//------------------------------// // Non-Repeat Clause // Story: Letters from an Irritated Princess // by Tired Old Man //------------------------------// Dear Luna, About nine months ago, you started offering a unique magical class unlike any other thanks to your dreamy domain. Taking advantage of their midday resting period with an optional class that any student can choose to take if they want and teaching them about magic they dream of mastering? Nothing this flexible has been seen in all my years of running this place! However, the other staff members have some… I’ll generously call them ‘concerns’ about how you’re encouraging attendance for the class. Look, offering free moon dust snacks was certainly a delicious and horrific incentive for your first week, but the children already have dedicated snack and lunch periods in between their classes. With that in mind, offering these snacks every school day for nine months and also starting a “Moon Scout” brigade to sell them in school and in the Canterlot Commons is NOT what I expected at all from you or the students under your wing. On the plus side, we won’t have to worry about the school budget anymore. On the minus, I’ve started receiving complaints from other teachers regarding your recent decision to plant a Moon Scout in every classroom armed with Crescent D-lites and Half Moon Pies and their ears fine-tuned to the sound of hungry tummies. In addition, students have begun to exhibit certain unhealthy habits like selling ground-up cookie crumbs in the bathrooms, crashing heavily throughout the day, and most notoriously acquiring a concentrated crystal of moon dust and sugar going by the name of “Blue Moon”. We’re currently in the middle of investigating the matter, but if you happen to hear anything about somepony called “Waxenwane”, I expect it to be reported as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’m going to have to request that you scale down the predatory sales tactics within school boundaries and sell them during the lunch break. A little restraint goes a long way in cutting down notices in my complai—er, suggestion box. Also, you’re slated to win Teacher of the Month again. Big surprise, I know, but the children of the school have made it quite clear where their popular vote lies. The other teachers are probably going to be livid as usual, despite my constant reminder that this award is not a big deal. You get a nice certificate on parchment paper, a photo on the wall, and a ten-bit gift card of your choice! It’s not like you’re walking away with a commemorative trophy every time you win. Who even does that? Granted, you’re probably going to walk away with the Teacher of the Year trophy at this rate (if you do, you’re on your own dealing with their faux admiration and/or scorn), but the other staff members will have some solace in being able to vote there and make their voices heard on par with the students’ popular vote. Maybe that will swing the trophy over to a “more deserving” pony, maybe not. How that fares is up to you convincing the other teachers that you’re not out for their expendable income by cramming boxes of Mini Moon Cakes in their face. On that note, please do not cram boxes of cookies in my face every time you need something from me. I don’t print money out of my arse. Sincerely, Celestia Sunny, for the LAST time, I am not having you substitute teach in my school ever again! Why are you he— S-Sunny? Are you okay? Your eyes look really bugged out. No, I don’t have this “happy blue” stuff you’re talking about! Wait. Did you try any? HEY! Quit dismantling my office! I don’t care if you think you smell it; that’s no reason to—OOF! … …Luna? Is that you? Why yes, I am under a very large and extremely heavy filing cabinet. Can you lend a hoof?! Sunny’s tweaking out right now, and she must be contained before half the whole school building is flipped over!