The Two Hundred Words Collab

If only Bon-Bon were here to calm her mind with a series of B's. Their effect was much like that of the bubbling bong or babbling brook.

Nonetheless, the show must go on.

At least, that's what Carrot would say.

Lyra checked the cart. No mirror. No way to know whether she was similarly ready to kiss the audience. No reflection.

Soon enough, the rear of the bandstand signaled the end of their journey. The filly excitedly made her exit, followed by Big Mac. His rising revealed his voluminous skirt.

"You forgot this!" shouted Carrot as she tossed a bandolier to the departing stallion.

Lyra facehoofed even harder. She hoped she was destined for the audience. Better still, the grave.

Carrot Top started at Lyra with unusual concern. "You'd best rest in the crowd; we have notes to play."

Lyra recoiled from Carrot's kiss. Only Bon was supposed to do that. Carrot pronked with greater enthusiasm than the filly toward the backstage entrance.

The stage looked much smaller from the audience. No matter how hard she tried, Lyra got just as little satisfaction as the lyrics sung by the filly. Big Mac looked ridiculous on bass; Carrot confident on drums.