Tennis Ball

by gimmick68

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, My Little Pony: A New Generation, Izzy Moonbow
Length: 1432

The origin of Izzy's tennis ball.

Izzy is prone to doing damage with her horn. Purely accidental, of course, but the combination of her natural clumsiness and her unnaturally long and pointy horn make her a danger to all things sentient and inanimate. Then one day, her problem is blunted solved.

[EDIT]: This was written WAY before the movie came out and based solely on the released still that included Izzy with the tennis ball, so it was pure speculation.

Rated Teen for some minor blood and brief sexual references.

Published 2021-03-01 06:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-01 06:30:00 UTC

In which Izzy is made less pointy

Izzy’s eyes popped open and she sat up with a smile, ready for a new day. The smile quickly dissipated when she realized she couldn’t see anything. Considering her predicament, she also became aware of a gentle weight on her head. Reaching up she placed her hooves on a poofy object. She tried pulling it off but it was caught on her horn. With a little finagling, she removed the offending fluff.

It was her pillow, with a horn-sized hole and subsequent tear right in the middle. She grimaced a little. “Sorry, pillow,” she soothed, hugging the ruined sleeping implement. A little stuffing popped out. “I didn’t mean to kill you.”

She hopped out of bed and wandered downstairs, dragging the pillow with her, leaving a trail of stuffing behind her. The kitchen was in full swing when she arrived, dad getting ready to go to work while flipping pancakes, and mom getting ready to go to work while setting the table.

“Hello, sweetie,” mom chimed.

“Hey, there, Iz Whiz,” dad greeted.

“Hi.”

“Why so glum this morning?” mom asked.

“Another pillow,” the filly groaned, holding up the deflated sack of poof.

“Oh dear. Well, don’t be too upset, darling,” mom comforted. “That’s only ten for the month. That’s two less than last month at this time.”

“I guess. I just hate having a long horn.”

“Pish, don’t be mad about that. You’ll grow into it. Eventually. Hopefully. Now, breakfast.”

The filly hopped into her seat as mom took the pillow to the other room, where she deposited on the pile of fellow victims. Izzy watched dad’s skillful flipping of the flapjacks and her mood brightened some. Then, it dimmed again. “Daddy, one of your band aids is coming off.”

“Hmm? Oh, thanks, kiddo.” He reached down and yanked the band aid off, revealing a puncture wound on his left front leg. He took another band aid from the box by the sink and applied it. “We’re thinking of switching to a different brand,” he informed nonchalantly, “these peel off too easily.”

“Okay.”

“Ready for some breakfast?” mom asked cheerfully.

“Yeah.”

On the far side of the table they loaded a plate with pancakes and eggs. Dad put on a gauntlet made of dragon scales and pushed the plate to his daughter. “There you go, Iz Bang, eat up!” He smiled serenely. The filly did so, while the parents stood against the counter, watching intently. She finished and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The parents let out a long breath of relief.

“Guess I’ll get ready for school,” Izzy said.

“Fo’ shizzle, Izzle,” dad rapped horribly.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t,” mom shook her head.

“Yeah, dad. Especially not in public.”

Izzy slipped out of her chair and managed to tip the chair on two legs. Trying to catch herself, she grabbed the tablecloth, yanking it with as she fell to the floor. Her parents instinctively leapt into action, trying to help their daughter. Then they instinctively thought better of it and sort of danced and hopped around the scene unfolding before them.

“Let it happen!” warned mom.

When the commotion had stopped, Izzy was on the floor, surrounded by broken pieces of the plate, but covered by the tablecloth. She heard hoofsteps of her parents and stood up and turned around, bumping into something sturdy but with give.

“Ahhh!” Mom inhaled sharply.

Izzy removed the tablecloth and saw a deep gash in mom’s chest, slicing upwards in an arc. The blood dripped out freely. “I’m sorry, mommy,” the filly whimpered.

“It’s…ow…okay, sweetie. I shouldn’t have rushed in like that.”

“Oh, that’s pretty deep this time,” dad said, grabbing a ready gauze pad from the stack at the end of the counter. “Here, baby, let me.”

Izzy pushed the tablecloth away and grabbed a napkin to wipe the tiny smear of blood on her horn. While she was doing that she also tried to get out of the way of dad coming to help mom but tripped on her hooves and fell forward, practically diving underneath the stallion. With a leap prompted by pure reflex, dad moved out of the way just in time as Izzy’s horn came breathtakingly close to the most sensitive parts of his body. He landed next to his wife and panted.

“Oh, sweet moon goddess, I was almost gelded!”

“Careful, sweetie. Don’t geld your father. Those are some of mommy’s favorite parts.”

“Sorry.”

“Just get ready for school, okay?” mom said happily, through clenched teeth. Izzy nodded and scooted off upstairs.

“She’s going to kill somepony,” dad said, putting pressure on mom’s wound.

“She’s definitely going to kill somepony,” mom agreed.

In her room Izzy hurriedly packed her saddlebags with her school supplies. She still had plenty of time before school started but the mornings that started with injury always put everypony on edge – even more than usual – and she didn’t like that feeling.

Back in the kitchen she found dad expertly sewing up mom’s wound. He’d gotten so good at it and mom couldn’t help but compliment his work.

“Oh, darling, I didn’t know I married a surgeon,” she swooned. “Your needlework is impeccable. Nana would be so impressed.”

“Maybe she would have approved of me if she knew I was only a part-time accountant and a full-time surgeon.” Mom giggled.

“Mom, dad, I’m ready for school,” Izzy mumbled.

“And you certainly are,” dad said proudly. “Ready to get some learning, eh, Plop Plop Izz Izz!” He chuckled jovially at the joke.

“Sorry, again, mommy,” the filly whimpered.

“Oh, pish, sweetie, it’s not so bad. In fact, your dad was just saying how well it fit with the one you gave me last summer. See? Nearly symmetrical.” She proudly displayed her chest, showing the existing scar curving the other direction.

“Oh, yeah. Okay. I guess I’ll be going.”

“Any fun things at school today?” dad asked, finishing his stitching.

Izzy shrugged. “Tennis, I think.”

“Sounds fun, sweetie,” mom said. “Be careful, okay?”

“I always try.”

“Don’t forget your lunch, sweetie,” mom reminded, nodding to the brown paper bag on the counter. Izzy went to get it, fully aware her parents were watching every step. She put the lunch in her saddle bags and headed for the front door.

“Wait a minute, now!” called dad.

Izzy turned around to mom and dad putting on their armor. Designed after the Crystal Empire royal guards’ uniform, except with full face covering, and made of dragon scales. They’d gifted them to each other last Hearth Warming.

“Gimme a hug, bug,” mom squeed.

Izzy went for a hug, her horn scraping against the armor. Mom shuddered a little but dad joined in the hug and calmed her. When they released, Izzy’s horn scraped dad’s armor on the neck. He gulped in relief as she stepped away.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” mom said.

“Wait! That’s it!” dad exclaimed loudly, startling his family. He hustled off to the utility room, where they also kept various sports equipment. He returned with a tennis ball. “Hold still, sweetie.”

PLOWP!

The tennis ball stuck proudly on the end of Izzy’s horn. Dad shimmied it a bit to make sure it was firmly on.

“There,” he announced, admiring his work.

“Darling, that’s genius!” mom squealed, hopping in place.

“Uh,” pondered Izzy. “Does this mean we can hug without the armor?”

“Well, let’s just test it out, first,” dad offered.

“Okay. What do I say if the other foals make fun of me?”

“Well, just remind them of what it was like for them when you didn’t have it,” mom stated.

“Don’t be above threatening to take it off,” added dad.

“Thanks.” The filly smiled appreciatively, reassured by her parents’ words. She turned and waved over her shoulder as she headed for the door. She banged into the door, the tennis ball bumping harmlessly against the wood, which had been so thoroughly gouged over the years. “Oops. Heh.” And with that, she left the house. The door closed behind her.

Mom and dad breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“That was truly brilliant, darling,” mom said, smooching her husband. “Now, let’s get out of this armor and celebrate your stroke of genius and not being gelded.”

Author's Note

A moment of honesty: when I first saw that tennis ball on her horn, my first thought was: She's killed.

I haven't looked into any details of her character so this is likely not an accurate depiction of her; I just thought it was a funny idea.