//------------------------------// // The Wonderbolts // Story: The Platonic Pony Petting Café // by FrontSevens //------------------------------// “Time,” Spitfire said, clicking the button on her stopwatch. Will used a napkin to dab the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “How was that?” “Hmmf,” Spitfire said, narrowing her eyes at her stopwatch. “Not bad for forty ear-scritches. Your time was very average, but your technique was exceptional. It gave me both the warm and the fuzzies. You’re in.” “Oh, thank goodness,” Will said, splaying out his fingers to stretch his hand. “I was on the waiting list for a week.” Spitfire put her sunglasses back on and stared up at the early afternoon sun. “Well, now’s your chance. Get petting.” “You want ear scritches again?” Spitfire looked down at Will, then leaned her head back on the chair. “Nah, the chest is fine for now. But don’t slack on the technique. I’ll know.” Will got to work. The two sat at a small wireframe table on the patio of a pasta house. Traffic in the outskirts of town was low and quiet, especially in the time between lunch and dinner. The whole Wonderbolt team was there, each seated at their own table across from a human petter. Soarin leaned over from the table next to Spitfire. “You know, Spitfire, you don’t have to screen petters. They’re not joining the Wonderbolts.” “But they’re petting the Wonderbolts,” Spirtfire said. She yawned and pushed up her sunglasses. “We need the best of the best. I want to see if these humans have what it takes.” Fleetfoot turned around in her chair. “You know, she says she screens people,” she said with a subtle lisp, “but I haven’t seen her turn back a human yet.” Soarin and Fleetfoot looked to Spitfire, as did their curious petters. Spitfire crossed her forelegs. “I’m… testing their ability. I’m challenging them to perform at their best.” “Ohhh, I think I see what’s going on,” Fleetfoot said, her back hooves up on the table for her petter, Bryan, to massage. “Spitfire just likes barking orders at us that much for morning and evening training, that she craves that authority in the afternoon, too.” “Hah,” Spitfire said, waving a waiter over. “Only thing I’m craving right now is another penne primavera.” As he scratched Spitfire’s chest, Will took a look at the plates of pasta in front of each Wonderbolt. “You guys sure like your pasta.” “Penne primavera, please, and another water. Thanks,” Spitfire said to the waiter. She chugged her water and stretched out her wings. “You bet. It’s a perk of having the petting café thing here at a pasta house instead of a café café.” She raised her voice. “The last thing kids like Rainbow Crash need is coffee.” “That was one time!” Rainbow called from across the patio. “And by the way, I broke the sound barrier that time. None of you guys have done that here on Earth.” “You broke a lot of things that day,” Fleetfoot said. Rainbow pretended not to hear. The other Wonderbolts pretended not to snicker. Spitfire pointed to her neck. “You can start on the neck, now, uh… What’s your name again?” “Will,” Will said, rubbing the base of Spitfire’s neck. “So do you guys train here, too?” he asked. “I figured you all being fliers and stuff, you’d be working out of an airfield, or a stadium: some big open space to fly around in. A pasta house was not the first place to come to mind.” “Well, we’re still outdoors,” Spitfire said. “We still take the morning and the late afternoon to train over the open fields out of town. Which, by the way, Earth is a much better place to train. Turns out flying here is like flying with a bag of bricks on your back. Great for training. Anyway. “This pasta house has pasta—tons of carbs,” Spitfire said. She pointed to Soarin, who was wolfing down a forkful of fettuccine alfredo. “They have salads here too. Everything green you could think of.” Spitfire nudged Soarin on the shoulder. “And?” “And what?” Fleetfoot turned around and poked Soarin in the ribs. “What’s your favourite thing on the menu?” Soarin’s face grew red, avoiding his teammates’ stares. “They have really good dessert.” “What kind of dessert, Soarin?” Fleetfoot grinned. Soarin rolled his eyes but he, too, grinned. “Come on, guys, I like more than just pie.” “Pie!” Spitfire said. She held up a hoof as if to whisper to Will, but spoke loud enough for Soarin to hear. “This kid and his pie.” Fleetfoot joined in. “That kid and his pie.” “Forget about paying for this food with Wonderbolt funds,” Soarin said. “For all this teasing, I’m gonna make you guys pay for my dessert.” Spitfire smiled and shook her head, thanking the waiter for bringing her water. “Anyway,” she said to Will. “What were we talking about? Dessert, salads, pasta… right. Yeah, we eat to train.” Will tried to keep stroking Spitfire’s neck without lapsing in technique. “So when’s your next show?” “Not for a while,” Spitfire said. “We haven’t trained enough for a show here. Those are going to stay in Equestria for now.” “Any tickets left for your next Equestria show?” Will asked. “Maybe not the next one. That’ll be up in the clouds. Humans aren’t supposed to do that. Maybe the one after.” Spitfire turned to Soarin. “I think we’re in Fillydelphia in two weeks?” “Yup.” “There you go,” Spitfire said. “We’ve got a couple of our team managers here—talk to them for tickets.” Will raised his eyebrows. “So you ponies don’t mind that humans are going to Equestria now?” “Well, it’s…” Spitfire looked at her teammates and frowned. “It’s complicated. They’re still sorting that out, I think. The government, I mean. I think we’re only allowed to visit each other, but not live where the others are.” “Something to do with the economy, isn’t it? And politics?” Soarin scratched his head. “And magic? Something like that? The princesses were unsure about it. Said visiting is fine for now, but not moving.” Spitfire shrugged, turning to Will. “Ask them if you get the chance. I’m no authority on this.” Will rested his chin on his hand as he scratched Spitfire’s fluffy chest. “I wanted to see Princess Luna, but she’s booked solid for the next month.” Will peered over Spitfire’s shoulder. “Same with Rainbow Dash. I was hoping I could get a quick picture on my way out. The list to see her is so long, now.” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Don’t say it too loudly or she’ll hear.” “Too late,” Rainbow said from across the patio, smiling with her hooves behind her head. Fleetfoot chimed in. “She’s good at hearing her own name.” “That’s right,” Spitfire said. “Ears as big as her ego.” Rainbow nodded. “Yup. Biggest ego on the team. You guys wish your ego was as big as mine.” Soarin almost choked on his fettuccini. Spitfire sighed and leaned on her hoof. “That mare gets too much attention for her own good.” Fleetfoot took a grand swig of her water. “I think it’s hilarious. She just gets all the attention. She saves Equestria, she’s a Wonderbolt… and she’s probably the most popular pony in this world, too.” “And it all goes to her head,” Spitfire muttered. Soarin shrugged. “We’re Wonderbolts. There’s not much we can do to stop the attention.” “Yeah, hah!” Fleetfoot said. “You think we can stop the crowds, the fans, the autographs… either in Equestria or here, now?” Spitfire nodded, taking her sunglasses off and folding them. “I guess so.” Fleetfoot arched an eyebrow. “Spitfire’s not jealous, is she?” “No,” Spitfire said, pointing at Fleetfoot with her sunglasses. “All I’m saying is Crash lets it all go to her head. It’s not healthy.” Fleetfoot leaned back and stretched her forelegs. “Eh, don’t worry about it. If she crashes and burns, then she’s responsible and she’ll deal with that herself. I say let her have all the attention she wants.” “Rainbow Dash!” came a voice from the sidewalk, but it was not a human’s voice. “Mom? Dad?” Rainbow yelped, almost leaping out of her chair. “How did you find me?” Spitfire chuckled. “You know, I will say that sometimes, Crash gets the best kind of attention.” “We saw where you’d be on the internets!” Bow Hothoof said, pulling out his camera and snapping a picture. “What’s your name, hon?” Windy Whistles called out to the human petting Rainbow Dash. “Sally? You’re doing so great, Sally! Pet our daughter! Keep it up!” Bow pumped his hoof in the air. “Goooo Sally! Sall-y! Sall-y!” The whole patio joined in with the chant, laughs interrupting the Wonderbolts’ cheers, as Rainbow Dash deflated into a blushing heap. Sally continued to pet, confused but strangely more confident than ever.