//------------------------------// // The Show // Story: Flying Apples // by Twilicorn //------------------------------// Braeburn let out a well-toned sigh as he trotted home once again, work finished early. He entered his apartment again, but was shocked by what he saw. Glancing around the room, nothing was gone at first sight, but it was a mess. Things thrown everywhere, the small table overturned, and worst of all, scrawled across his calendar. "Stay away, coltcuddler," read Braeburn, his voice emotionless despite his turmoil of thoughts. Robotically, he began cleaning, careful to make sure everything was in the exact same place it had been before. Through his work, thoughts wracked his head as though it was filled with popping popcorn kernels. I'm not a coltcuddler. And even if I was, they'd only know if they looked in my... he trailed off in his thoughts, then ran to his room, pulling his bedside drawer open. "It's gone," he gasped, searching every nook and cranny of the small drawer. "Gone!" Collapsing on the bed, he shut his eyes, willing it all away. This couldn't be happening, not to him. Not to the most hard working, loyal pony in Appleloosa. His eyes fluttered a bit, then welcomed him to sleep. Smacking his lips loudly, he glanced over at the clock. "What in the name of Celestia?" he cried, jumping out of bed. The show was in half an hour! Bustling around, he brushed his mane, donned his hat, grabbed his saddlebags, and dashed out the door towards the Appleloosa stadium. As he ran, he saw ponies stopping, staring confusedly at him, but he ignored them. He had to see this, if for no reason other than insatiable curiosity. Running into the stadium's box office, he sprinted towards the ticket counter, his breath coming in light pants. "Any... more... tickets for the... Wonderbolts?" The mare in the office stared at him momentarily, then nodded. "Thirty bits for standard seat, fifty for front two rows, a hundred for VIP box," she said boredly, flipping her blonde mane out of her eyes. Nosing around his saddlebags, he stumbled across his paycheck, and pulled it open. Several bits came spilling out, as well as some bills, and he grabbed the highest denomination there. "VIP," he decided. Even if it was a lot of his paycheck, if he was going to investigate, he might as well do it right, correct? The box office mare stared blankly at the money for a moment, then slowly hoofed him a ticket. Walking away, Braeburn glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if she was okay. Seeing she was playing a game of checkers, he nodded, and slowed his previous sprint to a comfortable walk. Flashing his ticket to the pegasus at the doorway, the pegasus pointed up at the box high in the air, and the stairs leading up towards it. Braeburn looked up, and up at the box, letting out a gulp. That sure was awful high. Ignoring any doubts, he started up the stairs bravely, ignoring the questioning stares directed at him. Upon arriving, he saw the other ponies there were mostly what appeared to be managers for the Wonderbolts, or otherwise associates of them. Swallowing an awkward gulp, he took an empty seat, watching eagerly for the show to start. Tapping his hoof impatiently, he looked around, observing the ponies. Most of the residents of Appleloosa weren't the richest, and were in the rows so far below them they seemed to spiral. Pulling himself back into his chair, he began gasping, only to be startled by the sound of fireworks. Looking back out, he saw multi-coloured fireworks lit the sunset, and six ponies glided out from wherever they had been. Swooping up, they formed one line, then split apart into each one gliding towards one of the VIP boxes perched in the air. He gasped as a pale blue stallion glided towards him, his deep blue mane windswept. The stallion shot him a wink before flying down, divebombing towards the crowd. At the last moment, he swooped up, rejoining his teammates in the center. Flying up together, he saw a rainbow mare in the center as the rest flew up around her, creating a circle around the rainbow-maned mare. They remained about two hundred hooves below her as she began diving down. In her wake, a rainbow trail followed her, and soon she was surrounded by a white cone. The others next to her left their own unique trails, from white to red to that deep blue. The cone thinned out, and with a colossal explosion, sent a rainbow circle attacking the audience. As it washed over him, he felt temporarily deaf, and felt his mane flying up and taking on the windswept appearance of all the Wonderbolts' manes. The rest of the audience looked at the Wonderbolts in awe, and he heard a tomcolt-ish voice over the speakers. "I'm Rainbow Dash, newest recruit of the Wonderbolts, and I want to say thank you for a great show! Before we take off, we want to remind you guys we have a few more shows, and we leave Appleloosa in two weeks. We have a great finale here, so we hope you enjoy it!" The voice struck him as oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Turning his attention back towards the stalli-er, the show, he saw the stallion was gliding back towards his booth again. He began flying complicated spirals and loops towards the grassy field below. Confused, Braeburn continued watching as he spiraled downward, afraid he would crash into the ground below. Once again, at the last second, his hooves scraping the grass, the stallion pulled up and headed towards the sky again. "Soarin!" boomed a voice, and Braeburn realized that was the stallion's name. "Spitifire!" the voice cried as a yellow and red trail flew towards Soarin. "Rainbow Dash!" said the voice as a rainbow blur headed towards the center also. "Fleetfoot!" yelled the voice, a white trail gliding to the center. "Surprise!" shrieked the voice, a yellow trail lazily circling towards the center. "Misty!" echoed the voice, a light blue and cyan trail creating a large 'M' in the sky before joining the middle. "The Wonderbolts!"