//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Patronizing Postage // Story: Light The Candles // by Salohcin-Silverwing //------------------------------// Chapter 6 - Patronizing Postage Spike sat gloomily in the corner of the Ponyville Post Office as his eager wall-eyed kidnapper stacked piles and piles of unsorted mail throughout the room. The tired young dragon sat on a lonely stool as he observed Ditzy Doo zipping around the small mail room as if she were having the time of her life. Spike couldn't match her enthusiasm for all the gemstones in Canterlot. (Depending on if they asked nicely or not.) "Um…Ditzy? What is it you needed me for?" "First thing's first," replied the energetic mailmare from underneath a pile of parcels. "I need your help in sealing some envelopes and licking stamps. Won't that be fun?!" Spike resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. ----- To any other pony that would have been walking by the library at this time of day, most of them would not give it a second glance, seeing as it looked perfectly fine on the outside. The inside, however, was total chaos…and not the kind that was carefully organized. "No no no! That is not how you hang a banner!" "The punchbowl doesn't go there!" "These streamers are lime green. I asked for forest green! Ugh" The inside of the library rang with the harsh echoes of Twilight's voice as she yelled out orders and complaints to each of her friends, frantically trying to orchestrate the decorations. Streamers hung haphazardly on the floor and bookshelves, balloons refused to blow into a neat round shape, and the cake was reduced to a smoking pile of frosting and burnt stuff. Rainbow Dash fell to the ground with a muffled thump, a large banner wrapped tightly around her body. Fluttershy cowered in fear as yet another balloon popped in her face after trying to blow it up. Applejack tried unsuccessfully to corral the rogue streamers with her lasso, and Rarity had her precious mane covered in icing and smoke, causing her to fallow in self-pity. Twilight, standing in the center of the mess with a clipboard that she feared would never be fully checked off, rubbed her temples furiously. "Where's Pinkie Pie when we need her?!" ----- Lick…stamp….blow…repeat. Lick, stamp, blow, repeat. Lick stamp blow repeat. Lickstampblowrepeatlickstampblowre- "AAGH!" Spike grunted in frustration. Not only was his tongue sore from licking stamps, and his throat hoarse from sending hundreds of scrolls, but his brain was numb from doing such a repetitive task. "I wonder what Twilight and the others are up to," asked Spike aloud to himself as he idly twirled a scroll in his hands. "They're probably off having some adventure, fighting mythical creatures, and bursting spontaneously into elaborate musical numbers." His voice turned more sour by the second as he listed all the fun things he was missing out on. "And on my birthday!" In a fit of frustration, Spike set the scroll in his hand on fire, letting it sizzle into ash and fall on the floor. Ditzy Doo was nowhere to be seen, and the mountain of scrolls seemed to have no end. "They're probably out having the time of their lives, and I'm stuck here doing grunt work…on my birthday!" Spike hopped off his workstation and began pacing around; smoke literally seeping from his nostrils in anger. "They don't respect me. They don't care about me. I'm nothing but a slave to them! Confound these ponies!" ----- Restocking inventory was among the most boring jobs around, and even Ponyville's Premier Party Pony couldn't find a way to pep up the task. She tried singing, but that only made things go slower. She tried making a game out of it, but there weren't any balls, bats, mits, pucks, sticks, hoops, goals, bases or referees anywhere in sight. Finally, Pinkie Pie resorted to the last thinkable option: doing her job properly, without shenanigans. The pink pony positively shuddered at the idea of taking inventory of all these boxes of raw baking materials, but something had to be done to vanquish the boredom. Pinkie sighed as she picked up her clipboard and went to work. "210 pounds of confectioners' sugar, 150 barrels of yeast, 75 buckets of- ooh!" 'Ooh' was not an item on the inventory. What Pinkie Pie actually meant was 'Ooh, something interesting is happening that is making me forget all about this remedial task and focus on something more interesting.' That is, if he brain worked in complete sentences…which it didn't. The particular 'ooh' sensation was none other than one of her famous Pinkie Senses tingling: her nostrils started flaring uncontrollably for a few moments. After her face turned to normal (or at least as normal as it gets) Pinkie Pie started to ponder as she paced around the room. "Hmm…that one hasn't come up in a while. Nostril flare…nostril flare…no- AHA! That means somepony is trying to throw a party without my help!" In a burst of speed that would have made Rainbow Dash's jaw turn limp, Pinkie zoomed over to the next room where Mr. And Mrs. Cake were filling out the forms for the ingredients. Pinkie stared Mrs. Cake straight in the face, giving her her best set of sad eyes she could muster. The shop owner sighed to herself, well aware of her employees' antics. "Was yer Pinkie sense tinglin', hon?" A rapid number of head bobs supplied her answer. Mr. Cake nodded his head as well, whispering to his wife, "We'll probably get the work done sooner without her, Honey Bun. You know how she gets when this happens." "Ok, dear. Go and do whatever it is you do." Pinkie saluted Mrs. Cake and whizzed out of focus, onto the next scene. A few milliseconds later, Pinkie Pie emerged with a helmet shaped like a rubber chicken, sunglasses and a low-riding motorcycle. "It's 106 miles to Ponyville. I got a full tank of gas, half a pack of gum, its sundown, and I'm wearing a chicken on my head. Hit it!"