With a flourish, she draped the final part of the curtain over the stage. What a fine curtain it was, too – royal blue with deep purple lining. It was magnificent, even more so than her previous curtain.
Trixie stepped back to admire her work. Her gypsy’s wagon was decked out in gold trim, the fold-out stage was nicely polished, and she had now finished her hanging of the curtain. She was fairly certain a large crowd would turn out just in awe of her decorations.
She rubbed a speck of dust off the stage with her cape. It struck her immediately afterwards that was a poor idea, and she spit on the cape where she had wiped the dust off and tried to clean it. Satisfied, Trixie stopped in her rubbings and walked around the stage. Her props were all there, and the hidden passageway was there for the disappearing audience member.
Trixie grabbed her favourite prop, a fake rabbit that looked real. She had named it Snuffles a while ago. Poking it, she was delighted to see its nose twitch. She’d had it since she was a filly. If it weren’t for all the fond memories of it, she’d sell it for a real one. Well, if it weren’t for the memories and the lack of money.
But today – ah, today, she would have no more money issues. Everypony knew Canterlot was full of ponies with more money than they knew what to do with. With her skill at sleight-of-hoof and dazzling illusions, she’d be swimming in the money they’d shower on her.
Trixie smiled at the thought of having that much money. Soon those times would be upon her, soon that guard would finish tearing down those posters she’d worked all night to make-
Wait, what?
“Hey! What’s the deal?” she asked, running up.
The guard looked at her, a bored expression on his face. “Do you have a performance licence?”
“Er, no-”
“You need a performance licence to perform in Canterlot. Sorry.”
He dumped the pile of posters he’d torn down in front of her and trotted off.
“Well horse-apples,” Trixie sighed.