The young pegasus guard pony stood watch over the young princess Alicorn as she slept. She was dreaming of the brave pegasus who had saved her from the evil Discord’s dastardly plan. She opened her eyes to find her valiant hero standing over her, his blue mane blowing behind him. No words were spoken as Twilight Sparkle looked into the fierce eyes of the brave pony she trusted. Their eyes locked as Flash Sentry leaned down and –
“What the h-e-double hockey sticks is this crap? How are we supposed to hand in this pile of garbage for our creative writing assignment? We’re supposed to make our own world our characters live in! This sounds like you’re putting yourself in that stupid kids show! You didn’t even bother changing your name!” Steve threw the wad of papers at the ground, frustrated. The story was due tomorrow and they were supposed to be writing it together. Steve looked over at the young man sitting on the sofa. Flash had a laid back attitude to school work, much to Steve’s dismay. How they had been paired together was still a mystery, and despite the constant reminders of the upcoming assignment, Flash had been rather reluctant to start.
“C’mon, that show is awesome! I mean, how cool would it be to actually be in Equestria? You could hang out with Twilight Sparkle! She’s as much of an egghead as you are. Of course, she would only have the hots for me. This is Flash we’re talking about. Besides, you could have your very own pony name and be somepony cool!”
“Will you stop talking like that? It’s somebody not somepony. The assignment is due tomorrow, in case you’ve forgotten, and we don’t even have the first page done.”
“What do you mean? I wrote this story a long time ago. Everything’s already written. All you have to do is figure out which one of the awesome characters in it you want to be. Though you gotta pick one of the dudes. I pretty much bang all the chicks.”
“You wrote sex scenes? With cartoon horses?”
“Bro, it’s called clop, and everypony loves it.”
“Again with this pony nonsense! Look, while I’m sure your story is an absolute joy to read, I don’t want to get an F on this assignment. Now, I’ve gone ahead and written a little bit of a story that fits the assignment. All you have to do is write a little chapter about your character. Think you can handle that?”
“Fine. I still think my story is way better. You don’t even know.”
“Flash, I’m captain of the Debate Team. I’m co-captain of the AV club. And I was runner-up in the best young writer’s competition last year. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your story is crap from the get go.”
“Whoa, dude, no need to be so harsh. I was just saying a lot of people like my stuff. And my blog on Fimfic is super popular.”
“Fimfic? On second thought, I don’t want to know. Just write your part of the story.”
“Fine.”
“And no ponies, Flash.”
The bell resounded through the hallways as the last few students scurried into class. A very anxious Steve was quickly browsing through the pages handed to him by his relaxed partner. Steve frowned, sweat dripping from his forehead down to his glasses. He flipped through the pages frantically, as if searching for a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Where’s my story, Flash?” Steve whispered angrily.
“Relax dude, I accidentally got apple juice on it. So I figured we could just turn in my story. I even wrote you in there. That way, you could still get points too.”
“Flash, I swear to God, there is no way I’m going to be any part of this. I’m sure if I explain to Mrs. Parrish, she’ll let me do one on my own for late credit.”
“Don’t worry, Steve. I’ve got you covered. Like I said, I even wrote you into some of the scenes. By the way, nice going hooking up with Derpy. Totally did not see that coming.”
“I’m so going to kill y-“
“Time to hand in your stories. I’ll hand them back at the end of class, time permitting. Until then, you may talk quietly amongst yourself.” Mrs. Parrish walked around the small classroom, gathering what few stories there were. The usual excuses came when a story was missing: my dog ate it, my cat peed on it, my father used it as part of his modern art exhibit. As she made her way back to her desk at the front of the classroom, she looked down at the meager offerings. Each year it seemed fewer and fewer students had any interest in creative writing. Oh well, she thought, I could always teach middle school again.
The rest of the class talked casually for the remainder of the period. All except one young boy, who was biting his nails noisily, each chomp sending a small piece of the offending fingernail soaring through the air. All he could do was stare at the rotund teacher grading papers behind her desk. He watched as her dimpled chin grimaced the further on into each story she read. To him, it seemed each tale brought more and more furrows into her forehead, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as each pass through of the tragic prose aged her before his very eyes. With bated breath he watched as the last of the assignments was read. Her face was softening as she scanned the page, the gleam in her eyes slowly returning. With a small smile, she wrote a few notes at the bottom of the page, and flipped the page over onto the meager stack of papers face down.
“All right class, settle down. I have finished grading the assignments, and I must say most of you need a lot of work. It appears as if only one group understood the nature of the assignment. And although their grammar and pacing could use a little work, you could stand to learn a thing or two from them. Nice work, Flash and Steve.”
She handed them their papers with a smile. The cocky young man slapped his partner on the back, the latter open mouthed and slack jawed.
“See Steve, I told you it would be fine! Look, she even wrote us a note!”
“What does it say, Flash?” Steve whispered, shock still apparent on his face.
“Keep up the good work! Bronies for life!”
The sound of Steve’s head falling onto the hard wood desk was lost as the bell rang, signaling an end to the day.