Miss Cheerilee's face was white as a ghost. She was traumatized. She was paralyzed with horror and disgust. Immediately before her were the three inseparable friends who called themselves “the Cutie Mark Crusaders,” smiling with joy and with naivete as to what they had just asked her.
Every year in reading class the children were assigned a play to read and to perform. It was a typical juvenile play for elementary students, containing a good moral lesson and requiring only a few players but with enough backstage work, costuming, and background characters to employ everyone in class.
It was then that the Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo had been struck by a bolt of inspiration. It seems they had recently spent the night at Sweetie Belle's parents' and, too rambunctious to sleep, had snuck down to the TV room and looked for something interesting. They had found Equestrian Public Broadcasting and the Dick Cavort Show. And Mr. Cavort's guest that night, in a rare television appearance (and even rarer moment of sobriety) was introduced as “Equestria's greatest living playwright: Mr. Tennessee Walking Horse.”
The girls had never heard of this particular gentlestallion before, nor were they familiar with the world of drama. But they could tell from the way the host oohed and aahed over his guest that this was A Very Important Pony. So naturally upon being told they would be putting on a play in class the three girls, remembering the famous pony they had seen on TV, went to Twilight Sparkle's library and asked for the drama section.
Twilight was absolutely delighted that the three fillies were interested in the fine arts and gladly showed them the section. The first book they looked at was a collection of biographies of great dramatists—William Shakespur, Eugene O'Neighll, Harold Pinto, Lillian Tartarusman, Paddock Chayefsky—and sure enough, right in with all the rest was none other than Tennessee Walking Horse, the Very Famous Pony whose existence they had been totally ignorant of until their recent enlightenment by ponykind's greatest invention, television. And after a brief biography a list of his more famous works was provided.
Using this as a guide they began searching the works available at the library until they finally found one that seemed absolutely perfect for their idea. Why put on a silly play from an elementary school textbook when they could perform a work by Equestria's Greatest Living Playwright?
Why indeed.
Which brings us back to the present, with three enthusiastic young scholars grinning until their faces seemed to be made up of nothing but teeth as they offered the book they had checked out to their teacher.
Cheerilee had been in a state of suspended animation and cogitation since she saw the title: Suddenly Last Summer Sun Celebration.
“Like Ah said, Miss Cheerilee, this is one o' the greatest playwrights ever, and he's still alive today! Me an' mah friends saw him on TV not long ago!”
Cheerilee didn't even hear the bad grammar, much less correct it.
“It's only one act long, and it only has three characters! One for each of us!” Sweetie Belle enthused.
“Yeah!” added Scootaloo, “Why put on some silly play somepony that no pony's ever heard of wrote for school kids when we can put on a 'masterpiece' that works just as well?”
Cheerilee was only now beginning to return to the world of the living. First her eyes blinked for the first time in at least three minutes and slowly her brain began to thaw out as well.
“Um...have you girls...r-read this?” she asked them, dreading the answer.
“Shore 'nuff!”
“Yes ma'am!”
“You know it!”
It took a while for the teacher's mortified mind to deal with this bit of information.
“Did you...did you understand it?” she continued, dreading the answer.
“Um...now that you mention it...not really.”
“Other than most of the time it's a 'mentally different' lady talking...no.”
“Yeah. I get that part, but I can't really figure out exactly what she's talking about. Something about her cousin and what happened to him when he...”
“I get it!” she interrupted, a little more harshly than she had intended. “Girls,” she tried to explain, “I know this may be hard for you to understand, but...this play is simply not...appropriate...for elementary school students.”
“It's not?” the three asked at once, the disappointment so heavy it broke Cheerilee's heart.
“I'm afraid not, girls. As a matter of fact, you really shouldn't be reading material like this at all. You should wait until you're older. Where did you get it anyway?”
“Twilight,” they answered again in unison.
A dark cloud of anger passed briefly over Cheerilee's face and she seemed to mutter something unpleasant before resuming. “Please give me that book and I'll return it for you. Also have a little talk with Miss Sparkle!”
The fillies did as they were told. Then suddenly their faces brightened and another book was placed on the teacher's desk—the one in which they had come upon a list of plays by Mr. Walking Horse. Oh no. Twilight had let them have this one as well? Why hadn't she noticed it before?
“Hey,” Scootaloo offered, “that's not the only play he wrote. There's a whole list in here to choose from. I'm sure Twilight has some of these at the library.”
“Yeah!” agreed Applebloom, “we don't have to put on this one. Looky here at these others!
“Come on, Miss Cheerilee! Here's one that looks good!” Sweetie Belle finished, indicating which one she was referring to with her little hoof.
Cheerilee looked.
A Streetcar Named Want It, Need It
“Oh, heavens no!” she reacted, again a little harsher than she had meant to.
Again their expressions deflated. They picked up the book and scanned the list again.
“Sweet Phoenix of Youth?” Applebloom asked.
“No.”
“Night of the Cockatrice”? Scootaloo suggested, out of turn.
“No!”
“The Rose Cutie Mark?” Sweetie Belle offered.
“No!!”
“Well how about The Friendship Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore? There can't be anything wrong with a play with a title like that!” Applebloom insisted.
“I said NO!!!” And this time she was so loud that she startled the three fillies into dropping the book. She was sorry at once that she had done this of course and tried both to comfort her three pupils and to explain in a way they could understand why nothing by this particular playwright was going to be allowed her school.
“Girls...look...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I know you mean well, but I'm afraid that Tennessee Walking Horse is simply not someone whose works little fillies and colts should be reading! Do you...do you understand?” she asked hopefully.
The girls looked at one another warily, still on edge from their teacher's sharp rebuke, but finally put their heads together and whispered among themselves. Eventually Applebloom raised her head and faced the teacher, acting as their spokespony.
“Do ya mean...Miss Cheerilee, are you sayin'...are you sayin' that the stuff he writes is...is...d-d-dirty???” All three blanched as if expecting to be dragged down into the pit of Tartarus for using such a foul word.
Cheerilee sighed.
“I wouldn't exactly call them 'dirty,' children. The way I would put it is that they are mature works for an audience of adult ponies.”
“That means they are dirty!” Applebloom said in astonishment, “just like them movies our folks won't let us watch!”
Cheerilee put her hoof to her face. “As I said, they're not appropriate for young fillies and colts to read or see. I would label them—”
“But Miss Cheerilee,” Applebloom interrupted, something she would not ordinarily do, “Ah don't understand. If'n Tennessee Walking Horse writes dirty stuff, how come ever'pony thinks he's so great?”
“Yeah, isn't writing dirty stuff wrong?” Sweetie Belle added.
Scootaloo said nothing, but her expression showed that she was as confused as the other two.
“Yes. Well, um...well...you see...”
But that was as far as her explanation went. Somehow it had all been quite easy to understand a few minutes ago but now she was more confused than her pupils were.
At this point the other students began filing into the schoolroom from recess (the Crusaders having opted to spend the time sharing their “great idea” with their teacher), and Diamond Tiara, ever the busybody, passed by the little conference and cast a disapproving glance on the now-forbidden books.
“Tennessee Walking Horse? Ew! My daddy says he's a gelding!!!”
Silver Spoon, ever the flunky, laughed uproariously at this but Cheerilee was even more embarrassed and mortified than she had been before.
“Miss Diamond Tiara! We do NOT use language like that at this school! Now you and Miss Silver Spoon are in time out, so the two of you go stand in the corner this minute until I tell you you can take your seats!”
“But what did I do?” Silver Spoon whined, but she was immediately chastened by the looks on the faces of both her teacher and her “friend.”
“This is all your fault!” Diamond Tiara said, pointing at the Crusaders. “Mark my words, you'll pay for this!”
“Right now, young ladies!” Cheerilee insisted. So with a sinister and threatening look the two little snobbish troublemakers at last went to the corner as they had been directed.
“Whew!” Cheerilee sighed in relief. Finally it was all over.
“Um...Miss Cheerilee?” Sweetie Belle asked innocently,” what did that word mean?”
“NOTHING! It means NOTHING! There is NO SUCH WORD! So forget you ever heard it and take your seats!”
The three friends, confused and depressed over the shocking turn of events flowing from their simple request to put on a play by a famous writer, finally turned to go. Applebloom put out her hooves to take the two offending books.
“Never you mind, Applebloom!” Cheerilee reacted. “I'll return those books for you! Now just sit down and let's resume our lessons, shall we?”
And at long, long last, that is just what they did.
Spike was in high spirits that night, as he always was when returning from a day of assisting Rarity. Humming and practically floating, he opened the door of his home, expecting Twilight to be, as always, reading and writing furiously far into the night. Only she wasn't. This was unusual enough for him to notice even in his current euphoric state.
“Twilight?” he asked softly.
Then he heard a soft sniffling coming from somewhere and proceeded it to follow it into the bedroom where he found his best friend/mother/sister figure lying in bed crying pitiably.
“Twilight! What...what happened? What's wrong?” he asked.
After a few more sniffs she answered him.
“Ch—Cheerilee came to see me today,” she said.
“So?”
“She...she accused me of being irresponsible...of corrupting the minds of children,” she continued.
Spike was dumbstruck. After a while he asked “But why would she say such a thing about you, of all ponies?”
“Because...because I checked out a couple of books on Tennessee Walking Horse to Applebloom and her friends. But I didn't mean to do anything wrong! I was just so happy they were interested in drama!”
“Of course you didn't mean to do anything wrong! It was just a mistake caused by enthusiasm. It'll never happen again!”
“I...I hope not,” Twilight continued, “because Cheerilee says if it does she'll report me to the parents!”
“Come on, Twilight. She's just overreacting. Besides...like I said, it'll never happen again. Just mark this down to experience and get a good night's sleep and everything will be better in the morning.”
“You—you really think so?” she asked.
“I know so!” he said. “Remember, Cheerilee has to be careful with her students or she could get in trouble. She's probably under a lot of pressure.”
“I...I guess so, Spike. Thank you for understanding.”
“Hey. It's what I'm here for.”
In a short while Spike had also gotten into his own bed on the floor and blown out the candles, preparing for a night of sweet dreams about a certain gorgeous white unicorn.
“Spike?” Twilight suddenly asked.
“Yes, Twilight?” he answered.
“I know what I carelessly did could have corrupted those three girls. BUT I NEVER MEANT IT IN MY HEART!!!”
END