“Now, Zipp, how much should you increase your stopping distance when on a wet roadway?”
“Uhhh…ten?”
“Ten what?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. Ten more than the number of fucks I give.”
Zipp sits on a single student’s desk in the sheriff’s office, doodling lightning bolts on the provided notepad. Hitch stands up at the whiteboard, copying word-for-word excerpts from the Mareitime Bay driving code.
She squishes her cheek upward as she rests it on her hoof. “I still don’t get why you had to close the Sheriff’s office today for this.”
“Because...you almost totaled the Marestream when you tried to land on that icy landing strip. You could’ve killed us or seriously injured us! Not to mention you could’ve hit some obstacle hidden under the deep snow. That's why we're doing these remedial driving lessons, Zipp.”
“Call me Detective,” Zipp says with the same nonchalance. “If I have to call ya Sheriff, you should give me the same respect.”
“Hmph, fine. Detective, what is the safe stopping distance when travelling at 35 miles per hour?”
“I don’t know. Five? Meters?”
“Wrong, Zipp. It’s here. Literally here on the board.” He taps loudly on the whiteboard with his pointer. “Which proves you haven’t even been paying attention to me for the past two hours! Look Zipp, we may be friends, even coworkers, but I’ve got my Sheriff’s duty to teach you. This isn’t a…fun thing, okay!?”
“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t see the board, Sheriff. I was too busy staring at you,” she lets out a smirk.
“If that was your attempt to sweet talk a police officer so you can get away with breaking the law, it’s not working.”
Zipp suddenly blushes. “Th-that wasn’t a pickup line! Geez! You want a pickup line, I’ll give you a pickup line!”
Silence.
“Well…?” Hitch says.
“N-not yet. I have to think of one. And then find the opportunity.”
“Fine. Anyway, business before pleasure. Now, moving on to proper signaling…”
“Ughhhh…” Zipp flops her head onto the desk, and so does a few strands of hair—her hairspray is losing grip after missing her usual midday re-spritz.
“Do you even know how to fly an aircraft, Hitch?”
“Erm…well I commandeered a tram once trying to chase a walking trash bin down Main Street.”
Zipp stares, wide eyed.
Hitch chuckles nervously. “It’s a long story. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” He pulls out a thick volume. “See? Section 59, Subpart 26A of the Mareitime Bay Driving Code. Operators of motorized vehicles that willfully put themselves or their occupants at significant risk of bodily harm shall report to the Sheriff’s office within 72 hours and be given remedial driving lessons.”
Zipp flips through another thick volume (Volume 5 of 66). “Oh yeah, then why does it say in Section 242, Subpart 49C, ‘All drivers must pledge allegiance to the Supreme Mommy prior to starting vehicle.’”
Hitch quickly snatches the book away from Zipp. “Ugh…that’s one of the garbage bylaws Sprout put in when he was emperor. I thought we had removed them all. I’ll have to send this to our clerical department.”
Zipp takes the book back from him. “You know that’s me, right?” Zipp’s supposed to just be a detective, but staffing is short these days. It’s just her and Hitch. And Sparky, well…Sparky should count as negative staff, if there’s such a thing.
Zipp rolls her eyes. “Look, Hitch, you’re clearly not even qualified to teach me how to fly a plane! In fact, I’m probably the only pony alive in Equestria who’s ever flown a plane before.”
“The bylaws clearly state…”
“Your bylaws are a piece of crap!”
“Are you challenging my authority!?” The Sheriff leans in closer, his badge catching the light.
The two ponies death stare for a brief second. Nopony to ease the tension. Sparky is away with Izzy for the day (Whatever comes of that is in Celestia’s hooves, but that’s a whole other story…).
Zipp is the first to blink. “Look, Sheriff—no, Hitch. You don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. It makes absolutely no sense why you’re even making me do these so-called remedial lessons, but if it tickles your bylaw itch or whatever you get down there, I’ll sit and answer your dumb questions, you say I’m in compliance of the law, then we’ll both be outta here. But don’t expect me to care about this. Deal?”
Zipp remains locked in her death stare.
Hitch sighs and slumps in agreement—which is a pity because he looks so more attractive with good posture.
“Now. Last question, what is the minimum distance you must park away from a fire hydrant?”
“Erm…15 feet?” Zipp says before letting her eyelids fall like the setting sun outside the window.
“Good. Have a cookie.”
Zipp already ate five from the dinner they had ordered in. “Geez Sheriff, you’re treating me like some kinda pet. You’ve been spending too much time around Sparky. How many bylaws has he broken by the way…? Hmm…arson, candy theft, vandalism of public property, unauthorized transmorgification of official police equipment…”
“He’s just a baby, Zipp!”
Zipp rolls her eyes. “Riiight.” She lowers her voice to a snarky whisper. “Nepotist.”
“Stop that! Do I have to name the number of Zephyr Heights bylaws you broke when you were a filly!”
Zipp blushes—the fourth time she’s blushed today. “Wh-what? I d-don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Zipp, save your breath. I know everything. Whenever Queen Haven comes to visit, I just flash a smile, oil my muscles, serve her some tea and she spills everything to a handsome young stallion like me. Let’s start with the flying ketchup incident of ’07…”
With that she blushes an even deeper shade of ketchup red. “Stop! Stop! Fine! Ugh, you’re like blackmailing me into not calling out your faults. Hope you’re proud of yourself. Corrupt sheriff.”
“Ketchup aeronaut.”
“Corrupt sheriff!”
“Ketchup aeronaut!”
“Corruptsheriffketchupaeronautcorruptsheriffketchupaeronaut
Zipp drops her cookie onto the floor.
The two ponies quietly follow the cookie with their eyes as it rolls along the grimy tile floor, landing in a corner saturated with eraser dust.
“Oh,” Zipp mutters.
…
…
…more eraser dust blows into the corner.
Hitch reaches for the white paper bag. “I’ll…I’ll get you another one—”
“That was the last one.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
Zipp licks around her palate, trying to taste the ghost of the last white chocolate chip cookie she ate. She turns to Hitch, staring at his lips, and the phantom flavor gets a little stronger.
She catches Hitch staring back and she quickly turns away.
“You know, Zipp…”
“What?”
“It’s…it’s tough sometimes. I can tell ponies 'don't litter' or 'don’t text while driving,' I’m used to that—regular ponies are easy to police. But sometimes I just feel…well, what kind of a sheriff am I when I can’t discipline my own adopted kid?”
“C’mon Hitch, Sparky would be a hoof-ful for any of us. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Zipp, actually…I…I really appreciate you coming here. Knowing you, I was half-expecting you to rip up the summons and not show up at all.”
“Hey! That’s a direct attack! You think I’m some delinquent who flouts—"
“Look my point is—” Hitch quiets her down with a raised hoof. “I know I’m a big stickler for rules—heck, Sunny’s given me flak for it since I was a pretend sheriff as a foal. I know it must annoy you.”
Zipp settles for just a silent nod.
Then she changes her mind.
“Actually I—”
Then she nods again; to try to erase that blip of time she spoke.
“Actually what?”
“N-nothing!”
“You were definitely trying to say something!” Hitch leans close, grinning, staring deep into her eyes. That’s my move, Zipp wants to yell.
Instead, her expression softens. A strand of gelled hair breaks free.
“Actually, Hitch, I…I appreciate it a lot. Somepony who stands up for principles. No matter how hard it may be. Unlike how my sister and mom used to be…you have a spine. I…I…”
She pauses. “…like that a lot.”
“Thanks…for bearing with me I guess.” Hitch shrugs. “I know sometimes I get a bit stubborn—”
“Boy are you stubborn!” She groans and rolls her eyes again (this time with a tinge of red on her cheeks). “Geez, you just gotta wheedle the truth outta me, don’t ya?”
“Part of the job, Zipp.” The sheriff winks at her.
“Stubborn corrupt sheriff,” she gives him a nudge, ruffling his fur as she sinks her hoof in.
“Ketchup aeronaut,” he nudges her back.
They laugh for a moment—then Hitch clears his throat. “Well, Zephyrina Storm, looks like you have satisfied the requirements for remedial driving lessons, pursuant to Section 59 Subpart 26A of the Mareitime Bay Driving Code. In my capacity as town sheriff, you are now officially cleared to operate a motor vehicle within Mareitime Bay jurisdiction; we hope you will take what you have learned in these lessons and exercise precautions in the future.”
As part of the formality, he hands her a slip of paper signed by the town sheriff at the bottom. It’s a forgettable legal document mostly occupied by blocks of text, but something about Hitch’s own signature—in blue ink, contrasting with the black lettering—that makes Zipp’s face want to swell with pride.
Hitch looks so happy.
“Well. That’s that. Do you have any further questions about the material you’ve learned today?”
Zipp raises her hoof—even though she’s the only student and sitting less than three feet from the teacher-sheriff. “Excuse me Sheriff, I’m not too clear on stopping distances. I think there’s one stopping distance we forgot to go over. One that’s close to zero, I believe.”
Hitch frowns in confusion. “What’s that, Zipp?”
With a smirk, the ketchup aeronaut says, “The stopping distance between my lips and your cheek.”
Author's Note
Inspired by this Tell Your Tale episode. Zipp would make a fine Ryanair pilot. 
Alternate cover art 
:
Please direct typos to PM.
“Just a bit closer now, my Sheriff…” Zipp whispers in a low sultry voi—
Suddenly, the door swings open. “HI HITCH! Oooh, free cookie!” The familiar intruder picks up the cookie on the floor, coated in eraser dust, and pops it straight into her mouth.
“IZZY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Zipp yells. She managed to catch a whiff of Hitch’s scent, but not close enough for her to taste his sensuous li—
“It’s 8 o’clock, so I’m here to drop Sparky off back home! Here!” Sparky jumps off of Izzy’s back and waddles towards Hitch. “Hey, dragonsitting was super fun! We did arts and crafts, we played Dare the Mare—here Hitch, see what he made with his dragon fire today! He made you this new walkie talkie with your cutie mark on it…and this power washer for your patio!”
“Aww…how nice of you, my precious little Sparkeroni!” Hitch walks up to cuddle his dragon son.
Meanwhile Izzy mutters quietly from one side of her mouth, “Oh, also, on a tooootally unrelated note, Pipp’s phone has mysteriously gone missing from the Brighthouse. And Sunny’s ear cleaner too.”
Zipp is still staring at the obliviously giggling unicorn. Growling, like a tiger.
“Oh hey Zipp, didn’t notice ya there!” Izzy waves. “I thought the sheriff’s office was closed. Have you been here all day, Zipp?”
Zipp suddenly breaks out in a cold nervous sweat. “Erm…yes?”
“What for? And why are you an’ Hitch standing so close to each other, you’re almost touching hoov…” A pause—then a tiny spark literally pops from the tip of Izzy’s horn. “Ooh, I get it…! You two, erm…well…” she cautiously steps away, unable to wipe the smug grin off her face. “Never mind silly ol’ me, I’ll be going on my merry way, I’ll take Sparky too (I’m charging time and a half for extra dragonsitting, Hitch. And you’re paying to replace Pipp’s phone.)! Have fun! Wait till I tell Sunny about this! Zippy and Hitchy, sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S—”
“No no no! D-don’t get the wrong idea, Izzy! Well…I…I’m here because…it was…well…remedial driving lessons! Of course! And, erm…Hitch was teaching me. Isn’t that right, Hitch, erm…Sheriff…?”
Even Hitch jumps in to cover for Zipp. “Y-y-yeah! It’s erm…Sheriff’s orders, ehehe! Nothing fun at all! Driving lessons required per bylaw erm…erm…420, Subpart 69D…?”
“Oh I seeee,” Izzy says. “Then when can I start my lessons?”
Hitch furrows his brow. “Why? Do you need remedial driving lessons, Izzy?”
“Well…” the unicorn chuckles nervously. “I think I might’ve chased Posey down Bayshore Drive on the Izzymobile and made her pull all the muscles in her rear legs. The lawsuit is pending.”
Silence.
“WHAT THE HAY IS GOING ON IN THIS TOWWWWN!!!!!”
Sparky walks up to comfort the sobbing sheriff as the two mares giggle.
Author's Note
Mareitime Bay Bylaw 420 Subpart 69D: It is prohibited to operate a motor vehicle while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, ~~or evil unicorn magic~~. [Amended 08-07, by Zipp Storm, Clerical Dept.]
Izzy is worst driver, best third wheel 
