Now that Rainbow Dash was dead, Derpy had fallen asleep in her cereal. Not that this was especially unusual; the substance was generally warm and soft, and she had a tendency to fall asleep in it. It was not exactly cereal, either, but rather the semi-edible foam that came out of damaged sofas. Still, it was squishy and better than eating rock soup. Even Derpy was not that poor.
The sound of a book slamming down in front of her caused Derpy to awaken suddenly and aspirate on her bowl of foam rubber. This, too, was unfortunately not unusual.
She coughed and wheezed until she managed to pass the chunk of foam- -and to regurgitate and entire unchewed breadstick. When she was finished, she then ate it and looked around. The book belonged to Sparkler, who had put it down to study in the half hour between her shifts at the diner.
“Sparkler?”
“Hey mom.” Sparkler produced spreadsheets. Derpy sighed. She knew what spreadsheets meant. “I’ve been reviewing out finances.”
Derpy laughed. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.” Although she did not want her daughter to know that she was a murderer, Derpy knew that she could fund her family with the money she was making. Spoiled Rich had paid her a whole five bits to take out Rainbow Dash.
“But I do worry about it. And I deal with worry by organizing. And starting fires, but that’s beside the point.” She passed the spreadsheets to Derpy. They were mostly in numbers, which both she and Sparkler could read very efficiently; the rest was written in crystallic, the only language that Sparkler could read and write in efficiently- -and one that was completely and totally extinct, what with the complete and utter destruction of the Crystal Empire thousands of years ago.
“See, I’ve calculated it out. I’m pretty sure that we can operate on three hundred and fifty bits a month. That’s the absolute minimum. I can make up most of it if I get a second job, but…well…I’m going to be blunt.”
Derpy flipped through the notes. “What part of the budget is for that?”
“Not what I mean. What I mean is, we can’t make up the slack with muffin sales.”
“Heresy!” squealed Derpy.
“TRUE heresy. Like the fact that alicorns are a myth. Not that that matters either. That’s not important, so let’s ignore that.”
“That’s a lot of that.”
“It is, because ‘that’ is free. Unlike the ingredients you spend on muffins.”
“You’re- -you can’t!”
“Curtail your muffin budget? No. I can’t. But you need to get a job.”
“I already told you! I have a job!”
“Does it pull in a hundred and twenty five bits per month?”
Derpy paused, trying to calculate how many ponies she would have to murder to make that much. Her math skills were impeccable; she would deplete Ponyville in a matter of weeks. She supposed Canterlot would probably come next, but then there would be travel expenditures.
“I’ve set up a list of job applications,” said Sparkler, passing them to Derpy. “They’re organized by a combination of pay and likelihood of acceptance, and then alphabetized.”
“But- -”
“Your best option is applying to work for the Cakes. They’ve been looking for an assistant baker.”
“I already tried,” sighed Derpy. “I lit Mrs. Cake on fire.”
“Yes. But you light most ponies on fire at least once.”
“But they said they already gave the job to somepony. A young, pretty girl from a sheltered background who likes to party. Mr. Cake seemed really, REALLY happy about it.”
“Okay then.” Sparkler took the pile and reshuffled it. “Then your next option is working at the cemetery.”
“I tried. I woke up in a grave. I think I died.”
“Was the grave occupied?”
“Yes. By me.”
“Okay.” Derpy shuffled the pages again.
“Sparkler. I have a job. I’m working for Spoiled Rich.”
Sparkler’s eyes flashed. “Doing what, exactly?”
“Doing…thing?”
“What kind of things?”
“Important…things?”
“Are you a pool filly?”
“What? No! Spoiled doesn’t even have a pool, she can’t swim!”
“Well, then we need to consider your W2 or 1090, depending on- -”
Derpy stood up suddenly, causing her foam-rubber meal to drift out into the rest of the room. It fell very slowly and unenthusiastically. “Sparkler…um…middle name…DOO!”
“I don’t have a middle or surname.”
“Really? That’s so sad! Whoever named you must be a big meanie!”
“You named me!”
“Oh.” Derpy shook her head, trying to get her mind back on track. “That’s not the point! The point is, you shouldn’t be worrying about this! You’re still just a kid, and I’m your mom! It’s my job to take care of you!”
“I don’t care about me. I care about YOU, and my brother and/or sister.”
“I’ll handle it! I raised you all alone, didn’t I?”
Sparkler seemed to realize something. As if a conclusion she had never considered that solved all problems suddenly occurred to her.
“I have to go to work,” she said, suddenly standing up and instantly organizing her piles of spreadsheets. She had never even got to her book. Not that it mattered. She would no longer be studying. College was now firmly beyond her reach. Her brain had dismissed it and moved on, seeking new routes to organize and plan.
“So…we’re good?”
“I will fix this,” said Sparkler.
“No. No, you don’t have to.”
“If you can come up with a solution, then I won’t have to.”
Sparkler then left, going on her way back to work. Derpy turned and stared at her, at the textbook she had left behind and the pile of foam rubber that was still drifting in the air. She sighed. Because the only solution she saw was to kill more ponies.
The sun was already mostly up when Flim and Flam rolled into Ponyville. They were not literally rolling, but rather travelling on the top of a cart.
“Ah,” said Flam, looking out over the town. “What a wonderful place it is, don’t you think, brother? How very quaint!”
“Indeed!” replied Flim. “And no doubt filled with various rubes, yokels, rednecks and marks of every type!”
“Clean country air.”
“And the smell of profit!”
Flim lifted the whip at his side and whipped the cart pony. “ONWARD!” he cried.
“GAH!” cried the cart pony as she was whipped. She immediately jumped free of the cart, looking up and around. “Who dares to whip the GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE?!”
“Um…”
Her attention was brought to the top of her cart. “ACK! Who are you?! What are you doing on my cart?!”
“Oh…we were…um…”
“GET OFF! And did you just whip Trixie? TRIXIE IS NOT A MULE!”
“She could have fooled me,” whispered Flam to Flim. Flim chuckled.
“You get down here or I’m going to make one of your heads disappear! Up the other’s BUTT!” She started shaking the cart, trying to knock them free. She was reasonably successful.
“My word,” said Flam, landing gracefully on the ground. “Such horrible service!”
“I see the public transportation in this town needs work,” scoffed Flim.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is not public!”
“And this is not stated?”
“Indeed, brother! Public and private transportation must be differentiated! I believe it is a royal decree!”
Trixie looked confused. “Wh…what?”
“Oh yes! The fines for operating a transport service without the proper markings…oh my.”
“Is it…is it big?”
“VERY big.”
“Tremendous!”
“Enourmous! Throbbing!”
“Throbbing?”
Flam motioned to his brother to tone it down. Then they circled and advanced. “We could report you, you know.”
“For- -for what? I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You were operating an unregistered taxi!”
“No- -I’m- -I’m a magician- -”
“But we were transported? Weren’t we, Flim?”
“Indeed we were, Flam.”
“That means the law applies, I’m afraid. And Celestia does not take kindly to scofflaws!”
“The Great- -the Great and- -Trixie has never once scoffed!” scoffed Trixie. Still, she looked terrified. “She…I…I don’t have any money, though, my tricks aren’t…well…perfected?”
“Of course, of course. We understand.”
“You do?”
“We do. And will look the other way…for a small fee.”
So Flim and Flam arrived to town with all of Trixie’s cash. They had not taken her cart, only because it was a hobo cart and smelled like cheese and powdered gun.
“If the unicorns are that thick, I can’t imagine what the earth-ponies are like,” chuckled Flam.
“She didn’t seem to have filled out at all to me,” shrugged Flim. Then, realizing that his brother meant mentally thick, he sighed. “Oh. Yes, indeed.”
They paused in the middle of the street, examining the podunkest podunk that either of them had ever borne witness to. Dusty streets, quaint houses, ponies wandering around left and right with their pouches jingling with bits. Flim and Flam could almost taste the profit.
“The first order of business?”
“Assembling a base of operations, from which to build our…business.”
“And acquiring an adequate stooge. We mustn’t forget the stooge.”
They looked around. There were a preponderance of potential stooges. They had already considered Trixie, but in silent twin-telepathic-debate, they had decided she was far too much of a pain. And although a certain level of mental (and, ideally, physical) thickness was required for the job, Trixie was perhaps overqualified in at least one of those categories. And not the physical one.
While contemplating this, Flim suddenly grimaced. “Do you smell fried food?”
Sparkler came around the corner, her eyes still distant as she planned what would inevitably be a difficult process. She was the source of the smell (because she had not had time to bathe in the last six months), and she was too deep in thought to notice Flim and Flam fall into step beside her, boxing her in.
“Why, hello there,” said Flim.
Sparkler jumped. “Huh? Where am I?”
“Why, you’re right where you need to be,” said Flam, chuckling. She was between them. Unable to escape. And she smelled like a perfect stooge.
“Our first trip to this town, and as soon as we arrive! Imagine our luck!”
“Luck?”
“Yes! To find such a rare jewel of a mare as soon as we enter town.”
Sparkler looked at them. Her vision was distant and, to both Flim and Flam, rather disturbing. She was organizing mentally. One eye started to slowly deviate from the others, but was quickly pulled back.
“Say,” said Flim, ignoring that. “We’ve come here to start a new business.”
“An entirely legitimate business,” added Flam. “One meant for only the most upstanding of ponies, mind you.”
“Of course, of course, we are very selective about who we are intending to let into our organization.”
“And entering our organization early is, of course, a rare opportunity.”
“A once in a lifetime opportunity!”
“Indeed, brother, indeed! To get in on the ground floor and rise with the company.”
“Now, if you could answer a few questions.”
“Questions?” asked Sparkler.
“Yes.”
“Firstly: have you ever worn a maid’s outfit?”
Sparkler paused. Her eyes became slightly more clear. “No. But my mom has one. And I’m pretty sure it fits me.”
Flim and Flam gasped and looked at each other, astounded that they had found a stooge that already had one of the necessary costumes.”
“Excellent, most excellent!”
“Here,” said Flim, producing a heavy document. “This would be the contract dictating your duties and responsibilities, as well as compensation.”
“And absolving Flim and Flam industries of any responsibility for loss of limb, grievous injury, death, medical insurance or any sort of compensation.”
They shoved it in Sparkler’s face. She looked at it for a moment, then gave it back. “I can’t read this.”
“Well, some of the terms may be complex, but we can summarize- -”
“No. Literally. I can’t read. I don’t know how.”
Flim and Flam gasped. She was an idiot- -and perfect for them.
“Well, then,” said Flam, producing a pen, “if you would just sign here, we’d be glad to read it to you in our new and luxurious office.” He put his foreleg around her and immediately recoiled, crying out.
“Wh- -what is it?” stuttered Flim, confused at his brother’s reaction.
“She- -she- -are you hairless?”
“I have a mane and tail,” said Sparkler, looking up at them. “But otherwise, yes. No body hair. At all.”
Flim and Flam shuddered. She was like a warm, slightly wrinkly leather sofa- -but neither of them had noticed until they were up close. Still, they knew that it would be okay. The costumes would cover her freakish hairlessness anyway.
“I am interested, though. I’ve been considering a second job. What are the hours?”
“Oh, well, that would have to be somewhat flexible. I suppose we can discuss- -”
“I currently work one hundred sixty six hours per week. Can we work around that?”
Flim and Flam blinked.
“Is that even legal?” asked Flim.
“Legal? Is that even POSSIBLE?” He looked at the mare. A mare who still had braces and filly-like thinness- -but knew where her mother’s maid costume was and apparently did not blink. “When do you sleep?”
“I don’t. I’ve been using a stimulant spell for almost eight years.”
“Stimulant- -but that would take an incredible amount of power- -”
“It does. But I’m a unicorn. So I’ve started feeding on the life force of virgins.”
“You- -what, WHAT?!”
“See? Watch.” Sparkler pointed past Flim and Flam. Trixie was entering the town, heaving her cart up the path. “She’s about to enter my proximity…and…”
“Attention ponies!” cried Trixie, oblivious to what was about to befall her. “The Great and Powerful- -” Her voice suddenly faded as she began to shrivel slightly. Then, in an instant, she keeled over, wrinkled and unconscious. Sparkler began to vibrate slightly.
Several more ponies nearby fell as well. A couple of young mares passing, a stallion, and a white unicorn. The pastel yellow Pegasus standing beside the white unicorn squeaked in surprise.
“Oh, hey Fluttershy!”
“Oh. Hi Sparkler.” Fluttershy waved, and then proceeded to haul Rarity away.
“See? Virgin life force.”
“Are they…dead?”
“Generally no.”
Flim and Flam looked at each other. “Um…then why are you not draining us?”
Sparkler looked up at them. She shrugged. “My guess? Twincest. I mean, have you two seen your cutie marks?”
Flim and Flam looked at each other’s rumps and, realizing what was there, they both blushed profusely.
“Additionally, I compiled this list of points.”
Flim and Flam stared at the list that Sparkler suddenly produced, gaping. “When?”
“Just now, while you were talking.” Sparkler unfolded the immense scroll and scanned through the crystallic text that covered it. “Ahem. Point one: vision insurance deductibles. Or maybe you use a flex plan?”
“Um…”
“Never mind. Point two: temporary versus long-term disability…wait, will I be a contractor or is this something that would use a W2? Because then I’d have to file both and it would be better if…” Her voice hitched. “…if I emancipate myself and don’t declare as a dependent. Oh. And did you know we’re getting a new property tax next year? Come to think of it, I’ve assembled a list of buildings for our new business, organized by floorspace and land value ratios taking into account the six proposed tax bills that are on the mayor’s desk right now…”
“I don’t…”
“We’re not so sure…”
“What should it be called, though? ‘Sparkler, Flim, and Flam’ doesn’t ring well.”
“You would be an employed, you wouldn’t get top- -wait a minute, how do you know our names?”
Sparkler stared up at them with unblinking, penetrating violet eyes. “I know the names of everypony that enters or exits Ponyville. I keep it on a LIST.”
Flim and Flam were backing up by this point, but the hairless mare was advancing. She was not as good of a stooge as they had expected. In fact, their situation was degrading rapidly.
Then it degraded further. Flim and Flam both shuddered, as though Satin herself had just poked them in the flanks. They looked up simultaneously, and wished they had seen they HAD seen Satin- -or perhaps they had. Staring at them from down the street with a look of absolute fury was none other than Spoiled Rich.
“WE HAVE NOW GO!” sputtered Flim and Flam at the same time. Then they vanished. Sparkler stared, blinking, confused as to why. She could not have known that it was already too late, and Spoiled Rich had planned a horrific death for them at the hooves of Ponyville’s most successful assassin. Not only did the twins know too much, but they had spurned her request. They had dared to deny Spoiled Rich something she had asked for- -and for it, they would die.
Sparkler just shrugged, and continued on her way to her job. She wonder if she could catch up to Fluttershy. She had been meaning to talk to the filly about her younger brother, and if he would be visiting Ponyville anytime soon. If she wanted to avoid turning to outright blood-feeding, she would need a long-term source of energy.