Two Background Ponies Quickie: "Flight to the Finish Aftermath" · 6:01am Dec 15th, 2013
(This one's a bit mature. You've been warned.)
"One for you...one for you...aaaaand...one for you."
This reached Sam's ears as he walked forward, and he looked up slightly. Carl, for once, wasn't at their normal cafe waiting for him to come and have a plate of cookies. Instead, he was standing at the corner opposite the road to the school, and was handing out small envelopes to one pony child after another. Once the last one went away, he gave a bit of a hoof wave. "Now have fun with those tomorrow morning, you guys!" He said with a smile.
Sam blinked a few times, and then walked up to Carl. He looked to him curiously, and then out to the road, seeing the kids leaving. He noticed Carl still had a number of envelopes left, but he put those away in a satchel. "...Carl, what are you doing?"
"Well, Sam...some people would say I'm 'counter-trolling'. I prefer to say 'operating as an agent of justice'."
The blue pony grimaced on hearing that. "...You're not still trying to get even with Speedy's, are you?"
"Nah, I'm over that. One of Farrah's kids came home crying today. Personally...I would have enjoyed simply watching him and drinking in his sweet tears after he threw gum in the washing machine with my workshirts and replaced all the shampoo in the house with peanut butter...but Farrah insisted I do something about it as I'm the 'stallion' of the house."
"What happened?"
"You know Filthy Rich's kid, right?"
"Ugh...her again? I thought all of Farrah's kids already had their Cutie Marks?"
"Well, she realized that. So now she's 'hitting below the belt'. A couple days ago she gave a crippled pegasus a hard time. Then it was the mentally challenged kid. As for Farrah's colt...you know how he has that scar from when he had his cleft palate worked on?"
"...Dude, I don't care for Farrah's kids as much as the next stallion...but that's pretty much being a royal b*tch. Someone aught to slap the sh't out of that kid..."
Carl snorted. "Yeah...and get a nice, big, fat lawsuit from her daddy? No thanks. Besides...there's better ways. Don't forget...my uncle, Dispaulportion, went to college with her mom and dad. Oh boy..." He let out a grin. "The stories he told me...he'd keep me up all night... I figured I'd simply 'share' a few with her classmates. By the way, Sam...you still got your camera, right? Meet me in front of that school 5 minutes after the opening bell. I want to get a picture of her when she runs out the front doors bawling..."
Sam went a bit wide-eyed. "You didn't..."
Carl merely smiled in response.
Immediately, Sam seized the envelopes out of Carl's satchel, ripped open one, and then held it out in front of him. His eyes widened quite a bit as he read it.
"'Diamond Tiara's father used to puke all over any girl who tried to kiss him and nearly killed the captain of the color guard via choking as a result.'?"
"Aw darn...I hoped that one would have gotten passed out..." Carl sighed. "Oh well...there's plenty of other good ones."
Sam, growing uneasy, tore open another one, and was even more shocked.
"'Diamond Tiara's mother is still called 'Radio Flyer' at Stampford University inner circles because "everyone got to have a ride".'?!"
"Uncle Paul also told me no mare at school ever used a public toilet after she was done with it."
Uneasily, Sam opened a third one. His pupils shrank into dots. "Oh...oh Celestia...I think I'm gonna ralph..."
"Yeah. Makes you think every time he offers you the 'gold guarantee' in one of his ads, doesn't it?"
Sam threw down the rest of the envelopes and looked to Carl. "Carl...you must be insane. Assuming all the parents in town don't hunt you down for passing out all this explicit stuff, assuming Rich doesn't somehow trace it back to you and sues you for every bit you've got, you're going to take the life of a young filly just starting out who, granted, is a bit of a snob, extremely arrogant, self-centered, and grinds other ponies down to get what she wants without ever considering their feelings for one second and to give herself more self-esteem, and make her a ridiculed laughingstock...sentence her to the rest of her young life being taunted and tormented and insulted by the most cruelest and heartless of individuals, schoolponies, until she is left friendless, depressed, alone, and possibly committing self-mutilation or having anorexia nervosa...and you want me to 'take pictures for posterity'?!"
"...And to post on kiosks." Carl answered with a shrug.
Sam stared back sternly and coldly for a moment, and finally exhaled.
"...You think a standard twenty-five exposures will be plenty or will she make enough of a scene where I'll need more film?"
"Twenty-five should be fine."
"Let's set up at least 30 minutes early. I want to make sure the lighting captures all of her tears of anguish."
"Sure thing, Sam."
I guess you could call it a...
Dispaulportionate response.
I wasn't entirely satisfied with this one. I had an alternate one for it, but it was too short and didn't fit in that well. Anyway, here it is...
"Alternate 'Flight to the Finish' Aftermath
Sam and Carl were both on one of their cookie outings, although it appeared they weren't interested in cookies at the moment. Rather, both of them had small, hand-held, magic powered boxes...clearly portable games. Both seemed to be intently focusing on them as they played...oblivious to the lovely day around them.
After a while, Sam frowned and winced, before putting his down on the table. He held up his hoof soon after, looked at it, and then saw how it covered all buttons at once. He sighed.
"No wonder I keep not having my Gardevoir do the right thing." He looked over to the green stallion. "I'm a little surprised you haven't said anything about the button design on these things yet, Carl."
"Nah, that's not what bothers me about 'Pokemon'..." Carl muttered as he kept playing. "The thing that really gets me is that Pikachu in the merchandise show. It has to have been running for over a decade and he's still a Pikachu. That's ridiculous after all he's been through. He should be a Raichu by now. How can they expect people to take that show seriously? I mean, don't you think it's a little hard to believe that a character or characters would continuously never reach a benchmark in their development even after years of trying to hit it?"
Sam hesitated, then looked out into the street...just as he saw three fillies walk by: one with a red bow, one with naturally curly hair, and one with underdeveloped wings.
"So what are we doing today?"
"Flash memory repair."
"...Really?"
"We've literally tried everything else more exciting than that..."
Sam looked at them as they passed a moment, then he exhaled.
"...No, Carl. I don't think that's hard to believe at all."