Rhyme and Reason are Thrown Out the Window
Scootaloo beat at her drum set with fervor, playing a couple of beats longer than appropriate. A hush fell over the gathered crowd as they waited for her to let loose a final rat-a-tat-tat. Her urge to feel the beat evidently sated, she sat back and watched Zecora step up to the podium.
Zecora smiled at the crowd of onlookers, tapping at the microphone to test its volume. Her ears fell flat against her head as a high-pitched whine cycled through the room, which the groans of the audience soon outpaced. A grey-coated pegasus near the back mumble an apology and fiddled with the sound board.
Zecora took in a deep breath and tapped the mic again. A satisfying thump issued forth, prompting another smile. She nodded to Scootaloo, and the young drummer started up a steady beat. Zecora nodded her head in sync with the drums, reciting her piece.
“The sun peeks warmly through the trees
Within my home, the Everfree
When coldest night has met its end
The forest is akin to a friend
The forest fills with daytime’s light
And all the world is put to right”
Polite applause rose from the audience as they beat their hooves into the ground. Zecora lifted a hoof in the air and laughed. “Welcome to the Ponyville Rhythm Respite. I hope you enjoy yourselves tonight!”
“Perhaps you could give a respite from your couplets,” a voice said. “Please get off the stage.”
A murmur wafted through the crowd, and a few ponies glanced around for the source of the voice. Scootaloo scratched her hair and glanced at Zecora, who shrugged.
“If you are so great as to critique,” Zecora said. “Why not come up? Please don’t be meek!”
The clip-clop of hooves came from the back of the room. Zecora strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the approaching creature. Slender legs carried aloft the sleek body of a female gazelle, whose fashionably-short horns danced as she bobbed her head. A sly smirk split her face as her eyes met Zecora’s.
“Hello, Zecora,” she chuckled. “It’s been far too long apart! They miss you back home.”
“But of course, I am sure,” Zecora mumbled. “Have you only crashed this party to act like a turd?”
The gazelle leaped onto the stage, landing neatly beside Scootaloo’s drum set. “Nay, zebra maiden.” She took the mic from Zecora. “I will prove once and for all…”
She all but shouted into the mic, leaving many a pony’s ears ringing. “Haikus are the best!”
Zecroa snatched the microphone away from the gazelle. “Apologies, friends. An unexpected guest has come to call… It will be for the best.” She turned to the gazelle. “Perhaps you should show your prowess of verse, before they must haul you away in a hearse?”
The gazelle raised an eyebrow. “A hearse? You must jest! The power of the haiku shall make this crowd weep.”
Zecora stepped back with a scowl lifting the corner of her mouth. “Weep indeed, but for what need?” She turned to the crowd, which was mumbling about the happenings onstage. “A treat for you, rhythm of two! Rhim Gazelle shall speak poetry to you! An ages-long rivalry is still to be fought, and the entertainment value means it’s not all for naught.”
Rhim winced.
Zecora grinned. “Perhaps an introduction as to our woe? What brought on this battle, toe-to-toe?”
Rhim Gazelle lowered her head and closed her eyes. Zecora placed a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder, and the young pegasus started up a beat.
“Two childhood friends
Alike in love of rhythm
Contested their skills
“Are haikus better?
Can couplets be beautiful?
We sought to find out
“A victor unnamed
A battle ended too soon
But now I return”
The audience tilted their heads to the side as one. Rhim glanced around as the grin slowly dissolved from her face. Scootaloo rolled her eyes and beat out a drum roll.
With a clear signal that the poem was over, the crowd gave Rhim polite applause.
Zecora trotted up alongside Rhim and took her place at the mic stand. She cleared her throat as Scootaloo beat a steady tattoo.
“Through a combination of rhyme, rhythm, and metre
I fought against Rhim Gazelle and beat her
Her loss against me would be sweeter
If she were a more sportsponylike creature”
Rhim scoffed, picking up before Scootaloo had a chance to pause her rum-a-tum-tums.
“More sportsponylike?
Speak for yourself, you dumbbell!
There was no victor!”
Zecora whinnied and narrowed her eyes.
“The applause I received was plenty and true
And more, I might add, than what they gave you”
The crowd gave an extended “Ooooooh,” leaning forward with wide eyes. Rhim’s ears flickered to and fro as she listened. She growled.
“You’re an evil witch
Whose potions do far more harm
Than they have done good”
Zecora gasped, and it was popular belief that at least one mare in the crowd fainted dead away at that moment. “You have just unleashed a war that you, my friend, aren’t ready for!”
Rhim stuck her tongue out. “Bring it on, zebra. We will finally settle all of our conflicts!”
Scootaloo smirked, producing a pair of sunglasses. She slid them into place and kicked up a lively beat on her drums. Zecora’s hoof tapped double-time as she stared Rhim down.
“I’m a witch? You’re a snitch!
My magic is rolling
I think your brain is glitched
You are in for a scolding
“Prepare for a whupping
The thunder will crash
The depths you are stooping
Reveal you as trash!
“You wish for an end
You aren’t gonna enjoy
Come now, former friend
Your metre, employ!”
Rhim reared up on her hind hooves and brought them down with a clomp.
“Your failure is full
I find your couplets diseased
Shut your big pie hole!
“Because of your rhymes
The mountains over the sea
Would crumble in hate!
“I would pity you
Except that I enjoy this
Suck it up, loser”
The drums stopped. Zecora and Rhim looked to Scootaloo, each raising an eyebrow. Scootaloo stood and pushed her sunglasses down just far enough to see over them. She pushed her drums over to Rhim and trotted up to the microphone, sending Zecora a glare.
Rhim took the drums as Zecora backed away from the mic with a speed equal to her poem’s rhythm. Scootaloo squinted at Rhim out of one eye until the gazelle started up a beat. She tapped the mic, winked at the audience, and began her piece.
“So, first of all, your rap battle is lame
You’ve shown yourselves as dweebs once and again
If you can’t settle a simple debate
Without flinging a ton of mud and hate
What good are you for creating this art
If anger is all that sets you apart?
“Poetry in all forms is pretty neat
Their moods can range from desperate to sweet
Shut up about your haiku and your rhyme
I’m sick of you arguing all the time
Let’s get this stinking show out on the road
And get some other poets in the fold!”
Silence descended upon the assembly as the last of Rhim’s beats drifted off into the ether. A pony stood out of the crowd with hooves raised to the sky. “Iambic Pentameter Pegasus Pony speaks truly! On with the show!”
Scootaloo yanked the drums out of Rhim’s limp hooves and carried them over to her seat. Ponies ready to recite their poetry lined up next to the stage, waiting for Zecora to introduce them.
The couplet-loving zebra and the haiku-adoring gazelle sat side by side as the night progressed, and poets both amateur and expert read from their creations. Zecora leaned close to Rhim and whispered, “I still believe that I did well. Your haikus, like manure, smell.”
“Silence your stupid,” Rhim replied. “Couplets are like training wheels. Your fall will be swift.”