Spike dreamed of the day that the Cutie Mark Crusaders got their cutie marks.
He had no interest in what they were. But he wanted them to have them. As time passed, their desperation to find their talents grew — and it got more dangerous to be the only dragon around.
Cutie Mark Crusader Dragon Slayers? He’d been in the hospital for three days.
Cutie Mark Crusader Dragon Tamers? They’d put him in a kennel and forgotten he was there. He had been trapped in there for three days.
Cute Mark Crusader Dragon Doctors? Sweetie Bell had slipped barium into his soda so that they’d get a better picture when they x—rayed him.
Barium was radioactive. Radioactive substances were like alcohol to dragons. He’d woken up the next morning wearing a lampshade the alley behind a bar with a rash that’d taken weeks to get rid of.
And today? Things didn’t seem to be going any better — he had awoken to find himself tied up atop Big Macintosh’s pool table.
Spike almost cried out for help before Scootaloo got the gag on him.
“ Are you sure your brother doesn’t mind us using his colt—cave?” asked Sweetie Bell, looking around the lounge. It was the basement of the Apple family house and belonged to Appleblooms older brother. The big draft pony rarely let the fillies downstairs — even Applejack wasn’t usually invited.
That was the point of a colt—cave.
There was a pool table. Crates of beer. Pin—ups of models on the walls. Dart boards, recliners, neon logo lights, and all the other things that stallions (and Rainbow Dash) seemed to like. As Applebloom knocked over a stack of magazines she gave a little shrug.
“ Well, ah don’ think he’ll know.” said the earth pony filly, reaching under the pool table and pulling out a box with her mouth. It’s contents clattered. “ And heck, if this works, we’ll just make it up to him by givin’ him the next go.”
“ Mmmnp!” grunted Spike, trying to gnaw through the restraint, but the Cutie Mark Crusaders had long ago figured out which ropes he couldn’t get through.
“ Okay, lets do this!” declared Scootaloo, leaping onto the pool table and leaving hoof—indents in the green felt. “ Come on, get the dragon balls already!”
Spike screamed in infinite terror and clutched his legs to his body to hide his crotch.
“...we don’t mean those, Spike.” said Scootaloo with a sigh.
“ Those what?” asked Sweetie Bell, confused.
“ Okay, here they are.” said Applebloom, opening the box she had selected. It contained Big Macintosh’s billiard balls. “ Put ‘em in a circle around him like in the comic book — hey, don’t use that one! Only numbers one through seven!”
“ Oh, yeah.” said Scootaloo, setting the eight—ball back in the case. They quickly encircled the struggling Spike and tossed away the others, which clattered across the floor. “ All right! You have to grant us our wish now, Spike!”
“...wait, don’t we have to raise out hooves into the air or something?” asked Sweetie Bell, looking to Applebloom. “ And shouldn’t we do this outside?”
“ Naw — we do this outside and the sky’ll go dark, remember?” said Applebloom, gesturing to the window. “ An’ then everypony will know what we done. But, uh, yeah, Scoots? Try the hoof thing. And say the words.”
“...I don’t wanna say the words.” groaned Scootaloo, crossing her hooves grumpily. “ I just want my cutie mark.”
“ Fine, ah’ll do it!” said Applebloom, pushing past her. She reared back, her legs flailing in the air. “ All—mighty dragon! Grant us our wish!”
The seven pool balls suddenly began to glow.
“ Woah!” said Sweetie Bell in alarm, falling off the stool she had stood on. “ I didn’t know this would actually work!”
Spike muffled screams continued as he levitated into the air, the golden glow enveloping him.
“ Give us—!” commanded Applebloom, pausing dramatically. In a moment she would ask her and her friends great desire — to have their cutie marks.
“ — give me a break, Applejack!” came Big Macintosh’s voice from above, echoing thorugh the rafters. “ Y’all just woke up and thought it was time for work, just like last week! Look outside, the sky’s still dark — OW!”
There was a flash of light that enveloped the colt—cave. The seven billiard balls sped away, shattering through the walls like they were paper and vanishing into the distant sky, leaving the Crusaders in a demolished room. Spike, who had been levitating helplessly, also vanished.
“ Applejack! Call the doc!” shouted Big Macintosh, his voice full of pain. “ Ah think mah rib re—cracked! Tarnation, this hurts!”
“...aw, horseapples.” said Applebloom, looking to her wide eyed and stunned friends. She then looked around the devastated room — even if they re—collected the Dragon Balls, it would take more than a wish to fix it. “...we don’t speak a word about this, ya hear?”
“ Cutie Mark Crusader Secret Keepers away!” said Scootaloo, opening the basement window and gesturing into the orchard. In a minutes time, the three fillies were gone.
