Forty Minute Fantasies

Blearily, Twilight Sparkle’s eyes began to open, and she slowly started to look at the room around her.  Those eyes were still only half-open when they settled on the clock.  ‘Mph,’ the filly thought, ‘that can’t be right.  It’d mean it was-’  “Seven fifty-two!  I’ve only got eight minutes!”

To say that Twilight catapulted out of bed would be inaccurate; a catapult can only throw its payload so fast.  Twilight’s motion, on the other hand, resembled the images of time-lapse photography she’d been studying the night before; to the unseasoned observer, there might have appeared to be two, perhaps even three purple fillies dancing around her bedroom as she gathered her schoolbooks and supplies.  A minute and a half was all the time that elapsed between her awakening and the last shoving stride as she threw herself out of her room.

As Twilight bounced off the foot of the stairwell, her father looked up.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he called out, “want some breakfast?  I’m making blueberry pancakes!”

“No time, Dad,” she called, snagging an apple and a couple of pieces of toast in her magic as she fled past him.  “I’ve only got five minutes to get to school!  I’m going to be tardy!”  The last word stretched out and dopplered; by the time her father was able to get his mouth open again, she was out the door and practically flying down the street.

At the commotion, Twilight Velvet stuck her head into the kitchen.  “Honey, what was that all about?”

Night Light shrugged.  “Twily said something about being late for school, and hurried off.”  He shrugged again, then went back to his pancakes.  “How far do you think she’ll make it before she realizes it’s Saturday?”