//------------------------------//
// Buying a Sofa 
// Story: Cheerilee's Sofa 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

The classroom was a small, homely place. The thatched walls of bright yellow and green, the hay floor, the small wooden tables with heart shapes on them, shelves and cabinets on the side holding books and art materials, the lights on the ceiling that weren't on now, the portraits and paintings of various ponies including the regal Princess Celestia, a bigger and sturdier-looking desk at the front with some books on top, the chalkboard with its dusty surface, and the windows with their undrawn curtains that let in the sunshine of the day, lightening up the room with natural, warm light.
As the colts and fillies left with their bags and their books, Cheerilee was doing her own cleaning up—fixing the books and the materials on the shelves. The sunshine was on her face.
A tap on the shoulder.
Cheerilee's eyes went wide open. She turned around. "Sweetie Belle?"
"Uh, Miss Cheerilee?" the unicorn filly said. "I have a question about sofas."
Cheerilee smiled. "Why sofas in particular?" She inched away from the bookshelf and gestured towards the rows of desks with their stools.
Sweetie slid one of the stools with her magic, her horn and the stool both glowing green.
"I've been thinking about moving furniture," Sweetie said. "Rarity just ordered a new batch of fancy chairs and sofas the other day. When I visited her, I felt...crowded. If she buys anymore, then it'd be a lot harder to get anywhere in the boutique. Then, I thought of something: If she buys more furniture, she'll have a harder time trying to bring the furniture to where they're supposed to be. The furniture has to be smaller if she wants to buy more."
"So, what are you getting at, Sweetie?"
"I managed to turn that into a math question!"
"That's...wonderful! Maybe I've heard of it."
Sweetie closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Then, she opened her eyes. "The question is: How big can a sofa be if you want to turn it around a hallway?"
Cheerilee's smile dampened a little. "Uh, what is it? Try being more specific: Are you looking for the area of the sofa?"
"I think so," Sweetie said, looking up as she thought about it. "Yeah. What's the biggest area a sofa can have while still being able to turn around a hallway?"
Cheerilee placed a hoof on her chin. "Hmm."
"You're alreadying thinking of an answer?"
"Not really," the teacher replied. "But, your question reminded me about something else: I need to buy a new sofa. I almsot forgot! How could I have forgotten it? I should've bought one weeks ago! But, thanks for the question, Sweetie." She went back to the shelves and the cabinets. "I'll think about your question over the coming days, Sweetie."
Sweetie smiled. "Thanks, Miss Cheerilee!" She trotted away into the open outside.



The sky was blue with several clouds there as a few pegasi went around pushing clouds to specific spots as a pegasus with a hat ordered them, pointing to this and to that place.
On the ground, ponies were walking by as they talked to each other, chatting casually with casual topics like how one's day was or how the weather was. Others talked about their schedule for the rest of the day and for the rest of the week. Still others were talking about what they had just learned. They all did this as they walked past the various houses and shops with that style of thatched walls and hay roofs.
Among those houses and shops was a store with sofas on display behind a wide window. The sign above the door had a picture of a quill and a picture of a sofa. A blue door was its entrance into the inside—an interior of two halves: shelves of different colors of quills resting in their containers in one half, colorful sofas adorned with lamps and rugs and abstract paintings on the side in the other.
Davenport, ready in his blue coat and white shirt and combed mane, was arranging some of his quills. Then, the door opened.
"Ah, Cheerilee," Davenport said as he watched Cheerilee enter the room in a slight hurry. "What can I do for you? Want a quill or a sofa. Or, a quill and a sofa?"
"I have more than enough quills," Cheerilee said as she calmed herself down and walked more slowly on the wooden floor. "What I'm looking for is a sofa. Just any sofa for that matter. Anything to replace the old, broken-down one I have back at home."
Davenport's eyes widened. "Any sofa?"
"Yes, Davenport," Cheerilee said. "Any sofa."
"And you mean it when you say 'Any sofa'?" He smirked.
"Yes, I mean it when I say 'Any sofa.'"
"Then, I just have the sofa for you!"
Davenport galloped to a green sofa and sat on it. He spread his front hooves wide open. "This sofa is all-natural, Cheerilee! No artificial stuff used in the making of this! Just pure nature!"
Cheerilee walked towards the green sofa.
"Feel the sofa!" Davenport said. "The only way to appreciate it in its fullest is when you feel how natural it is!"
"Uh, OK."
Cheerilee rubbed the sofa with a hoof.
A scrunch on her face.
Davenport's smile went away at that.
"Why would I sleep on painted twigs?"
"It's not just painted twigs!" Davenport said, jumping out of the sofa and almost falling into the one in front of it. "It's a sofa made of painted twigs!"
"I thought this was all-natural," Cheerilee said, tapping a hoof. "Tell me you used natural paint as well."
"Oh, I did!" Davenport said, scratching his mane as he kept up a grin. "Fine natural green from Winsome Falls! Or Cloudsdale."
"Why? You don't even know where you get your paint?"
"Rainbows. As long as it's from a rainbow, it's natural, so let's get to the next sofa if you're not totally satisfied with your first impression about it—sorry for the trouble, Cheerilee!"
He pushed Cheerilee to the next sofa, making her hooves skid on the floor. "Now, what else do we have here? We have ourselves a wonderful, brand-new sofa for your enjoyment!"
The sofa was yellow. It looked normal—a two-seater sofa that was yellow.
"This could all be yours for ten equal payments of fifty bits, Cheerilee!" Davenport said.
Cheerilee put on a stern face. "You know I'm a teacher, right? A teacher can easily see past that—I'd end up paying five hundred bits for a sofa. Some vintage paintings sell for less than that!"
"Of course, you can choose to pay—"
"I just want a sofa, Davenport!" Cheerilee said. "I don't need to sit through watching you tell me which sofas are the best for me based on my personality! What are you doing, anyway?"
"I'm just doing my job—rather, I adopted this new thing called 'proactive selling.'"
Cheerilee sighed.



Sweetie Belle walked along the path with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo by her side. "Why did Rarity buy those sofas again?" Scootaloo asked with a face of confusion.
"Something to do with impressing Trenderhoof again," Sweetie said. "I find it strange myself—she's all professional when it comes to ponies like Photo Finish and Hoity Toity. Most of them, really. But, when it comes to Trenderhoof, she goes crazy for him. Not as crazy as the first time she met him, but she still has that crush on him."
"Crazy enough to still keep pictures o' him?" Apple Bloom asked.
"Yeah," Sweetie said, her eyes half-open, a small frown on her face. "But, as long as she doesn't ruin her day over him, then I'm sure we can get Rarity to help us with—"
They arrived at the boutique.
They gasped.
Several fancy purple sofas and chairs were outside. Rarity herself was looking at one of the sofas, inspecting it.
"Rarity?!" Sweetie asked, rushing to her sister. "What's going on?"
"Oh, not much," Rarity replied in a subdued voice, turning around to see Sweetie. "I'm just preparing for the visit. I've been preparing for it since the day I've heard of it!"
"You mean five days ago?"
"Why, yes!" Rarity nodded and grinned. "And, Trenderhoof will see Ponyville as the finest furniture-maker in all of Equestria!"
Sweetie gulped.



"Come on, Cheerilee!" Davenport begged with a desperate face. "What if I tell you about the scientific facts about this sofa right here?" He gestured a hoof towards yet another sofa—this one was black and white and had a few pillows.
"How can I make myself not clear?" Cheerilee said, raising her voice. "It doesn't matter what kind of sofa I'm getting, as long as it's a sofa that I can sit on, that I can lie on—if it's a sofa that fits, then I'm fine! I don't need to buy the most expensive sofa or the most advanced sofa that you can offer."
"Well, Cheerilee—" Davenport went closer to her and patted her on the shoulder "—I'm just looking out for your best interests. The cheaps sofas will do the trick—that's a guarantee. But, the sofas with higher prices are above the ordinary—a cut above the rest, if I do say so myself. You can tell your friends about the cool sofa that you have."
"But, I don't need a cool new sofa to talk about," Cheerilee protested. "I just want to have a sofa to relax on!"
"Don't you want the sofa to match with your living room as well?" Davenport persisted. He brought out a list of sofas from his suit pocket. "I have these sofas in color order so just tell me what's the dominant color in your living room and I'll match you up with the best sofa for the job!"
Cheerilee sighed.
"Like I said, I'm just looking out for your best interests, Cheerilee! You may choose the sofa that you want, but if the colors don't match with those of your living room, then some of your nit-picking friends might end up leaving you over your decidedly poor choice in taste!"
"Are you saying I'm tasteless and that I don't know what I want?" Cheerilee asked, sounding angrier.
"Tasteless, no. Not knowing what you want? That's another question. That's why I'm here!" He pointed a hoof to himself. "I'm the salespony, the guide to, uh, guide you through this wonderful journey of choosing the perfect sofa that will satisfy you to the fullest!"
"I'm not satisfied with the way you're treating me."
"That's because you're being uncooperative, Cheerilee," Davenport said.
Cheerilee groaned as she sat on a couch and crossed her arms, pouting. "OK, here!" She pointed to the sofa she was sitting on, looking at Davenport with a mad face. "This is a sofa. Nothing new, nothing special, I hope. Just tell me the price and if it's affordable, I'll take it!"
Davenport placed a hoof on his chin, showing a frown. "You are resilient, aren't you? But, if that is what you ultimately want...."



The Cutie Mark Crusaders sat on one of the fancy purple sofas on the grass. Several ponies passed by, taking note of the strange occurrence of sofas being outside and ponies sitting on those sofas. They also noted Rarity magically adjusting the positions of the sofas and of the chairs—her tongue was out as she adjusted them.
"Don't ya' think this is just goin' too far?" Apple Bloom said, looking at her friends. "Sweetie, yer' sister is arrangin' those things out in the middle of Ponyville!"
"It's a garage sale!" Rarity yelled. Then, she covered her mouth. "Whoops! I don't mean to insult anypony—the furniture is certainly of high quality!"
Sweetie sighed. "I don't know. Let's just see Rarity meet Trenderhoof."
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo nodded.
Then, a pony pushing a sofa in the distance.
The three fillies looked at the pony.
"Cheerilee?" Sweetie said in perplexion. "Is that—"
"A sofa?" Scootaloo completed.
"She's in love with Trenderhoof, too?!" Apple Bloom asked.
"What's going on with him these days?" Sweetie said.
"He's going to review Ponyville furniture!" Rarity shouted hysterically. "Did I say that already? I think I did. Am I being too repetitive?"
Cheerilee approached the Cutie Mark Crusaders with her sofa.
They waved at her. "Hi, Miss Cheerilee!" they all said in unison.
Cheerilee stopped. "Why, hello!" she said, a little disgruntled in her voice. "What are you doing out here, sitting on that right outside?"
"Rarity's preparing for her meeting with Trenderhoof," Sweetie answered. "She said that she's going to give Ponyville a good impression in the furniture market. But, I guess you know the real reason behind it."
Cheerilee glanced at the mad Rarity as she meticulously arranged and re-arranged sofas and chairs even by miniscule amounts. Beads of sweat formed on her face as she concentrated and focused on the art of positioning the furniture correctly.
"I can see the reason," Cheerilee said, still looking at Rarity work.
"But, Cheerilee, why are ya' bringin' 'long a sofa?" Apple Bloom asked, raising a hoof.
"To replace my old sofa," Cheerilee said, smiling. "I can barely make myself comfortable there—it's all tattered and broken. This new one is going to do wonders, although I had to struggle to get it."
"Why?" Scootaloo asked. "Isn't Davenport's shop open?"
"It's open," Cheerilee said. "It's just that Davenport himself...that's another matter to talk about some other time, but not now."
"Is there something wrong with Davenport?" Sweetie asked.
"Eh..." Cheerilee twirled a hoof while rolling her eyes.
Apple Bloom giggled. "Well, we'll see ya' tomorrow mornin', Miss Cheerilee!"
And the three fillies waved at her while she resumed pushing her sofa through Ponyville. She disappeared in the horizon.
"So, why are so many ponies talkin' about sofas again, Sweetie Belle?" Apple Bloom asked.
"It's probably because of Davenport," Sweetie replied. "He has been selling lots of sofas lately thanks to Rarity. Even ponies from outside Ponyville are visiting Davenport's store to get his sofas along with his quills. I'm not surprised if ponies are going to report this on the news over the next few days."
Then, a few clicks of cameras.
The fillies looked at where the sounds were coming from.
There was a group of ponies holding cameras in their hooves, taking pictures of the arriving Trenderhoof—donning his white glasses and his green and orange sweater or jacket.
"Oh, no!" Sweetie yelled. She glanced at Rarity.
Rarity looked at Trenderhoof. "Trenderhoof!"
"She's gone crazy 'gain," Apple Bloom said. "Sweetie, you know it."
Sweetie gasped in terror as she watched her sister leap across the ground to just get closer to Trenderhoof. She fought past the ponies with their cameras, striving to get a closer look—just to be a little nearer to him.
"This is not about furniture, isn't it?" Scootaloo asked, watching Rarity aim to meet the famous pony. "This is about making sure he sees her and talks to her."
"I know, Scootaloo," Sweetie said, groaning afterwards. "I just hope that Rarity snaps out of it sooner or later."



Cheerilee wiped the sweat off of her face.
Finally in front of her home which looked a lot like the others in Ponyville—a visible wooden frame and hay thatched roofs.
"Alright. Now that I'm here, I can—"
She eyed the brochure on the welcome carpet. She picked it up and read it.
"'Quills and Sofas. Davenport's Finest in Writing and in Relaxation. Get your discounts today!'"
Cheerilee sighed.



The next day, in the morning

Davenport dusted the sofas under the rays of the sun that came in through the window. He looked up and faced the sky. Then, he went back to dusting the sofas.
It was quiet—the only sound that was there was the sound of him dusting the sofas.
After a few minutes of dusting one sofa, moving to the next one and dusting that one, he placed his duster on the counter. He opened the door and let in the morning breeze. He breathed it in—closing his eyes. A smile appeared on his face.
"Another day. Second day on the advice." He smirked. The pony looked at the road—a few more ponies were on it, walking. Among them was Fluttershy, walking with a brown saddlebag. "Fluttershy? Nah, I don't think I should be proactive at her. She may need a sofa, but I don't know how she would react under the pressure. I've already seen her when she does get angry. If I don't pull it off correctly...nevermind, I just won't think about it."
Then, Davenport called out to Fluttershy. "Fluttershy!"
The yellow pegasus took notice and stopped her walk. "Davenport?"
Davenport nodded. "Would you want some quills? Or some sofas? Or both?"
"Uh, I'm not really sure about it." She walked towards the salespony. "I think I have the right amount of quills. I don't need too many. I don't know about sofas—I think I have the right amount of sofas, too."
"But, what if you want to write to your friends?" he prodded, slowly walking towards the store.
Fluttershy slowly followed. "Oh, I think I have enough. Now's probably not the time to stock up on quills or on sofas. Do we usually stock up on sofas? I don't think so."
Davenport laughed a little. "You could never be too sure about anything, Fluttershy. A disaster could happen any moment—a bugbear, a magical mishap—anything. I'm just looking out for your interests, Fluttershy. If you run out of quills while something bad is happening, you can't just go outside and come here, can you?"
"I think I have good enough flying skills to dodge and survive if that were to happen."
Then, they were both inside the store; the door was still open, still letting in the cool morning breeze.
"Really?" Davenport said.
"Really."
"But, what if even your flying skills aren't enough to save you? One of the best ways to solve a problem is to prevent it from happening in the first place. Why worry about what to do when you run out of quills during a disaster when you make sure that it won't ever happen when you stock up and buy lots of quills to be on the safe side of the road? I'm sure nopony can—"
"But, what about Discord?"
"Discord?"
"He can just snap his fingers and quills can appear from nowhere. Not to mention sofas." Fluttershy made a smirk.
"You're good, aren't you?"
"Well, what do you have to say about that?" Then, her smirk changed into an innocent smile. "But, I'm still willing to buy some quills if I have to. Getting it from Discord feels like cheating."
"It is like cheating," Davenport said, walking to the counter. "I remember when he bought a few things and just made piles of bits appear out of thin air to pay for them—more than enough, actually. Even with that, he already caused a little bit of chaos—inflation and things like that."
"You do know he's reformed, right?" Fluttershy asked, observing Davenport as he opened up the cash register and looked inside it. "He's not going to cause lots of money to appear and, uh, cause something bad to happen...economically?"
"Yes, yes, yes, I know that he's a reformed creature," Davenport said. "But, still—he has immense power and is the spirit of chaos himself. I wouldn't want to let him near my shop and my sofas and my quills." Then, his look of disdain changed to a look of a smile. "That reminds me—if you're thinking about preventing that perilous problem from ever happening, you could buy some quills right now! Discount's only valid today—and in Ponyville, because if you go outside, the offer is very much void."
"Uh, can the discount wait until...the time I need it?" She raised a hoof.
"Then, you would be missing out on these great savings!"
"But, if I don't buy the quills, then that's when I'm saving. If I buy quills at all, I'm losing money—no matter how much."
"Eh?"
"Think about it, Davenport," Fluttershy said, still wearing that innocent smile.
Davenport looked up from the cash register. Then, he looked at the quills. He smiled. "What kind of quills do you have?"
"Oh, the simple white ones," Fluttershy answered, both her front hooves now on the counter. "It's a simple collection—about seven quills. There's one that I have—it's not fully white or fully bright at all."
"And, don't you wanna impress your friends with a quill that's unique, exotic, and out of the ordinary?" Davenport walked towards the shelves of quills and picked up a container of quills that were of bright colors: Orange, yellow, red. "Brilliant quills, aren't they?"
"But, I don't care about the color," Fluttershy said.
"But, you just told me about a quill that wasn't fully white or fully bright at all."
"Just because I have one colorful quill doesn't mean I want more of it."
Davenport placed a hoof on his chin and half-closed his eyes, narrowing his eyebrows. "Good point."
Then, Fluttershy shuddered and retreated a little. "I hope you're not mad at me for telling you that," she said in a quieter, more hushed tone.
"Oh, no, I'm not mad at you at all, Fluttershy! Why would I be mad at you?"
"If I annoyed you, you would be mad."
Davenport's smiled disappeared. "Good point, too."
"Oh, did I just make you mad?"
"You didn't Fluttershy."
Then, she stopped her shuddering and sighed. "Well, it was nice talking to you today, Davenport, but I have to go to Rainbow's. She wants to take Tank on a journey to Winsome Falls."
Davenport's eyes went wide open. "So, you're going to be away?"
"I'll be back at night," Fluttershy said.
"But, what if you need some quills and some scrolls or some paper just in case you get into trouble outside?"
"Animals aren't that bad, if that's what you're thinking. In fact, I'm not sure if I've seen anything bigger than some fowl in that place."
"Like I said, it's better to take the safe side of the road." Davenport placed down his container of bright-colored quills and got another one; this one had quills of the simple, white or black or gray kind. "I don't want you to go missing without leaving us something to tell us of your whereabouts!"
"That wouldn't help much, would it?"
"It would help a lot."
"But, I don't want to carry too many things in my bag," Fluttershy said. "I've brought lots of bird feed when we get to Winsome Falls."
Davenport glanced at the road. There were less ponies on the road. "Uh, just remember the advice: Better safe than sorry!"
"But, I think I'll be fine."
"That's what you think," Davenport said. He held up both containers of quills with his hooves. "Just think about the safety you'll be gaining when you get these quills plus the free paper that comes along with them!"
Fluttershy raised an eyebrow.
Davenport nodded. "Yes, Fluttershy. I'll throw in free paper to satisfy your needs!"
"I don't need paper," Fluttershy said. "Well, I don't need it to satisfy my need of taking care of Rainbow Dash's pet turtle. He's going to do just fine, with or without paper. Or without quills, for that matter."
Davenport blinked, standing still as he stared at Fluttershy with a wild look. "Eh, if that's how you want it, in the end. Nothing more—I won't bother you for now."
Fluttershy raised an eyebrow again. "For now?"
Davenport nodded.
"Hmm. That sounds very suspicious, Davenport."
"Fluttershy, it's completely non-suspicious!"
Then, she smiled. "Then, have a good day!"
Fluttershy exited the store.
Then, Davenport sighed, rested his head on the counter, and sighed again. "Rarity told me to be proactive in selling. Why isn't that working? I must be doing something wrong. Have I used the wrong techniques or tactics? Did I say something wrong or emote incorrectly? Or, am I just talking to the wrong ponies? Maybe they really don't need quills or sofas, no matter how hard I try to make them think that they do."
Then, he raised his head. A smug smirk appeared on his face. "I have an idea!"



Cheerilee, storming her way on the dirt path, brochure in mouth, eyes bent and angry.
"Oh, good morning, Cheerilee!" Fluttershy said as she passed by. Then, she looked behind her. She flittered towards her. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head.
"What's wrong?" She landed, walked beside her, and offered to take the brochure out of her mouth.
Cheerilee placed it on the pegasus's hoof. "I'm going to complain to Davenport."
Fluttershy's eyes widened at that statement. "Why?"
"Incessant pony he is. He wasn't being very polite when I wanted to buy a sofa from him. Let's say that he was...impolite."
"How impolite?" Fluttershy asked.
"Very impolite."
Fluttershy just looked at the Earth pony and her stiff face. "How so?"
"Tried almost every trick in the book to sell an expensive sofa when I didn't want one. I was fine with a normal, run-of-the-mill sofa."
"I should've known," Fluttershy said. "I just went to Davenport's some minutes ago. He was acting weird—he's suddenly very talktative and was scrambling to bring in the quills that he thinks would make me happy and make safe. Somehow."
"Quills that make you safe?" Cheerilee asked. "Where did he get the idea for that? How does that even work?"
"It's not the quills themselves. It's that I needed just in case we got in danger."
"What? As a fighting tool? I don't think quills are effective in warding off danger!"
"It was preventing the problem. That's what he said. What if I needed to write an emergency letter to tell those who are looking for me important information?"
"Do you think you'll have enough time to write a letter if you're in danger, Fluttershy?" Cheerilee asked.
Fluttershy took pause as she went on walking beside her. "No."
"That's it."
"Oh, uh, I almost forgot that I really have to go and get to Rainbow Dash." She scurried off. Then, she stopped, turned around, and said, "Bye!"
Then, the pegasus ran.
Cheerilee immediately turned her gaze towards Davenport's store.



Davenport, wiping the dust off of the sofa and shining it up, whistled a tune. Closing his eyes, he kept whistling, even dancing a little as he moved from one sofa to the next. It was a happy tune—a tune that stood out in the midst of what was otherwise silence. Some ponies on the street stopped and were watching him dance and whistle and clean. One shrugged and just went by.
Then, the door opened.
Davenport dashed to the counter and then to the door. "Why, hello, Cheerilee!" he said, extending a hoof. "Looks like you've already come here to tell me how great your sofa is. That's unexpected. I usually have customers come in to tell me about the sofas months or even years after the purchase! I must've brought you the best sofa that's getting to your needs." Then, he leaned towards Cheerilee. "So, what do you have to say about it?"
Cheerilee pushed Davenport aside with a single hoof.
She had a mean look on her face.
"Whoops! Sorry to be so invasive of your personal space, Cheerilee! I should ask next time! That also reminds me: I should also know about how you're feeling right now. So, let me ask you the question: How are you feeling?"
Cheerilee maintained that mean look. Then, she turned to face Davenport. She closed her eyes, her glower becoming a calm face. She opened her eyes. "As much as I want to shout at you for annoying me yesterday, I will have to take this a lady mare."
"What are you saying?" Davenport asked, his smile disappearing.
"Your methods are...unscrupulous, to say the least." She pointed a hoof towards the collection of nice sofas, near each other in a harmony of variety. "Those sofas are nice. On their own, they're remarkable and great. The expensive ones have their own features, but even the cheap ones are very good for their kind."
"So, you like it?" Davenport's smile returned.
"I liked my sofa."
His smile turned into a grin.
"But, I didn't like the way you went about it, Davenport."
His grin shattered.
"What made you think that you were being smart by being so fast-paced and inconsiderate about selling a sofa to me, not to mention that you started with the expensive ones first without asking me—and, even if you did, you didn't ask me correctly or specifically; you didn't really care about what I want. All you cared about was getting my money!"
"That's not all I care about, miss!" Davenport said. "I also want you to be happy. Wasn't that the purpose of me telling you the beneifts of each and every sofa that you came across? I wanted to see you smile with your purchase. I didn't want to sell you something I knew as a horrible, shoddy sofa."
"Yes, that's true," Cheerilee said. "Is it the entire truth, Davenport? Because I don't think it is."
"What makes you say that?" Davenport asked, becoming more apprehensive in his speech. "Yes, I do care about the money, but that takes a back seat to satisfying you, Cheerilee, and everypony else who wants to buy a quill or a sofa or a quill and a sofa!"
"But, you didn't. Yes, you wanted to make me happy with the sofa I ended up with, but it was a nominal thing. You only wanted me to smile just so that I won't end up telling others how...uncaring you are as a salespony. Besides," she went on, "what made you change? You were OK for such a long time! You were just standing there, only answering questions when the ponies asked you. What happened, Davenport?"
Davenport coughed. "Well, there's Rarity. She's involved."
Cheerilee arched an eyebrow at him. "So, you're blaming Rarity? She's the one who gave you more customers in the first place! Why would you blame her since you act like you're desperate for money?"
"I'm not desperate!" Davenport shot back, sweeping the counter with a swift hoof. "I have more than enough to get more sofas here on display and to hire my own team of dedicated sofa-carriers!"
"Then, why exactly are you like that?" Cheerilee asked, hints of concern in her voice. She placed a daring yet caring hoof on the counter, her hoof meeting his. "Why?"
"I'm just taking some of Rarity's advice—I already told you that. Told me to go for proactive selling."
"And what does 'proactive selling' entail?" Cheerilee said. "Because, it sounds like just a fancier phrase for 'annoying your customers constantly until they give up and give you their money.'"
Davenport moved from the counter and closer to her; sounds of creaked wood and tense hoofsteps. He hung his head in shame.



Later, in the afternoon

"Darling, it's of the utmost importance that you learn the ways of being a businessmare," Rarity told her sister as they strolled around in Ponyville, passing by the simple houses and the simple stores. "Even if you don't plan to be in a business per se, you will interact with somepony like that sooner or later."
"But, I only wanted to learn more magic today, Rarity," Sweetie answered. "I could already cast a basic shield spell for some time now—were you proud of me?"
"We were swarmed by Fly-ders back then that one time. I couldn't even tell you were using any magic at all."
"I could show it to you now again!"
The filly's horn glowed a green glow and a faint yet visible magical sphere surrounded her. Then, she grinned from ear to ear at her sister.
"You've already shown me that more than a couple of times, Sweetie."
"But, that's because it's cool that I can do it!"
Rarity ran her hoof through Sweetie's mane. "Well, it's good that you can now magically defend yourself." Then, she stopped right in front of Davenport's store. "Now, let's see how Davenport is doing."
The sisters entered the store.
Rarity's face became a little contorted. She then looked around. "Orange scent?"
"Why, yes, Rarity!" Davenport said, greeteing her with an extended hoof.
Rarity shook his hoof.
Sweetie stood by her, watching the exchange.
"How's your day, Rarity?" Davenport asked, still shaking her hoof.
Rarity glanced at the extended hoof shake. "It was quite nice! Finished a few dresses and a few suits for some Canterlot orders. I was planning to be with the girls tonight—a nightly trip to Manehattan to relax after a hard week!" And, she glanced at Sweetie before turning her gaze back to Davenport. "And, Sweetie's coming along."
Sweetie gasped and then covered her mouth. "I'm coming with you?!"
"Why, didn't I just say that?"
Sweetie then hugged her sister.
Rarity hugged her back.
"I haven't been there that many times!" Sweetie said. "Are Apple Bloom and Scootaloo coming, too?!"
Rarity nodded. "Applejack and Rainbow Dash agreed to take them along."
Then, Sweetie hugged her sister. "We're going to have so much fun! We can hang out with you and eat at all the diners and the buffets and hear the Bridleway singers and we can also meet up with Babs and see how the Manehattan Cutie Mark Crusaders are doing!"
Rarity rubbed her sister's mane again—Sweetie still smiling at her sibling—while facing Davenport who was behind the counter and the cash register. "Such an adorable bundle of joy she is, isn't she?"
Davenport nodded.
"So, how is proactive selling going for you, Davenport?"
The salespony gulped.
Rarity's eyes went wide open while irises shrunk. "Not that good, no?" Then, her eyes went back to normal as she trotted to the counter, getting closer to him. "What happened?"
"Let's say that I...didn't...uh, know what I was supposed to be doing."
"But, I thought you knew!" Rarity said, panic rising. "You said that you had all the important points on your notes and on your notebooks or somewhere else where you write things!"
"I did."
"Then, what went wrong?!"
"In histrionics again," Sweetie remarked from her place.
Davenport giggled a little at that.
"You dare laugh at me for something you did?"
Davenport stopped giggling and faced Rarity in a slightly scared way. "Probably not?"
Rarity moaned. "So, what was the result of it? Sales going down? Ponies moving away to other shops? What?!"
"I may have done something out of line with...ordinary business."
"Ordinary business in Ponyville or ordinary business in general?"
"Uh, I could assure you that the answer is either one of those?" Davenport grinned.
"Stop dodging my questions and tell it to me straight!"
Davenport gulped again, glancing at his quills. "Maybe if you called in Cheerilee. She would know."
"What does Cheerilee have to do with your business declining?" Rarity looked at Sweetie. "Did Cheerilee mention something about Davenport in class?"
"Not in class," Sweetie said, walking to her sister. "She said that there was something wrong with Davenport and she—" Her eyes went wide open and she covered her mouth. "Oh."
Rarity looked at Davenport, bearing a serious face. "I'm willing to listen to both sides of the argument, mister." She looked at her sister. "Sweetie Belle, we just passed by Cheerilee a few minutes ago, correct? Go get her."
Then, Sweetie rushed out of the store in full gallop.
"This better be good, Davenport."
He gulped yet again, now shaking and shivering.



Sweet natural bouquet fragrance all mixed and combined, forming a compound of aromatic bliss with every smell of the batch of flowers at the store—or, rather, the batch of flowers outside the store, in full display both in visuals and in fragrances. Three mares attended to them, watching them over, making sure that they were in tip-top shape. Then, one of them—a mare with a pale yellow coat and rose red mane, rose red tail—then talked to Cheerilee.
They both smiled as the red-maned mare picked up a few bouquets of lavenders and roses and hoofed them to her.
Cheerilee hoofed the mare several bits.
She walked away while the three florist ponies waved her goodbye.
Then, a pony running in the distance.
Cheerilee looked at the figure. She squinted.
"Sweetie Belle?"
The filly screeched to a halt, almost hitting Cheerilee. "Cheerilee! Remember what you said about sofas and Davenport yesterday?"
"Wait, how did you know?"
"You told it to us when we were in front of the boutique!"
"But, wait, what is—"
"Rarity wants you to settle something at Quills and Sofas!"
"Rarity?" Then, she placed a hoof on her chin, her eyes quivering. "Oh, no. It hasn't gotten that bad, has it?"
Then, the two ran towards the store.
"What happened, Cheerilee?" Sweetie asked as they galloped. "What did Davenport do?"
"I'll tell you when we get there," she said as they went on.



"So, let me get this one straight, Davenport: You offered her too many sofa, you were too aggressive in your selling, and you forced Cheerilee to part with her money, not convincing her that the experience was good at all, right?"
Davenport nodded, not saying a single word.
Rarity slammed a hoof on her face as she groaned. "When I meant 'proactive selling,' I didn't mean 'sell as hard as you can'! There's a limit—there comes a point when there's too much proactive-ness. What next? Cheerilee will tell her friends about it, and then they will tell their friends about it, and then those friends will tell their friends and anypony that crosses their gaze. Word will go around Ponyville and even outside Ponyville. Sooner or later, you'll garner yourself a terrible reputation, you'll lose even your loyalest of customers, and you'll end up having to close shop because of this one mistake you did!"
Davenport sighed and plopped his head on his front hooves on the counter.
"What do you have to say to yourself?" Rarity asked, inclining her head upwards. "Hm?"
Then, the door opened.
"I brought Miss Cheerilee!" Sweetie yelled.
Davenport and Cheerilee's eyes met.
Cheerilee frowned.
Davenport hung his head in shame again.
A tense silence as the sisters watched the wordless exchange of ideas, of depression, of bated breath, of solemn thought.
Rarity brought a hoof around Sweetie's head, backing away from the scene.
"Look, I apologize, Cheerilee," Davenport said. He placed a hoof on to his chest. "I was very mean, wasn't I?"
Cheerilee took a step closer.
More silence.
A hoof to her chest.
"Have you done that to anypony else?" Cheerilee asked.
"Oh—uh, ah, I, eh—uh, probably?"
Then, a flash and Discord appeared in full draconequus form and with a menacing look on his face.
Rarity fainted, though Sweetie caught her before she hit the floor.
Discord now placed his claw and his paw on his hips.
Cheerilee, with a face of surprise, stammered as her view jumped between an irritated Discord and a terrified Davenport—who was also stammering. Then, she finally shouted, "You 'proactively sold' a sofa to Discord?! Are you out of your mind?!"
"OK, Discord!" Davenport said, going down to the floor. He scooted to the wall. "I didn't do anything bad to you! I never even remember you buying more than one sofa from this place! What do you have against me?!"
"Oh, you didn't offend me," Discord said. "Directly."
Davenport gulped yet another time. "What do you mean?!"
Discord snapped his claw and conjured up a picture of a smiling Fluttershy. He held it with his claw and smirked at the retreating salespony.
"Look, that was in the past, right? It was in the past! Totally in the past, totally just hours ago, Discord! I didn't do anything to deserve it!"
"You just did," Discord said, snapping his claw.
The picture disappeared.
"Sometimes, and only sometimes, do I escalate things like this," Discord went on, rolling up his sleeves of his business suit before it magically poofed out. He cracked the knuckles of both his paw and his claw. Then, he cracked his head, then stretched his arms.
Davenport breathed faster and faster, his irises shrunken as his eyes focused on each movement of Discord.
"Discord," Cheerilee spoke up, "don't you think that this is too much for—"
"It's not really that much for the embodiment of chaos," Discord said. "You, of all ponies, should've known; you're a teacher after all. In fact, weren't you overseeing the very ponies who released me after a thousand years?"
Cheerilee groaned. "Not this again. The constant reminder that I—"
"Make Discord calm!" Davenport screamed. "I don't know what he's going to do to me, but—he's Discord! I've heard stories of his home—Chaosville! If he teleports me there, who knows what madness will I be drowning?! Endless space, floating islands, nonsense geometry, insanity in a nutshell!"
"I have regular tea parties with Fluttershy at my house and we seem fine," Discord interjected, taking a relaxed tone and smiling. Then, he balled up his claw and lightning coursed around him. A scowl on his face. "But, let's get back to—"
"Alright, Discord!" Davenport yelled, holding out his front hooves in surrender. "You got me! I'm not going to continue that felony anymore!"
"It's no mere felony, Davenport," Discord said, walking up to him. He took a golf club from behind his head and placed a fake mustache on it. He planted it on the counter.
Davenport, still shivering, slowly stood up. He glanced at the golf ball. "What are you going to do with that, Discord?!"
"No reason," Discord said. "Just something I came up with at the moment."
"So, you're not going to zap me to Chaosville or turn me into a fruit?"
"Not exactly," Discord said, clasping his paw and his claw together and snickering evilly.
"That's not good, right?" Sweetie said, fanning the unconscious Rarity with a fan.
"Not exactly, too," Discord said, still keeping his gaze on Davenport.
The salespony looked at Cheerilee who was standing a little away from Discord—she was slightly trembling as well. Then, he placed a hoof around his mouth.
Davenport shouted, "I'm sorry and I apologize for what I've done to you! Please forgive me!"
Cheerilee looked at Discord. Then, she looked at Davenport. "Don't worry, Davenport." She smiled briefly before her smile turned away. "I just don't know what Discord will say."
Davenport's view went towards Discord—towering over him with lightning and thunder and a gray raincloud over his head.
The salespony gulped one more time.



Davenport clattered his teeth. Seated on a couch that stood firmly on the wall beside some stairs that disappeared into the wall which was slippery on some parts and had nigh-full friction on others as flying notebooks went around in the air which smelled both of orange and of strawberries as a volcano inside the room clashed with a waterfall producing coffee with packages proclaiming it to be "Discord's favorite coffee (at the moment)!" with the packages being made of crumpled up paer as they flew over the floor which was made partially of lava and of boxes of metal—not gold nor silver nor bronze nor any other kind of metal—producing jazzy tunes that attracted butterflies that were rainbow-colored with them also singing but their singing clashes with the jazzy tunes of the metal boxes which created a terrible cacophony of sound that was muffled anyway every two or three seconds by something imaginary while pictures of ponies like Parcel Post and Pinkie Pie were being swiveled around by wind natural unlike the breeze that was produced by various walking fans as the roof crumbled with debris falling but the debris then went back up, fixing the ceiling though the ceiling would break down again and the debris would fall again and the debris would go back up again and fix the ceiling again in the never-stopping cycle of decay and repair as paintings were being thrown at him by the carpets and the tables and even some of the food like the biscuits and the tea but the tea wasn't singing—it was dancing on the table, on the chairs, on the ceiling, even outside as those ones floated about past the windows that displayed its unnerving purple-and-other-similar-colors background that swirled around with a lonely tree floating about beside a floating island that had the dirt on the top and the grass on the bottom.
Discord stood in front of him through it all, tapping his foot. Beside him was Fluttershy, who put her hoof on her chin as she transferred her look between the shaking, nervous Davenport and the calm, collected yet angry Discord.
The noise pierced the air. The door opened, bringing in more rainbow-colored butterflies who carried mini-sofas with them. The butterflies, with their mini-sofas, then went around Davenport. The salespony's trembling increased, his breathing becoming faster and faster.
"Help me, Fluttershy, please!" Davenport yelled. "I already said my sorries and I heard you say that you accept my apology! Just tell Discord to stop!"
"I'll try." She cleared her throat and faced Discord, sporting a serious face. "Discord? I think that's enough."