“Those who make a draconequus of themselves get rid of the pain of being a pony.”
Things hadn’t exploded for a while, which meant that life was getting just a teensy, weensy bit boring. Spontaneous conflict seemed to be avoiding Ponyville for the time being, which left everything peaceful… and drab. Of course, this should have been cause for celebration, or at least inspire some sense of appreciation, but all Twilight Sparkle could do was feel miserable. She needed something to happen, and she needed it to happen now.
Alas, nothing happened.
Nope, not a thing.
Even Discord was remarkably well behaved and had started a reading club.
Pillars of flame and columns of smoke did not rise from Canterlot.
With Sumac Apple in the hospital for an extended stay, enduring quiet reigned.
Twilight fretted, too anxious to even pace, and wondered if, perhaps, there was something wrong with her brain, because the calm was unbearable. Now, if only some ancient evil would unseal itself on its one-thousandth anniversary, or perhaps some threat from another plane of existence would come crashing into this one… that, that would be exciting. And welcome.
Of course, Twilight knew she could go looking for a fight, but that would mean leaving the castle, and her current state of ennui was such that leaving the castle might very well prove impossible. She wanted trouble to come to her. Something that would get the blood roaring in her ears and set fire to her guts.
Slouching on her throne, one hoof making absent-minded taps, she scowled.
Twilight, fearing that her boredom had reached its middle, wondered what Spike did during his C.H.O.M.P. meetings and tried to imagine what the support group discussed. Alas, Twilight drew blanks and she made a mental note to ask Spike to share C.H.O.M.P.’s agenda with her. Was there etiquette when asking about what one shared in a support group? There might be. There could be. There should be. The right to confidentiality was something that Princess Cadance stressed as a point of ethics.
Would ponies living in the dragonlands require a support group for their eating habits?
Reaching up with her hoof, Twilight rubbed her chin and sat there making thoughtful circles while her eyes transitioned into an almost blank stare. The problem, as she saw it, in being all-powerful, was that not much was a challenge. How did Celestia deal with this sort of boredom? Twilight’s hoof continued making slow, steady circles against her chin and wondered if Celestia even had time for boredom now that she was a parent. Perhaps that was a solution for boredom.
Just as Twilight was about to sigh for the one-thousandth, three-hundredth, and thirty-third time, the door slammed open and a pink pony sauntered into the room, her head bobbing, her tail swinging, and it appeared as though she was dancing to a music that only she could hear. Preemptively, Twilight wished that Pinkie Pie would go away, because she was busy being bored.
But then the higher functions of Twilight’s brain had power restored and Twilight snapped out of her funk. “Hiya, Pinkie.”
“Pack your bags, Twilight. We’re going on a trip.” Pinkie Pie, no respecter of equinal space, shoved Twilight over and then climbed up onto the throne to have a seat. Reaching up into her mane, she pulled out a wooden scroll tube. “Princess Celestia says, ‘hello.’ You have an assignment, Twilight,” she said while passing the Princess of Boredom the sealed missive.
“A trip?”
“A trip. Seville is coming too, and we need to find a fourth, ‘cause that’s how many tickets I have and what our hotel registration is for.” Pinkie waggled her eyebrows while flapping her ears. “You have very important princess business.”
“I do?”
“Wait till Seville is here before you say that.”
Twilight’s cheeks blazed with an almost uncomfortable heat from Pinkie’s teasing, but rather than be embarrassed, she pulled the pink pony beside her into a warm hug. Pinkie Pie, a rather plush pony, was immensely squeezable and there were parts of her that were far more fun to apply pressure to than others. With a contented sigh, Twilight rubbed her cheek against the firm angle of Pinkie’s jaw and enjoyed a somewhat staticky snuggle.
“Where are we going?” asked Twilight while she held aloft the unread message in her magic.
“Las Pegasus, Twilight,” Pinkie replied. The static generated from snuggling now crackled through her curly mane and made it stand on end. When she spoke again, the tone of her voice changed, lacking enthusiasm and becoming subdued. “The Great Equestrian Bake-Off is upon us. Sadly, this will be the last year of its existence. Princess Celestia says you are to commemorate its end and give a speech about unity and friendship.”
“Wait”—Twilight held up one hoof—“why is it ending?”
Squirming, Pinkie Pie twisted her body around to look Twilight right in the eye. “Well, you see, this is an earth pony only bake-off. A place where earth ponies can compete fairly with one another. And it is coming to an end because of cries of tribalism.”
Twilight blinked in shock, blinked again, and then stared at the pink pony she was nose to nose with. “What?”
“There are other bake-offs, lots of ‘em, and those, those are welcome to all. This one is—sorry, was—exclusive to earth ponies for the sake of fairness. No magicking up a cake that is done in seconds. For many of us earth ponies, this was the bake-off that really, truly mattered. Hard work and skill was respected. But other ponies got upset that they couldn’t compete in our competition, even though there are tons of other bake-offs they could compete in, so about four-hundred years of tradition is coming to an end. All in the name of unity.”
Flabbergasted, all Twilight could do was stare.
“As the Princess of Friendship, issues of tribalism and unity fall under your, uh, I don’t know the word, Twilight.” The pink pony puckered, pouting, and her face contorted into an exaggerated expression of frustration. “Princess Celestia said it, but I really wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”
Twilight’s only response was an almost curiously audible blink.
“Rarity is in the Crystal Empire, so she can’t go with us,” Pinkie Pie said while smoothing out Twilight’s scruffle with her hoof. “Rainbow Dash is off with Tarnish, Daring Do, and Megara, doing whatever it is they do to mooks. I don’t like to think about it. Fluttershy is off with Tree Hugger. Which means—”
“We somehow have to convince Applejack to leave Sweet Apple Acres.” Twilight, having recovered herself, thought about how remarkably nice it felt to have her scruffle stroked and hoped that Pinkie Pie would continue… for a while. Or longer. Longer was good. There were lots of nerve endings there that she had been oblivious to until only recently, and she greatly enjoyed the pleasurable tingles that went racing up her spine when Pinkie’s hoof moved against the grain of her pelt.
“I think Princess Celestia has an agenda—”
“What makes you say that, Pinkie?”
“Well”—she drew out the word, stretching it out into almost an Applejack-esque drawl—“she assigned Seville to cover the event, you have that missive, and I’m going as a baker. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that the princess is trying to coax us into spending some quality time together.”
“Hmm.” Twilight wondered if Cadance had anything to do with this.
“The train leaves tonight, at the ninth hour. We need to hurry, Twilight.”
Drats! The scruffle-smoothing came to an abrupt, sudden end and Twilight was left flustered. She huffed, already missing the tingles in her spine and lamented the fact that no matter how she rubbed or stroked her scruffle she could not get a reaction. She could not self-stimulate and that was just unfair.
Pulling Pinkie closer, Twilight thought about Sweet Apple Acres…
Applejack—covered in stale, almost colourless hay, and worse—was a sweaty mess. She almost seemed glad for the break and Twilight could tell that her friend was having one of those days where she had worked from sunup. No doubt, Applejack would keep working until sundown, or maybe longer. It was spring, after all, with Winter Wrap Up just behind them and there was much to be done.
Perhaps it was a bad time for Applejack to be leaving.
“Hiya, Jackie, up for a trip?”
“Going to Crazy Town?” Applejack’s eyebrow arched and her tail whipped around her flanks. “I’m ‘bout halfway there and could use the company.”
Twilight saw Pinkie Pie glancing around and nothing was on fire, at least for now. Applejack’s barn roof was scorched black, no doubt from Sumac Apple’s rocket boost flight assist. What had he been thinking? Rocket Pony, burning out his fuse up there alone. It was going to be a long, long time. Yes, she thought it was going to be a long, long time… until he was released from the hospital. Maybe a full week or so.
“This has been a crazy winter.” Applejack sighed the words, as if she was almost too tired to say them. “A crazy fall, too. In fact, the craziness started back when Big Mac brought home Sugar Belle after he went to that mass-wedding up yonder in the Crystal Empire. I still don’t know what made him do that. And the girls… my girls… my beloved little Apple dumplings—” Her words trailed off into weary nothingness even as she closed her eyes while she ground her teeth together.
“Jackie, are you okay?” Pinkie Pie asked, showing off a rare moment of attuned empathy where she wasn’t completely oblivious. “Jackie, you don’t look okay—”
“I’m not okay,” blurted out Applejack. “Those girls of mine and those pranks they pull. They like Sugar Belle. They like that mare a lot. And pretty much all winter long, they pranked her, nonstop. ‘Cause they was bored, no doubt. I swear to Princess Celestia, I’m gonna tie those girls up and toss ‘em into the hog waller. I am sick to death of these banana-shenanigans.”
A butterfly went fluttering past, nonplussed by Applejack’s anguish.
“Wanna go to Las Pegasus with us?” Pinkie Pie asked, getting right to the point while the sociopathic butterfly continued about its butterfly business, with no empathy or concern for others. “The Great Equestrian Bake-Off. All expenses covered. We’ve even got the Princess Suite reserved for us.”
Twilight could see the temptation in her friend’s eyes, but also her devotion. Applejack would no doubt choose her farm over an all expenses paid trip. Yes, Applejack was chewing on her lip now, and her green eyes glittered with thoughtfulness. A lone strand of hay fell from out of her mane and Twilight watched as it hit the ground. It felt good to be standing upon this sweet, sweet soil, and Twilight was faintly aware of the magic here.
“I can’t.” Applejack, a serious, no-nonsense pony, shook her head from side to side. “There’s plenty of help to be had here now, with the girls being as big and as strong as they are, but that’s no excuse to go, ya see. It just means I can get more done. Thought maybe I’d plant some sorghum this year and give that apple cereal idea a go.”
“Applejack”—Pinkie Pie turned to pleading rather early, rather than cajoling with promises—“please, you gotta come, this’ll be the last year, on account of what’s going on.”
“I know what’s going on, and it disgusts me. Not sure if I should go. Why, I might run my mouth, and if I did that, and didn’t get in trouble, it’d look bad for Twilight, ‘cause of favouritism and all that nonsense.
“I need my friends with me… otherwise, I’ll have an awful time.”
Rolling her eyes, Applejack was about to say something in return, but Big Mac’s voice could be heard, bellowing from somewhere beyond the barn, off on the far side. “Applejack! APPLEJACK! Where are you?”
“Aw, shit,” the apple farmer muttered to herself.
“The girls did something to the planks in the outhouse!” Big Mac shouted, his fury giving his voice incredible, fantastic volume. “When Sugar Belle sat down, they gave way and dumped her right into the basement!”
Pinkie Pie stood, mouth agape, and with much slowness, she covered her open mouth with one hoof. Twilight, stunned, had no idea what to say, how to react, or how to handle herself in this situation. Laughing was not okay, and it became a mighty struggle to contain everything. Not a muscle twitched, her barrel did not hitch, and Twilight placed immense focus upon her breathing to keep it regular and giggle-free.
“Twilight, get me outta here.” Applejack’s request was tired, pleading, but her green eyes were full of tireless fury. “Like, right now. You’ll be saving the lives of two fillies if’n you do, ‘cause I swear, I’m gonna strangle ‘em this time. Or tie ‘em up with rope. Save me, Twi.”
Alarmed, Twilight wondered just how serious Applejack was. She made the mistake of trying to read her friend’s face, but what she saw scared her. Applejack, it seemed, might just be too tired to hold back, and Twilight determined that her friend’s statements might very well be sincere.
“There are moments when I want to dash their heads against the trees,” Applejack confessed, “like right now. It’s time for me to go. Get me outta here, Twilight.”
A vile stream of vulgarities could be heard from beyond the barn and the fact that it was Big Mac shouting them threatened to do something awful to Twilight’s mind. While she stood there, listening, her ears twitching, Pinkie Pie took the opportunity to hug Applejack, and Applejack, in need of comfort, did not push the pink pony away. Twilight thought about Sumac and wondered if perhaps the Apples all had a hidden knack for cussing, because it sure sounded like it at the moment. The things that Big Mac said felt like bee stings in the brain.
In the trees of the orchard, birds took wing and departed. It was said that the animals were always the first to know of impending disaster, and Twilight observed the wisdom of nature. Things were about to go down—terrible things. Bad things. Terribad things, as Pinkie might say, but Pinkie was quiet—too quiet. She clung to her friend, trying to reassure her, while what appeared to be murder blazed in Applejack’s eyes.
Still holding her unopened, sealed missive, Twilight poofed out of existence with her friends.