//------------------------------//
// The Great and Powerful Trixie 
// Story: Mealtime For Ponies 
// by Aetherlord_Ignus 
//------------------------------//

Trixie giggles as you run across the yard, pulling her through the grass on a sled; you think that a wagon may have been more practical but due to an “incident” involving a tricycle, this is all you’ve got.  You are glad though that she settled for a toboggan and not a golden throne.  Though the running around in circles may seem boring, it sure keeps Trixie entertained as she zooms across the lawn.  She eventually gets bored and quickly hops off, you do not blame her, you were bored too.  Trixie walks to the doorstep, where she puts her hat and her cape, both of which are a little big for her.  She then picks up her wand and waves it at you, signifying that she wants to play her favorite game, for the third time today.  Half reluctantly, you put your hands above your head and pretend that your fingers are claws.




“Rawr,” you say in a light, but scratchy voice, “I am the dreaded Ursa Major, and I’ve come to destroy this town!  Nopony can stop me, I’m too powerful, and strong, and mighty!  Rawr!”


You stomp around the “town” that is Trixie’s backyard; you occasionally stomp really hard in some areas, to give the idea of stomping on buildings.  Suddenly, when all seemed lost for the ponies of “Hoofington,” a mysterious blue pony appeared, clad in a purple cape.


“You dare stand up to me?”  You yell, “I’m far too powerful for the likes of you, filly, begone!”  You laugh the best evil laugh you can.


Trixie has a look of bravery in her eyes as she readies her wand and points it at you.


“What?  What’s this?”  You grunt.


Trixie shakes the wand, you pretend to recoil in pain and fall over shaking you defeat.  Trixie climbs on to you and gives you a look of victory before bursting in to laughter.  You look at your watch while lying on the ground


“Well, my little wizard, I mean Great and Powerful Trixie, you seem to have defeated me,” Trixie laughs some more, but it appears to be time for lunch, what say you get off my belly and put some food into yours.”  Dang, that has got to be the cheesiest thing you ever said.  You mentally scold yourself.


Trixie gives you a look of defiance and sits her flank down on you when she hears the words lunch.  Trixie’s mom had insisted on this strange fad diet of eating pinecones, and Trixie hates it, one of the reasons you were hired was to convince her.  The convincing can wait, so now, you just pick her up while you right yourself.  Trixie grumpily squirms as if to say “Put the Great and Powerful Trixie down, human!”


You carry her to the kitchen and prepare to lower her into her high-chair.  You stop for a second and remember something important.  You remove Trixie’s hat and cape much to her displeasure; you then pry the wand out of her hoof.  You have no idea how that works, but it just does.  You put a cape and hatless Trixie into her high-chair.  You wonder why you have to go through that with her every time you feed her.  You place a bowl of oatmeal on Trixie’s tray table.  Trixie pouts at you.


“Come on, oatmeal is good for you, and besides, it has peanut butter in it,” you nudge the bowl closer to the blue filly.


Trixie looks up at you and regally nods in approval.  You dip your spoon into the out meal and move it towards Trixie.


“Here comes the choo-choo train,” you say, “Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga!  Choo-Choo!”


Trixie flicks the spoon out of your hand with a look of fear and disgust.  You catch it in mid-air in an epic act of foalsitter parkour.  You forgot, trains have wheels.


“Alright then,” you say, “Here comes the weather pegasus.”


You make looping motions with the spoon before “Landing” it in Trixie’s mouth.  This continues for about five minutes until Trixie eats every last drop of peanut-buttery goodness.  You then put a plate of pinecones onto Trixie’s tray-table.  Once again, Trixie pushes them away in disgust causing this same debate you have with her every time she has lunch to start up again.


“Come on,” you plead, “pinecones are good for you, at least that’s what your mom says.  You’ll never become great and powerful if you don’t eat them.”


“Here let me show you,” you pick up a pine cone and take a tiny bite off the edge, “mmmmm, delicious.”


Trixie picks one up and takes a bite out of it.  She manages to eat it without spitting it out, unlike the first seven times.  It takes Trixie eight minutes to eat the pinecones because she hates them, you have tried talking to her mom about it, but she would not listen.


“Good job, oh Great and Powerful Trixie,” you say, “Here’s your reward for cleaning you plate.”


You place a plate of peanut-butter crackers (The square kind, not circular,) onto Trixie’s table.  She gets super excited and begins to eat them really fast.  When you first started foalsitting her, you wondered why here parents had a whole shelf packed with crackers, now you know.  That little filly can go through a whole box of crackers a day.  Though that is nothing compared to Derpy’s muffin-eating speed.


Trixie finishes the crackers, so you hand her a juice box, which you always remember to tell her are “Potions of Greatness and Power,” Trixie uses her fantastic magic ability to stick the straw into the box by herself, unlike most of the foals you take care of.  Trixie slurps down the “potion” and then demands to be let down.  You give her back her cape, hat, and wand.  Trixie then starts to run around the room, occasionally stopping to strike a pose to show off.  She then grabs her wand and heroically points it at you.


“Again?”  You ask, “Fine then.  Rawr!  I am the dreaded Ursa Major!”