//------------------------------// // -50- Where's the Money // Story: The Anthropologist // by Weavers of Dreams //------------------------------// "What's strange magic?" Henry asked, looking between the new cinnamon roll and the filly who was giving it to him. "Strange magic is an aspect of earth pony magic," Lyra took the initiative, opening her book and writing a few notes on their interaction. "Kind of a wild magic, that allows them to influence... likelihood... no, probability, that works better. It's allows them to change the probably of something happening, like getting unlikely dice rolls, or pulling giant mallets from behind their backs." "Mallet's are so last year," Screwball interrupted, rolling her eyes as she reached behind her own back. "This is what I use." Henry's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he watched her pull out an oversized ironwood baseball bat with rusty railroad spikes driven through it. "H-how?" he asked in amazement, his eyes bedazzled and heart pumping hard in fear as his jaw slowly dropped. "She's a prodigy in the strange arts," Lyra explained as she gestured harshly for the filly to put the weapon away. "She's got a lot of promise and a scholarship to any magic college of her choice." "Ugh," the filly groaned as she returned the bat to whence it came. "Why does everyone keep on bringing that up. College just sounds so boring. And daddy refuses to let me go to one that allows frat parties." "There's a good reason for that," Lyra commented dryly. "Well, back to strange magic. Screwball, here, is kind of an oddity. Her own magic was somehow fused with a small portion chaos magic during a certain hellspawn's rampage. Twisting her magic into a hybrid form." "You're still mad about the dead possum, aren't you?" Screwball smirked as she floated down beside Henry, practically stuffing the cinnamon roll in his gaping mouth. "I reeked for weeks," Lyra groused with a deep frown. "Dumb jerk should've remained a pigeon toilet forever." "Why don't we talk about something else," the white unicorn filly piped up, looking a little stressed. "Fine, Sweetie," Lyra sighed, thanking Mrs. Cake as she delivered her order. A daisy and rose petal sandwich with a side of hot chocolate. "Pinkie's more powerful than Screwball anyway." "That's an unfair comparison," the weird filly stated. "She's older, and has more experience with mechanical improbabilities. Not to mention she's a freakin' Element of Harmony, which you can't tell me isn't a power booster." "Even before then she could have run circles around you, girl," the mint mare declared firmly. "Unlike you, she's self-taught, and very diligent at that in her own right." "So is this something everyone can do?" Henry asked, feeling a little uneasy between the two arguing ponies. "Nah," Applebloom said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "It rarely goes beyond dishin' out a little good or bad luck. Pinkie an' Screwball just so happened to be very lucky." "Oh, really?" Lyra asked. "What makes you think you're not already powerful?" "Ah'm just an apple farmer," the yellow filly pointed out, holding her hooves up. "If'n ah could use strange magic like those two, ah'm sure ah would know." "So, tell, me, Applebloom," Lyra began with a little smirk of her own, "what's the probability of your family being the only one in Equestria to ever cultivate a certain rare magical plant from the Everfree? Not only that, but what's the probability of also figuring out how to turn its fruit into jelly for ponies to consume on toast?" Applebloom paused for a moment in thought. Then her eyes widened in realization. "Golly. Ah... ah never thought about it that way." "Your strange magic is just a lot more subtle than others," Lyra chuckled at the filly's reaction. "Heck, didn't your family receive a letter recently from Celestia asking you to try and cultivate other rare magical plants?" "Well, they asked mah brother an' sister, along with Granny Smith," the filly shrugged. The mare rolled her eyes. "As if they'll leave you out of something so important. Have a little faith in your family, Applebloom." "Ah know, Lyra," Appebloom sighed. "It's jest, you know, bein' the youngest, it sometimes seems like ah'm left out of a whole bunch of important things." Lyra nodding in understanding, as did most of the ponies sitting in the booth. "It can seem like that, Bloom." "Seem like it?" Scootaloo spoke up with an exasperated huff. "We're just kids. None of the adults take anything we say seriously. Heck, you're one of the few ponies who even seems to listen, Lyra." "I do listen," Lyra sighed. "I remember how tough it was to be a kid. Which is probably why a lot of adults forget, and put on rose-tinted glasses. They couldn't handle they truth of their youth very well." That got a few small heads thinking. "Wow, that was almost depressing," Screwball coughed, pulling out a cupcake and scarfing it down. The shriek of a certain pink pony could be heard in the kitchen. "She's gonna catch you eventually," Lyra noted as she glanced between he kitchen doors and the filly. "Any minute now, in fact," Screwball said after swallowing the treat. "I can already feel her locking on. But, so long as I hang around my new pall here" -she threw a leg about Henry's necks in a friendly fashion- "then I should be just fine for a little while longer." "Just to be clear, you are paying for those right?" Lyra inquired carefully. "Of course," Screwball blew a raspberry. "I'm a prankster, not a delinquent. Stealing is just wrong, but driving a fellow prankster insane is fun." "You were using your own money right?" Henry asked innocently. Suddenly, everyone aware of what was going on turned to stare at the filly who looked like she had been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar. Heck, like she'd stuffed all the cookies in her cheeks like a chipmunk. "Screwball? What have you done?" Lyra demanded, leaning over Henry to touch noses with the little weirdo. She was scowling something fierce. "N-nothing I can't fix," Screwball stuttered nervously. Lyra's scowl deepened. "Honest. I can fix it before anyone notices." "You'd better," Lyra warned ominously. "Then just excuse me for a second, or a week," Screwball whimpered just before bolting through the window. The glass window stretched as though it was made of rubber, before the filly somehow popped through to the other side, making it snap back into place with a loud crack. No sooner had she sprinted ten feet away from Henry then a pink streak was hot on her heels. "I'll teach you to pull pranks like that on me, young lady." "Eeeeee. I'm sorry, please, just let me live." "Oh, you'll live alright." "Oh! Then in that case... please, kill me quickly." "Never!" Henry and company watched as the two ponies disappeared into the distance. It was quite a dilemma. They had no idea whether they should laugh or cringe in empathy. "Nice catch there, kid," Lyra said, absentmindedly patting Henry on the head. Henry, meanwhile, was testing the window in curiosity. It was indeed solid glass. How did she make it act like rubber? "Can I learn to do that?" A visible shudder ran down Lyra's spine. "To all that is holy, I pray not."