filly like you."

"Really?"

"Really," Celestia said, then kissed the filly on the forehead. "Would you like a ride on my back?"

That brought an end to the weeping, which faded into a shy smile. "Okay!"

It was the work of a moment to pick the filly up and place her just behind her withers. And if the nobles complain about my supposed lack of dignity, to Tartarus with them, she decided.

There were tiny, shifting points of pressure on her back as the filly moved around and made herself comfortable before finally lying down. "So, Princesses can have bad days, too?" Heather Mist asked.

"Oh, yes," Princess Celestia replied. "Don't tell anypony, though. It's a secret!"

Heather Mist giggled, and Celestia felt a spring returning to her step.

"I had a bad day," the filly confessed after a moment.

"Oh?"

"I, um..." A small hoof traced a circle in Celestia's coat. "I might have run away from my mom."

"Today, you mean?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why would you do that?"

"We came to see the castle. Only, my little brother was being a brat. He's only a baby. But he wouldn't stop crying."

"I understand that babies do that, sometimes." Most likely, Heather Mist and her mother must have come with one of the many tour groups that came through the less-restricted sections of the castle several times per day. That, at least, gave her a place to start looking when it came time to return the filly.

"Well, he does it all the time. Mom was trying to make him stop, but I wanted to see the palace. Mom didn't want to let me, and we got into a fight and..."

"And so you just left on your own?" Celestia guessed.

"...yes," Heather Mist confessed in a small voice.

"I see."

"Do you think she'll be mad at me?"

"Oh, definitely," Celestia replied. "But not at first. The first thing she'll do is fuss over you and tell you how glad she is she to see you again."

Heather Mist hummed softly to herself while she mulled that over. "Do you really think so?"

"I'm fairly certain, yes."

"And you really can't order her not to be mad at me?" came the plaintive question.

Celestia couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I am sorry to say. Even the power of a Princess has its limits."

Heather Mist let out a forlorn sigh. "Well, okay, I guess. But she's gonna scold me for sure, then."

They walked along in silence for a while longer until Celestia realized that, even with the filly on her back, she hadn't increased her speed at all. Almost as if I don't wish to reach the throne room, she thought with a snort.

"I feel kinda bad," Heather Mist confessed from her nest between Celestia's wings.

"Oh? How so?"

"She's not a bad mommy. I just get mad sometimes."

"I think that's understandable."

"She lets me have a cookie after dinner."

"Does she?" Celestia glanced over her shoulder to see the filly nodding.

"Yes. I don't like alfalfa."

"Not everypony does," Celestia replied, repressing a shudder.

"So, Mom gives me a cookie if I finish it. She says, 'Everything tastes better if you know you have a cookie waiting for you'."

Celestia smiled. "Your mother is a wise mare."

"Yup!"

And it was as if the floodgates opened. Heather Mist started talking without restraint, her excited voice chirping away about school, and about friends, about her mother and her baby brother, and about her father who was away with the Equestrian Army right now, but who visited whenever he could. Far from being annoyed by the babble, Celestia found herself relaxing. The concerns of a filly were so different, so much more simple, than her own. And, in her own way, Heather Mist was a fascinating conversationalist, completely unabashed about dominating the conversation with matters that were of great import to a seven-year-old. The parks she played in, and the friends she made in school. And reading a whole book on her own, something she was immensely proud of.

"And I make the best crescent moons in hoof-painting," she said at one point.

There was a small hitch in Celestia's gait, a pause as she remembered another filly from long ago. "Oh?" she asked, looking back at her passenger.

"Yup! I just do this!" She held up a hoof and turned it sideways so that the hoof wall made a smooth "C" shape. "That's my secret. Nopony else in class knows it, so you have to promise not to tell."

"I promise," Princess Celestia said somberly. "And the word of a Princess is her bond."

It wasn't long after that when the doors to the throne room came into sight, and Princess Celestia's impromptu vacation came to an end. Inkwell, her personal secretary, was pacing back and forth outside of the entrance while chewing nervously on a quill.

"Princess!" Inkwell shouted, then paused a moment to make "Pthht! Pthht!" noises while scraping at her tongue.

"I'm not sure what else you expected after chewing on quills, Inkwell," Celestia said, allowing herself a small smile at the other mare's discomfort.

"I was worried!" Inkwell stated in a voice just shy of a shout. "You're never late to court! Er... Princess," she added with a belated bow.

Celestia quickly noted the time according to the grandfather clock next to the door. "Oh, it's only been an extra twenty minutes," she said. "Something more important came up."

"With all due respect, your Majesty, what could be more important than Day Court?"

Celestia's horn lit up and lifted the filly up off of her back, holding her out before the startled secretary. "This," she said. "Say hello to Inkwell, Heather Mist."

"Hello, Inkwell," Heather Mist said with a giggle.

Inkwell took a startled step back. "Er, um, hello... small filly. Where is your mother?"

"Dunno," Heather Mist replied with a shrug.

"That seems to be the question of the hour," Celestia said. "Obviously, we must find her before court can begin."

"But, Princess, the nobles are waiting—"

"And I'm sure they can continue to do so without undergoing undue strain," Celestia stated firmly. "My top priority at the moment is finding this filly's mother, who is no doubt frantic about her missing daughter. Would you be kind enough to try and find her, please?"

"Oh, um... Of course, Princess. I'll be right back!" And, with that, Inkwell charged off, only to charge back a moment later. "Um. What was the mother's name?"

Heather Mist giggled again. "Honeydew," she said.

"I believe they were with a tour group," Celestia said. "You may wish to start there."

"Right." Inkwell nodded and once again charged off down the hallway.

"She's funny," Heather Mist giggled.

"She's overworked," Celestia said, frowning after the retreating mare. "And I don't do enough to make life easier for her."

"You should change that, then."

"Yes. Yes, I should." Celestia set the filly down on the floor and gave her a quick nuzzle. "You are a wise filly."

"Yup!"

The two of them laughed together.

Court was delayed a further ten minutes before Inkwell came charging back, this time followed by a pair of Royal Guards and a frantic-looking mare with a definite resemblance to Heather Mist. A gleefully laughing colt was strapped to the mare's back as she ran directly towards the small filly, who shrank back between Celestia's forelegs.

"Oh, my baby, I was so worried about you!" Honeydew cried as she gathered her wayward daughter into a fierce hug.

Celestia leaned down and whispered, "I told you so," into Heather Mist's ear. This brought a gasp of shock from the filly's mother, who immediately tried to bow while still clutching her daughter.

"Oh, a thousand pardons, Princess! I'm so sorry if we've caused you any inconvenience!" She glared down at the squirming filly in her grip. "You are in so much trouble when we get home, young lady!"

"I told you so," Heather Mist muttered to Celestia, who let out a little laugh.

"It was no inconvenience, I assure you," Celestia said. "You have a wonderful daughter. Please, don't be too hard on her. We all make mistakes and lose our tempers from time to time."

"O-of course, your Majesty," Honeydew stuttered, bowing once again, Heather Mist protesting as her mother's hoof pressed her head gently towards the floor.

"Well, I suppose I must, at last, get the Day Court started," Celestia said. "Good bye, Heather Mist. It was truly a pleasure speaking to you."

Heather Mist grinned up at her. "Same for me, Princess!"

Celestia waved as the filly, accompanied by her mother and gurgling baby brother, were escorted away by the two Royal Guard. Heather Mist waved back, and then they turned a corner and were gone.

"Inkwell, thank you."

"Your Majesty?"

"For all that you do. I don't say it enough, I think."

"Oh!" The mare blushed even while she grinned hugely. "Well, it's my honor to serve, Princess."

"I'll be increasing the staff budget. I think it's time we hire you an assistant."

"Really?"

"Yes. Oh, and could you see if you can rearrange my schedule a bit this afternoon? I need to block out an hour."

"Oh, um..." Inkwell's horn glowed, and a clipboard containing the day's schedule rose up in her magic. "Well, I suppose we could shuffle appointments around, perhaps ask one of the delegates to reschedule... Yes, it's do-able. Did something come up?"

"You could say that," Celestia replied with an impish grin. "I'm going to go flying."

Inkwell blinked at that. "Flying, your Majesty? I'm... I'm not sure I understand."

"A very wise filly once said to me, 'everything tastes better if you know you have a cookie waiting for you'."

"Cookie?" Inkwell tilted her head, her brows knitting in confusion. "I don't understand, Princess. Did you want me to fetch some cookies for you?"

"No." Celestia replied. "Wait. Yes. Please arrange to have some brought into the throne room. But what I meant is that I feel the need to stretch my wings."

"Oh, well. I'm sure that could be arranged, Princess."

"Thank you, Inkwell." Princess Celestia walked to the doors and took a moment to make sure her regalia was on straight. "Well. Let's get started, then, shall we?"

Author's Note

The title is, of course, a pun. A filibuster is a tool some politicians use to try and make certain that even less gets accomplished in government than usual. In this case, it was a small filly preventing Celestia from carrying out the duties of a Princess.

If you've gotten multiple notifications about updates for this story, I apologize. I accidentally hit "publish" instead of "Edit" after writing the first two paragraphs.

By way of apology, here is the entire chapter, written in just over three hours, with no pre-reading or editing. I'll be combing through it for errors after I publish it for real.

Once again, sorry for any confusion!

One too many.

Author's Note

Alternate tag for this story: Comedy

This one won't make much sense unless you've seen "The Saddle Row Review". Also, minor spoilers for "The Saddle Row Review".

One too many.

"Thank you, Miss Pie. Your answers have been very... informative."

"Don't mention it!" Pinkie replied. "And thanks for paying for my lunch!"

Pinkie got up from the table to the tune of the reporter grumbling something about "expense reports" and "never again", but halfway to the door she froze. Something was triggering her "Something's weird" senses which, to be fair, went off pretty often. She turned to look at the pony who had been sitting at the table behind her, a pretty pink mare wearing a hat. Something about that mare was familiar.

"Heeeey," she said to the strange mare. "You look really familiar."

"No I don't," the other pink mare replied.

"Hmm..." Pinkie scratched her chin with a hoof. "Wait a minute! I got it! You're me!"

"No, I'm not," the pink mare replied.

"Yeeeah," Pinkie said, leaning forward and staring at her with a discerning eye. "I'm pretty sure you're me."

"I can't be you. I'm wearing a hat. You're not wearing a hat. See?" She pointed a hoof at the hat perched upon her nest of pink curls. "Hat." She pointed at the top of Pinkie's head. "No hat. We're different ponies."

"Hmm..." The other mare had a point, Pinkie eventually concluded. "I suppose you're right. Well, have a good day!"

"You too, Pinkie Pie!"

Pinkie trotted out the door of the little restaurant, humming happily. She made it almost two and a half blocks before she stopped with a loud gasp. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "Anypony could buy a hat! It proves nothing!"

She charged back to the cafe and peeked in through the windows. But, aside from Plaid Stripes showing the reporter her spoon-clothes, there was nothing much of interest.

"Hmm... I wonder where that strange, beautiful mare could have gone?" Pinkie mused aloud.

~~*Another time, another place*~~

In a small, dusty room in a run-down Manehattan apartment, a bright flash of light and a noise like a thousand offended geese accompanied the sudden appearance of Pinkie Pie, who stumbled and fell flat on her face. Her hat fell off of her head and rolled on its brim across the floor until it ran into a lavender hoof.

"Welcome back, Pinkie," the owner of the hoof said.

"Thanks, Twilight," Pinkie replied as she got up off of the filthy floor, brushing dust and cobwebs out of her coat.

"Any problems?" Twilight Sparkle asked.

"Naaah, it was a snap. Past-me spotted Future-me in the cafe where I met my contact, but I thought I was a mirror clone or something." Pinkie pulled a scroll out of her saddlebags. "This is the one you needed, right?"

"Oooh, yes!" Twilight took the scroll in her magic, opened it, and began to eagerly read. "This scroll contains the spells we'll need to stop the invasion of Count Nostrilfoozle and his army of Vampire Clowns. It's been missing for so many years!"

Pinkie stared at her for a moment. "You realize that the only reason it went missing is because you sent me back in time to get it, right?"

Twilight's mouth opened, then closed again. Then it opened and hung there for a long moment before she said, "I really hate time travel."

Pinkie Pie and the Cake of Density

The cake on the counter was a wonder in chocolate, a paragon of fudge, and a jewel of delectability. It was to be Pinkie Pie's pièce de résistance, the masterwork that would convince Mr. and Mrs. Cake that she was finally ready to bake on her own. Not that she hadn't baked before today, of course, but those were all just practice. They wouldn't be sold to customers, so nopony but Pinkie, the Cakes and her friends ever got to taste them.

Pinkie didn't mind that so much. After all, that meant she got to eat all the tasty, tasty practice pastries! But this cake, the one she was finally finished decorating, was going to change all of that. This cake was going to change her destiny!

The cake, resting on its stand, looked deceptively simple. Rich, buttery chocolate frosting, applied heavily, with chocolate fudge drizzled over the top and strawberries placed every 1/8th of the way around the edge. Inside, there was even more fudge, applied thickly between the upper and lower layers. It almost gave her cavities just looking at it. But now, it was time. Time to present the cake to the Cakes and receive their judgement. Carefully—oh, so carefully—Pinkie began lifting the cake stand, trying to be careful not to upset the cake resting on top of it.

"Oof," she said as she lifted. "You're heavier than I remember!"

"Of course I am," the cake replied. "I am, after all, the Cake of Density."

Pinkie didn't drop the cake. Instead, she blinked at it in bewildered befuddlement. "Did you just talk?"

"I did, indeed," the cake replied.

"Huh." Pinkie put the cake back down on the counter and thought about it. Something about this seemed wrong. She finally put her hoof on what was bothering her. "Don't you mean 'Cake of Destiny'?" she asked.

"No," the cake replied. "For I am, after all, a very dense cake."

"Oh."

Pinkie chewed on her lower lip for a moment. She was almost completely sure that it was impolite to eat a cake that could talk. Which brought up another question, now that she thought of it.

"How is it that you can talk?" she asked.

"A good question," the cake said, and Pinkie beamed with pride. "Is my apparent ability to speak the product of Equestria's natural and wildly fluctuating magical field, or is there some other cause? Was there some mystical arrangement of ingredients that caused my verbosity, or is it mere happenstance? Or, perhaps, I'm not actually talking at all, and this is all some daydream of yours? Is this situation a mere hallucination brought on by overexposure to vanilla extract, or is it something more? Is it, in fact, possible for a cake to be sapient to any degree? For that matter, what is sapience? Can such a thing even be proven? What is a mind, and what is reality? Indeed, is it not impossible to prove that the world exists? We experience things through our senses, but can our senses not be deceived? If so, does that not mean that reality is subjective, to be interpreted by each individual... assuming these individuals actually exist?"

Pinkie Pie blinked. "That was a lot of words all at once," she complained.

"Yes, well," the cake replied, "I am, after all, a very dense cake."

"Maybe it's the strawberries," Pinkie mused, rubbing her chin with a hoof. "Chocolate and strawberries taste great together, but I don't usually see them both on the same cake."

"Strawberries are unlikely to cause spontaneous elocution, as they cannot function as a cerebral cortex, and chocolate very rarely grants the benefits of a large vocabulary."

"Huh. You're really smart."

"No, though it may appear that way. For example, even the most basic of mathematics elude me. I am not even capable of simple division on my own!" The cake sighed. "Alas! I am, indeed, a very dense cake."

"I'm sorry," Pinkie said. She frowned. "Well, this is disappointing."

"How so?" the cake asked from atop its display pedestal.

"Well, obviously I can't give you to the Cakes as proof that I'm a really good baker. After all, nopony would buy a talking cake! But I usually get to eat any cakes I goof up on, and I can't do that with you."

"Whyever not?" the cake asked, its rich, dark chocolate frosting glimmering under the kitchen's electric lights. "Is not a cake's purpose in life to be consumed? Is that not the role I'm meant to play? It is the destiny of every good cake to be eaten and enjoyed to the fullest!"

"Uh. That's kinda creepy."

"How so?" the cake asked, raising its voice. "Am I not worthy of my role in life? Am I not deserving of fulfillment? Do I not rate the gratification of knowing that I have done my duty to the best of my abilities?" The cake's voice dropped, then, into a near-whisper. "Am I not worthy of the love that all baked goods enjoy?"

"Oh, cake," Pinkie cried with tears in her eyes. "Of course you are!"

And, so, she ate it, savoring every bite, glorying in the thick chocolate and heavy layers of cake. Hours later, Pinkie Pie was laying on the floor, moaning her way through the worst tummyache of her life. After all, it had been a very dense cake.

Author's Note

Yeah... I don't even know.

Calories are magic

On a near-perfect day in the charming little town of Ponyville, five friends sat around a table at an outdoor cafe, laughing and talking about the small details of their lives. The sixth member of their group had sent word on ahead that she'd be late, and so they had ordered already. Time passes quickly when it's filled with friendship and laughter, so it seemed like barely any time at all before the waitress showed up with a large tray balanced across her back.

"You know," Rainbow Dash said to Applejack as the waitress put each plate down in front of their respective diner, "I just noticed something weird."

"What's that, Rainbow?" Applejack asked.

"You eat a whole lot."

The friendly chatter from the other three mares stopped as if cut off by a knife.

"Whaddaya mean by that?!" Applejack snapped back, getting up halfway out of her seat. The waitress, sensing trouble, dropped off Fluttershy's plate and made a hasty retreat.

Dash, whose self-preservation instincts sometimes took a while to kick in, shrugged and said, "It's just what I said: you eat a lot." Oblivious to the mounting anger from the farmpony and the stunned silence of the rest of the group, she added, "But you're in really good shape anyway."

Applejack, who had a moment before been rising on a swell of indignant outrage, found herself suddenly floundering in a sea of confused embarrassment. "Oh, uh... Well, shoot. Thanks, I guess?"

"It's just something I've been wondering about the last few times we've gotten together for lunch or whatever," Dash continued. "I mean, you work all the time, so maybe that's why you're not fat. And I eat even more than you, but I'm an athlete in training, so it makes sense that I'd be in great shape. But the way the Rarity and Twilight eat really just confuses me."

Now it was Rarity's turn to feel that she should, perhaps, be offended. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

Rainbow turned to face the white unicorn. "Well, you don't each as much as we do, but you still eat more than most ponies I know," Rainbow, said, either not noticing or ignoring the indignant spluttering of her unicorn friend, "and I don't think I've ever seen you exercise much, but you're still pretty skinny." Dash then pointed her hoof at Fluttershy, who let out an "eep!", ducked down, and tried to hide behind her mane. "She eats almost nothing, so that explains why she's so thin. But Twilight eats even more than I do, and she's only got a little bit of a pudge—"

"Hey! I do not!"

"—even though she's not an athlete or anything." Dash shrugged, oblivious to the wary or outright hostile stares she was getting. "I was just wondering about it, is all."

Twilight eyed her meal—a large bowl of pasta covered with a small dairy's worth of rich, creamy sauces—and shoved it aside. "Well, I have an answer for that, if you're interested."

Dash snorted. "Of course you do."

Twilight glowered at her, but wasn't about to let a little rudeness interrupt a good lecture. "A pony can burn calories in one of two ways. Physical exercise, like Applejack, or magical exercise for Rarity and myself."

"Wait, wait, wait," Rainbow protested, temporarily derailing Twilight's lecture train. "I thought your magic just happened. Like, you know... magic is everywhere, and all that junk."

"It is," Twilight affirmed. "However, the effort of gathering all of that magic and directing into a spell requires the exercise of a unicorn's own magical field, which pretty effectively burns off calories. As a pegasus, you exercise both physically and magically when you fly, just like I do." She flapped her wings to underscore the point. "And, as with any type of exercise, a greater output requires a greater intake of calories. Just like how exercising more means you have to eat more. It's simple science."

"So, wait..." Dash said slowly as she tried to process this. "You're saying if you eat too much, you or Rarity can just cast a few spells and burn it off, so you won't get fat?"

"Yes," Twilight replied, nodding. "Rarity has all her work in the Boutique, and I'm constantly casting spells. A single short-range teleport can consume as many calories as a double-fudge donut provides. With sprinkles." She grinned. "Why do you think I teleport everywhere these days? It's practically a requirement when you live in the same town as Sugarcube Corner."

"Huh," Rainbow said as she leaned back. "I guess that's how Celestia manages to stay so thin when she eats nothing but cake. She's gotta raise the sun every day. I bet that's heavy!"

"She eats more than cake!" Twilight protested before she started to settle down. "But, yes. She does eat considerably more than the average pony. She actually needs to, because she's the most powerful pony in Equestria."

Rainbow was about to answer when a bubbly, chirping voice cut them off. "Hi, girls! Sorry I'm late!" Pinkie Pie said as she bounced up to their table. "Sugarcube Corner was, like, crazy busy today." She hopped into the one empty seat at the table and immediately began scanning the menu just as their waitress arrived. "Oh, hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! And I'd like appetizers."

"Which appetizers, dear?" the waitress asked, taking out her order pad and a stub of pencil.

"All of 'em!" Pinkie replied with a grin.

The waitress blinked. "All of 'em?" she repeated. "You mean, one of each appetizer?"

"Yup! To start with." Pinkie's baby-blue eyes scanned the menu. "And, let's see... I'll have a number one, a number three, a numbers seven through twelve—the twelve with extra cheese, please! Oh, and a number sixteen."

"Uh..." the waitress hadn't written anything down, yet, instead staring at Pinkie as if the pink mare had spontaneously grown a second head. "Wait. Seriously?"

"Yuppers!" Pinkie replied in her usual chipper fashion. "I'm a bit peckish."

"Could, ah... could you repeat that?" the waitress asked, then scribbled furiously on her pad when Pinkie did just that. "Uh, okay. I'll... I'll go put the order in. Do you want it all at once, or..."

"Nah, just bring it out as it's ready. I'm really hungry."

"Okay," the waitress replied in a shaky voice before turning tail to flee back into the restaurant.

"When you come back, could you bring out the dessert menu?" Pinkie called after her. Then, grinning, she turned to her friends. All five of them were staring at her—with confusion, with awe and, in the case of Twilight Sparkle, with burning scientific curiosity. Her grin faded a little. "What? Have I got something on my face?"

Author's Note

Pinkie Pie is, obviously, the most powerful pony in Equestria.

Very Nearly the Best Present Ever

“Okay, time for presents!” Mom said. Then she had to repeat it, because all the colts and fillies were still running around like idiots and Topaz wanted to just smack them all. It took a few minutes, but everypony finally settled down, and she was finally able to start opening her gifts.

Present after present was torn into. Buttons and bows, hoof-bands and hair bands were common from the fillies. Notebooks, pens and pencils from the colts, who absolutely refused to buy “girly things”. Each gift giver was given a sincere, if slightly terse, thank-you, and their present was put on the table with their card. Topaz could barely avoid trembling with excitement as the time to open the biggest present, the one from her parents, came closer and closer.

And then, at last, it was time. After having to wait nearly forever, her mother finally levitated down the big box. It was wrapped with paper that had both Celestia’s and Luna’s cutie marks on it, which, as far as Topaz was concerned, was proof that her parents had actually listened to what she’d wanted for her birthday for once.

Topaz took her time with it, relishing the wait as she carefully peeled off the paper. Her patience was rewarded when the last of the paper was whisked away, revealing the Pretty Pony Princess Palace Playset (with realistic Princess Celestia and Luna figures included) underneath. Unlike the others, this present didn’t get put up on the table. Oh, no. This present required her immediate and undivided attention.

So she opened the box, completely forgetting about her guests, who eventually wandered off to do their own things.

She took out the Palace first, a highly abbreviated scale model of the actual palace at Canterlot. She took a moment to savor the detailed exterior and to exclaim over the golden accents and sweeping spires. The playset opened up to reveal a tiny replica of Princess Celestia’s actual throne sitting on its dias, with a red carpet leading up to it. Topaz studied it for a moment before setting it aside.

The carriages (pegasus charioteers sold separately) came out next. First, Celestia’s white and gold carriage, then Luna’s done in shades of dark blue, purple and black. Topaz took a moment to admire them before parking them outside of the palace.

Finally, it had come down to the last of the smaller boxes inside of the largest one. Too eager for magic, Topaz reached out with her hooves and took the lid off of the box that had Princess Celestia’s cutie mark on top... and stopped, confused.

The box was empty.

Heart thudding, Topaz checked the larger box to see if the princess figure had somehow fallen out. There was nothing. A wave of despair washed over her, even as she reached for the other small box that was marked with Luna’s cutie mark.

It, too, was lacking its princess.

Topaz burst into tears knowing that this, right here, was the worst that life could ever possibly be. If she hadn’t been so upset, she might have noticed the bit-sized hole in the back of the large box, as if something—or somepony—had dug their way out of it.

~~*~~

Unnoticed by the anypony at the birthday party, two tiny ponies hid out amongst the dust bunnies underneath the sofa. They watched in silence as the birthday filly’s heartbroken sobs were soothed away by her mother, who promised to go to the store right away and complain to the manager regarding the missing princess figures.

“Discord is going to pay for this,” Princess Celestia stated in a voice as cold and hard as iron.

“What was it you said to him, Celly?”

“Not now, Luna.”

“Oh, yes,” Luna said, ignoring her. “I remember, now. ‘I never had a birthday party as a filly. I sometimes wish I knew what one was like’.”

“Not now, Luna!”

Luna looked away and snickered into a fetlock.

“Of course you find this funny,” Celestia grumbled. “He didn’t turn you pink.”

Author's Note

Written for the Writeoff Association's Minific contest. Prompt: *Princess Not Included. This story placed 7th overall.

Trapped in HiE

We clustered together on the far side of the ravine, staring up at the broken castle before us. I knew how this was all supposed to go, of course. I'd seen this episode so many times, I nearly had it memorized. The problem was, I wasn't Twilight Sparkle. Well, aside from physically, I mean. I was really just a human college student who, while studying for her physics final, had suddenly found herself in the body of a specific purple unicorn on the day of the 1000th Summer Sun Celebration.

I'd read fanfictions like this, so I knew what to do. And that was, obviously, to lie to everyone I met, pretend I was actually Twilight Sparkle, and to keep as close as I possibly could to the script, all so that Equestria would be saved in the end. And then hope that, maybe, Princess Celestia would be able to send me back home.

So, I met the Mane 6 one by one, in order, which was awesome. We made our way through the Everfree Forest, which was... less awesome. We managed to get past every obstacle thrown in our path, and now we stood just outside of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.

Things were going so well, in fact, that I really should have expected that something was about to go horrifically wrong.

It was honest Applejack who started it, of course. Then Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and, finally, Fluttershy. Then five pairs of eyes turned to me, a question evident in their collective gaze.

"So, let me get this straight," I said. "None of us are actually ponies?"

They all nodded.

"Every single one of us was a human yesterday, and somehow became one of the Mane Six today?" I quirked an eyebrow. "And we're all part of the fandom?"

They all nodded. Except for Pinkie Pie.

"I wasn't a human," she said. "I'm actually a member of the Xrrcksh survey team. We're an interplanetary species that has been tasked to subtly observe humanity and help guide their development." She grinned as we stared. "I am a fan of the show, though!" She leaned over and stage-whispered into Rarity's ear, "We get the internet on our mothership!"

I blinked at her. She grinned back.

"O-okay," I said after a moment. "I guess the real question, then, is how are we going to stop—"

I cut off as a purple mist began to swirl around us, eventually coalescing into a an alicorn of pure, malignant darkness. A bitter cold, reminiscent of the void between the stars, billowed out from her as her predatory eyes looked over our little group. We squared off, a wordless agreement passing between us: Win or lose, we were at least going to go down fighting.

We lowered our heads and, as one, began our charge.

"Wait!" the dark alicorn cried out, holding up a hoof. "I'm not actually Nightmare Moon!"

Author's Note

I don't even know how my own brain works sometimes.

For want of a tomato

Transcript of Mayor Mare's speech, "There's no such thing as a small mistake", given during the all-mayor summit in Canterlot

~~*~~

Being the mayor of Ponyville has presented me with several unique challenges. We've had to put up with swarms of parasprites, the occasional rampaging star-bear, and the horrifyingly whimsical presence of the godlike Spirit of Chaos.

It is the duty of our local administration to charge headlong towards these challenges, to deal with them quickly and decisively, and to allow the ponies of our towns to live as quiet and peaceful a life as possible. I'm proud to say that my team manages these things as well as anypony possibly could, managing to maintain our small-town feel in spite of rampaging centaurs and enormous crystal palaces suddenly sprouting up on the outskirts of our town.

However, even we are susceptible to making the occasional mistake. The incident I'm about to relate to you is what can happen when the administration fails in even the smallest of its duties.

You may have heard about the recent... trouble we've had in Ponyville. Well, when the rubble settled and the initial investigation had wrapped up, it was discovered that the problems all began with a misplaced W10-91b—also known as the Request for Additional Rain Allotment (Under Ten Acres) form—submitted by one Miss Cherry Tomato, who wanted us to provide an extra 2.4 inches of rain to her field over the course of a week.

The form, the investigation later discovered, had been lost in the inbox of assistant mayor Typeset, sandwiched between a Harvest Festival budget report and a bundle of complaints about a certain pegasus who kept buzzing the town at high speeds and rattling the townspony’s windows in their panes.

Thus it was that Cherry Tomato’s fields stayed dry for several days longer then they should have before the mare herself went to complain at Town Hall. Typeset assured the mare that he’d seen the form (which he had) and passed it on to the Weather Management Team (which he had not), and that she needed to take her complaint directly to their office.

Cherry Tomato then marched directly to the Weather Management office. When informed by the weather office that they'd never received her form and that she’d need to re-submit it and wait an additional week for it to process, the resultant shouting could be heard all the way over at Ponyville Elementary, where local teacher Miss Cheerilee found her geography lesson co-opted by a dozen curious foals inquiring after the meaning of several newly-learned words.

I could show you the stack of complaints I received from irate parents, but I'm sure you can imagine.

When interviewed later, Miss Tomato reported that, though her emotional state was “a little vexed”, she nevertheless remained calm and polite to the pegasi on the Weather Team. When asked about conflicting reports that characterized her voice as “shrill”, her language as “inappropriate for foals” and her behavior as “terrifying beyond all comprehension”, Miss Tomato admitted to being “perhaps more than just a little vexed.”

Nevertheless, Cherry Tomato’s fields did get their rain, albeit nearly two weeks later than she would have liked. The resulting flood swept away most of her topsoil as well as moving her house to a new location at the bottom of a nearby hill. This, of course, completely destroyed the entire crop of previously-dehydrated cherry tomatoes.

When a somewhat waterlogged Cherry Tomato, described as “creepily calm” by several eye-witnesses, went to the Weather Management Team's office to inquire about the sudden flood that had wiped out her farm, it was discovered that somepony on the weather team had, while transcribing the W10-91b onto a work order, somehow neglected to include the decimal point from the 2.4 inches requested, resulting 24 inches of rain being delivered. Not only that, but the "rush" stamp that she'd insisted upon during her previous visit—assuming that it meant that she'd receive the rain as soon as possible—instead meant that the rain would all be delivered within the span of half an hour rather than over the course of a week.

Considering how long it took the pegasi to gather the extra clouds and moisture needed for that much rain, I suspect that this so-called "simple mistake" may have been in retaliation for Miss Tomato's earlier outburst. Investigations are still underway.

Miss Tomato, naturally enough, expressed her displeasure a this revelation in a most vocal fashion. I wish to take a moment to acknowledge the foresight of Miss Cheerilee, who, having learned from the previous incident, was quick to start up a phonograph at the highest possible volume the moment the distant shouting started.

The loss of Cherry Tomato’s crops led to a region-wide shortage of cherry tomatoes, a moderately expensive lawsuit against the Weather Team and the town of Ponyville, and a very minor change in the diets of the local ponies.

For most towns in Equestria, this would have been the end of it. Life would have gone on more or less as usual, except for the alterations of recipes calling for cherry tomatoes. It would have been the talk of the town for a week, maybe two, but then everypony would have just gone on with their lives.

Most towns, however, do not have to deal with the very particular dietary requirements of one Angel Bunny.

For those not familiar with him, Angel Bunny is a small, cuddly-looking white rabbit who embodies the phrase "looks can be deceiving." His caretaker, one Miss Fluttershy, expends a tremendous amount of effort every day to make certain that he gets exactly the meal he wants (reports of domestic abuse should she fail to please him have gone as yet unproven, but are still under investigation). It was shortly after the flooding of Cherry Tomato's cherry tomatoes that Angel decided he wanted a specific salad for his afternoon repast. One that, of course, called for several cherry tomatoes.

Miss Fluttershy, an unassuming pegasus mare whose name fits her quite succinctly, went into town to find fresh ingredients for the salad. When it came time to purchase the cherry tomatoes, however, she ran into a snag: there were only four left in the entirety of Ponyville, just barely enough to make Angel's salad.

The vendor, a dirt-brown stallion whose name has been redacted from all publicly-accessible reports in order to avoid the possibility of a lynching, offered to sell the tomatoes to the obviously-desperate mare for a Princess' ransom. When Fluttershy responded that she couldn't possibly pay that much, and would he consider accepting something in trade, this less-than-sterling example of stallionhood reportedly waggled his eyebrows at her, delivered the poor mare a salacious look, and suggested that there were "other ways that she could pay, if you know what I mean, wink-wink."

According to witness reports, Fluttershy instantly flushed bright red, bleated like a startled goat and fainted on the spot. This was witnessed by several ponies, one of whom was Rainbow Dash—national hero and newest Wonderbolt member, and who happens to be a dear friend of Fluttershy. Insistent demands to know what happened to her friend resulted in a now-panicked stallion running for his life from an enraged Rainbow Dash, and the ensuing chase caused damage to the market estimated to reach into the thousands of bits.

It didn't end there, unfortunately. Angel Bunny, apparently annoyed that his lunch had been delayed, went after Fluttershy to see what was taking so long. He came upon her lying on the ground, newly returned to consciousness but still clearly out of sorts and surrounded by mares who were comforting her. Meanwhile, angry shouts, terrified screams, and loud crashes were sounding in various places around the market square.

What went through the tiny rabbit's mind is anypony's guess. Perhaps he was out of sorts due to low blood sugar. Perhaps he was enraged by the delay in his lunch. Perhaps, as is the leading theory, he thought that his caretaker had been attacked. Whatever the case may be, the results were the same: Angel Bunny went to war.

Word was passed to all of the other animals in the area, most of whom knew Fluttershy personally, many of whom had been cared for by her at some point, and all of whom loved her dearly. Apparently, they decided to let their feelings on the subject of her potential abuse be known.

Ponyville's first warning was an enormous flock of birds that stretched across the horizon and blotted out the sun. The lack of birdsong made them eerily silent, which was why they were almost upon the town before they were noticed. This was followed by a rumbling in the ground, caused by a mass of mice, voles, moles, squirrels, rabbits, and other small creatures charging the town, in numbers so vast that the ground as far as the eye could see looked like a living, furry carpet. Some witnesses even reported an enormous grizzly bear shaking the ground beneath his massive paws as he roared his way towards town.

The press later called it the Battle of Ponyville, which I feel incorrectly implies that there was some hope of fighting back. The truth is, we never stood a chance.

Hours later, when it was done and the dust settled, shell-shocked ponies cautiously crept from their hiding places to discover that there was no garden unspoiled, no loafs of bread un-nibbled, no bags of grain left intact, and scarcely a square inch of space that hadn't been pooped upon. Even those ponies who locked themselves inside their homes found out that small rodents could fit in through almost any crack. Nowhere was save from the vengeance of the fuzzy horde.

Cleanup took almost a week to complete. Counseling for those present during the attack is ongoing. Fluttershy has reported being "pleasantly surprised" by how inexpensive fresh fruits and vegetables have recently become at the market, though she doesn't appear to have noticed that those savings don't extend to anypony else.

Some may call that an abuse of mayoral privilege. I call it disaster prevention.

As for our unnamed salespony, he was taken into a small room in Town Hall, where he was told exactly how badly he'd messed up. Fluttershy, you see, is not only a national hero in her own right, she is also a close personal friend with each and every Equestrian Princess, not to mention with Discord, the Spirit of Chaos himself. Last I heard, our hapless salespony had decided to try his hoof overcharging the locals in some backwoods town in the Minos empire. I wish him the best; minotaurs are known for being rather touchy when they think they're being swindled.

All of this, because one pony lost track of an official form. A small mistake, some might say. To which I would reply, "No mistake is smaller than its consequences."

Author's Note

A week or so ago, Mr. Numbers had suggested a few writing prompts in his blog, one of which was "For want of a nail." I ran with it, and I came up with the original version of this story, which you can find on Google Docs: Prompt: For Want of a Nail

When I decided to pop it up on the Notebook, it occurred to me that I was basically reading this as if Mayor Mare had written it. So, I re-worked it a bit, making it into a speech she'd made at a conference somewhere. Then I decided that it was a conference of mayors from all over Equestria, because I like that concept :twilightsmile:

Hope you like it!