The Great Big Beanstalk Blunder
🅱️eanstalk 🅱️lunder
Spike nestled his claws in a bed of hot coals. “How hot do you want it?”
“Don’t burn my fur,” Rarity replied. She laid face-down on a makeshift massage bed, flanked by candles and rose-hibiscus incense and a fire extinguisher rated for dragonfire. “But make it sizzle just a little.”
When Spike’s hands glowed white from the heat, he pulled them free and plunged them into a bucket of ice water. A plume of steam shot into the air. He shook his claws dry, lined them up so they bracketed Rarity’s spine, and gently pressed down.
Rarity flinched. A moan escaped her lips. Her whole body went delightfully slack as the heat and pressure melted her tension away.
Spike repeated the process three more times before quenching his hands for good. Once they were cool and dry, he cleaned the soot off Rarity’s fur and applied a combination exfoliating balm and stay-in conditioner, massaging the remaining knots from her back.
When he was finally done, he gave her flank a playful swat and helped her to her hooves.
“My stars,” Rarity swooned. “Twice in one day. I don’t know what I did to deserve this—”
“I dipped into our mortgage fund to buy magic beans,” Spike blurted. He smacked both claws over his mouth. One of the charcoal briquettes in the dying fire snapped in half with a loud ca-crack.
Rarity, still addled from the double-dose of dragon massages, cocked her head and gave him a mooney-eyed look. “Is that a euphemism? I’m in no condition to refuse a little extra attention if a certain someone were trying to plant his magic beans, so to speak—”
“No,” Spike said through his claws, “I literally bought magic beans.”
Slowly, like flowers wilting in the heat, Rarity’s smile fell. “And you used the mortgage money.”
“A whole month’s worth. Twenty nine hundred bits.”
The muscles in Rarity’s back reknotted. “And why, pray tell, did you spend twenty nine hundred bits on some magic beans?”
“It was the salespony! He was just so convincing. Plus he gave me a great bargain. Normally he charges thirty four hundred.”
Rarity’s horn ignited. Glowing hot charcoal briquettes rose from the fire, hovering perilously in the air. “Spikey wikey, why’d you take the bits from our mortgage fund?”
Spike gulped. “Uh. Well. I spent all my bits on charcoal and oils for your massage. It’s not like I have a job after all—hrrk—” A flaming lump of charcoal hit him squarely in the snout. More rained down a moment later. It wasn’t the heat that made them hurt, but the velocity.
Spike dug his claw deep into the earth and shoveled out a hole for the beans. He placed them one by one, giving them each a quiet word of encouragement before padding them over with dirt and dousing them with water.
When he was done, he looked up. Rarity was still watching him from the window. He was surprised the glass hadn’t melted.
Her lips moved.
“Uh.” Spike tapped his ears. “Open the window.”
A frown split her face. Her lips moved again. Spike thought he heard her voice, though it could be just his imagination. He mimed opening the window, and this time she got the idea. The window slammed open. “I said, do you know why we call it the mortgage fund?”
“Because it’s for the mortgage.”
“Yes Spike, because it’s for the mortgage. What on earth gave you the idea to—” The ground shook. Rarity wavered, then recovered. “To squander our money on this—” The ground shook again. “Uh. This needless—” More shaking. “Spike, do you feel that?”
A colossal grin grew on Spike’s face. He raced towards the house, pausing only to steady himself as another more powerful tremor shook the ground.
“It’s happening!” he said.
“What’s happening?” Rarity flinched as a water glass fell off the table and shattered. Not one of the good ones, thankfully—but next time it could be. “Spike, what’s happening?”
The earth beside the Carousel Boutique split open with a great roar. Dirt flew everywhere, covering Spike and flying in the open window. Even Rarity’s scream couldn’t match the sheer volume of sound. In an instant, a wall of choking dust engulfed the entire lot.
Rarity stumbled out the front door and ran right into Spike. Her mane had been blasted to one side, and her fur had been stained the color of a dustbowl.
“Are we under attack?” she asked. “Go get Twilight. I have to get my element.”
“Wait,” said Spike. He hoisted her onto his shoulders, where the dust was thinner. “Look.”
Rarity squinted through the haze. “You can’t be serious,” she muttered.
“That’s why they were so expensive!” Spike shouted. “No other beans on the market are this fast-acting!”
Rising from Rarity’s lot all the way up into the sky was a single colossal beanstalk.
Two dresses and an entire rolling cart of yakfur beanies got covered in dust before Rarity was able to close the window. Rarity floated them back to her workroom for cleaning, then started sweeping up the floors. Spike raced upstairs and returned with a large leather beltbag attached to his waist. The beltbag came out only on special occasions. It meant adventure was afoot.
Rarity wanted none of it.
“You have to wait for the mayor,” she said to Spike as he bounded down the stairs. “The mayor’s going to come over here and tell us we broke zoning regulations.” Spike breezed right past her. “Spike. The HOA is going to fine us.”
“I’m packing snacks,” he said. “Do you want me to pack the garlic crackers or the plain ones?”
“You’re not listening to me. This is a serious—”
“Garlic or regular?”
“Garlic, obviously.” She magic’d the broom into autopilot and followed Spike into the kitchen. “What on earth is this all about? Why are you acting like this?”
“Because I’m—” Spike paused, drumming his claws against the side of the cracker box. “Look, Rarity, living with you is amazing and all, but nothing’s exploded in months.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“No no no. But kinda yes.”
“Spike—”
“Dragons aren’t meant to be cooped up like that.”
“Just to be clear, you mean cooped up in a loving and supportive household where things don’t explode constantly.”
“Yes. Thank you for understanding. I’m happy to give you massages and cut fabric, but I gotta do guy stuff too.”
“And by guy stuff, you mean drain my mortgage on magic beans.”
“Our mortgage. And it’s not about the beans, it’s about the adventure. I’m like a big dog in a small house. Literally. My brain’s turning to scrambled egg.”
“Did you stop to consider what all this dust and debris would do to my brain?”
“C’mon, you love adventure!”
“I love dressing for adventure. You know better than anyone I’d rather explore my body and a bottle of wine than an alternate dimension.”
Spike smirked. “I know.”
“So wouldn’t you rather do that?”
“Maybe when we get home!”
Spike started out the door. Rarity followed hot on his heels. “So you’re just going to go?”
“That’s the plan.” Spike took a moment to appreciate the height of the beanstalk before digging his claws into the fibrous exterior bark. “Hop on, I’ll carry you.”
“No. Someone’s going to have to wait down here and explain to the authorities what’s going on. They’ll be here any minute.”
Spike, already thirty feet up the stalk, paused to look down at Rarity. “It’ll be really hard if you try and climb it yourself. You should ride on my shoulder to preserve your strength.”
Rarity groaned. Her horn lit up, and she teleported to Spike.
Ponyville shrank to a tiny blip beneath them. The farms and forests flattened into segmented tapestries. They passed through layers of fluffy white clouds, which left Rarity soaked. Spike, with his water-wicking scales, was blithely unaffected.
“Are you sure this goes anywhere?” Rarity asked as she wrung out her mane.
“Positive. It goes up.”
Rarity looked up. “Right. But it doesn’t appear to stop anywhere.”
“Trust me! This isn’t a normal beanstalk—”
“Really.”
“It’s a portal of sorts. We just have to keep climbing, and at some point we’ll get to where we’re climbing.”
“I could teleport us up there,” Rarity said. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind. “Wherever up there is.”
“That’s not how the portal works. We have to climb.”
“I didn’t know you were an expert in portals all of a sudden.”
“I’m an expert in a lot of things. Get hit by enough flying books as a kid and you start to learn a thing or two.”
Sure enough, as they climbed higher a mist began to coalesce around them. Soon the ground had disappeared completely. All sense of direction disappeared. Only the constant pull of gravity gave away their orientation. Rarity wrapped her forelegs around Spike’s neck and squeezed tight. Falling off now would be disastrous.
Just when she was starting to worry they’d never climb their way out, the fog started to thin. Spike let out a triumphant roar and campused up the last few yards. They breached the fog and basked in the sunlight once more.
A stark, barren cloudscape stretched from one horizon to the other. Harsh sunlight baked them from above. Rarity slid down Spike’s back and found that she could walk here without any magical assistance. “What is this place?” she asked.
Spike shrugged. “I call it Cloudsville.”
“You can’t call it Cloudsville if there’s no ville. It’s just clouds.”
Spike pointed behind her. Half a mile away sat a single stout cottage made of sagging wood and thatch.
“One house does not a village make,” Rarity said.
“Does that mean you don’t want to check it out?”
She rolled her eyes. “As long as we’re up here, we might as well take a look around.”
That was all the encouragement Spike needed. As they got closer to the cottage, they realized it was far larger than they initially thought. The paint on the sides peeled away in flakes as large as a pony. Cracks like canyons crisscrossed the windows. Beams as big as the boutique back home lay in molding heaps beside the structure.
“I bet there’s treasure in there,” Spike said.
“For your sake, there’d better be.” Rarity went up to the door, which towered over her like a skyscraper, and knocked politely. “Do you see a doorbell?”
Before Spike could answer, the whole structure rumbled. An avalanche of straw and wood flakes rained down from the eaves. The door swung up. Rarity and Spike leapt away to avoid being swatted like bugs.
A towering bipedal cyclops emerged from the doorway. A wave of sickly-hot stench struck Rarity and Spike and made them stumble back, eyes watering.
“Oh my gosh!” the giant cried. “Guests!” He reached down to pick up the two tiny travelers. Rarity and Spike reacted on instinct, blasting the wart-riddled fingers with fire and lightning. The giant let out a yelp of surprise. “Hey! What was that for?”
“You can’t just pick us up!”
“Why not?”
“We have something called boundaries, thank you very much.”
“You do?” A lightbulb went off. “Oh, you do! I’m so sorry. It’s so hard to tell what has boundaries and what doesn’t. From up here, you look just like dolls.”
“That’s fine,” Spike said, a little put off by the odd remark. “We’re sorry for disturbing you. My name’s Spike. This is Rarity. We came up here looking for treasure.”
The giant nodded. “Beanstalk?”
“Beanstalk.”
The giant’s lips peeled back in a crooked smile. “You’re in luck! My name is Ambergrease. The treasure you seek is inside my home.” Ambergrease stepped into the shadows of his cavernous house and motioned them inside.
Spike and Rarity exchanged a worried glance.
“He’s going to eat us,” Rarity muttered.
“He’s not going to eat us.”
“Just look at him. He’s going to pickle me and put me in a jar.”
“Do you want some treasure or not?”
“No. I just want to go on the record and say I don’t want any of this brute’s treasure. It’s probably all stinky and moldy.”
From inside came the voice of the giant. “Are you coming in?”
Spike shot Rarity a pointed look before darting over the threshold. Rarity decided that the only worse place to be than a sky giant’s creepy den was alone in a sky giant’s creep den. She followed Spike inside.
The stink was monumental. It reminded Rarity of the worst parts of her childhood—changing Sweetie Belle’s diaper for the first time, the gym class locker room after the mile run test, the communal bathroom of her college dorm on Grain Alcohol Night. Formative memories repressed by years of therapy and positive thinking bubbled their way to the surface. Her eyes watered, and not just because of the stench.
Spike was unphased. He took a deep breath and let out a big sigh. “Smells like the sulfur pits back home!” he said.
“Thanks!” The giant smiled.
“So where—” Rarity paused to gag. “Where is this treasure of yours?”
“Oh, right this way!” Ambergrease led them through the decrepit entryway, past a kitchen from every chef’s worst nightmare and a bathroom of unspeakable horrors and a bedroom with a pile of plastic takeout trays bigger than the bed. At the end of the hallway, he pressed a button hidden beneath a pile of suspiciously crusty tissues. A secret door swung open, descending into darkness.
“We’re going to die,” hissed Rarity. “Spike.”
Spike couldn’t hear her. He saw the dank, dark basement and got stars in his eyes. Without a second thought, he dove into the dark after the giant.
“Spike!” Rarity covered her mouth. She still couldn’t tell if Ambergrease could hear her or not. Maybe if she spoke in a higher pitch, he wouldn’t be able to hear her? “Spike,” she said, throwing her voice into a falsetto.
“He’s down here!” said the giant.
Rarity groaned. She followed them down into the dark.
The stairs were ten feet tall and sagging in the middle. It would have taken all day to go down the old fashioned way, but thankfully Spike found a little bit of chivalry deep down in his cavernous dragon heart and flew back up to assist her. She threw her forelegs over his shoulders, and together the pair glided down to the unfinished basement floor.
Rarity hopped off Spike’s back, then immediately leapt back onto him as her hooves squelched into something wet and slimy.
“How does a cloud home have a basement?” she asked incredulously.
Ambergrease’s asymmetrical face swelled with pride. “I built it myself.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question—”
Ambergrease flipped a switch on the wall. Rows of spotlights flickered on, revealing a labyrinthian maze of stone columns staged in several rows, like a display in a history museum. Each column had a plaque attached to it, though it was angled up to accommodate giant readers and was thus unreadable from Rarity’s perspective. The way the spotlights were arranged reminded Rarity of a fine art gallery.
“What do you think?” Ambergrease asked.
Spike rapped on a nearby column with one claw. “Sturdy.”
“Oh! Heh. The columns aren’t the treasure.” He pointed to a pony-sized woodsen stairway zig-zagging up the wall. “Come up to the viewing platform.”
Spike and Rarity flew up to the platform. As they touched down, Rarity got her first good look of what was on top of the columns. She gasped, forgetting for a moment how the air smelled like swirlies and a shameless lack of soap.
Pony plushies—hundreds of them—lined the columns. A few sat behind heavily warded safety glass. Several stood on wood stands. An alarming number of them faced the viewing platform, staring at Rarity with unblinking black eyes.
Wait. Not black... Rarity squinted harder. “Spike,” she said, “fly me to that column.”
“I don’t want to get any closer to those things,” Spike shuddered.
“Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes. Spike’s self-preservation instinct didn’t stand a chance. He obliged with a sigh and flew Rarity over to the nearest column. There they found a life-size pony replica of Clover the Clever, complete with a hilted sword made of real obsidian.
Rarity went up to the plushie and stared deeply into its twinkling eyes.
“This is a fine specimen,” she said to Ambergrease.
“Thank you! I thought you’d appreciate the artistry of it.”
“Artistry indeed. The fur—”
“Real gossamer! The plush is stuffed with dyed hemp to make the exterior skin speak to a truer flesh-and-fur color.”
“Fascinating. And the hooves—”
“Ivory! Ethically sourced, of course. The Mbassa elephant tribes have some of the fastest-growing tusks of any horned animal in the world. Their ivory is both strong and sustainable.”
“Good on you for taking that into consideration, especially given the... scope of your collection.” She returned to the plushie once more. “And the eyes...”
Ambergrease’s face lit up. “The jewels of the collection. Literally.”
“Yes... these are black opals, if I’m not mistaken.”
Ambergrease cackled with glee. He rocked back and forth, sending tremors up the column. “You noticed! Yes. Every eye, except for yours and mine of course, is set in real black opal.”
Rarity circled the lifesize doll, taking in the finer points of the piece’s construction. Putting aside the obvious red flags, the piece really was incredible. Triple-seam stitching, goldspun thread mane, and, Rarity noticed with a slight raise of her eyebrow, no wires locking it in place.
Spike couldn’t keep his eyes off the black opal eyes. His mouth watered. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“We absolutely should not steal these.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because, although his living accommodations are criminal, he’s not a monster.”
“He’s a cyclops.”
“Rose Quartz, my friend from college—she’s a cyclops.”
“She’s a unicorn who got an eye poked out. That’s completely different.”
“Well, the point is, I will not participate in any thievery.”
Ambergrease leaned in. His foul breath rolled across the column. “Whatcha talking about?”
Spike turned. “Nothing. Hey Ambergrease, why do you collect these in the first place?” He added in a low voice that only Rarity could hear, “If he gives us a supervillian origin story, I’m not gonna feel bad about taking his stuff.”
Ambergrease scrunched up his face. “Well, art is its own end. Keeping an exhibit like this is simply my way of honoring and appreciating the toil and vision of the pony who made them.” He paused. “Which is me. I made them.”
Rarity could hear the gears in Spike’s head grinding together. “See?” she said. “A little narcissistic maybe, but if that’s a crime then you’ll have to lock me away too.”
“Also my therapist said this is much healthier than kidnapping actual ponies. And if I got caught going to your world and kidnapping again, the courts would throw the book at me.”
“Err.” The gears in Rarity’s head ground together. “Again. That’s. Uh. Healthy?”
“It sure is!” Ambergrease smiled. “In a different lifetime, I would have had a few real ponies thrown into the mix.” He leaned down so he was eye-to-eyes with Rarity. “Opal is like charcoal compared to real pony eyes.”
Sweat beaded on the back of Rarity’s neck. “How flattering.”
“I don’t get many travelers anymore. It gets so lonely up here by myself.”
“That’s too bad. Have you considered a change in scenery?”
“Have you?”
Spike put a clawed hand on Rarity’s shoulder. “Now do you believe me?”
“I. Uh.” Rarity was frozen in place. “Um.”
“Ambergrease,” Spike announced, “thank you for showing us your collection. I’m afraid we have to get back to our world now.”
“Why?” Ambergrease positioned himself between them and the door. “You only just got here.” To Rarity, he asked, “Is your mane spun from gold too?”
“Uh.” Rarity gulped. “It’s purple. Not gold.”
Spike puffed out his scales. “That’s enough, Ambergrease.”
“No!” A flurry of rage overcame the giant. He swatted at Spike, who took to the air to avoid the blow. Ambergrease stumbled into a nearby column. Another priceless plushie tumbled to the floor below.
Rarity flinched at the sound of gems shattering. “There’s no need to damage the art!”
“I don’t care,” Ambergrease seethed. “I’m sick of being alone up here. I’ll stomp a hundred plushies if it means I get to keep you.”
“Come on now darling! What would your therapist say?”
Ambergrease roared in her face. She only barely managed to avoid his grasp by teleporting to the next column over.
“Spike?” she called out. “Does my daring adventurer have a plan?”
“Yes! Stall him for thirty seconds.” With that, Spike pumped his wings and soared to the ceiling.
Up close, the spotlights were as big as office buildings. The searing hot bulbs themselves radiated heat like dragon eggs. They might have been bigger than regular light bulbs, Spike thought, but they were still light bulbs. If his hunch was correct—
He raised a claw to the bulb and tapped it ever so gently.
The glass spidered. With nothing to hold it together it fell to the floor directly in front of the giant. Rarity seized the initiative and teleported to the next pedestal.
“Yoohoo!” she called. “You want me so bad? Come and get me!”
Ambergrease roared. He reached for her, planting his massive fungus-ridden foot on the pile of glass shards. Rarity waited for him to stumble, but to her horror the glass didn’t seem to phase him. Either his feet were completely numb from infection and calluses, or his skin was simply too thick for the glass to do any damage.
If only he was thin-skinned where it matters, she thought. “Spike! Any more plans?”
Spike whirled around. The buzzing from the light prevented him from thinking. “Actually, yeah! New plan! Give me another second.”
Rarity barely had time to teleport out of the way of Ambergrease’s next attack. She landed in a heap atop another plushie, whose gossamer fur bore some odd-smelling stains.
“What did you do to this poor thing?”
“That’s none of your business,” said Ambergrease.
Above the fray, Spike reached into the busted bulb and grabbed the coiled filament. His teeth chattered as voltage coursed through him. A pony would have been reduced to cinders. Even with his dragon fortitude, the electricity caused his claws to glow red-hot.
Good.
“Rarity!” Spike called.
“Yes!”
“Just a few more seconds! Get him facing the other way!”
Rarity teleported again, but this time Ambergrease was ready for it. He swung a massive slimy hand and grabbed her from the pedestal. She let out a horrified scream as the giant brought her to eye level with him.
“Y-you’re hurting me,” she choked out.
“You’re so beautiful.” Ambergrease’s crusty eyes shrunk to beady points. “You’ll make my collection complete.”
Rarity glanced above her and saw Spike literally glowing with heat. The pieces of his plan finally clicked together. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her. “Say that again, darling. Say it so Spike can hear.”
“I’ll shout it for the world to hear. You’re perfect.”
“Yes,” Rarity said. Her horn lit up. The light around her head started to change. To Ambergrease, it appeared as if her eyes grew larger, deeper, more alive. The colors within sparkled like stars. “I’m the most beautiful doll in your collection.”
“You’re the most beautiful doll in my collection,” he replied, entranced by the shimmering geometry of light in his captive’s eyes.
“No pony—or dragon—can have me. Only you can.”
“No pony or dragon can have you. Only I can.”
“Hey,” said Spike.
“I’ll dance for you like a wind-up toy. I never sashay for Spike. Only you.”
“Only you.” Ambergrease practically drooled. Then he actually drooled.
“I’m your little dress-up plaything. You can put me in any pose you want.”
Spike, practically buzzing from the inside out, said, “C’mon, that’s enough Rares.”
“Spike was just a toy to me. I needed a real brute. I need you.”
“Yeeeeeesssss,” Ambergrease shuddered. “You need only me!” He lifted Rarity up and went in for a wet, sloppy smooch.
Spike barred his fangs. He let go of the filament and dropped claws-first like towards Ambergrease, leaving a white-hot trail behind him. He aimed for the center of the giant’s neck, the bumpy spots hinting at a backbone beneath all that flesh and fat.
Rarity shifted her magic. The sparkle in her eyes twisted into a demonic fire. The illusion of the star-eyed maiden immolated. A demon emerged from the ashes, snarling and screaming. Ambergrease let out a shriek of terror.
Spike’s claws found their mark. The impact sent a meaty thud reverberating through the cavernous space. Hot dragon scales singed dandruffy skin. A searing scream filled the air.
But much to Rarity’s surprise, Ambergrease didn’t tumble over and die. Quite the opposite. His look of terror melted into a big dopey smile.
“Yeeeeeesssss,” he groaned, “further down. Just a little.” His grip on Rarity relaxed. She teleported out of his clutches. He didn’t seem to notice. “Down and to the left.”
“Uh.” Spike seemed rather uncomfortable with this turn of events. He looked over the giant’s shoulder at Rarity, who shrugged helplessly. Do it, she mouthed. Spike frowned, but did as he was told and felt along the giant’s neck until he found a particularly knotted spot of muscle. He pressed down with his still-scalding claws. Ambergrease let out a second, much longer sigh of appreciation.
Spike motioned for Rarity to join him atop the giant. Rarity teleported up to Spike only to topple sideways as a sudden bout of lightheadedness overcame her. Spike lunged to catch her. Her eyes were crossed, and her horn smoldered from magical overuse.
“I think I’m done teleporting for a bit,” she mumbled.
“That’s fine. But my claws aren’t gonna stay hot forever. We need to distract him long enough to grab a few dolls and get out.”
“You still want to rob him?”
“He tried to steal you! It’s basically self defense.”
“That would not hold up in a court of law.” She glanced at the rows upon rows of priceless plushies. “But he wouldn’t miss one, right?”
“Exactly. I have another plan to get us out of here.”
“Lovely.”
“Whatever. I need an eye from one of those dolls.”
“Their eyes? Why?”
“No time, just go!”
Despite her reservations, Rarity trusted Spike’s plan. One hoof at a time, she shimmied down Ambergrease’s giant arms. She avoided falling off the sides by grabbing onto his arm hair for support. When she made it back down to the stone column, her hooves were so covered in grease that she slipped and bumped her head.
She let out a string of very unladylike curses and took her frustration out on the nearest plushie. Once she’d wrestled the black opal eye out of its socket (no easy task, given the amount of grease caking her hooves), she chucked it to Spike.
“A little to the left,” sighed Ambergrease, his eyes half-lidded in bliss.
Spike blew a stream of dragonfire over the black opal until it glowed white. “A little to the left,” he said, raising the hot stone above his head. “You got it.”
Ambergrease’s sigh turned to a snarl as Spike shoved the black opal deep into the skin of his neck. The giant jerked around erratically, toppling the nearest columns in a desperate attempt to get the searing-hot stone out of him.
Spike soared free of Ambergrease’s reach. He swooped down and scooped up Rarity and the one-eyed doll. Then they were airborne. Then their faces were inches apart. Then their faces were no inches apart.
He sure knows how to be dramatic, thought Rarity as she melted into the kiss.
“Hey,” said Spike in a sultry voice. “Come here often?”
Rarity looked ahead of them and felt her heart leap into her throat, and it wasn’t just because of the kiss. “Pull up! Pull up!”
Spike’s back claws brushed the stairs. He pitched up just in time to clear the lip of the last stair.
The mayor, the princess, the police, and the HOA were waiting for them when they returned.
Spike, in his infinite dragon wisdom, decided the best way to quell everyone’s unease would be to declare, “Don’t worry everyone! I was just about to burn it down.”
The police knew that no pony hoofcuffs could hold a fully-grown dragon. But they had protocol to follow, so they hoofcuffed him anyway. Spike was very polite and didn’t snap the restraints like twigs. They let him go when the fire department arrived and gave the ok to start burning the beanstalk down.
The beanstalk burned well into the night, casting a warm orange glow over the town. Long after the authorities had dispersed and the mayor had been mollified and the HOA had levied their fines, Rarity and Spike lingered outside, taking in the sight. Bits of burnt beanstalk floated through the air like embers from a fall bonfire.
“It’s kinda cozy,” Spike said.
“Yes, I should say it is. Just don’t get used to it.”
“Did you see all the paperwork the mayor left?”
“Yes, I did.”
Spike’s smile dimmed. “Think our plunder will cover the fines?”
“It would have if you’d picked a plushie with two eyes.”
Spike rubbed his neck. “Sorry.”
Rarity put a foreleg around his. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes.”
“Then it was worth it for me.” She motioned for him to stoop over, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “You also owe me a hundred hot claw massages.”
Spike’s smile made the giant flaming beanstalk look dim by comparison.
