The next day, I decided it would be prudent for us to try and get a good idea of how many bits we would need for all the supplies necessary. We were going to need lumber to construct the frame of the car, plus tires, a steering wheel, paint, and whatever was needed for proper propulsion. I wasn’t exactly a builder type, so I only had a vague idea of the basics needed for a project like this.
With that in mind, I headed into Ponyville to seek the local hardware store. The more I looked about, the more I saw ponies putting on scarves or jackets. With the way weather worked around here, I wondered how abruptly winter would come about.
As I looked about, I saw that there was something different in the rows of buildings: Trixie’s caravan. It seemed she had carried out her vow to move her wagon into town when she was accepted once again. I even fancied that she had laid down a welcome mat at its steps, along with some potted plants. She was coming a long way from the reclusive, snide show mare she had been when we first met.
“Vinyl, let go!”
I stopped. That was Octavia’s voice.
“But Octy, you can’t go! It feels like you just got here!”
And that was Vinyl, but I had never heard her whine like that before. She was holding onto one of Octavia’s hind legs, dragging pathetically along the ground as the prim cellist tried to walk. It looked like Vinyl had finally gotten rid of the cast on her leg, though with all the dragging she was going through, she might do more damage to it. Octavia was looking very impatient.
“Vinyl, for the last time, you’re fine,” she said, firmly. “With your leg all healed up, you can go back to the way things were. You won’t have to put up with me playing nursemaid for you.”
“Man, no fair,” pouted Vinyl. “Just when I was getting used to it, too.”
“What, you liked having me fuss over you, tell you when to go to bed, feed you?” Octavia asked, incredulously. “Very rich, coming from Miss ‘Forget-the-Rules-I-Have-Wubs’ herself.”
“It was just fun having somepony else do my stuff for me,” said Vinyl, smiling in a cheeky way. Octavia was not amused, and voiced it with a frustrated sigh and a stamp of her back hoof, which shook Vinyl off. The cellist turned and pulled Vinyl into a sitting posture.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, you childish oaf of a unicorn,” she said, patiently. “I just have to return home. I’m already behind on a lot, no thanks to you. I’ll come back to visit as soon as I can, all right?”
“Yeah, all right,” Vinyl grumbled. Then she said, in that teasing voice of hers, “Do I at least get a smooch goodbye?”
Octavia looked like she wanted to hit her very badly, but restrained herself.
“You’re impossible,” she finally said.
“Aw, c’mon, Octy, you know I’m just yanking your cello strings,” said Vinyl, in a friendlier tone.
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Octavia, finally allowing herself a little smile.
“Now, see, there’s the Octavia I like,” said Vinyl. “Not the sour, grumpy Octy.”
She pulled a very exaggerated grump face that looked like what you’d see on some doughy CEO who hated his work. Octavia rolled her eyes.
“Just get over here,” she said, holding her forelegs open.
Vinyl responded by giving her classy friend a big bear hug that all but knocked the wind out of her, but Octavia patted her pal’s back, released her, then turned to go. It was then that the two noticed me.
“Oh! Dave!” said Octavia. “We really must stop seeing each other like this.”
“How much of that did you see?” Vinyl asked, abruptly and somewhat severely.
“Er-” I began, before Vinyl got right up into my face.
“You breathe a word of what you just saw, and I’ll give you a ‘personalized’ Wub-Meister wake-up call! I do house calls, after all.”
“Vinyl!” snapped Octavia.
The next instant, however, Vinyl burst into a hearty laugh. This pony was so bi-polar it wasn’t even funny.
“I wouldn’t do that to ya, dude,” she said. “I just wanted to see the look on your face. Priceless!”
“Glad you’re taking freedom of all your limbs well,” I said, relieved.
“Well, as ‘hilarious’ as this has been,” said Octavia, “I mustn’t miss my train. Vinyl, Dave, adieu.”
“Goodbye, Octavia,” I said.
“See ya, Octy!” said Vinyl, as Octavia trotted off in the direction of the train station. She then turned back to me.
“Ya gotta lighten up, bro-ski. You’re way too skittish.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you really were the kind who took offense to stuff like that.”
“Eh, nothing really fazes me,” said Vinyl, dismissively. “Most of my pals know I’m just joking around when I make threats like that. It’s all in good fun, unless it’s somepony who really deserves it.”
(God have mercy on that poor somepony’s soul.)
“Well, it’s good to see you out and about, at any rate.”
“Thanks, man. Shame I had to lose my sweet wheelchair and Octy, but I can’t wait to start spinnin’ at the club again. You gotta check out one of my shows, bro! Monday-Saturday, 8 PM at Club Scratch!”
“Club Scratch?”
“Right across from the cafe. Can’t miss it.”
“I’ll be sure to check it out one of these days.”
“Sweet. Catch ya later!”
She trotted off, humming to what sounded like a dubstep beat. She was pretty weird, but kinda fun to be around.
“Hello, Dave!” came a cheery voice, jolting me from my present thoughts.
It was Rose, who was giving her flowers a fresh sprinkle of water.
“Hi, Rose. How are you doing?”
“Very well, thanks. I’m just getting trying to sell the rest of my autumn flowers before I switch to my winter flowers: mahonias, daphnes, hellebores.”
“Sounds good. Say, do you happen to know where a hardware store is?”
“Hardware? Sure! Timber’s Lumber, just across from the music store, Serenede’s.”
(Timber’s Lumber? What, no ‘Ink and Wood’ or something?)
“Thanks, Rose.”
“Mmhmm! Have a good day!”
***
Taking Rose’s directions, I picked out the store she had been talking about, an enormous wood-made building with a hammer and saw by way of signpost. Clever.
Stepping inside, I was met by the smell of freshly-sanded wood and polished floors, the kind that hits your nostrils when you walk into a store like Home Depot or the like. Like I said, I was no construction expert, so I only came to those stores when errands called for it, and I was the kind of guy who would stand around, bored out of my mind, while my parents browsed the aisles. Funny how I wouldn’t have to go through that while I was here.
“May I help you, sir?”
An Earth pony stallion wearing a green apron stepped forward, his coat orange and his mane sand yellow.
“Er, well, kind of,” I said. “See, I’m looking for supplies to help fashion a racing cart for foals, for the derby at the end of the month.”
“Ah, yes, I know about that,” said the stallion. “The Ponyville Junior Grand Prix, I believe.”
“So, would you happen to carry what I would need to hand-build a cart?”
“Certainly.”
“Great! And, how much would it cost me?”
“Depends.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the derby rules allow one or two-seater carts for its participants, so it’s not just a matter of materials, but of how big it needs to be. Does that help?”
“Yeah. Let’s guesstimate on the cost of materials if we decided to go with a two-seater.”
“Very well. This may take a few moments.”
He drew a calculator from his pocket and began punching in some numbers, muttering as he did so.
“Lumber...paint...tires...carry the 5...Hmm.”
“So, how much?” I asked, cautiously.
“Make me an offer and we’ll see,” said the stallion.
“Er...between 100 and 200?” I ventured, hopefully.
The stallion looked at me for a moment, then said,
“That’s wishful thinking, bud, but ‘fraid not.”
“Ok, uh, 300?”
“Uh-uh.”
“350?”
“Keep going.”
“450?”
“Not quite.”
“...500?”
“Bud, if you want this thing to work right, you’d probably have to spend no less than 800 bits for materials, and that’s dependin’ on if you’ve already got the right power tools.”
“800?!” I spluttered. “Are you out of your mind?! Who’s supposed to make 800 bits-” I snapped my fingers for emphasis. “-just like that?!”
“You want this to be the best cart you can make, don’t you?”
“Well, naturally, but-”
“Then, in my professional opinion, that’s what it’d cost to make the kind you’d be wantin’.”
His tone told me he was not going to budge on this, so what was I supposed to do? 800 bits? That was insane!
“Well, thanks, anyway,” I muttered.
“Anytime, sport.”
***
I stepped out of the hardware store, wondering what the heck we were supposed to do. I doubted very much either of the other Crusaders had a ton of bits available. How were we going to finance this enterprise?
Almost immediately, I imagined the five of us behind a lemonade stand, trying to sell our ware at 50 bits a cup. No, no, the only way that would work is if the lemonade was insanely tasty. I doubted Applejack’s apple cider even cost anywhere near as close as that, if it even was marketed outside cider season.
Still, maybe that was the way to go: odd jobs. The five of us could do things around Ponyville for pay. Hopefully, we’d drum up enough in time to buy what we needed and start building. The girls wouldn’t object to that idea, hopefully, as there really were few other feasible options. Now, the question was, where would I find the girls on a nice Saturday like today?
“Hello, Dave!”
I knew that cultured voice. Looking to the right, I saw Rarity, who was trotting along with Spike, who was walking (or rather, floating) behind her, a glazed, lovestruck look in his eyes as he ferried along a plethora of shopping bags.
“Oh, hey, Rarity. What’s up?”
“I was just out for some weekend shopping, and Spikey-wikey was so generous as to offer to carry my bags.”
“Oh? Is that right, Spike?”
“Anything for my fair lady, Rarity,” Spike mumbled, in the voice of one who had been struck by about 7 of Cupid’s arrows.
“And what brings you out and about, darling?” Rarity asked.
“Just visiting the hardware store. I’m helping the Crusaders build a cart for a derby at the end of the month.”
“Ah, yes, I remember Sweetie Belle telling me about it. Just something else to add to her list of ‘could-be-cutie-marks’.”
“Do you know where she or the others might be today?”
“I’d imagine at Ponyville Park. It’s where foals tend to spend their Saturdays.”
“All right, I’ll check there, then. Thanks, Rarity.”
“Of course, dear.”
She was about to move on when a thought came to her.
“I almost forgot,” she said, and from seemingly out of nowhere, she lifted up an earth-brown jacket with her magic, floating it over to me. “I made this for you just yesterday, seeing as how the weather’s getting colder. We wouldn’t want you to freeze, now would we?”
Gratefully, I took the coat and put it on. Immediately, I felt warm and snug.
“Besides that, it brings out the color of your eyes,” she added.
“Thanks a bunch, Rarity. This is great!”
“You’re very welcome, darling. Now, then, come along, Spike.”
“At your service, milady...”
Rarity and Spike went off on their way, while I headed in the direction of Ponyville Park.
***
The park was indeed full of foals at play, along with their parents or siblings. I could see three little fillies playing jump rope, a pair of foals playing hopscotch, and a pegasus and his son playing frisbee. The air was full of laughter and screams of joy, despite the oncoming chill.
At last, I spotted the four fillies, with Sparkler sitting on a picnic blanket and supervising. They were bouncing a beach ball around with their heads, though it was amazing how Dinky and Sweetie Belle were able to do so without popping the ball with their horns. From time to time, it would fly toward Sparkler, who gave it a bounce with her muzzle to keep the game going.
“Hey, Sparkler,” I said, coming over.
“Oh! Dave, hello! What brings you out here?”
“I need to speak to the girls. It’s about the car we’re planning to build for the derby.”
“Ah, that’s right! Dinky and Scoot told me about how you gave them the idea to build a cart from scratch!”
“Well, you know, I just thought it would add a more personal, Crusader-brand touch to have accomplished something like this by our own means. Hope that didn’t sound overly cheesy,” I added, meekly.
“No, no, not at all! I think it’s very sweet of you to want to help them out with it.”
“Well, see, that’s the thing. We’ve kinda hit a snag.”
“Hmm?”
“I went to see how much it would cost to buy materials to build a derby car, and the manager said it’d be 800 bits, at least.”
“800 bits?” asked Sparkler, aghast. “That’s outrageous!”
“I know! How are we supposed to rack up that much in one month?”
Sparkler considered for a moment, nodded to herself, then said,
“I’ll have a chat with this store owner. I might be able to make him change his mind.”
“Huh? I dunno, Sparkler, he seemed pretty set when he made his estimate.”
“Trust me, Dave. You have to have a few haggling skills in the jewelry business. Leave it to me.”
For the weirdest reason, I could have sworn I saw a flash of lightning strike behind her as she said this. However, a male voice, marked with a British accent, yelled right after, “Good, Derpy! Now, a little to the left!”
“Er, all right, if you say so,” I said.
I couldn’t see how such a sweet mare like Sparkler was going to do anything to overturn that store owner’s verdict, but if she said she could help, I had no right to argue against it.
“Girls?” Sparkler called.
The Crusaders stopped, the ball bouncing right off of Apple Bloom’s head, and they finally took notice of me.
“Hi, Dave!” they said in unison.
“Hey, kids. What are you up to?”
“We were playin’ with Rainbow Dash’s ball.” said Apple Bloom.
“We’re breaking it in, because our old one got popped,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Ahh, that’s a shame,” I said.
“We were playing to see who could keep the ball in the air as long as possible,” said Scootaloo. “We were gonna see if we could reach Rainbow Dash’s record!”
“Rainbow set a ball-bouncing record?”
“Yep! 350!” said Scootaloo, proudly.
“Ay carumba.”
“But I don’t think the ball wants us to break it,” said Dinky. “Meanie,” she added, casting an adorably angry look at the ball, as if it had personally offended her.
“Girls, we’re going to take a short trip to the hardware store,” said Sparkler, getting up.
The four groaned. In all honestly, I would have done the same if the errand hadn’t been my own.
“None of you have to go inside,” Sparkler went on, calmly and above their groans. “I’m just going to have a talk with somepony inside about what we’ll need to buy supplies for the cart.”
This flip-flopped their demeanor all at once. Now they were all ears and eager to listen.
“I knew you’d come around to the idea,” said Sparkler, smiling. “Now, come along.”
She led the way back toward Ponyville, while the four Crusaders walked alongside me. I was still curious to know what she was planning to say or do to turn the tide in our favor.
***
“You’re not gonna be hard on him, are you?” I asked, when we had arrived at the store. “He was probably just doing his job.”
“No, of course not. He’s just a stallion who drives a hard bargain when it comes to general assessments. He loves projects, but thinks he can determine his own price if you’re being too vague. Now, wait out here, and I’ll be right back.”
Sparkler stepped inside, leaving me with the kids outside.
“So, Scoot,” I said, casting around for something to say, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but how are your flying lessons going?”
“Great!” said Scootaloo. “I’m not quite there yet, but Mom and Rainbow Dash say I’ve been making great progress!”
“She has!” said Dinky, bouncing up. “Mama lets me watch, and Scootaloo’s getting really good!”
To demonstrate, Scootaloo flapped her wings rapidly, and I was surprised to see her lift off the ground for 1, 2, 3 seconds before settling back down.
“That’s great!” I said. “Soon, you’ll be soaring alongside Rainbow herself!”
Scootaloo looked overjoyed at such a prospect.
“So, she’s still been giving you lessons?”
“Yep. She says the stuff Mom’s teaching me is ‘soft stuff’ and wants me to move on to the more ‘hardcore’ tricks!”
“Bet that’s right up your alley, sport.”
“Heheh, yeah! But Mom said all fillies have to start with the basics, and was about to say something about Rainbow Dash’s early flying days, but she cut her off pretty quick and decided to help with the basics.”
“Ahh, sounds like Rainbow didn’t want any of her fillyhood secrets of success leaking out.”
Frankly, I had the feeling it was more along the lines of ‘embarrassing incident that Rainbow would either deny or hurt somepony over if it got leaked’. I could almost imagine a smaller Rainbow Dash crashing into clouds in her speedy, erratic flights.
Through the doors of the store, I could almost swear somepony’s voice was being raised in anger, rising to a fever pitch that, while incoherent, made my neck hairs tingle. Dinky seemed to have sensed it as well, as she rested up against my leg, and I could feel her shiver.
“What’s the matter, Dinky?” I asked. “You don’t like hearing ponies yell?”
“Uh-uh,” murmured Dinky.
“Yeah, me neither,” I said, leaning down to pat her mane consolingly.
A moment later, the doors opened, and Sparkler stepped out, along with Mr. Timber. He was looking very ashen-faced, like he was about to faint. Sparkler, on the other hand, was looking very sunny.
“Well, gang,” she said, brightly, “it wasn’t easy, but Mr. Timber and I were able to work out an agreement. Right?”
She turned to Timber, who swallowed and said,
“4 to 500 bits, and I’ll see what I can do.”
That was much better! It was still a lot to raise, but it was far more reasonable. Even the fillies looked elated at the news.
“Perfect!” said Sparkler. “Glad we had this talk, Mr. Timber. Come along, everyone.”
We left Mr. Timber, who was still looking like he had been petrified in the act of seeing something he could not easily unsee.
“Is he gonna be all right?” I asked Sparkler.
“Of course. Some hagglers just can’t withstand the secret weapon every barterer needs to have.”
“And what’s that?”
“Now, Dave, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret weapon, now would it?”
“So, what happens now?” asked Apple Bloom.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We got the price range for what we need,” she said, “so how do we round up 500 bits?”
“I had just been thinking on that before I found you, my dears,” I said, sagely. “I’m thinking we could do some odd jobs around Ponyville, help ponies out. I’ve got a savings jar ready for our collection. If we all work hard and contribute, we can make it happen in time.”
“Now there’s an idea!” said Scootaloo.
“Every bit counts,” I said, “so pitch in as much as you can.”
“Well, we don’t have that much ourselves,” said Dinky, a little dejectedly.
“Doesn’t matter, kiddo. Every little bit counts. Why, those few bits you toss in could make all the difference in the end.”
“Really?” asked Dinky.
“Sure! Why, I’ll bet you anything we’ll look back on this day and say, ‘You know what saved us in the end? Those couple bits Dinky Hooves put in for the cause. Without her help, where would we have gotten?’”
Dinky seemed to like the sound of that, as her face lit up like the morning sun. Sparkler smiled tenderly at me for making her sister happy.
“Onward, Crusaders!” I crowed.
“Onward!” they cried in unison.
***
Altogether, it wasn’t too bad of a start. I brought the jar to the Crusaders clubhouse, while the others went to round up whatever change they had. Along with the 3 I had already put in, Apple Bloom was able to contribute her own 5, Sweetie Belle 7, and Scootaloo and Dinky pooled 9 together. In total, we had 24 bits to begin with.
“Not too shabby, girls,” I said. “That 24 bits may seem small, but it’s a start. Just you wait: this jar’s gonna be loaded so much, even I’ll hardly be able to lift it.”
“Whoo!” cheered the girls.
“So, what kind of stuff should we do to raise the bits?” asked Scootaloo.
“We can just go around Ponyville, offering our services, seeing who needs help with something. We’ll ask them to name their own price.”
“Sounds good!” said Sweetie Belle. “When should we start?”
“As soon as you kids think we should. I dunno how busy you’re gonna be on school days.”
“Yeah, we’d have homework to do in the afternoon,” said Apple Bloom, “but we can always work in another job or two, if we have time.”
“And weekends will be completely devoted to odd jobs!” said Scootaloo.
“Why do they call them odd jobs?” asked Dinky. “Are they really weird? Like, do they involve kooky space aliens and pizzas with faces and duckies that go moo?”
All of us stared at her, but she looked quite proud of herself.
“Anyhoo,” I said, “that’s the right kind of attitude. We can start today!”
“Yeah!” said the four.
I laid down my hand.
“All for one!” I said.
The four laid their hooves down atop my hand.
“And one for all!” they said.
Saturday: November 2nd: 24 bits