“Okay team, one more time and we are done for today. Just two more performances this year and we're on our well-earned holidays, so no slacking, just a little more.”
“Oh common Spitfire, it's just a Ponyville, why should we?” Fleetfloot groaned.
“Elements of harmony live here, am I making myself clear?” Tired pegasi glanced at me and with murmurs, started to move. “I don't hear you” and with weak ‘hooray’ we began one more final time. No one says being a wonderbolt is easy. My name is Spitfire; I'm the captain of the Wonderbolts.
Done with showering and reminding everypony to be at stadium at twelve o'clock, I took my bag and took off. Under my feet, Canterlot was covered in snow; first snow lied upon roofs and streets, sparking and reminding everypony that Hearth's Warming Eve was closer and closer. The day when friends, families and lovers gather together and warm one another in their love for each other. Makes me want to visit my parents. Mom will be asking, “Why newspapers said they saw you with another colt or mare or two mares or pop star or businesspony; and then you visit us all alone and I want grandfoals; and we do not become younger and...” No, our family reunion could wait another year. Definitely.
I flew higher until the roof of the Royal Plaza was under me and landed in front of the door to my home. After I reached key in my bag and unlocked the door, and, luckily, didn't freeze to the door knob, I walked in. “Two floors of the emptiness,” said I under my breath. That was nearly poetic, heh. But so, so true. Everything I have after a day of flying was this empty penthouse, which for I had to fight against Sapphire Shores and Fleur de lis, and which finally was sold to me because I’m “Spitfire, the Captain of Wonderbolts”, the one and only.
I opened the fridge. Empty. Just like the day before, because that day I wanted to do shopping and because of flying I got carried away. Just like the day before. And the day before it. And, if I recall correctly, for that evening weather team was organizing another blizzard. Quick glance to the window and bingo, you had just won cereals without milk, congratulations. Have fun.
After picking bowl of cereals and a bottle of wine, well, I need something to drink and I most certainly deserved it for my hard trainings and sufferings from the lack of milk, I placed myself on the big leather couch in the first floor living room and turned on the radio. “...that is certainly a way to create a Heart Warming Eve mood, weather team! Nothing could be better than cuddle near fireplace with your second half! Here goes a tune to warm that losers, who are alone,” great, just great.
Not that I was that all alone. I was “the Spitfire”. All I need to have a good time was to wink to a nice colt, mare or even to 2 mares sometimes. One good thing to have is two-floor luxurious penthouse with celestia-sized rooms and beds, stashed with alcohol so it's always one-night-stand-ready. It isn't I very proud about, but no one wants to date Spitfire. Of course everypony was more than willing to date “Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts” but none Spitfire, the mare who drinks alone. I even tried dating the reach colts, but after some time it transformed into another way to earn money for me. You see, when a somepony wants his name on first line of every newspaper in Canterlot or Manehatten he tells my agent, my agent tells me and then “Spitfire’s been caught with another-wanna-be-famous-nobody by a lucky paparazzo.” I am not proud of this either, but desperate times called for desperate measures and, yeah.
Now, when cereals was long ago eaten and the bottle was half way done, I was just lying on the couch, listening to sappy music, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about my life. I love my life. I'm earning money by doing the thing I love, what is the greatest happiness, according to my dad. But he was married when he was my age. Do I want to be married? I’m married to my job, so no. No way. No sappy, lovey-dovey stuff. I need someone to talk. A friend. Yes, the one and only Spitfire doesn't have any friends. I had some, when I’d just started my way in that cruel city, but they disappeared in ages. Or used me for money. So, no friends is better than a bunch of imposters. Still, I have two ponies I could talk about not work related matters. Mostly. It's my agent and Soarin'. Well, Trust is nice mare, but only when tipsy. Any other time we would end discussing the work, no matter what it was about in first place. And Soarin'. When he doesn't rut another fun-girl and I'm not the Captain we can sit down and talk, like normal ponies. About weather, about what I’ve heard on radio or what I had for breakfast. Just like normal, yeah.
“Ponyville, Ponyvile,” I said in sing-song voice. Sounds like silly foal song. Bottle of wine was then empty, that's just sad. Wait a minute, I remembered somepony! “Cloudkicker!” Oh-ho-ho, that wicked mare with libido bigger than Celestia’s plot. We were friends in the flightcamp, and even at that time, stories about her adventures was already spreading like a wildfire… Te-he, good old times. Well, time for big ponies to go to their beds. Empty cold beds. Then I was sad. I needed to go to bar and find me a good looking colt, like, right now. “To the bar!” I weakly shouted and slipped on the floor, where was my favorite thing of all time, the comfy big yellow rug. Way too comfy, if you ask me. Maybe I can rest for another 15 minutes and then go to the bar. Yes, just about 15 minutes.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Holy Celestia, why would somepony need to hit my head with a hammer. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Spitfire, are you there? I know you are!” Soarin', if you tried to smash my door one more time, I swear, you would get special treatment on the next training. “Spitfire, are you even awake? We are late!” I got up on my wobbling legs and slowly made it to the door. Behind it was Soarin' with I-can't-believe-spitfire-is-late kind of look. “You over slept?!” He was nearly screaming.
“Can you stop screaming in my face, thank you very much.”
“Airship is leaving in 15 minutes, do you get it?” No. I weakly moved inside.
“Yes, give me, give me 30 minutes to pack everything and take a...”
”30 minutes, what are you...oh for the Celestia’s sake, 15 MINUTES! If you don't want to fly all the way to Poniville by yourself, move!” Wait, our airship leaving in 15 minutes and I didn't pack anything, like I wanted yesterday. Or took shower. Or washed uniform. Curse you wine, curse you. I closed the door, frantically looked around, then I dashed to my bedroom, picked everything in reach of my hooves in my suitcase, then ran back, took the bag with uniform and put suitcase in my mouth. I opened the door.
“Need help?” Soarin' asked.
“Mhm,” he take my sport bag, leaving me with suitcase, which after a night on the floor had weighed a ton, and started to fly away.
“Hurry up, lazy flank!” Such a gentlecolt he is.
Flight to Poniville was rather...uneventful. Everypony was trying to make time pass by as fast as possible by reading books, sleeping or talking. I was using the first one, hope that terrible, terrible headache will go away and stop bothering me.
I wake up suddenly. Like I come from underwater to the surface, that suddenly. Somepony poked me at ribs.
“Wake up, lazy flank, we’re at Poniville” I gonna murder you in sleep someday. After all these years I still can’t understand what mares find in him, not even a bit.
I walked down from airship, feeling much, much better than in this morning. There was an old mare in spectacles, smiling ingratiatingly, same smile the every authority we have to work with have. Might be an “Entertainment Manager”, like it was in Vanhoover, a crazy place.
“Oh, nice to see a famous Spitfire in our small town! I’m Mayor Mare, the Mayor of Poniville.”
“Mayor Mare is your name? Like, real name?” I cocked eyebrow.
“Quite right,” Not as weird as Vanhoover but...
“Well, nice to meet you, Mayor. It’s our pleasure to perform in your town,” She nodded. I looked around, valley, surrounded by trees, perfect,”Can we...”
“I see you love the place I picked for this secret training of yours, don’t you? Sure you can use it. If yours technicians are ready I will be more than happy to take them to the stadium, we’re mostly done with the construction works”
“Thank you,” Another point for Ponyville for mindreading mayor Mayor.
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay everypony, move your flanks! We have only 3 hours before the show! Boxy, take your guys, we need stadium to be ready in 2 hours. Team, you have 10 minutes to get ready! Soarin', 200 wings pushups!”
“But why?!”
“Because I’m the Captain, that’s why!” Spitfire, the Captain of the wonderbolts at work.
Show was, as usual, nice. Of cause everypony in audience would tell you it was “awesome” and “the greatest thing I have ever witnessed”, but when you’ve saw it for one million time and one it’s all the same. Fireworks, cheers of audience, but of course mostly flying. Not sure for others, but passion for flying is the only thing, why I still doing it.
Arrh, Where was that damned Daisy street, I’d been to all streets from Peach to Apple and no Daisy street. “Turn right on the corner of the candy house and walk straight 2 house more,” if I recall correctly.
After all this time wandering through the streets of Ponyville, it reminded me more and more of my home town. A type of town where everypony know you and you know everypony. Nice and cozy. Getting back to business a found Daisy street 37, then 38, then 39 and then - finally - 40. The after-show party was always a pleasant way to wind off from the show and have a drink or two. For free, of course. I opened the door to a local bar, bouncer letting me in without any hesitations. I saw a Soarin’ waving at me. Not that I wished to sit next to boasting Soarin’, surrounded by 5 mares, but he had a free chair, so, what the heck.
“And then I saved the younger flight competition, and Celestia herself all by myself. No need to hold you astonishment ladies, I totally understand.” Kill me.
“Barcolt, 2 maretini!” I shouted, which was kind of a sudden, so I scared Soarin’s bedroom funclub, making them squeal in horror and tightly hugged Soarin’. Celestia bless your soul, happy son of a mule.
After some time, when I was tipsy enough to feel it and got tired of Soarin’ stories, I moved to the bar counter, with clear purpose to get drunk and catch myself a nice mare. Yep, I was definitely in “mares” mood. Let’s see...
“But I know Spitfire, please mister, let me in!” I heard through the wall of noises from talking and laughing drunk ponies. Did she know how often bounce hear this?
“Do you have any idea how often I hear this? Get lost!” That’s what I’m about.
“I will just say hi and that’s all! I promise!” Persevering, weren’t you?
“I said GET LOST!”
“But mister, I promise! Pretty please!” Wait, I kind of...know this voice. I turned my head to the entrance, trying to make out a pony talking. Oh darn it, why ponies need to walk in the bar, it’s not a club. Sit down, you’re blocking my view.
“GET LOST!” Oh come on, move your flanks, everypony! I need to...
“But..” Oh, right. I’d just remembered. I have two. Two, not one friend in Ponyville.
“GET LOST! NOW!” That mare...
“But...mister...please...” Those...eyes.
