//------------------------------//
// Chapter Two 
// Story: The Elements of Harmony Write Clopfics 
// by DismantledAccount 
//------------------------------//

A light purple pegasus with a white mane and blue eyes cleared her throat. She watched the countdown out of the corner of her eye while she shuffled her papers. The green “On Air” light came on, and with practiced ease, she began speaking in a smooth voice.

“Greetings, loyal listeners. Welcome back to Featured Fictions! I’m your host, Linda The Pony, and I’ll be interviewing this week’s winner of the Amature Clopfic Write-Off. We’ve seen some great stories from other cities, and now it’s time to see if little Ponyville can make itself known amongst the world. We’ve managed to get the authors of the winning story in for an interview, so let’s cut right to the chase. What are your names?” Linda looked across the table.

“I’m Sweetie Belle,” said the smart-looking one.

“And I’m Apple Bloom,” said the other one.

“And I’m Scoot—”

“What lovely names! Now tell me, aren’t you a bit young to be writing mature fiction?”

“. . . What’s ‘mature fiction,” Miss Linda?” asked Sweetie.

“Well, er, what you wrote. That’s why you’re here, right?” Linda asked, smiling slightly.

“I’m here cause the stallion promised I would have candy. Can I have my candy now?” said Apple Bloom. 

“That was probably File,” Linda hummed.

“He had a funny-looking cutie mark,” Apple Bloom continued. “It looked kinda like a pony in a sack.”

“Don’t talk to File. We don’t want another lawsuit on our hooves,” Linda chirped. “Now, don’t you want to talk about your story or something, please? We have a full ten minutes, and our listeners are waiting.”

Scootaloo raised her hoof, “Ohh, I’ll talk—”

“Sweetie, why don’t you talk about your story?”

“No, it’s all right. Scootaloo can go first,” said Sweetie, smiling sweetly.

“No, I don’t like Scootaloo.” Scootaloo’s eyes fell, but she kept her hoof in the air. Linda continued, “What do you have to say about the story, Apple Bloom?”

“What do you have against Scootaloo, Miss Linda?” asked Apple Bloom, frowning. “It was her idea to enter the contest in the first place, so you should probably talk to her.”

Reluctantly, Linda looked over to Scootaloo and said, “Do you have anything you would like to say, Scootaloo?

Scootaloo put her hoof down and began speaking rapidly. “Well, you see, I found out Rainbow Dash was entering this contest, so because she is so awesome, I had to get into the contest too—”

“Your parents are dead.” Linda stared Scootaloo in the eye.

Scootaloo paused, her mouth half-open. Tears started forming in her eyes.

“Great! Now that she’s quiet, why don’t we continue with the interview?” Linda clapped her hooves together and smiled.

“That was mean!” shouted Apple Bloom.

“If you talk, I’ll give you candy,” Linda said.

“. . . What kind?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Any kind you want. So what did you contribute to the story?” said Linda.

“I did all the typing,” said Apple Bloom.

“And I helped with spelling and word choice,” said Sweetie.

“Exceptional teamwork,” said Linda, smiling brightly. “Who came up with the story ideas?”

“That was Scootaloo.”

“Nopony loves Scootaloo, so let’s not even talk about her,” said Linda.

Scootaloo was silently screaming, tears streaming down her face.

“Last question before we run out of time: if you could sum up your entire story with only one word, what would it be?”

“Our story is too good to be explained with only one word,” said Apple Bloom.

Sweetie nodded. “You’ll have to read it sometime.”

Linda chuckled daintily. “Excellent answer. I will do that as soon as I get the latest edition of the magazine. Thank you for your time, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. And that’s all the time we have for Featured Fictions! I’m your host, Linda The Pony, telling you to keep an eye out for the two wonderful fillies’ story in your newest edition!”

As the “On Air” light went out, Sweetie Belle walked out of the room with Apple Bloom right behind her, Scootaloo’s tail clamped firmly in her jaws. 

Even with her face dragging along the abrasive ground, Scootaloo was still unresponsive, her tears and drool leaving a sticky trail that lead out the door.