Excerpt from an In-Progress Story I'm Writing

***The following is an excerpt of a story I'm writing. The first part of the story takes place before Season One. The following is 3/4 of a page I wrote on my way to work one day this week, and today I thought, 'I'd like to have some input of some kind before I start trying to publish the chapters. That Crier bit is funny. Let's give it a go.' So, there is it: an excerpt of a town crier gag for the Grand Galloping Gala while the Main Character is likely elsewhere in the Castle and may or may not be working a heist with Daring Do. Opinions welcome.***

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There in the Ballroom of Canterlot Castle, the majority of the guests are gathered to dance. The country's richest, fanciest, most beautiful, most influential citizens talk and joke. Some catch up with old friends and acquaintances. Some meet new ones. An energetic, young pink pony just tried to introduce herself to the assembly only to receive a less than cheerful chastisement about the seriousness of the congregation.

This is a gala, after all: a time for ponies with plenty to raise funds for various charities and organizations -for ponies who are not so blessed as to have abundance.

***
'But,' Pinkie thinks to herself, 'that doesn't mean everypony has to be grumpy.' And so, she thought to herself about what her next move should be to really make this party a Party of Parties.
***

I do like a brightly colored mare, but she's a little round in the face. Meh. If I see her later, I'll still try.

The musicians are elevated slightly and to the side with a clear view of the entry where the Crier is visible. His job is to take the name -or names- of those entering the room and announce them for all to hear. The quartet is a simple collection, and when the Crier steps forward their job is to tone down the volume so that he may project his voice all the more.

With his immaculate uniform and wonderfully ornate head covering, the tall aquamarine-green pegasus steps forth. A moment later, the music dims. The Gala has been on for a little while now, so ponies understand what this means and allow the volume of their conversations to mimic the ambiance.

He gives his throat with a quick clearing so that his voice may be clean, crisp, and projecting. With a calming breathe, he finds a brief moment to center himself for the most challenging introduction of the night. 'There it is,' he thinks to himself, 'the zone. I. Am. In it.'

"ANNOUNCING," good. That's a good start. Thunderous. Confident. Just like me. You got this. "SIR: HEY, GUY, WHICH WAY IS THE NEAREST TOILET? NO, I DON'T- WHAT? THAT'S NOT MY NAME. WHAT? BALLROOM? NO. DUDE, I'M SERIOUSLY. WHERE'S THE TOILET? I'VE GOT A TURTLE HEAD BACK THERE READY TO BURST. WHAT THE BUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

The attention of the entire room is now rapt. Even the instrumentalists seem to have forgotten their jobs and are looking at the Crier.

Man, I'm acing this! "I WILL DROP THIS ALL OVER YOUR HOOVES RIGHT HERE, BUD. COME ON. STOP WRITING THIS DOWN! OKAY. YOU KNOW WHAT? BUCK YOU AND YOUR FAT STUPID FACE. AFTER I VOID THIS, I'M GOING TO FIND YOUR MOTHER, BUCK HER, AND THEN SLAP HER. BUCKIN' EH, DUDE."

Everypony has stopped what they're doing. With looks of intrigue and great curiosity, they have approached the raised entryway and excitedly look for the pony being introduced with the longest title they've ever heard.

***
"I wonder who gave out such a title," marveled one pony.
"I hope it's a stallion," said one madame to another.
"I hope he's as big as that title," responded the other mare.
"What a unique introduction," said one pony with an incredibly posh accent.
"Must be an exotic name."
***

Okay. Almost there. You have the whole room eating out of your hooves. Bring it on home. "FROM THE ROYAL PROVINCE OF: CELESTIA'S FAT JUICY PLOT, YOU TEAT GUZZLING HALF-WIT!"

***
"Where is that?" One pony asks.
"I don't know," answers another.
"Could be new," speculates a pony.
"Sounds like a tropical locale."
"I'll say one thing," says a very pink pony in a pink candy-themed ballgown, "I know a real estate opportunity when I hear one."
"We should vacation there this coming Winter Season."
"Oh, capitol idea, Lovey!"
***

Thus did the great gathering in the Ballroom enthusiastically chatter amongst themselves in anticipation. The energy in the room was palpable. And the Crier stood proud and professional. This was a true test of his abilities: the longest title anypony has ever provided in the entire history of the Grand Galloping Gala. And he nailed it!

Yes!

...

'Everypony's still looking around,' the Crier notices. 'Did he not come out?' The individual is nowhere to be seen. The crowd continues to murmur. He nervously looks back at the doorway. Several faces are starting to melt from eager to slightly perturbed, worried, or confused.

The Crier quickly retreats to the large doorway and sticks his head out into the short hallway connecting the Ballroom to the massive foyer. The long line of ponies wishing to meet the Diarch of the Sun, the Princess, and a purple pony next to her are all frozen and staring straight over at the Crier. Blinking.

Some movement by a decorative tapestry gets the Crier's attention. That's him! "Hey, dude! Get back and get out here!... You're making me look really stupid right now. You know? Hey!" And he's gone. Do I chase him? Do I get a guard? I guess I can't force him to come dance, but this is my job, d@mnit. What's his problem?

The Crier looks back at the crowd and is starting to sweat now. 'I suppose it's time I take a break,' he thinks, 'exit stage left.' Clearing his throat again, he says loudly to one of the music ponies, "Play me off, Tavi!"

Pointing her cello's resined bow at the Crier, she responds quickly with her practiced Canterlot diction, "Don't you rope me into this!"

'Alright. I'll tap-dance off without accompaniment,' he thinks and follows through with his decision. After the crowd sees this, they disappointedly return to their places in the Ballroom, and the music resumes.

An off-white unicorn with glasses and a brown mane done in a tight bun walks up to the Crier and clears her throat. "Ms. Inkwell, may I say you look stunning tonight?"

"Zephyr Breeze," she says, "You are... extremely fired right now." What! Just because that jerk got stage-fright? Sun and Stars. Okay. Maybe I can save this.

"Raven-"

"-Miss Inkwell-"

"-dear, surely-"

"-please return your uniform and collect your severance in the morning-"

"-how about a quickie before I go?"

"I'm not that desperate, Mr. Breeze. Now clear out before I have the Guard escort you out."

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***The following author's note would go into the "Author's Notes" Section. I have several A/Ns planned that make it seem like the author is a separate character physically present during the story and trying to record things like an on-site journalist or cameraman while everypony just seems to ignore him for the most part. But for some reason, Zephyr didn't get the memo.***

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A/N:
I admit that it was me following the Main Character around the Gala for to record him for the Story. MC got out of the line for the Ballroom, and I didn't notice by the time I got to the Crier because of the little emergency I had brewing.

I will have to apologize to Zephyr at some point later for getting him fired. I mean, it was going to happen with or without my being there; but it's the principle of the thing. It was... partly my fault.

I honestly don't know if I should apologize to Mrs. Shy or... follow through... Probably best to ignore it for now.