//------------------------------//
// Soup 
// Story: Society as We Know It 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

A white steam was flitting through the air, winding and turning out of and into the unroofed rooms of the hive. Though there were the natural scents of the plants that were everywhere, that steam had a distinct smell—one that was delectable and appetizing as could be seen by the nearby changelings licking and watering their mouths and some of them slowly meandering their way to where they thought the steam—or, rather, the delicious aroma—was going which led to some funny accidents such as one changeling bumping into a rocky and mossed wall mid-flight and then falling to the ground.
Finally, the changelings who achieved the task of getting to the aroma's source found themselves in the biggest open area in the hive. Near the table where some changelings were making their improvised artwork and near the raised rocky platform where other changelings were preparing costumes, there was on another table a humongous and massive pot. It had no lid, letting out all the savory fragrance and the hot, drifting steam that came along with it.
One of the changelings put his giddy face right over the pot and looked straight at the soup.
It was beige and thick. Herbs were floating around on it. Plenty of mushrooms were floating around, too.
"It's mush soup?" the changeling asked.
A blue changeling wearing a white hat walked up to him. "Yes, it's 'mush' soup," he answered in a raspy voice. "Made it myself!"
"Hey, weren't you the one who brought soup into the Feelings Forum?" another blue changeling asked.
More and more changelings gathered around the table.
A few changelings brought in tall stacks of empty wooden bowls and placed them on the table.
"Yeah." The hatted changeling smiled. "Ever since I've had my soup problem solved by all of you guys, I thought that maybe—just maybe—I should share my love for soup!"
Some changelings looked at themselves and nodded.
"Of course, I need your feedback. Maybe I overcooked it; I probably stirred it too much." He put on a timid face. "Too many mushrooms?"
"We haven't even gotten a taste of the soup, yet," one changeling pointed out.
"Oh. Uh, everyone fall in line and get your soup?"
And, the changelings who were there arranged themselves in a straight line at the table. The hatted changeling stood behind the table and the pot, holding a ladle.
The changeling in front got a bowl and held it out.
The hatted changeling scooped up some soup—and even that portion was still steaming hot as could be evidenced by the little trail of steam rising from it—and poured it on to the bowl. Then, he did this again. And again.
"Don't spill any, Extant!"
"I won't and thanks!" Extant said as he flew away, holding the bowl of soup with his two hooves.
The hatted changeling, smiling wider, looked upon the rest of the line left. A few more changelings farther off were headed their way there and there was no one showing any signs of leaving. All of them wore smiles as they talked to each other in line or just gazed upon the immense pot of soup.
"This is going to be fun!" the hatted changeling said to himself as he gestured the next one in line to come forward.



"Guards!" Pharynx yelled, standing in front of an arranged and organized group of armored changelings.
They were outside the hive, at the more barren part of their surroundings. Dry, desert-like and rocky ground was still prevalent; the arid conditions with its hot air and its lack of many green plants characterized the place. The reminiscent rock formations protruding from the ground, the trees with no leaves bent and crooked—it was a desolate wasteland still.
"I want you to hold your positions with high regard! You're going to be risking your lives in defense of the hive and for the protection of the hive, for the safety of the hive!"
The guards saluted Pharynx, their faces stoic.
"No! Did I command you to salute yet? I didn't! You should wait for the command to salute!"
A changeling made a weird face of confusion.
"And, what was that?" Pharynx asked in accusing fashion, flying straight to the changeling in question.
The changeling shuddred beneath his armor. "Uh, it was just a muscle reflex! Just a r-reflex, sir—uh, I mean, uh, Pharynx, uh, sir!"
"You dare disrespect the head of the hive's defense?" Pharynx raised an eyebrow and snarled.
The changeling yelped in fear.
"You'll be off scot-free for now, but remember to not do that again!"
Then, Pharnyx flew back right to his prominent place right in front of all those arranged and armored changelings.
"Today, you will learn your patrol routes!" Pharynx began. "I will fly ahead of you and I will teach you where your route goes! Every one of you, pay attention! I will not repeat myself!"
A shy and shaky hoof was raised.
Several pairs of eyes were on him.
"What is it?!" Pharynx yelled. "And, make it quick!"
"I smell...food!"
Pharynx grumbled as he flew to the next changeling in question. Giving him a hostile glare, he said, "Don't let that distract you! You just had breakfast!"
"But...there's m-more." He pointed his still shaky hoof back towards the hive. "Can you smell it?"
Pharnyx sniffed the air.
So did most of the changelings there.
"Did I tell you to do the same thing I was doing?!" Pharnx yelled.
The guards lowered their heads.
Pharynx smelled the air again. His eyes grew but only slightly. "Yes, I do smell food, but that doesn't mean you should go and eat whenever you feel like it!"
"What if I'm hungry on my patrol?" the changeling asked.
"You're not supposed to be hungry on your patrol. It's a tiring job so you should know by now to fill your stomach with as much food as you can—not too much, but more than usual!"
"What if I still get hungry?"
Pharnyx sighed.
"The royal guards in Canterlot have snack bars with them," a changeling said, raising his own hoof. "Why can't we?"
"Yeah, why not?" another changeling asked in complaining voice.
"I like chocolate on my patrol!"
"We need a snack cafeteria on patrol!"
"A food patrol, anyone?!"
"Quiet!" Pharynx shouted.
He struck the ground with a hoof.
There was a sizeable hoof-shaped hole on the ground.
The changelings became silent and shivered at him.
Pharnyx looked around at the terrified guards. "Well, do you have anything else to say about food and patrols?"
The guards remained quiet.
"I thought so." He paused as he cracked a menacing glare at them. "It's a waste of my time and yours just whining about you having snack bars and chocolate bars and sweet bars and what else! The royal guards in Canterlot have their snack bars because that's how ponies keep their citizens safe—by feeding their guards with dessert!"
"Uh, they also have armor and patrols like we do," a changeling said.
"Don't interrupt me!"
The changeling whimpered.
Pharynx paced slowly, keeping a mean eye on the guards. "All I'm saying is: We're not ponies. We've been able to protect this hive from all kinds of threats with ease and I'm here to make sure all of you are disciplined to the point of expert and adept defense. If you're so easily distracted by hunger that could've been easily avoided by common sense and some simple planning, then I'll make sure you won't be so distracted! I won't let some random changeling tell you that, what, there's soup ready—"
"There's mushroom soup!" a changeling cried out.
Everyone else looked at the changeling.
He had no armor and was hovering over the ground. "Oh, hi, Pharynx!" He waved at him. "You want some soup,p too?"
Pharynx groaned again.



"Cherry Jubilee?" a brown stallion with a big and nice hat asked the mare as they both stood on the dry and yellow ground with endless empty mountains of not much ahead and behind and almost all around; in front and behind the ponies were the short rows of timber colorful buildings.
"Yes, Strudel?" Cherry Jubilee responded in that thick accent.
"Have you ever made cherry soup?"
The mare looked startled, taking a step back. "Cherry soup? Why, I've never heard of such a contraption such as that before! What made you say that?"
"Apparently, the Changeling Hive's undergoing some kind of soup frenzy," Strudel reported. "First, it was just mushroom soup and I now just received some news few minutes ago about an entire feast or buffet of soup and just soup. And water, I guess. But, all the food there is soup."
Now, she looked puzzled. "That doesn't make a lick of sense! Changelings bending over for soup?"
He nodded. "I'm sure it'll go away in a few days at most."
"At most?" she repeated in more confusion. "Strudel, this is most unusual!"
"Do you think we should prepare cherry soup, then?" Looking back in the direction of the hive, he then said, "'Cause I think changelings are gonna cook up new ideas and start asking for soup you can make."
She hummed as she placed a hoof on her chin. "Does it have to be cherry soup?"
"It's the craze."



A non-interesting odor filled the air of the small dining room with the drab outside of a dry surface of gray and brown and many rocks and stones.
At the table was, once again, rock soup: that same green substance with a rock inside the bowl.
Limestone, with newspaper in hoof, downed the bowl of rock soup including the rock itself, crunching it. Reading the newspaper then, she quipped, "'Changelings Going Mad for Soup!' Hah!" Glancing at the pot of rock soup in front of her, she said, "They should've invited us. Let's see how they'll like that!"



"It must be a slow news day," Mr. Shy said as he unrolled the newspaper on the table, he and Mrs. Shy standing on the floor of clouds. The grand words of the headline along with its vivid picture of changelings, indeed, in a soup frenzy were lit up and clarified by the sunset sunlight pouring through the window.
The image showed a super long table filled to the brim with lines of soup pots, lines of soup bowls, and lines of changelings either waiting or already eating. The changeling that stood out form the rest was the blue one with a white hat, making a pose that showed that he was proud; he was also grinning at the whole occasion. Even Thorax and Pharynx were shown in the picture, Thorax slurping down his soup with giddy glee while Pharynx stood with a frown and a cold bowl of soup right in front of him on the ground.
Mrs. Shy, grabbing a pear and taking a bite out of it, inspected the picture and pulled it a little closer to her. "'Changelings Going Mad for Soup!' That's...an interesting tidbit."



Inside the crystal castle, Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor—with a flying Flurry Heart—walked on the reflective sidewalks of the reflective streets beside the reflective, polygonal crystal buildings, breathing in the fresh air. The sky and its setting sun brought about a gleaming glow that glistened and, without artifical lights, made the Crystal Empire sparkle bright, its cool colors along with the cool mountains contrasting the hot red and orange of the sky.
"The shenanigans they're having there," Cadance said with a touch of playfulness. "I don't know what's going on with the newspapers today, but most of them are reporting about a soup festival in the Changeling Hive."
"A soup festival?" Shining repeated, minding the whirling and twirling Flurry Heart in the air and, with his magic, gently pulling her back to him. "What's the story behind it?"
"Not much of a deep story," Cadance replied. "A changeling went to the Feelings Forum once with soup that was too hot. After some arguing there, the soup cooled down and he thanked everyone there for solving his soup problem. Now, he's returned the favor by serving soup to all his changeling friends there and now it's spreading like wildfire."
Shining chuckled a little. "When will the soup festival end?"
"Doesn't say," Cadance said. "At least as far as I remember."



"'Changelings Crave for Soup!'" Twilight yelled as she read the newspaper. "What did I just see?!"
"The headline," Spike answered as he wiped wooden table clean, glancing at the massive collection of books in their shelves.
Twilight groaned. "Now the changelings are going crazy as well!"
The double doors opened.
"Are you alright?" Starlight asked as she entered the room. "What's going on? Is there something terrible in the news?"
"If by 'terrible' you mean 'changelings eating soup,' then yes."
Starlight slanted her head a little to the side. "What?"



Discord sat on his sideways couch on the wall as he drank his glass of tea while excluding the tea from being consumed. Meanwhile, in front of him and on the floor and on the ceiling were dancing and singing pillows producing a tune—or, it might have been a tune if it weren't for the lack of tonal harmony.
Discord snapped his claw and newspapers appeared at his side. Grabbing one without looking, he scanned it, his eyes moving fast from left to right then back to the left.
"'Yakyakistan Seeks Better Relations with Griffonstone.'"
He put on his funny glasses—a pair of glasses with an attached fake mustache on it—and read the informational article.



"So, the Evening Edition of the Ponyville Express has this headline: 'Changelings and Soup: What's Going On?'" Princess Celestia floated the newspaper back on to the table as she and her sister stood in front of the railings of the balcony which oversaw a palatial view and vantage of Canterlot with the setting sun overhead.
She giggled.
"There is nothing serious about it?" Princess Luna inquired. "Just an innocent event of much soup?"
Celetsia casually nodded. "It's comforting, really. Almost everyday, it's something that's of great concern to lots of creatures that make it on to the headlines and rightfully so. But, the special pieces such as this—they sure know how to cheer ponies up when they least expect it."
Luna, smiling, levitated the newspaper to her. She skimmed through the headline piece with Celestia watching at her side.



It was night. The moon and the stars were again in the dark blue sky.
Balloons, streamers, confetti—all these and yet even more party decorations littered the hive as not one but multiple super long tables of soup filled that open area of the hive. Changelings were going around, partying as they danced, sang, acted impromptu, made crafts that had some sort of relation to soup—they made wooden bowls, for example. Even the guards, watching over the event with keen eyes and other senses, had bowls of soup nearby.
Thorax was in a conga line of other changelings, dancing in beat and in tune to the simplistic music being played by a band on a raised platform. Most of them, including Thorax, were holding bowls of soup in the air.
Pharynx, meanwhile, sighed as he covered his face with both of his hooves, sitting not so far away.