//------------------------------//
// URGENT: EXPEDITE 
// Story: The Snot Heard Round the World 
// by SamBurke 
//------------------------------//

There are days in every mare’s life that change her forever. Those are the days on which they learn their purpose, or find it; the days when they discover the meaning of life, the reason for existence, or, what they are supposed to do.

For Derpy Hooves, it is that day. She may be a grown mare, but she has a destiny. She has a purpose, a hope in life, something grand to do. An act that will immortalize her in tales for ages.

Today, you read a great saga. Today, you read a great journey. Today, you read a tale of hardship, sacrifice, and loss the likes of which will never be seen again by ponykind.

Today, you read about Derpy’s destiny, her tale to be immortalized in all ages...

To sneeze.





	
The Snot Heard Round the World
By SamBurke, aka jroddez


She could feel it. As if by Pinkie Sense, she could feel it! Today she would rule the world! Today would be a day to be remembered for eons by all ponies who heard! Today would be the most important, most formative day of her life, a day of epic proportions. She could just feel it... or...?
“Sneeze time.” Holding her hoof up to her nose, the mare blew against the flimsy piece of tissue paper. Nothing. “Oh, come on.” She blew again, this time snorting with her whole body. The tickle in her nose was intense, one of the most intense feelings she’d ever felt. Maybe that was the cause of the whole epic destiny thing.
Walking across the literature-scattered floor, the mare twisted her way through the dozens of books, careful to dodge the twin Bay’s Anatomy texts she’d stayed up so late reading. It was important to her doctorate, of course, and thus commanded the highest priority on her list after those Review of Blackmane’s Equestrian Common Law five volume sets she’d left around. Law school, so tough, yet so good on a resume. It took another moment or two before the four hooves coordinated themselves enough to bring her to a mirror. The mare looked past the cluttered notes and lists.
“Ditzy Doo, hello! Beautiful pony are you!” Grrr. You know how to speak. When you don’t talk. Today was going to be one of those days. Some days she could speak near-perfectly, but only with complete concentration. That’s when her most clumsy impulses just popped out and started knocking things over. Or, rather, she did.
Then, there were other days. If she tried not to cause unprecedented amounts of property damage, none of her words came out right. None of them.
“Thinking now not. Sneeze.” Ditzy -- or Derpy, as her friends had nicknamed her -- sucked in a huge breath of air, and blew into the tissue again, but the effort resulted with the whoosh of empty air. Why aren’t I sneezing? After another moment’s intense contemplation, Derpy decided to just move on with the day. After all, if she wasn’t going to sneeze... she wasn’t going to sneeze.
The tickle in her nose stopped her solid, and Derpy ran into the mirror head on. She had things to do today, and they certainly did not involve...a...sneeze? She waited. For one moment she had hope, but it was dashed to the ground again by the dryness in her nose as it evaded her once more. 
Derpy stamped a hoof in determination. No sneeze could stop Ditzy Doo, mail mare of the skies! She had eight library books to return and four packages to deliver, one of which was even marked URGENT: EXPEDITE.
After a moment of thought, she rushed to the nearest door and threw it open. “Here am I world! Make out the me of that best you can!” Oh, that sounded better in your head.
“Eeeeeeyup?” A red blob in the street stared up at her. Ditzy realized she was looking down from the second floor.
“This window is?”
“Eeeeeeyup.”
“Glasses need?”
He didn’t even need to answer. The grey mare grabbed a pair of contacts from her desk, and slipped them in her eyes -- no mean feat without opposable thumbs -- and looked out again. Big Mac sat in the street, staring with one eyebrow cocked. The mail mare ignored him, and grabbed her bag.
“Day is good, shining sun!”
She picked up her pace, delivering the first package in record time, barely dodging the sign for Couches and Quills on the way. “One, check.” Ditzy had started making checklists a few weeks ago at Twilight’s recommendation, and they were certainly helping, especially with all of her studies. She needed the methodical h-hel-help...
She also needed to sneeze. Ditzy put her hoof to her face, ready to cover. Again, the sneeze refused to emerge.
“Great.” Hm. Take a note from Big Mac. One word sentences are more difficult to mess up. “Sneezeless.” She thought again for a moment. Two other packages waited in her bag, including that all-important “URGENT: EXPEDITE”. Despite the package’s title, she decided she’d keep that one for last. The best part of any day was seeing ponies open the gifts somepony had sent them in the mail, and this package felt extra, extra special.
Ditzy lost herself for a moment, staring at it. The thing was solid, heavy. In fact, it felt almost like someone was shipping a solid steel box inside, and she imagined the possible secret contraband hidden within. Quite a security measure taken for somepony in Ponyville, to be sure. Beyond that, she couldn’t hear anything inside, meaning the contents must be strapped down quite securely. The mare put it up to her nose to sniff, but lost her balance with the huge intake of breath.
MUST. SNEEZE. She exhaled and breathed in again. OK, you need serious help. You can’t even sneeze straight! Perhaps that’s a result of that peculiar case with the Twigs-Bow Sun particle you re-found yesterday?
Grabbing the library books, Ditzy Doo gave a few powerful down-thrusts with her wings and was in the air again. After a moment’s pause to spin herself into proper flying form -that is, with her head closer the ground- she headed off to the library.
“Ditzy? Is that really the way you should be facing?” Spike popped up next to her, sucking on a large gem, staring quizzically at the upside-down pegasus. He always seemed to do that. Weird, really, what people did without noticing. Pony’s got crossed eyes? Must have mental problems. Pony continually sucks on valuable objects and devours them? Difference of biology. Logical paradoxes, we ponies are. Perhaps that’d make a good research article for the front cover of Equestrian Psychologist.
“Indeed.” Said she, abandoning the all too familiar and comforting realm of thought. “Closer to work, packages able mouth-deliver to.” She pulled a book out of her bag to prove it. “Thi- ‘ay be’er.” Grinning from ear to ear, she was quite proud of the efficiency. Given nerve lag and muscle speed, I save twelve minutes of every day from being upside down! she added mentally, but didn’t attempt to say.
        “OH!” His face lit up. “There’s an extra copy of that book?”
        “Knows Twilight this. Of books checklists in library, yes?” The mare asked.
        “Well, you see, I burnt that book a little while ago...and the index card, too. So we didn’t know that there was an extra copy,” the young dragon said with a hint of embarrassment.
        The mare nodded sagely, and glanced at the book. Astronomical Astronomer’s Almanac to All Things Astronomy. “Reading light good!” She nodded again with the same oddly wise look. Spike decided not to think about it.
        “Return boo...okkks...” Ditzy faltered, her muzzle scrunching as the tickle began again.
        “Cover! Cover!” Spike cried, ducking beneath a nearby table. “Sneezes are dangerous, you know.” he added, and blushed a little.
        Still nothing came, and Ditzy righted herself. Sneezing upside down was hard, but flying right-side-up was far harder. She didn’t want to take any chances, though. “Books to library. Twilight talk,” she said, attempting to abbreviate her sentences.
        The dragon walked alongside her as she flew haphazardly towards the tree. “She does talk a lot, doesn’t she? I’m glad someone finally noticed.” He started to chatter about the unicorn’s latest project, how it involved Rarity, and something else about Pinkie Pie...
        Ditzy paused in the middle of her mental calculus warmups. It WAS the space that was moving, not the transporter, to be sure, which simplified interplanetary travel quite a bit, but, more importantly, what was that about a package? “Repeat?”
        “Oh, repeat what? That Pinkie Pie’s expecting a top secret package today?” Spike asked.
        “Thank.” Checking her bag, the steel-wrapping cardboard box was most certainly for Sugarcube Corner, for a Miss “Mena Pie.” “Who?” Ditzy, opening her mouth to speak, dropped the box on Spike’s head.
        “Hey! Ow!” He pulled it off his spine. “That’s hard. What’s in this, a brick?” Glancing down at the package’s address, he too raised a scaly eyebrow. “Mena? Who the hay is ‘Mena?”
        “Said I same!” The mail mare took the package back. “Who deliver to?”
        Spike shook his head. “You’ll find out when you get there, I suppose. Hope that sneeze works its way out of your system soon!” He waved and ran through the door of the library without knocking. The gray mare thudded into the side of the building three times, which served well enough for a knock before entering after the young dragon. Having finished her daily regimen of mental calculus, Ditzy was more than ready to get rid of this sneeze.
“Yes?” Twilight’s voice echoed from inside the library, bouncing off of the wooden walls from the far end of the room. “Who’s there?”
“Books return! On table?” Trying to keep her sentences short, Ditzy closed the door behind her and started stacking her reference guides on the central table.
“Oh! Ditzy!” Twilight came from a rear room and stacked the few dozen books held up by her telekinesis. “Come for more books?”
“Return!”
“Oh, good!” Twilight pulled the books over. “What books did you check out? I wasn’t there at the time... good old Spike. Heavy on the hard work, light on the book work, you know?”
Another sage nod from the mail mare. Twilight dismissed the mental image immediately.
Derpy’s mind slid back into intense psychoanalysis. Ahhh... Twilight. A mare who can appreciate mental skill! Somepony who might look deeper than a pony’s eyes, to see their work. Ditzy smiled lightly, and grinned as the purple mare glanced through the reading material of the past week.
“Anyway.” Twilight paused, reading some of the titles. “Oh my. Did you read these?”
This nod was less sage and more proud. “Read, did!”
“Convoluted Calculus? Magical Mental Acrobatics? Enthalpic Entropy and Stoichiometric States? What kind of books are these? And where do I put them?” She glanced up at Ditzy, whose grin had twisted, and was now sitting on the side of her face. “You read them?”
The mare tried to nod, but instead her head jerked erratically side to side. “No? Yes?” Twilight shook away the thought. “If you need paperweights, I have better books than these.” She turned around, and added them to the stack by the door, marked TO BE ORGANIZED.
Silence reigned for a few minutes as Twilight organized and shelved all the books, spending quite a while thinking about Ditzy’s choice of reading materials. Quite an interesting mare, that one. For being the mailpony, one always got a sense that things weren’t quite right above the wings. Or below them, as it were.
MUST. SNEEZE. Ditzy Doo stumbled backwards, head raised, nostrils flared... and coughed. “Need sneeze.”
Twilight jumped. “Oh! You’re still here?” She twisted around. “So sorry.”
“Can sneeze help?”
“Can a sneeze help what?”
“You can sneeze help?”
        “I don’t need to sneeze....”
        “I sneeze help you me?”
        “I don’t need any help sneezing, Ditzy...” Twilight smiled apologetically, all the while completely confused.
        “Paper?” Stick to one word sentences, Ditzy.
        Twilight nodded, and grabbed a nearby scroll, sitting in wait of a Friendship lesson. “Here.”
        Ditzy grabbed the paper in her mouth, and set it on the table. Taking care, she began to write with her mouth, dipping back in the inkwell every few words. The sound of Spike munching on a gem echoed quietly as she concentrated completely on her task. Each and every letter was perfect: a calligraphical anomaly. After a few minutes of carefully crafting the letter, she presented it to Twilight.
        The librarian whipped glasses out of nowhere and quickly deciphered the words. 
“I... need to sneeze.” 
        The grey pony rocked violently for a second, her head spasming, as she tried to rub whatever was irritating her nose out.
        Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “You know, Ditzy...” She put her arm around the mare. “I have learned many things in this world. I have been quite a few places...”
        Spike peeked over the edge of the balcony and whispered. “Told ya.”
                                                ~~~
Somewhere around the estimated halfway point of the spontaneous lecture on the nature of learning, magic, mages, history, anatomy, and proper studying techniques, Twilight had found a half-empty box of soap, and used it to stand on. Derpy was sitting on the floor, taking notes like a good student, despite the fact she’d written that course’s textbooks last year.
Twi paused for a moment, in the middle of a dialog on Starswirl’s greatest advancements in neck ergonomics while dual-wielding textbooks, unable to remember the proper citation. “Which year did he write his seventh paper?” she muttered to herself, lost for a moment. 
“1847,” Ditzy said, oddly enough managing the entirety of the word without pause. 
“Of course, it must be 1847! How could I have forgotten?”
                                                ~~~
        Ten or so minutes later, the instruction session finally ended, though Twilight still hadn’t even discussed the proper alignment of the lower cervic vertebrae during the casting of teleportation spells. 
The door exploded in a blur of pink, and Ditzy was catapulted, sliding, across the floor.
        “IT’S HERE?!?!” Pinkie jumped up and down on top of the mailmare. To call her excited would be like calling cake “edible”, or calling the Everfree Forest “a serene zoo” -- an exaggeration of great magnitude. She was, quite possibly, more excited than she’d ever been.
        And that’s saying a lot.
        “Face.” Ditzy pointed to her head, which was currently underneath two bright pink hooves.
        “Oh, sorry! I heard you had a super-secret package, and I came right away! Is it mine? For me?”
        “Mena Pie?” Ditzy pulled out the thing, hoping that Pinkie didn’t notice the scuff marks from where she’d dropped it on Spike’s head.
        “Oh, silly. Yes, that’s me!” The party pony winked. “I always do that when I order stuff. Keeps my name safe! Just in case, you know?”
        Hm. Ditzy began to think back on her Psychology degree. She’s definitely lying. And, perhaps, ADD. And ADHD. And OCD. And PTSD. All at the same time. “Understood.”
        “Great! And now I can...” Pinkie tore it open, and undid a latch on the side of the steel box inside. “What..?”
        She stuck her face in the package, and, remarkably, it went in all the way to her ears. “I don’t see anything in the box!” Her voice had a remarkable deepness from the ringing of the metal package.
        “Hey, Pinkie! Your voice has got quite a tin-or with that on!” Spike laughed at his own pun, knocking on the steel. “What is it?”
        “Nothing!”
        Ditzy stood up, dusting off her face. “Nothing?”
        “Pinkie, you ordered nothing? I’ve heard of a lot of funny things, but...” Twilight walked up, and glanced inside the package. The inside of the steel was riveted, and cross-reinforced with wire, and padded with rolls of bubblewrap. In the center sat a little packet, with the top torn open on one of the pieces of support wire.
        “It opened itself--” Pinkie froze, and threw the thing across the room. “GET BACK! IT’S ARMED!” Spike hid behind the pony.
        “Did your Pinkie Sense go off?” he asked nervously.
        Ditzy watched the goings on interestedly, and walked over to the package. A terrific shame, really. “Contents?” She turned to Pinkie?
        “Don’t touch it!” The bright pink pony was busy dunking her face into a basin of water that had suddenly appeared. “Everypony stand back!”
        Twilight walked up, and grabbed the party pony by the shoulder, and yanked her into the air. “What was in the package, Pinkie, and was it legal?”
        The air hung thick for a moment, before Pinkie spoke.
        “What you hear today is a secret of national importance.” She pulled everypony close, and stared into their eyes. “It never goes beyond this room... got it?”
        Spike nodded, and swallowed hard. Twilight just rolled her eyes.
        “Be serious, Pinkie... I’ll cupcake swear, but...”
        “NO!” Pinkie glared harder. “This goes beyond a cupcake in the eye, Twilight. That’s right... I’m invoking the most serious swear in all of Equestrian history. In all of the globe. In all of the multiverses, re-writes, retcons, crossovers, parallel and pocket dimensions.”
        Spike gasped.
        The room’s silence grew more oppressive... more silent... 
In fact, it was so oppressive Pinky picked it up and chucked it aside after a moment. No need to swelter under the weight of the dramatic moments.
        Finally, at long, long last, the dread quiet was broken, as the guttural name of the most solemn covenant known to ponykind was uttered.  
        “MUFFINS!”
        Everyone cowered for a moment, before looking up at Ditzy.
Pinkie nodded sagely, appreciating the wisdom of the mare. “Yes, Ditzy. The muffin oath.” Spike gasped twice.
        “Cross your heart, hope to fly, stick a...” Everyone froze in the chant, barely coughing out the next word. “muffin...” All shuddered. Spike shuddered twice. “In my eye.”
        Pinkie nodded. “Very well. What was in that package... was a weapon of such potency, that only a select few can wield it. I, Pinkemena Diane Pie, Wielder of the Element of Laughter, was one of those chosen few. Is it illegal? Yes, for an ordinary pony, it is. But not for one such as I.”
        Twilight put her hoof to her face. “And what might this weapon be...?”
        “DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE!” Pinkie swatted down the purple hoof. “That weapon...” She sighed, and closed her eyes in pain.
Another silence, another moment of deep contemplation. Twilight groaned. “Tell me already.”
“That weapon was the most potent, most concentrated, most irresistible sneezing powder ever made.”
        Spike double-gasped again. “NO!”
        “Yes.”
        “NO!”
        “Yes!”
        “NOOOOOO!”
        Twilight intervened. “We have indeed established that Pinkie knows what she’s talking about. Yes.”
        Ditzy looked up. “Powder sneezing?”
        Pinkie nodded.
        The gray mare pawed at her noise involuntarily, mouth choking for a sneeze.
        “Wait...” Pinkie stared. “WAIT.”
        “I’m waiting!” Spike yelled. “I’m waiting!”
        The party pony stared deeply into the mail mare’s nostrils and raised one eyebrow. “All is not lost! The weapon, prototype X666, is here!” She pointed with a hoof. “On Ditzy.”
        Twilight leaned in. “It looks like a nose to me.”
        Pinkie shook her head solemnly. “That nose is no small nose... that nose is now the property of the Equestrian Government. Twilight, take her to the lab. She. Must. SNEEZE!”
                                                ~~~
        Twilight led Ditzy into the bowels of the tree, far beneath the roots. The two book lovers were quiet, each thinking about the absurd twist of fate brought upon them by Pinkie Pie’s special weapon.
        After taking a moment to strap both of Ditzy Doo’s forelegs into a machine, Twilight grabbed a helmet stuffed over the brim with bells and whistles, with knobs, knobbies, knobbers, and knoblets, with dozens of wires connected the thing to various scientific instruments set up all around the laboratory, each of which used for various magic experiments.
        She pulled aside a sheet draped on the wall, careful not to let it snag on the lone lever it covered. “Ditzy, remember. No matter what, no one pulls that one single lever.”
        “Yes.” One word answers cannot fully describe this situation. Actually, I don’t think anything composed by means of normal syntax can fully describe this situation, Derpy thought.  Perhaps more research into Zebra Language would aid in such a discussion.
        “Then why is it there, silly?” Pinkie popped up in front of Twilight’s face, prompting the egghead to scream. “If we shouldn’t pull it, why is it up there?”
        “Because...” Twilight scratched her head. “Because it should be there, OK? Don’t question magic, or it will not be pleasant for your thyroid gland.”
        Pinkie shrugged and walked over to the machines. “Now, science officer Twilight, are you prepared? Is the subject ready?” For a moment, her grin was decidedly maniacal.
        “Yes, Pinkie.” The librarian said with a reluctant hitch in her tone. “What are we here to do?”
        Pinkie turned. “We, my science officer, are about to extract X666 from our subject here. When we have extracted the weapon, we will return it to its safe house, and you all will be sworn to secrecy again. Agreed?”
        “Do we have a choice?” Twilight asked.
        “Choice no. Sneeze want!” Ditzy tried feverishly to paw her nose... the itch was almost unbearable. “Nose scratch?”
        Spike shuddered. “And touch that X666 thing? No thanks. I’d rather not be contaminated with a super-weapon, than you very much.”
        The grey mare shook for a moment, and the urge to sneeze passed. “Start?”
        Pinkie nodded. “BEGIN EXTRACTION!” She bellowed at the top of her voice.
        Twilight flipped a few knobs and switches, and watched the machine power up.  Surges of magic rushed through half of the wires, carrying out information on the other half. “Extraction begun. Information compiling.”
        Spike grinned. “It’s just like those books about post-apocalyptic Equestria!”
        Twilight looked up. “I thought I told you not to read my Fallout fanfics, Spike!”
        He kicked his feet. “Sorry.”
        Pinkie appeared in front of the librarian again. “Focus, science officer! Back on task!”
        The entire machine hummed for a few minutes, various dials and knobs twisting one way, lighting up and turning off of their own volition. Each beep told of more and more information, valuable analysis about this delicate situation. After a while, the intermittent noise slowed down, bit by bit, until the final printout piled in a heap on the floor.
        Twilight ran her hoof down the list, checking all the vital signs. “Nothing seems out of place, here, Pinkie. All magic levels are normal, heart rate is about what you’d expect... muscular coordination and vision didn’t show up right, but we already knew that. What exactly is so dangerous about this sneezing powder?”
        The pink pony kicked her legs for a second. “Well... it’s that you won’t ever sneeze.”
        Twilight stared for a moment. “You serious?”
        “SNEEZE MUST!” Ditzy got another of her intense tickles, thrashing about and giggling uncontrollably. “SNEEEEEEZE!”
        Spike gasped. “It’s... horrifying!”
        Pinkie nodded solemnly. “And that, Twilight, is why it is so restricted. Something that can reduce a perfectly normal mare to a giggling heap is too powerful for anyone less than an Element of Harmony to handle. Such is my destiny.”
        “First of all, Pinkie Pie, you are the Element of Laughter, not trustworthiness. Second, this is not a perfectly normal mare.”
        Before either of them could break out into an argument, Ditzy yelled, “HELP?”
        “Oh, right. Science officer, you know your duty. Extract. That. Super weapon!”
        Twilight nodded. “Alright, Ditzy, this won’t hurt a bit.”
        The mail mare nodded, bracing for intense pain. It tickled.
        The silence in the room was deafening, which was probably good, because it was broken by an enormous crackle of magical energy that scared the socks off of all present -- actually, only off of Spike; the others weren’t wearing socks -- and it just plain wouldn’t have been as good of a scare without that preceding silence.
        Everypony in the room -- and Spike -- jumped, and Ditzy prepared for the worst. The purple aura traveled through the system, to an intensifier crystal, which then channeled into a focus wire, followed by a trans-core inducer, a graviton magibeam, a dweomer filter,  and a photon resonating chamber, all before finally resting on the tip of the long, grey nose in question.
        “Aaaaah! Aaaaaah!” Ditzy breathed in, her release just a short sneeze away.
        “DO IT!” Pinkie yelled, waiting for the magic to catch the prototype. “SNEEZE!”
        “You can do it, Ditzy!” Spike yelled, careful to block his own mouth, just in case.
        “This won’t hurt, I still promise you!” Twilight yelled, careful to keep her volume down. It was a library, after all, even if the other two yelled.
        Everyone turned to the subject, waiting.
        “Aaaaaah!”
        “Sneeze can’t.” Ditzy hung her head. “Help?”
        “Science officer, Measure 2!”
        Spike leaned over, “What’s Measure 2?”
        Pinkie whispered back, “I have no idea. Twilight’ll come up with something.”
        Twilight began to switch switches, dial dials, turn turntables, and knob knobs. “Measure two, activated! Extraction. Delicate procedures. Prepare the stuff!”
        Spike double-gasped and pointed behind Twilight. The purple mare turned, saw the object of abject horror, and blanching herself. Becoming pale white when starting from a purple hue is quite a feat, mind you, so remember to appreciate that.
        Pinkie grinned. “That’s where I flip this switch, right?” She was standing on top of the sheet, both front hooves on the end of the large knob on the tip of the lone, forbidden switch.
        The egghead leapt forward in slow motion. “Nooooooooo!”
        Pinkie sat on the then-activated lever. “Now is the time where you tell us all what it does, then.”
        Twilight’s eyes twitched, and spun as wildly as Ditzy’s.
        “Hurt now? What do Pinkie? Switch switched?”
        Spike gasped three times, and fell over, having inhaled his own fire.
        “Twilight, you’re breaking so many tropes. Just tell me already.”
        “That.” Twi gulped. “Initiates...”
        Spike gulped too.
        “The sequence.” She looked down. “The tickle sequence.”
        Ditzy squirmed, squealing in laughter. “No no no no no... Make stop it! It make stop! Tickles it does! Tickles!” She broke down, falling on the floor in a spasming fit.
        “TWILIGHT!” Pinkie gasped. “You know tickle-boarding is against federal regulations! You bought one of one of these things?”
        “Built it.” She laughed weakly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
        Pinkie checked both ways, as if crossing a street, and then leaned in quietly, whispering. “Can you make me one?”
        Twilight raised an eyebrow.
        “I’m the Element of Laughter. I’ll pass it off as an experiment into the powers of the element.”
        Twilight raised the other eyebrow.
        “Whaaaaat? I can use it.”
        Twilight ignored her, grabbing another knob and twisting it violently to one side. “No time now. Initiating Measure 3.”
        “Uh, Twilight?” Spike stood up, ready to hit the deck in a moment should anything explode suddenly. “What’s Measure 3?”
        The purple pony grinned, and pulled an elaborate series of levers. “I’m rechanneling the power of all of Ponyville into this one machine. If that doesn’t make her sneeze, nothing will.”
        The whirring of the tickling device intensified, spinning thousands of times per second, and generating a small wind.
        “Tick..tick.....ticklessss!” Derpy hissed, back arching in laughter.
        “We aren’t done yet, Ditzy.” The twitch of Twilight’s eyes was vaguely unsettling, even to the slightly-less-than-visually-perfect Derpy.
        Softly at first, then growing too a shrill screech, the engine began to absorb power from the entire Ponyville grid, redirecting it all through the one machine.
        “Is this safe, Twilight?” Spike asked.
        The librarian glared at him. “Of course it’s safe, Spike, it’s...”
        The room exploded, all of the lights flashing in a shower of sparks, which covered the entire basement in temporary arcing light.
        “Totally safe,” she finished a moment and a cosmic irony late. Walking over to the pegasus, she glanced at the small collection bin, eager for the fruits of their labor.
        “Need sneeze.”




A/N: 

Just want to thank my pre-readers and the EqD staff for all their help, and specifically two: Ben Baber, first reader and friend, for editing as I wrote, and amissingnumber, for some intense grammar work!