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// Chapter 6: Pool Colt Time 
// Story: Derpy Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap!) 
// by Unwhole Hole 
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The next day- -in the afternoon, in fact- -Spoiled Rich reclined in a designer outdoor woven chair. Except that this particular chair was not used outdoors; rather, it was one of many that sat at the side of the Rich’s indoor pool. “Pool”, of course, was something of a misnomer: it was actually more like a small lake, or perhaps a pond. It filled an area at least four times the size of the average Ponyville citizen’s house (and eight times Derpy’s). The edging of it was marked by numerous large marble columns, and more notably by a floor made of ornately arranged pink marble quarried and in and imported from Griffenstone. The grout used was almost pure gold. Spoiled Rich rather liked that floor, except for the fact that by definition it had at one point been touched by filthy griffons. That was something she regretted greatly, and often considered having the whole thing torn up for that very reason. 
She was dressed in clothing- -or in something that was almost clothing. It was teal- -her favorite color- -but extremely tight, the sort of bathing suit that showed off every curve of the body she had spent thousands to maintain even after Diamond Tiara had tried to ruin it by being born (although, of course, those curves would be entirely visible had she not worn clothing at all, which was entirely reasonable for a pony). 
Ostensibly, she was reading the paper. Specifically, a copy of an obscure lifestyle periodical that was distributed only to the socialites of Canterlot. It had to be hoof-delivered, of course, as Spoiled Did not live in Canterlot. She lived in a tiny, pointless town brimming with hicks. 
She was not paying all that much attention to the paper, though. Instead, she was looking past it. On the other side of the pool, the most recent in a long line of pool colts was working on skimming the water’s surface. This one was enormous, a veritable mountain of muscle; Spoiled was so impressed that she could almost ignore his tiny, atrophied wings (although it made her feel better to have a Pegasus serving her; an earth-pony would have felt hollow and a unicorn would probably be smart enough to try to steal stuff).
Of course, this pool colt was not completely an idiot. In fact, the pool colts had been growing clever as of recent. They had learned to stay out of Spoiled’s reach, usually on the opposite side of the water, knowing that she was entirely unable to swim. Not that it mattered. It was only a matter of time: she always managed to get them in the end, no matter how clever they thought they were. 
Spoiled leaned back and lifted a crystal goblet filled with sparkling apple juice- -imported, of course. She lifted it carefully and sipped it, relishing the fact that a single bottle of this vintage cost more than Derpy would see in ten years. That made her feel very happy. Otherwise, though, she hated it. She hated apples and everything made with them, even if they were imported. They tasted like dirt. Or like sweaty flesh-colored farm fillies. But the drink was expensive, and that was what really mattered. 
She looked out one of the massive glass windows that overlooked the Rich mansion’s vast land holdings. Outside, several unicorn gardeners had assembled flawless topiary sculptures in her image. She was very pleased with their work, and she would take even greater pleasure and berating and then firing all of the gardeners later in the day. 
“Stupid rod-heads,” she smirked. 
Suddenly she heard a set of hoofsteps behind her. She immediately prepared to yell, assuming that it was either Randolph or Diamond Tiara. They were interrupting her pool-colt  time. On their approach, though (Spoiled liked to wait until they were real close to scream at them), she recognized the cadence of the hoofsteps as those of her husband, Filthy Rich. She contemplated yelling at him for a moment, but decided not to. 
“Spoiled!” called Filthy, his voice echoing off the ornate pink marble. From his tone alone, it was apparent that he was smiling. He always seemed to be smiling, and it was something that Spoiled Rich actually admired. She wished she was simple enough to find everything so very amusing and pleasant. 
“Filthy,” she said, turning the page in her paper and seeing yet another page of tall, twig-like unicorns that stood double her height. For a moment she could have sworn that one of them had wings. 
“The mail just came!”
“Yes, dear. It does that. Every day.”
“Not on Sunday.”
“Yes. And today is not Sunday.”
Filthy paused and looked at the mail he was carrying. He laughed to himself. “Well, I suppose it isn’t!”
“Is there something you needed?”
“The only thing here I really need is you.” He leaned down and kissed Spoiled. She kissed back. Despite being from a wealthy family of various Milks with a station paramount to any unicorn noble, Filthy was the only pony who had ever kissed her, and the only one who seemed to want to. Spoiled could not really fathom why. 
“Is that all you came for?”
Filthy paused. He recognized that that question was probably a trap. Although simple, he was prudent; the marble floor was evidence of that, as it had been bought with his money. 
“Yes,” he said, after a moment. “But while I’m here, I received a very interesting postcard and letter today. Look!” He showed it to Spoiled.
It was not a consumer postcard. It was an actual photograph, one professionally staged. The image made Spoiled’s jaw clench so tightly that she was pretty sure at least one molar cracked. It was a photograph of a mossy-green mare with emerald eyes, a unicorn even taller and thinner than those in any of the lifestyle pages. One with a curved horn and slightly pointed ears. 
She was dressed in a lavish open robe, one woven of pure silk- -no doubt recluse silk, by the look of it, and woven with gold in the parts that were not died purple. Not with normal purple die, either: it was Tyrian Purple. In addition, her body was covered in jewelry, all matched perfectly. And not the normal kind, either. Spoiled knew this pony, and knew her well- -and hated her with intense passion. This pony did not order from jewelry shops or simple auctions. Nothing she wore was less than five centuries old, and most of it was probably more than a thousand.
To further exacerbate it- -and that was what she was doing, Spoiled knew; she could see it in the mare’s ridiculously youthful face and in her laughing eyes- -she was lying on a pile of live, exotic cats- -which were in turn on the deck of a yacht. In the background, an entire fleet of yachts was visible- -and beyond that, an exotic and beautiful coastline. 
“WHAT IS THIS?” growled Spoiled through gritted teeth.
“Why, that’s Wun Perr-Synt. You know, we met her at the last Merchant’s Society Gala.”
“I know who she IS. Why do we have a picture of her?” She glared at Filthy, wondering if he was aiming to replace her. Filthy hardly seemed to notice. Although Spoiled could not have known, the idea of replacing her with any pony at all had never once occurred to him since they had married. 
Filthy unfolded a letter written in the swirling script that only a unicorn could accomplish using their special magical organ. “She recently went on a lovely trip to Mareocco in celebration of her two hundred and eightieth birthday.”
“TWO HUNDRED…EIGHT…”
It came out more as a hiss than as words. Spoiled, who was beginning to undergo the changes a pony did as she approached middle-age (not to mention having given birth to a surprisingly massive daughter)- -Spoiled, who was not even thirty years old- -was staring at a photograph of a unicorn who had lived nearly three centuries and looked like a girl of barely nineteen. Because she was a unicorn- -a nearly pure-blooded unicorn- -and Spoiled was not. 
There were few ponies as hateful and spiteful as Spoiled Rich. One of them enjoyed antiques, endangered animals, and yachts. 
“Well isn’t that nice?” said Filthy, smiling. “Out on her birthday and she took the time to write to us? That’s just lovely, isn’t it?”
Spoiled could not answer. There was no way to do so without screaming. Here she was, the wife of a pony who had proudly opened six new locations of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains in addition to the already existent four- -looking at the image of a pony who owned Equestria’s most extensive and powerful sea-trade company, one that moved a hundred times RBB’s annual sales in a single day. A mare who was wearing single pieces of jewelry that cost more than Spoiled Rich’s entire house.
It was simply not fair. Not fair that she was not that rich. That, after everything she had done, it still came down to UNICORNS.
“I think I’ll write her a nice note back,” said Filthy. “She took her time to think of us, so it would only be right.” He paused, thinking. “Maybe I’ll set up a meeting, she seems like a nice pony. She reminds me a little bit of you, Spoiled.”
Spoiled glared so hard that the pool-colt squeaked in terror, even though she was not looking at him. Filthy, though, seemed immune. 
“Hmm,” he said, smiling slyly. “She’s single, too. Do you think she would like your brother?”
“Chunky?” Spoiled Rich paused. She would actually find it mildly enjoyable to strike back at Wun, and to eliminate Chunky in the process. She shook her head, though. “Don’t bother.”
Filthy shrugged. “Oh well.” 
The pool-colt approached them, still quivering. 
“Mrs. Rich, the water…it’s done…”
“NOT NOW YOU STUPID- -”
“Oh MY!” cried Filthy, looking up at the mountain of a Pegasus. “Look at the muscles on you!”
The Pegasus looked surprised, and then smiled, flexing as he did so. Spoiled was not at all in the mood, and had he been smaller, she would have kicked him into the water. 
“Say,” said Filthy. “I’ve been trying to bulk up too, a little. You know, fill out my suits, give the board a real impression. I have a little time, while you’re here…maybe you can show me a lift or two in the gym?”
The Pegasus stallion’s weird red eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. Spoiled also seemed overjoyed, and the two of them walked off together. 
“I’ll see you at dinner, Spoiled!” called Filthy, waving. “I saw the cooks bringing in hay! Maybe it will be hayloaf!” 
Spoiled watched them go. As she did, she seethed. She often seethed, but this was an especially vigorous seething. 
Logically, she knew that it was a good thing that Filthy was trying to get fit, and that forming a close friendship with a shipping heiress would give their company a huge advantage when it came to importing foreign goods- -but she was angry none the less. Partly because he had stolen her pool-colt during pool-colt watching time.
And partly because she hated being so very poor.