My Little One Shots

by Dashea Rayne

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Anthology, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Random
Length: 7369

A collection of one shots

A collection of one shot stories that may or may not have a connection to each other, with each chapter delving into whatever the author can imagine, whether it be the strangeness of a certain pony's mane or a crossover between MLP: FiM and another show or book.

Published 2016-08-16 03:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-06-11 14:53:51 UTC

Journey to the Centre of Pinkie's Mane

Journey to the Centre of Pinkie’s Mane

Journal Entry: ≥

I clamp my jaws firmly to my owner’s tail as she bounces about the kitchen, preparing a variety of cupcakes, muffins and peanut butter cups for an event that is to be hosted later today. From where I hang, I watch as she picks up one of the muffin tins using her mane, bounce over to one of the stoves and deposit it into the oven, all the while singing the Cupcake Song.

The world around me swings wildly as she turns and bounces back to the island counter in the middle of the room. Shifting, I leap up and clamp myself onto a different section of her tail as she starts filling another muffin tin, commenting how awesome the tea party for Strawberry Fields is going to be. From the section of tail I’m clamped onto, I see before she does when her Cutie Marks activates. Seconds afterward, she notices and pulling me off her tail, she whispers in a confidential tone, “You know what this means?” as she indicates toward her flank and looking wildly about, as if to make sure she is alone, she hisses out, “The maaaaap!”

I know this. Just I know that she’s likely to leave me to watch the food cooking, leave me with the other pets or, and this one I’m hoping for, deposit me in her mane. Setting me on the counter, I figure she’ll leave me there, with explicit instructions on how to bake the various goods. Bounding over to the stove, she checks the oven before coming back and picking me up.

Humming something, she places me on her head, turns and vaults out of the kitchen. Using my jaws, I clamp onto her mane, holding on as she rockets through Ponyville. When she reaches the castle, only then does she slow down, allowing me to loosen my grip as she enters. Patiently I wait as she jumps down the hall and when she comes to the room containing the map, I slowly begin to burrow my way into her mane, figuring her mind would be on her friends and whatever task the map was about to set them on, thus allowing me to continue with a quest I have set myself upon some time ago.

I really do not know how it works, but some moons ago I had discovered something interesting, and truly weird, about my owner’s mane. I have sat upon the head’s of other ponies and never noticed anything like it. For my owner’s mane contains a whole other realm within. And thus, shortly after discovering this, I had set myself with the expedition of exploring and finding the centre of her mane. A mission I have had no luck completing, as every time I venture within her mane, it is always different.

This made the journey difficult, as I’m not sure if I have even come to the centre of her mane, though I am certain that I haven’t and would know if I had. I do not believe I would reach the centre this time, though it would be interesting to see what I’d find this time. And so, making my way past the usual odds and ends, which also changed, I barely blinked an eye as I pass several scrolls, candy, a measuring cup, a blackish purple stone that is giving off an odd aura and felt like it was waiting to be given to some sort of creature not of this world, a book, various objects starting with the letter Q, several gold medals with interlocking rings pictured on them, a pitchfork, a signed autographed picture from Lauren Faust, and several tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala, all dated three moons from now.

I knew I am getting somewhere when the various bits of whatnot slowly taper off. As usual, there’s a bright light and stepping toward it, I find myself looking at what appeared to be a music studio. On one end is the pony I recognise to be Octavia Melody. Across from her was the one called Vinyl Scratch, who often uses the stage name DJ Pon3 when performing for crowds.

Watching the two ponies, I realise that they are engaged in an argument of which is better: Classical or Dubstep. There are no words used, for their argument is delivered in the form of music, with Octavia being armed with her bow and Cello, and Vinyl equipped with her turntables and records.

The white Unicorn scratching out a quick phat beat, she waits while the goldish-grey coloured Earth pony retaliates with a series of scales. Vinyl counters with a sick series of rifts, which Octavia matches with a mixture of artificial and natural harmonics.

Back and forth the two go, each matching the other note for note, proving that each is just as good as the other and that there could be no victor in this debate. I myself am no real expert on music, my knowledge going only so far. Thus, watching this, I hope to fill in some of the greater gaps in my understanding. Yet, I could not also help but wondering what these two were attempting to prove.

If this dispute were a competition to determine who’s better, I could already, as I stated before, see that both Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Melody are exceptionally good and that there could be no winner. Perhaps it was meant to answer the question of which genre, Classical or Dubstep, was better. Yet, I could already tell that there could be no champion in such an argument. For each could not exist without the other, as they balanced each other out.

True, you could have Dubstep without Classical, but it would not be the same, for it could be contended that the invention of Classical music thus led to a cascade effect that culminated in the discovery and invention of Dubstep. Each genre had its pros and cons. Just as each appealed to certain individuals, some even liking both. So, if that was what these two ponies were trying to determine, they should know that they could be here, wherever here is, for a very long time, with no clear champion to be determined at any point. And finding myself back to pondering why it was they were engaged in the music debate, I flicked my tongue, licked my eye and watch them, searching for a reason for their gathering, filling in my fragmented knowledge of music as I do so.

As had happened in the past, just as I was deciding that maybe I should attempt to find a way beyond this studio, I abruptly feel something grab me and pull me out. Finding myself looking at my owner, I listen as she prattles on about how the map apparently didn’t need her, that it was sending the ones called Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle to Saddle Arabia, and that she, my owner, could go back to her baking. Taking this in, I stoically went over all I had seen, attempting to figure out why my owner’s mane was the way it was, why I had found what I found and if there was any lesson to be learned, while I wonder what I may see the next time I venture within the frizzled mane atop my owner’s head.

Author's Note

This one is likely to have sequels to it

Pony time

Pony Time

Leaning against her walker, dozing, the elderly green pony was suddenly startled awake when a nearby voice hissed, “We’re on!”

Her head jerking up, muttering something that sounded like, “I’m awake,” Granny Smith looked wildly about. Seeing the set, remembering that she was supposed to say something, the elderly mare looked at the audience and instead of saying the lines she’d been instructed to say, Granny Smith, demanded, “Does anyone care what time it is?”

Before the audience could respond, she turned and shuffled off, mumbling something that sound like, “I should have been at home, making Zap Apple jam,” as she went.

Theme music starting as the elderly pony left, a cerulean pony with a rainbow coloured mane and tail zipped through a double set of doors at the back of the set. A grin spreading across her face as the audience gave her a modest applause, she announced, “Hi. Welcome once again to Tool Time. I am your host, Rainbow “The Tool-Mare” Dash,” and as a yellow mare timidly walked up next to her, Rainbow Dash said, “And you all know my assistant, Flutter “Pest Loving” Shy.”

A louder ovation greeted this salutation and trying to not to show how much she was upset by the fact that she hadn’t received the same amount of applause, Rainbow Dash grabbed a nearby tool belt and affixed it around her waist while Fluttershy continued to stare at the audience, a look of terror replacing the timid look. The cerulean mare finally getting the tool belt on, she turned her attention back to the audience and stated, “Last time we showed you a couple of the many different ways to remove wiring from a wall.”

As if remembering that she was supposed to say something, Fluttershy squeaked out, “And you showed the viewers why it is always a good idea to make sure the electricity is turned off before attempting to remove the wiring.”

This received a smattering of laughter from the audience and as Rainbow Dash gave her sour look, Fluttershy trotted over to an empty workbench set up on the other side of the set. Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash turned her attention fully to the audience and without missing a stride, she continued by explaining, “This week, we’ll be showing the many different ways to fish the wiring down through an already existing wall,” and flapping her wings, she floated past a mock up wall and towards the bench the Fluttershy was standing behind, which now had a couple items on it, including several bits of wiring and a rather scared looking white mouse.

Waving a hoof, the cerulean mare stated, “Marv, why don’t you come in and get a closer shot,” while the yellow mare explained, “I’ve asked one of my little friends here to help,” and indicating some of the wiring, she added, “We’ll be attaching this to my friend and he is going slowly drag it through the wall, aren’t you?”

Rainbow Dash, upon hearing this, rolled her eyes. A cocky look crossing her face, she commented, “Of course, if we really wanted to speed things up, we could just give your friend some of Pinkie Pie’s secret Rock Farm super sugar.”

Another bout of laughter from the audience and as a look of alarm spread across Fluttershy’s face, Rainbow Dash coolly stated, “I’m kidding.”

Turning away from the yellow mare, who had gone back to conversing with mouse while attempting to affix to the animals tail the wiring, the cerulean mare indicated the mock wall with a hoof. Glancing at the audience, she explained, “You want to first locate the studs within the wall,” and the cocky look returning to her face, she added, “And once you do that, you put them out pasture or take them out on a date if they’re good looking. Isn’t that right, Fluttershy?”

From where she stood next to the workbench, Fluttershy glanced at Rainbow Dash and stated, “I don’t think so, Rainbow,” and floating over to the mock wall, a look of seriousness on her face, the yellow mare said, “Once you have located your studs, you want to cut a hole in the wall. This hole should be big enough for you to get your hoof in and as close as you can get to the stud as you can get without actually cutting into the support.”

“And to do that,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, cutting in. “We’re going to use the Binford 6100 jigsaw,” and fluttering back over to the workbench, she reached under it and picked up a blue power tool. Displaying the gizmo to the audience, she said, “This bad boy has a 6.5 amp, variable speeds for delivering 500 to thirty one hundred strokes per minute and four-position orbital action, which allows for faster, more aggressive cut,” and letting out an atavistic neigh, she turned and flapped back to the mock wall, a savage and wild look spreading across her cerulean face as she went.

Seeing the power tool the other pony had, a terrified look crossed Fluttershy’s face. But, taking a deep breath, she explained, “Once Rainbow has cut our hole, then we’ll fit it with the electrical box for our outlet. After that, we’ll release my friend, who’ll take the wiring down, were…”

Before the yellow mare could finish, Rainbow Dash pulled back on the jigsaw trigger and as the power tool belted out a buzzing noise, the cerulean mare grinned. Uttering another primal neigh, mixing it with the words, “Listen to that bad boy purr,” she turned and without warning, launched herself at the wall, where she promptly sank the blade of the tool into the wall and began cutting.

Moments later, Rainbow Dash sat proudly looking at an improper cut hole. Next to her, Fluttershy was attempt to think of a good reason as to why it was a good idea to never let the cerulean Pegasus anywhere near any sort of power tool. Immediately coming up several different reasons, wanting to tell Rainbow Dash them, she instead took a deep breath and looking at the audience, she said, “Fortunately, we anticipated this sort of thing and had a hole properly cut already before hand,” and giving Rainbow Dash a withering look, the yellow mare pushed aside the mock wall, revealing a second mock wall behind it.

As several stagehands came running out to quickly remove the damaged piece of set, Fluttershy indicated the second wall and announced, “Now. As you can see we have already attached our outlet box and now are ready to run the wiring.”

“And for that,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed as she put the jigsaw back. “We need the mouse,” and before Fluttershy could say or do anything, the cerulean mare scooped up the scared looking rodent, carried him over to the mock wall and promptly shoved him into the electrical box.

Terrified, both the yellow mare and rodent uttered a squeaking noise and as the mouse dove into the wall, Fluttershy made a wild grasp for the disappearing wiring. Missing, she glared at Rainbow Dash and huffed out, “But first, before you release my little friend, you need to make sure the wiring is attached to the outlet box. Otherwise, you run the risk of losing both in the wall.”

“Relax,” Rainbow Dash replied as the cocky look once again crossed her face and waving a hoof towards the bottom of the wall, she explained, “We just wait for the mouse to come out through the other pre-cut hole, collecting both pest and wire when it does.”

Glancing in the direction the cerulean mare was indicating, Fluttershy gasped. Squeaking out, “I forgot to cut the second hole,” she dove to the spot where the mouse had gone in and trying to see inward, she started whispering comforting words in an attempt to get it to come back out.

Next to her, the cocky look never leaving her face, Rainbow Dash looked at the audience and commented, “And this is why you always check your work and make sure it is done completely. Otherwise, you wind up with both the pest and the exterminator in the walls,” as the yellow mare began trying to force her way into the wall in a new attempt to get at her little friend.

The audience laughing at this, the cerulean mare turned to Fluttershy and gently dragging her away from the wall, Rainbow Dash stated, “I got this. Applejack showed me a trick for getting mice out the wall,” and tapping one of her hoofs on the wall, she explained, “All you need to do is tap in the right spot and listen. As you hear the rodent moving around, you attempt to scare the rodent up to the hole it used to get in the wall.”

Tapping the wall a couple more times and tilting her to listen, the cerulean Pegasus added, “Of course, we don’t have time to do this the slow way,” and rearing back, she promptly kicked the wall much in the fashion of AJ bucking apple trees.

Her hooves sinking into the wall, the audience laughing some more, Rainbow Dash grinned sheepishly and said, “Than again, you can’t go knocking on a wall the same way you’d buck an apple tree,” and glancing at Fluttershy and asked, “Could you help get me out of here.”

As the yellow mare began trying to extract her friends rear hooves from the wall, the cerulean mare looked at the cameras, smiled in a painful manner and announced, “We’ll be right back after these messages from Binford.”

Steve and The Cutie Mark Crusaders 3

Steve and the Cutie Mark Crusaders 3

“Say what now?” Apple Bloom questioned, her head cocked slightly and one of her eyebrows raised.

Next to her Scootaloo was gazing at something Sweetie Belle assured them was porridge, but for some reason had a weird green tinge to it and, at least to Apple Bloom, smelled of hay that had gotten wet before left to sit for a couple days. Watching the young Pegasus cringe slightly, the Earth pony wondered if it was because of what was in front of them, or because Sweetie Belle had just squealed, “We should totally get our Cutie Marks in tasting food and telling the quality of whether it is good or bad.”

Glancing at the bowl before her, Apple Bloom suppressed a shudder. She knew she wasn’t the best cook in Equestria. But Sweetie Belle was the one who could outdo everypony when it came to being a terrible cook. She was the type who could burn juice, liquefy toast, had managed to light a salad on fire, freeze water whilst it was boiling, and held the record for being the only pony to ever be banned from Sugar Cube Corner’s Sister Hooves Social Bake-Off after the baking soda incident.

Across the table from her, Sweetie Belle was now humming something as she tried to dish herself up a bowl from the kettle set in the middle of the table. Using her magick to extract the wooden ladle, which was now a blackened, burnt, twisted and melted mess, the Unicorn filly stopped humming and exclaimed, “Dumb ladle,” before using her magick to try and set the serving spoon off to the side.

Watching as the remains of the ladle overshot the end of the table and instead soared out the nearby window of their clubhouse, Apple Bloom shared a worried expression with Scootaloo. As the two exchanged glances, Sweetie Belle dipped her bowl into the kettle, scooped up a fair bit of the last of the porridge, and gently set the bowl before her.

Unaware of what had happened to the serving spoon, the Unicorn filly breathed deeply the foetid stench coming off the glop in her bowl. Not smelling anything wrong, Sweetie Belle reached for her spoon, but stopped when she noticed her friends weren’t eating.

Concerned, she squeaked out, “What’s wrong?”

Searching desperately for a proper way to tell the Unicorn that eating her cooking might be akin to drinking from the hog-pen runoff, without hurting her feelings, Apple Bloom glanced at Scootaloo and fumbled for an excuse. To her relief, the Pegasus filly cottoned onto what she was trying do and adopting a look of remorse, Scootaloo explained, “We would totally like to eat this delicious looking breakfast, but it’s way too hot at the moment.”

“Yeah, too hot,” Apple Bloom echoed.

A mixture of emotions flashed across Sweetie Belle’s face before she exclaimed, “That’s a relief. I thought it was because you didn’t like my cooking. Rarity is always complaining every time I prepare something.”

“And I can see why,” Scootaloo muttered under her breath.

Not hearing this, now smiling, the Unicorn filly stated, “I know. Let’s go for a walk. When we get back, the porridge should be cool and we can try once more to get our Cutie Marks as food taste testers.”

Thinking they were more likely to get their Cutie Marks in being the first ponies poisoned by toxic waste, Apple Bloom listened as Scootaloo said, “That’s a totally good idea. But if this doesn’t work, what should we try next?”

Instead of answering the orange Pegasus, Apple Bloom took on a thoughtful expression as she racked her brain for ideas. But, rather than coming up with any, the young Earth pony found herself thinking that if there was a lessen to be learned in all this, it was that Sweetie Belle couldn’t, and shouldn’t, cook.

Realising that the other two, who were tossing ideas back and forth, had already left without her, Apple Bloom found herself fearing for Sweetie Belle’s future special somepony if they ever asked the Unicorn to cook something for them. Calling out, “Wait up,” she dashed after the other two, pulling the door shut as she went. Quickly catching up to her friends, she expressed her idea of what they should try next, if Sweetie Belle’s idea didn’t work.

Rubbing his head, which had a good size bump forming, the Changeling stared at the blackened stick that had hit him in the head moments ago. Gazing up at the house that had been constructed in the tree, he sniffed at the delicious smell wafting out of the window and tried to figure out if the burnt stick had come from there and, if it did, why.

Sure, he reasoned, he wasn’t like the rest of his Podlings. While the rest of his kind were black, adored their Queen in their own sick way, wanted only to suck the love out of everything, and had no names, he, himself, hated Chrysalis, was a golden colour, liked to be called Steve, and had no use for sucking the love out of anything. But, none of these reasons, motives as to why he had fled, were good enough to justify dropping a burnt stick, one that reeked of the delectable odour from above, atop his head.

Attempting to sort out the why of the matter, Steve was distracted by the sound of a door opening, followed by the chorus of three voices talking rapidly amongst themselves. Seeing that they were ponies, knowing what the equines thought of his kind, the Changeling thought quickly before transforming himself into a gold finch.

This wouldn’t have mattered really. For when he finally got a good look at the three, confirming what he had suspected, and that it was indeed three fillies, he watched as they trotted off, still talking quickly amongst themselves, not really paying the least bit of attention to anything around them.

Changing back the second that he could no longer see, or hear, the three, Steve decided that he should be moving along rather than run the risk of being caught by some ponies. Of whom he knew were no friends of his kind and thus would treat him in the same manner that they dealt with any Changeling. But that smell. It was so tantalising that, looking up again, his stomach making hunger noises, he actually found himself drooling.

“A quick peek shouldn’t hurt,” he thought as he contemplated turning into something with wings and flying up to the window.

But, deciding against such a move, he walked over to where he had seen the three young ponies. Finding a ramp walkway, the Changeling glanced furtively about, toying with the idea of not going up, yet also thinking about the bark and fungi he’d been living off of for the past several weeks. His stomach once more announcing its need for decent sustenance, Steve hesitantly made his way upward. Pushing open the door he came to at the top of the ramp, nostrils working rapidly as he sniffed the aroma, tongue flicking out every so often, he peered into the tree house, searching for the source of the scrumptious odour, wary of any other ponies.

The small room before him didn’t appear to have much in it. A lit lantern hung from the ceiling and, between it and the windows, it illuminated the room enough to reveal a podium at the back, a table set with three bowls and a kettle, the source of the aromatic scent he reckoned, and various images covering the walls, each looking like they’d been drawn by a foal and depicting young ponies engaged in various activities.

Directing his attention fully toward the table, it was unclear to Steve why the ponies had left their meal sitting out. He knew he was trespassing and felt that he should turn around and leave. But, hunger winning out, he took another look about the room, listening for any hint that he wasn’t alone, an opening in the ceiling catching his eye as he did so, and hearing nothing, the gold changeling slunk across the room to the nearest of the three bowls, certain that at any moment, he would be caught.

Peering into the dish, Steve found himself staring at a strange, greenish-greyish, lumpy mess that he had no words for whatever it was supposed to be called. Flicking out a claw, he scooped a bit of it and tentatively tried it. Having learned a couple days ago that just because something smelled good didn’t mean it would taste good, Steve supressed a moan of pleasure as the delightful tasting concoction touched his tongue. Leaning forward, he face almost in the bowl, the Changeling began to wolf down the stuff, stopping only after he’d licked the bowl clean.

A rich, hiss-like burp uttered, the gold Changeling eyed the kettle and the other two bowls. Thinking there no sense in letting this magnificent feast go to waste, not sure when the next time he would get a decent meal, Steve shifted seats. Tucking into the deliciousness of the mysterious meal, he soon had the other two bowls, plus the kettle, licked clean.

Sleepy after having gorged himself, he felt, and knew, that he should be moving along. But, seeing the opening in the ceiling, reasoning that no pony could get him up there, and that a couple winks wouldn’t hurt, Steve trudged across the room and stopped beneath the hole. Letting loose with another hissing burp, the gold Changeling found himself feeling too lethargic to alter his form into something that could fly. Studying the wall for a moment, he eventually began using the chinks to slowly pull himself upward and through the opening.

Finding three sleeping bags, he grinned in a languid manner. Not giving it a second thought as to why the outdoor bedding was up there, Steve crawled across the floor and curling up on top of one of the sleeping bags, he was asleep within seconds.

Breakfast and being taste-testers forgotten, mostly because Apple Bloom had been caught by Applejack and sent off to do her chores, whilst Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had been sent home till their friend had completed her assigned tasks, the Cutie Mark Crusaders where making their way toward the clubhouse, debating about what their Cutie Mark would look like. Sweetie Belle was pointing out it would likely be something music related. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was certain it would be something daring looking. Apple Bloom just hoped, but figured, it would be something apple related.

The tree house coming into sight, the young Unicorn stopped without warning, causing the other two to run into her. The young Pegasus shooting a look at Sweetie Belle, she was forestalled from saying anything when Apple Bloom asked, “Why’d ya stop?”

Pointing a hoof at their clubhouse, the Unicorn filly asked, “Did one of you leave the door open?”

“Apple Bloom was the last one out,” the orange Pegasus quickly pointed out while the yellow Earth pony suggested, “Maybe the wind blew it open?”

Not sure the wind had blown the door open, Sweetie Belle gazed at the clubhouse apprehensively. Feeling cautious about whether something dangerous might or might not have gotten into the tree house, she asked of the other two, “Do you think we should go up? Or should we go get Applejack?”

“I’m going up,” Scootaloo boisterously exclaimed. “Maybe I can get my Cutie Mark in catching some dangerous villain who only breaks into clubhouses, “ and, before either of her friends could stop her, the Pegasus filly galloped over to the ramp and up, all the time hoping neither Apple Bloom nor Sweetie Belle could see just how scared she was.

Reaching the top of the ramp, she stopped. Peering through the open door, the orange filly started to breath a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty room and instead nearly uttered a whinny of terror when a voice behind her asked, “Ya see anypony?”

“I thought you were staying behind,” Scootaloo exclaimed as she whipped about and found herself looking at Apple Bloom.

As Sweetie Belle joined them, the yellow Earth pony replied, “I thought we catch whatever it was together.”

Seeing the sense in this, Scootaloo nodded and indicating toward the inside of their clubhouse, she explained, “Well, if their was anypony here, besides us, they’re long gone,” as Sweetie Belle squeezed by and made her way to the table.

Seeing the three empty bowls, she took a quick peek into the kettle. Seeing that it appeared to have been emptied, the Unicorn squeaked out, “Hey! Somepony has been eating our breakfast! And they didn’t leave any for us!” whilst she examined the kettle closer, hoping she was wrong.

A couple steps behind her, Scootaloo supressed an urge to grimace, as she was sure Sweetie Belle would want to make more, as well as the need to comment what a relief it would be that they wouldn’t have to eat the meal the Unicorn had prepared. Instead, in a falsely chipper voice, she announced, “That’s really tragic. Right, Apple Bloom?”

Taking the cue from her friend, the Earth filly adopted a look of pity and shaking her head, replied, “Yeah. That’s too bad,” and feeling it needed to be said, added, “We’re really sorry, Sweetie Belle.”

Instead of replying to any of this, nor had she heard any of it, the young Unicorn was looking up towards the area were she and her friends stored things of importance, sometimes had sleepovers, and used for activities for gaining their Cutie Marks if they couldn’t go outside, such as if Ponyville was under attack. Seconds after she had commented about the lack of food, she could have sworn she had heard something moving up there. Ears pricked, she waited and listened. And when one of her friends called her name, she merely waved a hoof and told them, “Hush.”

After what felt like an eternity, she was finally rewarded when, very discreetly, just barely there, something up above moved. Turning toward her friends, she stated, “I don’t think we are alone.”

Upstairs, groggy and still trying to fully wake up, Steve listened to this and wondered what he should do. Moments ago he’d been awoken to the sound of voices below and, just as one of them stated that somepony had eaten the food left out on the table, he had made the mistake of shifting so that he could better what was being said.

Below, everything had gone silent, except for a comment here or there. Terrified he’d been discovered, he waited with baited breath for the tell-tale sounds that whomever was down below was coming to get him. When it became too much for him, the Changeling decided trying to edge closer to the opening, hoping that by doing so, he could actually see who it was that in the main section of the tree house.

Attempting to move silently, Steve had only taken a couple steps when the one he was thinking was of upper class stated that she didn’t think they were the only ones in the tree house. Immediately, thick accent replied that she thought they should go and get an apple jack. The one with the brazen voice commented that they should go up and catch whatever it was themselves, and, near panic that the three would do so, the gold Changeling mentally kicked himself for eating so much.

Below, brazen voice was explaining, “…and we could totally get our Cutie Marks in being creature catchers,” which made him wonder if they’d done this before.

Afore he could reach a decision on how professional they sounded when it came to catching things, high class called one of the other two, presumably brazen voice Steve figured, a name and stated, “We already tried to do that. That’s how Fluttershy’s table was broke and we almost ended up being turned to stone.”

“Don’t call me names,” brazen voice retorted, confirming what Steve thought as the same voice added, “And we weren’t almost turned to stone trying to be creature catchers. We were almost turned to stone because we were trying to catch one of Fluttershy’s chickens that had gotten loose in the Forbidden forest and we’d mistaken for a Cockatrice.”

An idea coming to him the instant brazen voice mentioned chickens, Steve mentally kicked himself a second time, this time for not having realised earlier there was a simple solution to his problem. Concentrating as hard as he could, he focused on his ability to change his appearance and within seconds a magnificent golden eagle was standing where seconds ago there had been a gold coloured Changeling. Shifting his weight so that he was now falling downward through the hole, Steve let loose with a loud combination scream and a sort of yelping-bark.

Seeing the three ponies he had first seen coming out of the tree house, listening to all three of them utter screams, Steve spread his wings slightly and soared out the open door. Thankful to have gotten away without any sort of confrontation, listening as high class squeaked out, “Happy now? It got away. Now we’ll never know what it was,” while thick accent stated, “Ah tol’ ya we should’ve gotten apple jack,” the Changeling vowed that he would be, from now on, more careful on what he ate.

“Especially if it looks like it belongs to someone else, abandoned or not,” he thought as he soared over a red barn and began winging his way toward a thick forest and what appeared to be a dilapidated castle.

Hoof to the Head

Hoof to the Head

“Attention!” a raspy voice barked out so loudly that several of the Pegasus ponies almost flattened their ears. Seeing this, taking it all in stride, Rainbow Dash trotted up and down before them, making sure that all were standing with their hooves placed properly, heads held high and wings tucked back.

After a couple more turns, she belted out, “Today, you become cadets of the Wonderbolts. Today, you will unlearn everything you have learned on what it means to be a Wonderbolt, then relearn, properly, what it exactly means to be a Wonderbolt. Today, you begin that lesson by learning how to listen and to properly take commands. To know when to follow them, when to question them and when to disregard them, which none of you should ever do, as none of you are even twenty percent as cool as I am. Do I hear a yes ma’am?”

Several Pegasus ponies affirmed this and starting to trot back and forth, the cerulean mare hollered, “I can’t hear you!”

Louder this time, nearly all of the cadets yelled, “Yes ma’am!”

A quick flap of her wings and Rainbow Dash alighted before a golden yellow Pegasus with a Cutie Mark of a red lightning bolt. Glaring at him, she screamed, “You, cadet. Twice now you have failed to sound off like you have a reason to sound off. Why is this?”

“Ma’am,” the Pegasus replied, looking forward and not at her. “I do not feel learning how to listen is an important lesson. I already know how to listen. I also know how to take an order. Just as I do not know anything about the Wonderbolts, but am willing to learn. Something I do not feel can be learned from a lesson in listening. I feel that we should move onto a different lesson. Ma’am.”

Rainbow Dash, remembering what Spitfire had told her, glared at the Pegasus and recalling his name was Thunderclap, took a step back and gave him a friendly look before replying, “So, you believe that listening isn’t important. How would you learn anything if you didn’t listen,” and, unable to actually believe she was saying it, she furthered her point by explaining, “A pony who doesn’t listen is just like the pony who fails to pay attention to his or her surroundings. Sooner or later, they are going to crash and burn,” thinking as she did that she sounded like Twilight, which made her think that maybe she was hanging around the Princess of Friendship too much.

A cocky look crossing Thunderclap’s face, he immediately shot back, “The Pegasus who catches flies with only part of the pinion can accomplish anything. Ma’am.”

“What the hay?!” the cerulean Pegasus thought, thinking that she had heard the quote somewhere. Unable to place it, recovering herself, not showing that she’d been thrown off her stride, she countered with, “Listening and being able to take and follow commands is one of the first steps in becoming a Wonderbolt. Just as knowing which commands to follow, which orders to ignore, and which directions to question. You cannot just skip steps and do whatever and hope that everything turns out all right in the end. If you do it that way, you’re just going to end up with something that is ineffective and can be easily taken apart.”

“I didn’t sign-up for lessons in listening, ma’am,” Thunderclap neighed out. “If I wanted that, I could have stayed home and had my mom harangue me about how I fail to pay attention. So, are you going to show me something different? Or do I have to put in a request to be transferred to a different battalion, ma’am?”

Unable to believe the brass on this one, Rainbow Dash wanted to fly into his stupid face and put him in his place. Instead she took a deep breath and further thinking of what Spitfire taught her, she adopted a stern look. Barking out, “Thunderclap. You have failed to live up to what it means to be a Wonderbolt cadet. However, I am willing to go easy on you, this time. Step forward, cadet. I’m going to show you a very secret tradition very few learn on their first day.”

The cocky look never leaving his face, Thunderclap glanced at the other cadets and nickered, “That’s how you get ahead. You show them who is worthy of being in charge,” as he stepped out of line and placed himself a couple inches from Rainbow Dash.

“Observe closely, cadets,” the cerulean mare stated and before Thunderclap could blink, Rainbow Dash slapped him upside the head with her front left hoof, bellowing out, “Hoof to the head,” as she did so.

Thunderclap, stumbling slightly, blinked, shook his head and whinnied, “What the…You clopped me in the head!”

A nod and the cerulean Pegasus snapped out, “You are lucky. Few cadets learn of the secret technique of keeping a Wonderbolt cadet inline,” and turning, she started trotting away, preparing to continue her drill.

Behind her, Thunderclap shook his head and nickered angrily, “That was entirely unfair. I wasn’t ready. Why don’t you try that again, Rainbow Crash?”

Faster than any of the cadets could follow her, their drill instructor whipped around and planted her front left hoof again upside Thunderclap’s head, uttering “Hoof to the head,” as she did so.

Thunderclap, now looking dizzy and having some trouble focusing, grinned and patting the cloud in a feeble manner, whimpered out, “Mind if I lay down for a moment, ma’am?” before trying to use his wing to salute and promptly falling over, his back leg twitching somewhat as a rivet of drool escaped past his lips.

“Now, if we can continue,” Rainbow Dash barked out and preparing for the next part of her lesson, she was stopped, this time by a white and sky blue Pegasus named Dewy Star, who stepped forward, saluted and stated, “Ma’am. I do not think Thunderclap is wholly wrong. I think today we should learn something else, besides just listening and the ways to take orders. Ma’am.”

From on the ground Thunderclap made a moaning noise, as if to say this wasn’t a good idea. Agreeing with him, the cerulean drill instructor replied, “Perhaps you weren’t listening when I was explaining how skipping steps could be wrong? Or perhaps you didn’t understand? This is why you need lessons in how to listen.”

“Many apologies, ma’am,” Dewy Star replied, “But I understand several things. I understand that listening is just as important as observing, ma’am. I understand that if you go off and do something hotheaded, like challenging your teacher, it will only lead you to pain and trouble, ma’am. And, I understand that you should always get in the first shot,” and spinning about, she attempted to pop Rainbow Dash in the head with one of her rear hooves.

The feeble attack missing, the cerulean Pegasus didn’t even twitch a wing. She’d been expecting it, having watched as Dewy Star’s body give all the tell-tale signs she was about to do such a stupid thing and glaring at the cadet she calmly stated, “You missed. You to shall learn the same honoured technique as Thunderclap.”

“You know, you really don’t have to,” the female Pegasus replied nervously whilst backing up and looking wildly about.

Before any of the cadets could blink, the cerulean mare launched her right hoof forward and clopped the Dewy Star upside the head, neighing out, “Hoof to the head,” as she did so.

The white and blue Pegasus dropping to the cloud, her instructor didn’t even blink and instead began trotting back and forth before the remaining cadets. While she did this, Rainbow Dash, belted out, “Can any of you sorry excuses for cadets tell me what proper lesson should be learned before we return to the intended lesson?”

“Neither Dewy Star nor Thunderclap could hit you, ma’am” a Pegasus on the end replied. “They attacked individually. So we should attack as a group. Get her.”

A smile crossing her face, Rainbow Dash had been hoping for a scuffle and working quickly as the remaining cadets launched themselves toward her, she began repeating, “Hoof to the head,” as she dropped one cadet after another. Moments later, all the cadets lay on the cloud, moaning or unconscious and looking at the one who had started the group attack, she grinned and stated, “That was your plan. ‘Get her’.”

Behind her, someone cleared their throat and whirling around, Rainbow Dash found herself facing Spitfire. Immediately saluting her superior, she listened as the gold Pegasus said, “New cadets?” looked at the fallen class and commented, “Told you hoof to the head would help,” before chuckling and flying off.

The smile never leaving her face, the cerulean mare waited a moment till the captain was gone before spinning around and facing the new cadets. Looking at them, taking note of the ones who were already trying to stand back up, she belted out, “Right, on your hooves. Now! I want five hundred laps. Afterward, we have a busy day ahead of us. Including learning how to listen, take commands, when to question those instructions and when to ignore them.”