//------------------------------// // S2E18: A Friend In Deed // Story: My Little Pony: Bureaucracy is Politic // by swirlstar //------------------------------// Season 2 Episode 18 – A Friend in Deed Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville The Agenda: 1. Win Election. [ ] 2. LONG TERM: Secure political control of the Legislative Council. [ ] GALLOP POLL: HEARTSTRINGS (EQE) 30%/BUSTER (EQA) 26%/MARE (IND) 3% (±5) Mrs. Cake, ever the redoubtable mistress of Ponyville’s bakery, sidled stealthily up unseen towards Mayor Mare’s table. “Now now, Mayor," the light blue matron tut-tutted. "What’s with all the grumbling and moaning?” The tan pony merely sighed as she pocketed the little scrap of paper. The missus was insistent. “Been spending an awful lot of time here, Mayor. Slow days in government, hm?” “I guess you can say that,” came the evasive response. The rotund mare anticipated in vain. “At least they let Miss Cheerilee go, huh,” Mrs. Cake resumed. Mayor Mare munched that much more viciously on her lettuce bagel. “Mm-hmm.” The blue mare fell back, no small amount of annoyance on her face. Not that she was afraid of losing the confectioner's vote: the poster on the wall – Keep Calm and Lyra On (what was that supposed to mean, anyway?) – saw decisively to that. Yet Mrs. Cake, bearer of two trying foals, was not one for calling quits. Besides, a topic of conversation had just wafted in through the front door. The matron sniffed the air, muzzle recoiling at the unwelcome scent. “Oh, Celestia. You can smell that, can’t you, Mayor?” “Mm-hmm.” The gray-maned pony was more relieved than revolted: that acrid smell was going to provide the perfect excuse to- “Obviously the newcomer, Mayor,” the blue pony opined. “It’s the donkey, I tell you. Celestia, that smell! I just can’t- " She wisely caught her tongue before she uttered something incorrect. “I mean, I know it’s not his fault,” she hastened. “Not his fault that we ponies have sensitive noses. Not his fault that the donkey scent just happens to need some getting used to. In a month or so I'm sure we won’t even realize it’s there… ” Mayor Mare intensely scoured the dining plate for conversation-avoiding morsels. “But still,” the confectioner thought out loud. “But still. It’s kind of selfish to expect all of us to bear you out. You see that, Mayor; don’t you? Lyra would’ve never let them- ” Lucky scrap of leaf in the plate corner. “Mm-hmm,” the Mayor muttered. * Market Square, Ponyville “Ms. Applejack!” Mayor Mare exclaimed as she trotted over to the green-and-white stall. “Now how are doing this fine day?” “Mayor!” the orange mare hastily ushered Applebloom out of sight. “So nice to meet you. Care for an apple or two?” The tan pony smiled and rummaged around for a few bits. “Two, please.” “Take a bucket. Only the nicest and bestest for Ponyville’s leader, Mayor.” Goods exchanged hooves. “Thank you, Ms. Applejack.” "Thank you, Mayor." The country mare leant in coyly. “For the thing with the heart.” The smile became more pained. “Cheerilee would never have outed Applebloom in any case. I’m sure of that.” A knowing wink. “You will always have our full support, Mayor.” “You are too kind, Ms. Apple- “ “Oh!” Some thought had suddenly struck the country mare. “Before I forget, Mayor, the farmers want me to see if you can do somethin’.” The Mayor grimaced. Perhaps the compliments had been too good to be true. “Let’s hear it, Ms. Applejack.” The orange pony tapped her jaw as she carefully structured her petition. “Well, you see, Mayor: them workers have been complainin' some while now ‘bout the singin’ comin' from the donkey’s house over yonder.” “Donkey opera,” the gray-maned pony clarified, shuddering instinctively at the mention of such a racket. "It's their thing." “Right. Opera. Anyway, they should- “ Applejack’s throat went dry mid-sentence. The bespectacled mare raised an eyebrow. “Go on.” The orange pony cleared her throat. “Let me make one thing clear first, Mayor. Personally, I am fully in favour of cultural exchange. I endorse it. I appreciate it.” Just the choice of words alone was enough to arch Mayor Mare's eyebrows ever higher. “I truly am, Mayor; and in my opinion, the workers are being more than a bit unfair on our newcomers… ” Applejack tiphoofed through her sentence. “… but they're our workers, y'know? They’ve been used to their daily routine, right? Some of 'em, they've worked for two generations already... ” “I understand, Ms. Applejack.” “And it’s just a bit… unfair on 'em,” the orange pony concluded. “A bit unfair, that some of 'em have had to change because of… new habits.” “Right.” “So I’m not saying that we should drive them out or something, but… but… ” Applejack uneasily studied every twitch and crease on Mayor Mare’s face. “Y’know, maybe they could do their singin’ somewhere else?” * 109 Luna Crescent, Ponyville Mr. Waddle didn’t even give Twilight Sparkle the benefit of the doubt. “Sorry, Ms. Sparkle,” the old stallion declared. “As much as I like you, the mare you work for is a dictator, a snoop and a crony. So no, I won’t be voting for your party.” Sigh. Twilight hung her head in sorrow. Or more accurately, faux-sorrow, since the magical unicorn had managed to change a few minds with a pair of droopy ears and vague sniffles. “Everypony’s been like that all day,” she groaned. But Mr. Waddle was one of those infuriatingly ideological creatures whose mind was fashioned out of ice and stone. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sparkle." A sigh, more unmistakeable mewlings, and a lower incline of the neck. “It’s alright, Mr. Waddle… ” “Ms. Sparkle- ” “Oh! Yes?” the purple unicorn bounced back up, the fake sadness disposed of in seconds. The old stallion was slightly taken aback. “I was just wondering about that newcomer to town everypony’s talking about. You know, the... ” “Oh. The donkey? Mr. Donkey?” the bookish mare replied, remembering to let her tail re-hang limply. “Yes, the donkey. Haven’t seen him much around town.” “Well… ” Twilight looked forlornly at the ground. “He’s here to retire, I’ve heard; retirement with his jenny...” The bespectacled stallion muttered angrily under his breath. “Well. Here for the welfare. Typical.” The lavender pony looked back up with a frown. “Mr. Waddle, please don’t say that,” she admonished. “Mr. Donkey has as has much right to welfare as you or I- ” “Huh? What?” Mr. Waddle abruptly croaked, eyes blinking in confusion. “Oh, no no no, Ms. Sparkle, I…I’m not say that against donkeys in particular! I- I just meant to say... back in the days, we used to retire in the place that we worked in, you know? Wouldn’t even think of leeching off other governments like that… ” “Well!” Twilight rushed decisively into the void. “Ms. Heartstrings and Filly Buster are most certainly going to burden Ponyville with more leeches. So really, you should- “ “Vote for Mayor Mare: yes, yes,” the old stallion hastily waved a hoof about. “Yes, Ms. Sparkle. You’ve convinced me, thank you, thank you… ” The door quickly closed. Another victory to report back to Mayor Mare. * Donkey Residence, Ponyville outskirts The smell was overpowering as Mayor Mare neared the front door. Perhaps donkeys and ponies really aren’t meant to be this close together- Mayor Mare hit herself on the head in disgust. Stop it, she warned herself. That is wrong. But if it was indeed wrong, then why was she now walking up the gravelled path? Because the electorate wants me to. You heard Mrs. Cake. You heard Applejack. You heard Twilight. Nopony wants to live with the Donkeys. But this was wrong! Well, moral rectitude never got you anywhere. You remember last time, right? You told Cheerilee to tell the truth, and the agents took what she said and shov- Knock knock knock. “Cooming!” a sweet voice trilled. Matilda beamed at the scene before her. “Why, Mayor; what an honor! Come in, come in please, Mayor; we’re so happy to- “ “Thank you so much, Ms. Matilda,” Mayor Mare murmured as she entered, stealthily breathing through her mouth between sentences. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time... ” “No, please, do sit down, Ma’am,” Cranky gestured before he went into the kitchen to prepare some coffee. “It’s really an honor… ” Polite entreaties for food and drink. Mayor Mare finally found the fortitude to raise a determined hoof. “Please, Mr. and Ms. Donkey – still ‘Miss’, right?” “Getting married next month,” Cranky grinned. “My best wishes. Anyway, Mr. and Ms. Donkey,” Mayor Mare was feeling distinctly queasy inside - and it wasn't from the gateaux. “I’ve come here with a proposal.” “Proposal?” the two lovebirds looked at each other. “We’ve never submitted anything to Town Hall!” The tan pony cleared her throat. “No, we know you haven’t.” A silence as the two donkeys waited for the Mayor to continue. Better bite the cannonball now, I guess. “Erm… Mr. and Mrs. Donkey, how much money will have you consider leaving Ponyville?” Shocked silence. Mayor Mare resisted the urge to fall deep, deep into the folds of the armchair and disappear entirely from sight. “L-l… leave Ponyville?” Matilda stammered. The gray-maned mare gulped and nodded. “We’re… tightening our immigration regulations, you see,” she babbled, scrambling around for some plausible explanation. “Asylum seekers from the Griffon Kingdom… and unfortunately, you… uh… erm…” “We don’t make the grade.” Matilda concluded, a look of pure dismay on her face. Another gulp and another quick nod. “Well… not you, anyway,” the Mayor corrected herself. “B-but… ” “Me,” Cranky muttered, his voice sinking, his ears drooping. Silence. “Um… look,” Mayor Mare began apologetically. “Don’t get me wrong. Matilda here, especially, has been a pillar of our community. But it’s just the… the law, I guess. We’re really, really, genuinely, truly sorry to see you go… ” “No, no,” Matilda eked out a smile. “We understand.” Mayor Mare gazed at the floor. “Thank you,” she murmured. “The Government will recompensate you to the maximum extent.” * Market Square, Ponyville Dust, ponies, hustle and bustle. All very typical of the cobbled marketplace, that throbbing heart of Ponyville, drawing through it everything from goods to services to rumors. The tap-tap of impatient mares’ hooves, the clink-clink of poured-out money, the chitter-chatter of idle housemares… too much color, too much noise for anypony to notice three little fillies andn a pink pony weaving through to the middle of the plaza, crates and placards in tow. Scootaloo turned uneasily to Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Pinkie Pie. “Y-you sure about this?” she squeaked weakly. “I mean, I don't think- “ “Aw, come on!” the pink mare cut short her worries as she thrust a megaphone into reluctant hooves. “You're Cutie Mark Crusader Social Activists, right?” The pegasus rolled her eyes. “That was so long ago. That's obviously not where our talent is!” “Well, we’ll get it this time around!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, exasperated that a few silly qualms were blocking them from nirvana. “Maybe we’re Cutie Mark Crusader Civil Rights Social Activists!” Scootaloo did not respond, seemingly lost in thought. Applebloom eyed her quest companion nervously. “You agree with Pinkie Pie, right? The way the Mayor’s making those poor Donkeys go away… that’s not right!” "Yeah!" The pink pony's eyes welled up again at the thought of the injustice done to her friends. "Oh, what they are doing to poor Mr. and Ms. Donkey... it's not right!" “Yeah, Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle jumped up and down in indignation. “It isn’t right!” Quiet instead of the usual background noise. The ponies suddenly realized that the marketplace had now collectively focused its attention. On them. Disappointingly, Scootaloo continued to look at the ground. “It isn’t right…” Then in a sudden flurry of action, Scootaloo stood up tall and proud, eyes lighting up with zeal, megaphone pointing daggers at the audience. And with a voice that astounded even the orange pegasus herself: “It isn’t right, ponies; it isn’t right! Fillies and gentlecolts, you all here are walking through the marketplace, busy buying bread and books and all the things that make you happy – but do you know that at this very same time, the Donkeys are being forced to leave Ponyville by the Government! They’ve done nothing wrong at all, fillies and gentlecolts! This is happening to our neighbors!” One could almost see the silent shudder running through the crowd. Then from some unseen part of the throng, a half-hearted voice daring to call out a common guilty thought: “But… donkeys are smelly- “ Scootaloo whirled violently round in righteous fury. “How dare you say that! How dare you be so… speciesist!” A collective gasp and a murmur around the crowd, scandalized by this terrible, terrible accusation. “Yes you are!” Scootaloo bellowed as the voice whimpered beyond earshot. “And I know more of you are! That's why none of you cared- “ “We didn’t know!” Mrs. Cake hurriedly retorted. “If we knew… ” “I’d definitely have told the Mayor myself!” Applejack concurred. “We are most definitely not speciesist!” “Expelling the Donkeys was a step too far!” Mr. Waddle waved his cane furiously. “The Mayor has lost my vote!” The crowd roiled with hasty indignation. “Stop. The. Hate! Stop. The. Hate!” Pinkie Pie began to lead a chant. The two other Crusaders joined in, tossing accusatory leaflets into the air. “We shouldn’t discriminate against the Donkeys, fillies and gentlecolts!” Sweetie Belle cried out, remembering the only long word she got right on that spelling test. “We need to go to Town Hall and tell the Mayor what we think- “ “Citizens!” Lyra had seized her chance to clamber onto the makeshift lectern. “Citizens! Mayor Mare is responsible for this horrid act of speciesism! Surround Town Hall! Make our voices heard!” The rumble of enthusiastic stomping across the whole market, rolling on like an ominous summer storm. “Stop the hate! Stop the hate! Stop the hate!...” * The Mayor's Office, Ponyville “Stop. The. Hate! Stop. The. Hate! Stop. The. Hate!” Mayor Mare gasped in horror even before she leant out of the window. A sea of angry ponies, screaming and yelling all sorts of insults, flags and billboards waving about… speciesism?! But… b-but… Matilda narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’ve decided to send us away, Mayor?” A cold shiver raced down the gray-maned pony’s spine. “N-no, Ms. Donkey!” she stuttered. “It’s just… I-I thought they- “ The tan pony stopped mid-sentence. The female donkey was unamused. “The Princess takes a dim view of these things,” she menaced. All Mayor Mare desired was to sit down and cry. This was unfair. This was too unfair… “I… I assure you, Ms. D-donkey… ” the politician stuttered, tongue tying itself in guilty knots. “N-nothing of the s-sort was meant… ” “That will be for the courts to decide,” came the iron response. “And rest assured I know who to vote for, now.” The donkey turned and walked away. The Mayor stood up on wobbly legs. “Ms. Matilda... please- “ Slam. That was it. Mayor Mare slumped back into her chair, head light and dizzy from all that had transpired. Everything had happened too fast. Too fast. Her fault. She did it. Who cares if it was for the ponies. It was always for the ponies. Cruel, evil, duplicitous ponies! And with that, Mayor Mare flopped onto the desk and began to bawl hot, angry tears. “Stop the hate! Stop the hate! Stop the hate!... ”