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// Taking things as they come, then dumping them on somepony else’s doorstep for them to deal with! 
// Story: Hell's Belles 
// by Silent Whisper 
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“Sure, I’ll deliver your few remaining orders, Rarity! Me and my big mouth. What do I look like, a postal worker? I’m not even a pegasus!” I scrunched up my muzzle as I marched in circles around the latest problem I’d given myself. Why was nothing ever easy?

“But hey, whatever. I’ve only got to prepare for the Gala last-minute and go on some ridiculous heist for a best-friend’s-sister-in-law. It’s not like I mind a detour to…” The boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling of the Boutique, but the labels were easy enough to read. Twilight must’ve written them. “What? Canterlot and… Manehatten? I don’t have time for that! Nopony has time for that!”

Well, technically, I sort of did. The Gala was in three days. I could theoretically get to Manehatten and then from Manehatten to Canterlot in that amount of time if I took the train and if there were no delays… so that meant that there’d be some stupid delay, because nothing could ever be that easy for me, could it?

The post office would take too long. I’d never been to Manehatten before, let alone by myself. The thought didn’t frighten me so much as it vaguely concerned me in a way that would look like panic to the casual observer. 

Oh, duh! Who said I had to do the thing I said I’d do??? Clearly, I’d need backup. Fast backup. Strong backup. Backup who wouldn’t question why I’d gotten myself into this mess in the first place, or question my self-preservation instinct. Most importantly, I’d need somepony willing to go to ridiculous lengths to get something done.

There was no question in my mind, though a few doubts gave muffled protests from where I’d locked them away. I’d need the best backup anypony could ever ask for. 

I’d need Scootaloo.

Leaving the packages in their inconveniently-tall tower (Seriously, Rarity. Why? Did she just like the drama of the giant stack?), I trotted out the door, silencing the pleasant bell as I did so. If Rarity knew I’d left already, she and Twilight might start doing things again, and that was the last thing I wanted to walk back in on. 

Everypony seemed to have decided that today was a fantastic day for a picnic. I vaguely wondered what they all did for a living, if they could spend all this time outside instead of stuck inside doing boring stuff, but then I remembered. Right. I’d gotten a mark in what amounted to cutie mark therapy. I didn’t really have room to judge.

I trotted towards Scootaloo’s house, grateful as I usually was that she couldn’t fly enough to live in a pegasus cloud house, and subsequently slightly guilty that I was happy about it. Traditions, you know? The windows were dark, but that didn’t mean anything in particular. Her parents travelled an awful lot, and she kept a lot of the lights off when she wasn’t using them. Something about an “electricity bill?” 

When I’d asked why she couldn’t just make more lightning to power the house, she’d said lightbulbs didn’t work like that. I’d asked how cloud houses worked, then, since there were no wires up in the sky. She said I was “being difficult” and that that “wasn’t even the point.”

Ah, good times.

“Scoooooooootaloooooooo,” I called out as I smacked against the door. Huh. It wasn’t usually locked. Had she not left the house yet? I pulled back a corner of the faded doormat - it said “Wipe your Wings!”, which always disturbed me for some reason - and snagged the spare house key. Opening the door, I resumed my friendly yelling. 

“Scoots? It’s me! Where are you?” I frowned into the dark house. “Did you oversleep or something?” 

Probably in her room, then. I stumbled against the stairs as I climbed my way towards her bedroom. “Come on, I need your help with something! It’ll only take a few days, I promise!” 

Her door creaked open, and I peered inside. Wonderbolt memorabilia was plastered against every wall, layered over itself until it sagged a little. Assorted plushies and pillows, mostly Rainbow-Dash-themed and many hoof-stitched, lined her bookshelves and the edge of her desk. Even her bed had Wonderbolt-branded sheets! Some things, she’d never grown out of. 

The sheets were rumpled into a heap against the wall, but I didn’t see a Scootaloo-shaped outline beneath them. I tackled them to make sure, of course, but nope, no sleepy pegasus.

My nose twitched as I picked myself up off the bed and re-made the sheets into the disaster pile they’d been. “Fine,” I grumped. “Where are you, then? It’s before noon!” Brushing a thin layer of dust off the desk, I slouched into her uncomfortable pegasus-built chair. Stupid wing-holes. 

I sneezed, then reconsidered both the sneeze and my last few thoughts. Dust? Uh oh. Dust never had time to settle in her room! She must’ve been gone for a couple of days at least for all the stuff her wings kept blowing up into the air to drift back down! I looked at the clean line my hoof had traced on her desk, then at the sheet of paper next to it. Ah, a note! I picked it up, snorting at the small cloud of dust that billowed once again into the air, and began to read.

Sweetie Belle-

Sorry for not telling ya, but I’m helping Apple Bloom with the Gala stuff. She said she really needed it, and for some reason she thought I’d be the best pony to help her. No clue why she didn’t ask you. Maybe she wanted a pegasus? She knows I can’t fly, right? She was real weird flustered happy when I said yes, though. Will probably keep you updated. No secrets between besties, right?

Not going to be back for a while. Keep helping ponies if they ask. I’ll cover for you later if you need a break or something. And I swear, if you clean my room again when I’m gone, I’ll start a tornado in yours. I’m serious! It’s my mess! Go make your own!

Also, my parents said to stop breaking into our house. They told me to move the spare key, but they didn’t say not to hide a second one where I usually keep it! They say you’re “a good influence with some problum problimat prob weird quirks,” though, so I don’t think they’re really THAT mad about it. 

Probably.

-Scootaloo

I grimaced as I set down the note. Great. She’d be of absolutely no help whatsoever. It was a pity, really. She was so clueless sometimes, which was ideal when we had dumb ideas that needed ponies to not question anything. That… happened a disturbing amount, actually, even after we’d gotten our cutie marks. 

So she wasn’t an option. That was fine! There was plenty of time left to figure out how to deliver everything and then pull off a heist. I had, what, 42 hours left before the Gala? That’d be more than enough, so long as I didn’t have to do it all myself. I’d need a plan, I’d need somepony else, I’d need-

“WHO THE BUCK ARE YOU? I’M CALLIN’ THE COPS!”

… whatever I needed, being arrested wasn’t quite it.