Stuff My Sister Says
Chapter One: “Ridonkulous"
It’s funny how a simple thing like a sunbeam can be so foreboding. It’s really an innocent thing, sunlight, when you think about it. A gift from our Princess Celestia, it shines down upon the world and gives life to flowers and warmth to creatures everywhere. it graces the fields and meadows and brings rainbows and bright sunny days to everypony.
If only it would get the flying buck out of my face.
I tear an eye open and glare venomously at the window through which the bright beam of light was cast, wishing more than anything I could just erect a wall right then and there to allow myself to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option. Sunlight means the day is starting, which means I, the special little snowflake that I am, have to get up and go to work.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I like my job. Jobs, actually. Both of them. I work in the weather factory, making tornados (how awesome is that?), and I’m also enlisted as a trainee for the Wonderbolts. Maybe you’ve heard of me.
My name is Lightning Dust.
Now, some ponies may wonder aloud, “Lightning Dust, I thought you were escorted off the grounds and kicked out of training camp for tornadoing a bunch of ponies into almost-smithereens.” And you’d be right. Except, you know, that Rainbow Dash chick isn’t exactly a complete bitch. She may have dropped a good word or two for me after all was said and done. So I got to try again next year. Which, of course, means I’m a year behind her in the Academy. A fact she loves reminding me of, oh so subtly. Like I said, not a complete bitch. Just parts of one.
But anyway, back to the present. And the rather malevolent stream of sunlight berating me from up on high. “Hrrmmmff... go way. Not morning yet,” I grumble into my pillow. I know this to be a lie, but maybe, just maybe, the universe will believe me.
Except, you know, the part about having two jobs. And ponies that may or may not hold me accountable for my showing up to do said jobs. And as I hear a knocking at my door, I come to realize that maybe, just maybe, they thought that dragging me out of bed to be at work on time would be a good idea.
Not that I can blame them. But I don’t have to like them for it.
The knock comes again, and I try to identify the pony behind the door, before I open it. I have some time, a my front door is on the first floor, like a normal house, and my bedroom is on the second. So I take my time strolling through the halls, down the stairs, trying to pinpoint where I’ve heard that knock before.
It can’t be the Captain. She’d break the door down by now.
It can’t be Cloud Kicker, she yells when she knocks.
It can’t be that Ditzy Doo mailmare, she doesn’t exactly use doors.
Not my neighbor, it’s too loud.
Not my parents, it’s too soft.
Then something strange happens. The knocking stops. Well, kind of. It stops being just a “knock knock knock” kind of sound. And it switches to a kind of rhythm. Like a subtle beat. Whoever’s knocking, they’re tapping out the beat to “This is How a Heart Breaks”, and...
No. Oh no. Ohhhhhhhh no. I only know one pony that knocks that way. Oh please Dear Celestia in Canterlot please don’t let it be her...
As I reach the doorway, the knocking persists. Whoever (please oh hell no don’t let it be her not today I can’t deal) it is, they’re pretty into the song. I reach a tentative hoof out to the doorknob, turn it slowly, and ease the door open. They seem to notice the slow movement, as the knocking stops rather quick after that. Then, I hear a voice poke it’s way through the half-open door.
“Hey sis, izzat you? Siiiis? Sistah baby! Open the doooooooooooooooooooooooooooor!” the mare on the other side cries.
'Oh no. It IS her. oh boy. Oh sweet baby Discord. Oh sweet mother sky give me strength-’ “Hey sis,” I mumble, pulling the door open all the way.
And there she is. My one and only twin sister. Of course it would be her. It’s only seven A.M. Why wouldn’t she show up at this ungodly hour?
“Hey-ey! Dusty! What’s up, baby?! I heard from pops you got yourself back in the Academy! Sweetness, am I right?! So come on, aren’t you gonna have me in?” she smiles like a million freakin’ bits and I’m reminded balefully of the evil little ray of sunshine that woke me up not moments before.
“Come on in, Runway. Make yourself at home,” I say almost automatically. I’m still so tired that arguing seems like something other ponies do. When they have energy. Which also seems like a thing other ponies had. I give my sister a once-over, and see she hasn’t changed much from the last time I saw her; Spiky orange and yellow hair, green coat, bright yellow eyes. Pretty much me, except skinnier, happier, and somehow, more successful. It’s like looking into a mirror that called you names whenever you stared at it too long. The biggest difference between us, of course, being the half-open button down black t-shirt, and dark blue flared skirt she’s sporting. A couple of gold hoop earrings dangle from her ears. It’s insutling how good she looks in it. And how little she probably paid for that outfit. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hey now, I know you just woke up, but that doesn’t mean you gotta be a Ms. Grumpy Face all over everything,” she teases. Tossing herself and her chic new outfit on my couch like she owns it, she goes on, “Well, I just finished a fashion show in Manehatten, and it was so ridonkulous! All the stuff in the line I was wearing was made from like, hotel drapes and stuff. It was SO. COOL. That fashion designer really knows her stuff, too. Hell, she better. She won. And check this out, she was one of them... buck whaddya call ‘ems. Saved Equestria like, a dozen times. Princess Twilight was one of them.” My sister, Runway Project, fillies and gentlecolts.
I feel my jaw go slack. “The Elements of Harmony?! You wore a dress designed by a freaking Element Bearer?!” I’m wide awake, now. Of course. Of course my dear sister would get to wear a dress designed by a savior of the free world. Why the Tartarus not?
“Yeah, that’s them! So yeah, she threw together this totally crazy outfit cause apparently her line was exactly the same as this other really not-bueno blowhard designer, and that’s just like, soooo bad. Especially since she had to go right after her, designers are so brutal. Her assistant was a cutie, though. Coco Puff or something like that,” she rambles. I’m tempted to just smack her in the back of the head to shut her up.
Then, a thought strikes me. “Did... did you see Rainbow Dash there, at all? Multi-colored mane, blue coat? One of the Elements?” I hiss, still rather aghast that she’d forget something so freakin’ important.
She taps a thoughtful hoof to her chin. “Hmmm... I think so. I was kinda busy working at the time. HEY!” she barks, sitting up on the couch and leaning over the back to face me. “How’s work?! I know you’re back in the academy and stuff, but do you still make tornados for a living?!”
“Y...yeah...” I say hesitantly.
She curls up into an excitable ball. “That’s so freakin’ COOL. Like, a hundred percent metal! My sister’s a bloody force ‘a nature, everypony!”
I hate her for it, but I have to smile. “Yeah, it is pretty cool. I mean, tornados almost got me kicked out of the Wonderbolts, but I’m still hanging in there. I’m even Team Lead in the tornado department,” I brag, just a little, holding my hoof over my chest and puffing it out.
Her eyes go wide. “That. Is. Awesome! You mean it’s your job to tell other ponies how to be weapons of mass destruction?!”
I would never have put it like that, but hearing her say it is kind of uplifting. “Yeah, I guess it is. And of course I’m still in there makin’ twisters every other day. They even use some of my personal creations for Wonderbolt disaster drills,” I tell her. It’s not a total lie. After I nearly demolished the Element Bearers, something that took forever to live down, somepony made the suggestion that they use my tornados as tools in emergency drills and practice for some of the upper classes. I didn’t mention that they insisted I do it with a small team of supervisors watching over my shoulder the whole time.
She throws up a hoof and headbangs to music only she can hear. “Freakin’ metal, I tell ya.” Hey, listen. I got like, a whole couple of weeks before my next show. Do you mind if I hang out for a bit?” she asks.
I know it’s not a good idea. I know it can only go someplace bad. But there’s just something about my sister that I can’t say no to. “Sure, what the hell.”
“Right. ON.”
Oh foreshadowing, if only I could beat you like an egg, I would.