Chapter 1
I finished my speech and shoved the donut into the stallion’s mouth.
Glazed yeast donuts hold up better for this purpose. Cake donuts tend to crumble instead of acting as an effective gag.
I opened a carton of chocolate milk in my magic, turned it upside down, and smashed it onto his head.
He stumbled backwards, blinking rapidly and working his jaw like he couldn’t decide whether to eat the donut or try to talk around it while chocolate milk dripped off of his sopping mane and splattered into a growing puddle on the tile floor. I stomped forward to keep his momentum going and waited until he bumped into the door before I lit my horn. Just enough force to slow the door and make him push against it. Then I threw it open and watched as he fell in a heap on the sidewalk.
As I turned back around, all four of the old farts at the counter began clapping their hooves like I’d just sunk a long putt. I tilted my paper foodservice hat up off my bangs, then rolled my eyes as I trotted behind the counter to grab a mop.
“You know,” said an earth pony with a five-o-clock (A.M.) shadow as he smoothed down his mane and plopped the construction helmet back on his head, “you could save yourself a lotta trouble if you’d skip the chocolate milk.”
I wheeled the bucket up next to the chocolatey puddle and parked it there while I rested an elbow on the counter. “Hey,” I said, levitating a carafe of coffee from its heating pad to refill the stallion’s mug. “At least I stopped using coffee for that bit.”
He froze with the mug halfway to his lips and looked at the steam rising from the black liquid. With a half-frown, he set the mug down and slowly pushed it to the other side of the counter.
The other stallions laughed and spent a few seconds slapping each other on the back while I magicked the mop across the floor. One of them, in a crisp gray suit, nodded toward his cup. I topped it off and spooned a dollop of vanilla icing in afterward, then gave the liquid a spin with my magic.
At the other end of the counter, a stallion in blue overalls shook his head. “It’s my own personal theory that you enjoy the attention.” He took a bite of his bear claw and chewed with a smirk while I pondered grabbing a carton of chocolate milk from the fridge behind me. I halfheartedly smiled, and blinked three times. Four.
He finally swallowed and licked his lips. “Why else wouldn’t you get your address unlisted from the public directory?”
With a glow of my magic, I tugged his straw hat down over his eyes. “See, this is why you’re still playing in the dirt, and I’ve got a successful business. I can’t sell donuts if nopony knows where to find me.” I put a hoof to my chin as he straightened his hat and gave me a phony scowl. “Or did Donut Joe put you up to this? With me out of the way, he’d have a monopoly on the Canterlot donut market!”
A pegasus spoke with his mouth full, spraying crumbs across the counter. “Ha! I wonder if Donut Joe has these kind of problems?”
Swabbing the countertop with a rag was almost reflexive for me. “Yeah, maybe if he was named Donut Celestia, grew fifty percent taller, bleached his fur, and had an ethereal floating pastel mane.” I sighed. “So many ponies think Twilight can fix their problems. Or, you know, marry them.”
The businessstallion downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp and picked up his briefcase under the crook of his hoof. “Well, she might be able to solve your problems.”
I took a breath and froze, my mouth halfway to pronouncing a profanity. Maybe Twilight could solve my problems. I mean… she had caused them, however unintentionally.
“No. No.” I shook my head. “I know how she solves problems. Friendship this, and friendship that. She’ll probably just tell me to make friends with all these weirdos. I don’t need those kinds of friends. I don’t need friends at all.”
He was already gone. My delayed response drew a chuckle from the rest of the customers. I looked out through the glass storefront and spent a moment watching the sky slowly change colors. I grunted and stuffed the mop back in its bucket before wheeling it behind the counter again.
“Aren’t we your friends, though?” He apparently had gotten over the idea of me pouring scalding coffee over somepony’s face, and had returned to sipping his coffee.
“Nope,” I said as I turned around and removed the filter basket from the coffee machine. The dawn crowd was much, much larger than the pre-dawn crowd, and I’d need all my coffee pots to be full when they showed up. “That’s why I don’t know any of your names.”
The door jingled.
We all turned to look at the newcomer. Her coat and mane were both jet-black, with maybe a bit too much glisten. Like she’d just trotted out of a shampoo ad or something. A striking red cape hung off her shoulders, its flowing lengths pooling on the ground behind her while the stiff collar’s pointed corners stuck up around her ears. Raw, powerful magic crackled just beneath the surface of her horn.
I could hear the stallions snickering.
Without acknowledging anypony else in the room, she jabbed an accusatory hoof toward me and snarled, “Twilight, you are not qualified to be a princess!”
I put both my front hooves on the counter and grinned. “I agree! It’s nice to meet somepony on the same page, for once.”
If she was confused, she didn’t show it. She stomped her hoof back onto the ground and lowered her head menacingly toward me. “Prepare to be defeated, vile pretender!”
I levitated a glazed donut out of the display case. “My name is Twilight Sprinkle…”