//------------------------------//
// 3: Left on a cluttered desk. 
// Story: Strange Letters from a Queen Bug Horse 
// by Roadie 
//------------------------------//



Dear Princess Celestia,

I find myself less disappointed than usual that I've finally gotten a response from you. There wasn't much point for you in trying to stake out the address, though I consider the embarrassment you went through a benefit for me. Every gossip rag in Canterlot is publishing pictures of your senior officers hiding in the bushes watching perhaps the most uninteresting law office this side of the southern latitudes. And the looks when one of your ponies finally opened their envelope and realized it was empty—!

As for the contents of the letter: I am frankly offended by the presumption that I would harm your darling little nervous wreck of a student. The prospect of endless night bores me, and as unlikely I consider the success of the house of cards you call a plan, I have no reason not to at least let you try it. If any part of it fails, of course, it will all fall apart at once, and that comes to the main subject of discussion:

The clock's ticking, Princess. More than one clock, in fact. Hundreds of clocks. Thousands. It's an entire palace wing full of clocks, all built up from floor to ceiling. There are so many clocks stacked up on each other that just the ticking is making the some of them start to shake themselves out of the pile. There's something impressive about it: I don't think you could have lined yourself for this much trouble over the next few years even if you'd tried.

You know I'm not going to tell you how I know, and I know that you know that I'm not going to tell you how I know, and you know that I know that you know that I'm not going to tell you how I know. You don't have to know how I know to know that I know that you know that I need your little ponies to sustain my little changelings. Would you rather have wolves, or shepherd dogs?  I know that you know that I know that you know the right answer.

By the way, I will, of course, give you no guarantee that I will not seduce that unicorn, get her to join my book club, or otherwise subert her misplaced loyalty in you to service me. Do have fun trying to handle that without stamping on whatever fragile sense of societal rapport you've let her achieve.

Yours in dubious antagonism,
Queen Chrysalis




P.S. Keep the paperweight, if you like. I needed something to make this letter stand out from your usual mess, and it seemed like just the tchotchke to complement that garish mug of yours.

P.P.S. The book club's selection this month is Wuthering Hooves. Do let me know if you'd like to join.