Somepony Tries to Sell 'Twilight-Insurance'
If you'd known him for long, you could usually tell when Crystal Jackpot was cross. There were various little clues, like the way he'd turn a shade of red that would put most tomatoes to shame, or how his voice would rise suddenly in pitch, or the fact that he'd tell every third pony he met that he was cross, then fire every fourth. It didn't matter whether that pony worked for him or not - the way he saw it, everypony would work for him sooner or later, and he was just firing them in advance to save time. He was, after all, very rich. He had once fired the Saddle-Arabian ambassador, and then, sure enough, a month later he had bought the embassy. The ambassador's resignation papers arrived in the post the next morning. Ponies knew not to argue with Jackpot. He could defeat any argument he understood, as well as most of the ones he didn't.
Today, though, he was very, very cross. Tomatoes across Equestria breathed sighs of relief as Jackpot's face turned from red to an exquisite shade of purple, then pink, then vivid white. He set down the report he'd just finished reading. "Well?" he asked.
Seated before him, dotted along the long, thin boardroom table like ticks on a dog's tail, were the members of the board. The members of the board said nothing. They had nothing to say. They had reached their current exhalted positions by having nothing to say, and ten years or more each in the business had allowed them to hone their singular skill to perfection. They also did nothing. They had nothing to do. Bitter experience had taught the members of the board that the curling, brown sandwiches that were sitting on the table on their little white plates tasted of brown. And curling-ness. The coffee (or it might have been tea) that was served in the little plastic cups was grey. Very grey. Drinking that tea (or it might have been coffee), thought the members of the board, would be too close to canibalism, so grey was it. For grey they were, in spirit if not in coat. The members of the board always upheld the strictest moral standards, whilst in public.
Realising with satisfaction that his hoof-picked board was going to remain nicely silent, Jackpot announced "I didn't get where I am today by losing money."
That was the only time the members of the board were supposed to say anything, so there was an enthusiastic mumble of "Of course not, Mr Jackpot."
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but losing money breaks me."
"Yes, Mr Jackpot."
Peering around, Jackpot noticed a young-ish lesser employee lurking nearby. "You!" he barked. "Clear out your desk!"
The employee looked startled. "But I... you mean I'm fired?"
"No. I want your desk cleared out. The standard of hygiene in these offices is appalling." A rumble of agreement came from the board. "Go now!" As the underling hurried off, Jackpot smiled to himself. He liked to keep ponies guessing. He turned to a security guard. "In five minutes, follow him to his office and fire him." He also liked firing ponies. He made a mental note to fire the guard later on. Better safe than sorry.
"Now then," he began, turning once more to the board, "what in Equestria is going on? This new princess, er..."
"Twilight Sparkle, sir," said his assistant, Miss Pepperclip.
"Exactly. Her. She has not only turned down our generous offer of insurance for her castle in, er..."
"Ponyville, sir."
"Exactly. She has also written long letters containing detailed explanations of why ponies shouldn't buy insurance, including diagrams and complex logistical arguments, and sent them to everypony she knows who has the capacity to buy insurance."
"That's right," said Miss Pepperclip. Some well-timed tutting emanated from the members of the board.
"Nonsense. Let me see these so-called 'arguments'." With a hint of trepidition, Miss Pepperclip passed him a sheet of paper. He scanned the first couple of lines. They read 'Taking the discrete random variable N to be the number of months after which your property is destroyed, you will find that N ~ Geo(p) where p is the average probability that your property will be destroyed in any given month, allowing for seasonal...' Jackpot put the paper down. "I can't possibly read this without my glasses," he complained.
"You're still wearing them from when you read the report," Miss Pepperclip wisely decided not to say. She had held the post of Jackpot's PA for over a month - a company record.
"And as a result, dozens of ponies have informed us that they will not be renewing their contracts next year. Unacceptable. We're not one of those dreadful firms that go around losing money left, right and wrong. Where is the pony responsible? Who sold her this insurance? Or rather, failed to sell her it?" Jackpot seethed. He took a long drag on his cigar, then let the smoke rush out of his mouth and upwards. Everypony else tried hard not to think of a volcano.
"That would be Ballpoint Smudge, sir. He's just hoofed in his resignation."
Jackpot looked surprised. "Resigned? Ridiculous. Neither Mrs Jackpot nor I have ever resigned." A faint murmur from the members of the board signified that they, too, had never resigned.
"Something about becoming a poet, sir. Says he doesn't want to sell insurance any more."
"Balderdash. Whoever heard of an insurance salespony who didn't want to sell insurance?" He paused, allowing the members of the board to figure out that they were supposed to laugh, and to do so. "Oxymoron in terms. He's obviously dead weight. I didn't get where I am today without recognising dead weight when I see it. Fire him."
"But..."
"But?"
"But... of course, sir."
"Now, I want you to get me everything we've got on this Limelight Debacle mare. I'm going to break her if it's the last thing I do. If she thinks she can cross Crystal Facet Jackpot and get away with it she's got another think coming. I didn't get where I am today by crossing Crystal..." Jackpot trailed off, unsure of himself. After a few seconds' pause, he continued "I know how mares think. Do you know how mares think?"
Miss Pepperclip was a little taken aback to realise that Jackpot was addressing her. She considered her options. "I couldn't possibly say, sir."
"I'm very glad to hear it."
Today, decided Twilight Sparkle, would be a good day.
She yawned, got up, and cleaned her teeth.
Not that yesterday hadn't been a good day. And the day before, come to think of it.
She showered and brushed her mane.
Not for the first time, Twilight considered what a great life she had.
She had a sensible breakfast, and headed outside. It was sunny, she realised. Good. She decided to spend some time with her friends - but with whom? Well, it had been a while since she'd seen Pinkie Pie; and in fact, they hadn't really spoken properly for a while. Yes, Pinkie it would be.
As she trotted towards Sugarcube Corner, it occurred to her that ponies were behaving oddly. Very oddly. For one thing, they were all crossing to the other side of the road when they saw her coming. Hmm. For another, they kept casting furtive glances in her direction and whispering. Hmm again. Well, she thought, it wasn't the first time she'd thought other ponies were acting unusually. She recalled that she'd spent several years of her life convinced that everypony else was antisocial and unfriendly. Perhaps it would be wise to give them the benefit of the doubt.
"Good morning, Mrs Cake," smiled Twilight. From the other side of the counter, Mrs Cake smiled back. It wasn't a very convincing smile, though, and even Twilight picked up on it. "Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Of course, dear!" insisted Mrs Cake - in possibly the jolliest voice Twilight had ever heard anypony use, giving her the distinct impression that her presence was making Mrs Cake feel a little awkward. "Can I help you with anything?"
"I was just wondering if you knew where Pinkie Pie would be," said Twilight, feeling a little awkward herself. "This is her day off, right?"
"Erm, yes, that's right!"
Like a killing blow to a cracked teapot, Mr Cake mercifully ended the conversation by walking in asking "Honey, about that new policy..." That was as far as he got before he noticed Twilight. Then he assumed the same expression as Mrs Cake, and said "Twilight! How lovely to see you out and about again!"
"Yes, I just finished my universal index of my books of avian molluscs last night." Twilight felt distincly unwanted.
"Well, how..." Mr Cake gazed frantically at his wife for support.
"How... lovely!" she finished for him.
The fixed expressions borne by the bakers were starting to put Twilight in mind of a pair of crazed psycho-ponies, and she wanted to stop looking at them as soon as equinely possible. She was also getting sick of the implicit exclamation marks on the end of every single one of their sentences. So she said "Actually, I was hoping to see Pinkie Pie. Today..."
Mr and Mrs Cake exchanged 'we should tell her' glances.
"The thing is, Twilight," began Mr Cake, sounding more embarrased than a cactus at a group-hugging session, "we were sort of wondering if..."
"If you could maybe... shop someplace else," finished Mrs Cake.
Twilight narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a 'trying to see the big picture' expression. "Mrs Cake, if there's anything the matter..."
But Mrs Cake, flushed as she was, interrupted with "It's just that things have been tough for small businesses lately, and when an opportunity like this comes up, we just have to, have to..."
"We insured the bakery against Act of Twilight!" said Mr Cake in a rush, so that the words piled out of his mouth and ran for cover, upset at their own existence.
"Act of... me?"
"Please try to understand, sweetie. Every four days or so a great big Cacophanox or Vampony or Samiad comes lumbering out of the forest, and you and your friends fight it off, and some poor building always gets caught in the crossfire, and it's not that we're ungrateful, but this new policy covers us against any and all 'accidents' you're involved with, whether you were the cause or not, so we can't afford not to take it up."
"And we get a huge discount on our premiums if we can prove that you rarely come in contact with our property," explained Mr Cake.
"I... see." Twilight let her confusion show. She felt utterly... what? Not betrayed, exactly, but definitely not very pleased.
"Believe me, we woudn't ask you to do this if we didn't care about you," Mrs Cake assured her.
"Actually, I don't think that's- Ouch!" Mr Cake wilted under his wife's glare. "I mean, of course not, Twilight. You do understand, don't you?"
"And we'll still see you around. Think of it as temporary, until the economy's in a slightly better state."
"Oh, um, okay. I understand." Crushed. That was the word. Twilight felt Crushed. And she'd felt crushed before, but normally because of something she'd done wrong. Here, she hadn't done anything except be herself. It hurt.
Twilight found herself out on the street, without really remembering how she'd got there. She supposed she must have slunk out. Then she recalled that she'd wanted to visit Pinkie - but somehow the prospect seemed rather lacklustre now. She decided to wander around for a while. A bit of fresh air, that was the answer. And as the Cakes had said, this was only a temporary arrangement. She really did understand.
The more mentally distinguished amongst my readers have doubtless figured out the exact nature of Jackpot's Revenge. Suffice it to say, then, that much the same thing happened in Quills & Sofas, Dolls' Houses & Gerbils and Houmous & Masonry. The following, for the sake of continuity, are excerpts from the respective conversations.
"It's mostly a tax thing, really."
...
"I was against it myself, but the wife was adamant."
...
"I'm sorry, but you've never expressed any interest in houmous or masonry before."
"...And besides, Rarity, we wouldn't even need mascaron ornaments on the farm!"
"And may I inquire why not? I think they would give the place a charmingly rustic feel."
"For Celestiassakes, Rarity, it's a farm! It's already charmingly rustic."
"It's certainly rustic..."
Much to her relief, Applejack spotted Twilight, seated on a park bench about ten paces ahead.
"Hey, Twilight!" Would ya mind helpin' us settle an argument?"
"It is not an argument, darling, it is a... dispute."
"The difference being?"
"Ponies of breeding do not argue. They engage in reasoned dispute."
"'Bout time you started being reasonable, then."
"I'll start being reasonable once you acquire some degree of clear diction!"
"Oh, back to the accent, huh? Out of arguments already?"
"They are not arguments! They're just... er... Applejack, dear, I can't help but notice that Twilight hasn't actually responded."
Twilight hadn't. Although they were almost right next to her now, she was still sitting on the same park bench, staring at nothing.
"You're right... fer once. She's quieter than a fieldmouse at a funeral."
"I don't know where you get them from..."
"Twilight, sugarcube, are you alright there?"
"Wha?" Twilight shook her head to clear it of thoughts of insurance, Crystal Jackpot and squirrels. She shuddered. That had been a disturbing daydream.
"Sugar, are you okay? You look kinda... off."
"Darling, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Oh, uh, hi there," said Twilight, not feeling herself.
"You don't look yourself," observed Rarity, accurately.
Twilight decided not to bother her friends with her problem. Not until she'd had a proper think, anyway. She wondered vaguely what she would have said if she had been feeling herself. Eventually, she settled on "Um, books!" Rarity and Applejack looked unimpressed. "Colour-coding?" tried Twilight, but to no avail. The two seated themselves either side of Twilight.
"An' we ain't movin' till you tell us what in the hay's the matter," announced Applehat.
"Assuredly not."
Twilight winced, but then, realising that however bad things were, here were two ponies who would always love her, she relaxed. "I knew I could count on you girls."
"That's what we're here for," smiled Rarity.
So Twilight told them what had happened.
Oddly, it didn't have quite the effect Twilight had been expecting. Instead of looking sympathetic, her friends assumed expressions best described as... fazed. No, flustered. That was better. Applejack turned red and Rarity turned pink (which were roughly equivalent alterations in hue), and both broke out in sweats, although it wasn't too hot. In fact, for the sake of you weather-watchers out there, it was classic Ponyville 'just-right'.
Just as Twilight was reaching the Gerbil part of Dolls' Houses & Gerbils (which she felt sure was the more interesting part), Applejack broke in.
"Listen, Twilight, there's something Ah should probably tell ya."
"Mm. Me too," admitted Rarity.
"Oh. Well, go ahead," said Twilight, disappointed but not showing it.
"Now, Ah don't want you to take this the wrong way..."
"...Celestia forbid that you should misunderstand me, my dear..."
"...Ah did it for the family, really..."
"...and I do have Sweetie Belle as a dependent..."
"...we just can't afford any more barn-raisings - not this year, anyhow..."
"...dresses are our livelihood, and they are a trifle fragile..."
"...one bad harvest and we could go right under..."
"...and the policy does protect us against any disaster in which you were involved, even if it's not your fault..."
"...an' it's an awful lot cheaper if we can prove that you're not around the farm so often..."
"...and besides, I'm sure you've got plenty of clothes already..."
"...so we could always send apples up by mail, or somethin'."
Twilight's stomach, which had been feeling pretty dizzy recently, teetered, toppled, and plummeted.
"Oh, hey, Twilight!" said Spike, cheerfully, as Twilight trudged into one of her sitting rooms. "I just used a train set and a ton of ice-cream to simulate an avalanche." The little dragon rubbed his stomach proudly. "Educational and delicious! How's your day going?"
"So-so," said Twilight, and collapsed.
To be con-ti-nu-ned...
Author's Note
And there it is. I don't quite know why I'm writing this, I just sort of am. Am I trying to relive past triumphs? Possibly. Will it work? No. I think, deep down, I just wanted to revisit Jackpot's character. He's such fun to write! Don't forget to upvote if you enjoyed this! It means the world to me, it really does.
Tatty-bye,
The Minister
P.s. Should you find yourself in need of other such silliness, here's another of mine, a certain Discord's New Job. Happy readings!
