You wouldn’t regret it. Think of the tourist trade.
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You wouldn’t regret it. Think of the tourist trade.
Headmare Starlight peruses a growing file of potential new students; a rap at the door to her office breaks her focus as she lifts her head up.
“Come in,” she calls out; moments later, she warmly welcomes Gallus and Silverstream. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Is everything all right?” Silverstream asks.
“Everything is fine. I just value your opinions with regard to a couple proposals.”
“Proposals?” Gallus asks. “What proposals?”
“My apologies; let me back up a bit,” Starlight replies. “But first … I do wish to congratulate the two of you again for your upcoming graduation. You and your friends; you’ve all done so much.”
“Like saving the School of Friendship?” Gallus responds with a smile. “And getting everycreature to come out in support of Princess Twilight? Yeah, we’ve done a few things.”
“But why us?” Silverstream asks. “What about Smolder or Yona or Ocellus or Sandbar?”
“Yes, let me explain,” Starlight repeats. “The two of you, along with Smolder, Yona, and Ocellus, made up the first class of nonponies for the School of Friendship. But with recent events, the number of nonponies wishing to enroll has been increasing exponentially.”
“That means a lot, right?” Silverstream asks.
“Indeed … and simply put: we don’t have room to take on dozens, perhaps hundreds, of nonponies. And so I’ve sent out requests to architects to come up with plans for a new dormitory for nonponies. Already, I’ve received two basic suggestions for the design of the dorm, and I thought it best that the architects themselves came in to explain the advantages of both designs.”
Starlight turns her focus to Gallus. “I know you have a desire to serve under Princess Twilight directly; I think this opportunity to voice your opinions and concerns will be very beneficial for you.” She then turns to address Silverstream. “You have shown an insatiable desire for knowledge regarding architectural design, so I think your opinion on these matters would be very valuable.”
A knock on the door breaks Starlight’s train of thought. “Oh, that must be the first architect now. Come in!” she calls out. The door opens as a rust-colored unicorn with a brown mane trots in, his horn aglow as a building model wheels in behind him. “Ah, yes – this is Iron Wagon. Mr. Wagon, these are Gallus and Silverstream; they are here to offer their opinions on your design.”
“Very good,” Iron Wagon responds as his horn stops glowing. He walks over to behind his model and proceeds: “Good morning, everycreature. This model is for a two-story building combining classical neo-Yakyakistani features with all the advantages of modern design. The students arrive in the entrance hall here, are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting the Elements of Harmony, towards the rotating knives …”
Gallus and Silverstream exchange quizzical looks as Iron Wagon continues: “… The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes, and the mangled flesh slurps into these—”
“Ecc … excuse me, Mr. Wagon?” Silverstream interrupts.
“Hm?”
“Did you say ‘knives’?”
“Rotating knives, yes.”
Gallus speaks up: “Are you proposing to slaughter our students?”
Iron Wagon pauses for a moment. “Does that not fit in with your plans?”
“Uh, no, we just want a new dormitory for future nonpony students.”
“Oh I see,” Iron Wagon says. “I hadn’t correctly divined your attitude towards your students … you see, I mainly design industrial mulching factories. Yes, pity,” he says almost to himself, before refocusing his attention towards his audience: “Mind you, this is a real beaut. I mean, none of your blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out of the windows, inconveniencing the passers-by with this one. I mean, my life has been building up to this!”
“Yes, and well done,” Silverstream replies, “but, we did want a student dorm.”
“Well, may I ask you to reconsider? I mean, you wouldn’t regret it. Think of the tourist trade.”
“No, no,” Gallus responds bluntly, “it’s just that we want a new dormitory, not a slaughterhouse.”
Iron Wagon sighs. “Yes, well, of course, that’s just the sort of haughty, short-sighted pig-ignorance I’ve come to expect from you non-creative garbage; you sit there on your loathsome, pastel-colored flanks, singing sappy songs, not caring a flying feather about the struggling artist! YOU EXCREMENT! You lousy hypocritical whining yes-creatures with your picturesque views and perfect weather and fairy-tale lives, AND YOUR ULTRA-SACCHARINE SCHOOL OF FRIENDSHIP … YOU WOULDN’T LET ME JOIN, WOULD YOU, YOU BLACKBALLING BASTARDS! WELL I WOULDN’T GO TO YOUR SCHOOL NOW IF YOU GOT ON YOUR LOUSY, STINKING, HOOVES AND CLAWS, AND BEGGED ME!!!”
…
“Well, we’re sorry you feel like that,” Gallus responds dryly, “but we did want a new dormitory. Nice, though, your slaughterhouse is.”
“Oh *pbbt* the slaughterhouse, that’s not important,” Iron Wagon replies, his tone becoming meek, “But if one of you could put in a word for me I’d love to enroll in the School of Friendship. The School of Friendship opens doors, I mean, I was … I was a bit on edge just now, but if I was a student I’d just sit at the back and not get in anyone’s way.”
Starlight raises a hoof to her face. “Thank you,” she says.
“I’ve got a second-hand notebook.”
“Thank you,” Starlight repeats.
Sighing, Iron Wagon walks to the door. Before leaving, he turns his head: “I nearly got in at Flim-Flam U.”
“THANK YOU!” Starlight shouts, causing Iron Wagon to exit quickly.
“I’m sorry about that,” Starlight says to the others.
“No, that’s quite all right … I think I’m learning a lot right now,” Gallus admits.
Silverstream opens her mouth to speak, but as she does, Trixie barges into the room. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Trixie says to Starlight. “I’m having issues with my long-distance banana supplier.”
“You long-distance what … never mind,” Starlight says, not wishing to continue this thread. “I told you you didn’t need to be here for these meetings.”
“What?” Trixie responds, aghast. “Meetings like this practically require the services of the Great and Opinionated Trixie!”
Starlight shakes her head. “Whatever … the first meeting is done anyway; Iron Wagon wasn’t offering what we had hoped. But feel free to voice your thoughts with our next applicant; he should be here soon.” As if on cue, another knocking comes from the door; Starlight’s horn glows as the door opens. “Come in,” she beckons as a cream-colored pegasus pushes a cylindrical tower model into the center of the room. “Everycreature, this is Ivory Levee.”
The pegasus turns to the others as he takes a position behind his model: “Good morning, everycreature. This is a scale-model of the dorm. There are 14 stories, with 280 modern rooms. There are three main hydraulic lifts and two additional service lifts. Access would be from the main path—”
As he speaks, the tower leans to one side. Ivory quickly uses a wing to gently push the tower back to an upright position and continues: “The structure is built on a central pillar system—”
Again, the tower lists; he again props it back up and holds it steady while continuing: “Yes, a central pillar system with cantilevered floors in pre-stressed steel and concrete. The dividing walls on each floor section are fixed with recessed magnalium flanged grooves—” The bottom half of floors of the model collapses mid-sentence.
Ivory inspects the remains of the model, noticing a wisp of smoke emanating from the structure. Ignoring the wisp, he attempts to continue his description: “By avoiding wood and timber derivatives and all other flammables, we have almost totally removed the risk of …” Before uttering the final word, the structure combusts into a bonfire.
Silverstream turns to Gallus. “Is this supposed to be satire?”
“You’re asking me? Gallus replies.
Ivory wipes a bead of sweat away from his forehead. “Quite frankly, I think the central pillar system may need strengthening a bit.”
Before Starlight can send the architect on his way, Trixie interjects: “Isn’t that going to put the cost up?”
“It might,” Ivory concedes.
“Well, I don’t know whether I’d worry about strengthening that much. After all, they’re not meant to be luxury accommodations.”
Perplexed, Starlight attempts to address her counselor. “Trixie, are you—”
“I mean, providing the students are of light build and relatively fire-resistant and, well, given that weather should be OK, I think we’re on to a winner here!”
“Oh, thank you!” Ivory happily replies … right before his model explodes, sending flaming shrapnel across the room.
Instinctively, Starlight’s horn glows as a fire extinguisher is pulled from a wall and activated to douse the remnants in foam. Exhaling, she turns to Ivory. “Mr. Levee, please excuse us for a few minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ivory says before exiting quietly.
Fuming, Starlight turns to Trixie. “Whaaaat?” Trixie innocently asks.
“IN WHAT UNIVERSE COULD YOU POSSIBLY THNK THAT THAT MODEL WOULD BE SUITABLE FOR ANYCREATURE???”
Trixie pouts and replies: “Oh, you’re no fun anymore!”
Author's Note
Based on this sketch:
