Dating Dummy

by BarnstormTrooper

The measure of a mare

‘Hmm....that’s just a tad conceited’.

Fashionista with beauty in droves seeks adventurous, upper crust pony for sophisticated affairs

Rarity weighed the phrase and her features slipped into a glower.

‘Else one should make a hobby of collecting old sticks’.

‘Especially doctors in big goofy fezzes’. Rarity summoned the magic to shape the scroll into a ship, one unlike the whimsy of children, this papyrus vessel resembled the finest yachts that braced the ocean deep. It even came with a parlour where a tiny horse played a tiny piano. As it sailed to the other side of workroom she could almost hear the seagulls wafting overhead, the submerged hull slicing the air filled sea and the passenger’s blood curdling screams as the ship careened into a wastepaper basket.

‘Knock-knock!’ said Sweetie Belle instead of coming straight in through the open door. She whisked her eyes over the linoleum floor astonished by the sheer number of balls, planes, umbrellas, socks, tea sets, bikes and other shapes made out of paper. Half of her wondered if she took requests, the other half thought she might be in another of her creative slumps. Many a time she finds her sister out cold and slumped over the drawing table next to a cold coffee, a half-eaten croissant and a crossword puzzle. It was some luck that she was still up despite that she started working at six this morning. Unfortunately she’d used up all her time. ‘You all set?’.
‘Set? Set for what?’.
‘To go to my school…you are taking every foal’s measurements today’.
‘Measurements…oh, yes, yes of course…I won’t be a moment…where’s my tailor bag…here it is…dear me I think I used the last scroll…we’re going to a school, right, they’ll have plenty of the stuff won’t they…unless there’s a shortage, perhaps I ought to make a quick run to the quill and sofa store...goodness my hooves are swallowed in ink…and I have such terrible bed hair…be a dear and draw me a bath while I get some breakfast’.
‘But the musician comes at nine’ Sweetie Belle reminded her. She had already waited till the last minute. ‘You only have us for an hour’.
‘Right, right…an hour…right…sixty minutes…I can go that without food and beauty…do you have an apple in your saddle bag…could I have it on the way?’.
Rarity used her magic to unclip the bag and pinch the apple before her sister had answered. She caught it in her teeth on her way out.
‘Go ahead…’. Sweetie Belle curved one cheek into a question mark as Rarity trotted down the flight of stairs. ‘That was a lot easier than usual’ she said out of earshot. She almost ignored an origami swan that had been thrown into the hall but decided to unfold it and see what sort of magnum opus two and a half hours of solitude could achieve.

‘She must be planning the after party…’ said Sweetie Belle.

‘….and I want my crown to forged from the purest white gold. Anything made of pewter explodes from the sheer awe of getting to rest on my head!’.
‘Aren’t you playing the scullery maid?’ asked Rarity.
‘Hello! I’m also the understudy to Princess Flora!’ Diamond Tiara retorted.
Rarity massaged an ear for a few blinks while her magic concurrently cleaned her sewing glasses, measured Tiara’s waist, wrote down those measurements, tested fabrics against her coat to make sure she wasn’t allergic and sketched an artist’s rendition of what she will look like as her character.
‘Well sweetie…’ Rarity started, ‘there’s not really the budget for two princess outfits’.
‘It figures!’ said Tiara.
‘Diamond Tiara,’ said Miss Cherilee, who was balancing teaching math and listening to their conversation ‘you should be a little more appreciative of what Miss Rarity here is doing. She’s volunteered every year for the last eight years to make the dresses for our pantomime season and all we pay her in return is the price of the materials’.
‘You do flatter me Miss Cherilee’ said Rarity growing red around the cheeks. ‘So long as I live in Ponyville I’m happy to do it. You were the one that gave me my start after all…all that time ago…eight years’. Her eye gave a twitch and there was a sound like an exploding pillow. She went on taking notes with a barbless quill.
‘Am I done here?’ asked Tiara.
‘What’s it all for…’.
‘Hello?’.
Rarity turned her head. ‘Yes dear, I believe I’m still single-done-I mean, you can go now’.
Tiara scoffed on the way back to her desk.
Rarity wrote a wee reminder to take a pinch or two of itching powder and sprinkle it on her completed outfit. Her line cutting friend, Silver Spoon, was to share the same fate.
‘Little boors!’ said Rarity through lightly chattering teeth.
‘What?’.
‘Oh, sorry darling’ said Rarity to the skinny colt with a camera around his neck. She rolled the paper on her clipboard to a new page. ‘Name and role please?’.
‘I’m Featherweight. I play Mr Teacosy, and may I ask if you wouldn’t mind if we at the Foal Free Press write about your contribution to the school’.
‘Aw, I would love that’.
Featherweight looked through the eyepiece of his camera.
Rarity coughed into a hoof and managed a simper before the flash struck. He took another for good luck but after that the wee colt was a delight to work with. She especially agreed with his plans for getting everyone on his staff a small salary. Sweetie Belle didn’t get much of an allowance at home. The next few kids in the class were also some of the better ones. She never knew Scootaloo was so ticklish, the one called Snips owned more scissors than she did, and the forest fruits taffy that Twist really hit the spot. Her next client was a colt with a snail on his flank and before she could ask his name the lanky lad lifted a sprig of mistletoe over his head.
‘Okay, but just one’ she said with a warm laugh. She simply kissed the boy’s cheek which plunged him into the cutest stupor she’d ever seen but she had to be firm with him when he wouldn’t stop squirming. ‘Settle down now. There’s work to be done’.
Snails wasn’t the last colt to trick her into a kiss, even the fillies had picked santalales. It seemed there was a private game amongst a few to see who could get kissed by everyone in the room first. When it was just a couple of kids it was a mild distraction but then the number of players jumped to more than half the class. Where were they getting all these sprigs in the first place. She didn’t see a haustorium among the hearths warming decorations.
‘Miss Rarity, are you still taking my measurements?’ asked the filly named Archer.
Rarity looked at her clipboard and winced.

She had been making her quill pen new drafts of her personal ad for a page and a half now. This couldn’t be more awkward.
‘Uh…I wasn’t measuring you dear…I was, composing, composing a review…I’m going to lend Featherweight my thoughts on Hoity Toity’s new line of sunglasses, it’s very important I word it right and I guess I got my work mixed up’.
‘Are you also writing a want ad?’.
‘Aha-ha-hah-ho-ho-hoo! A want ad! Wha-what would I want…the material for your show’s all ordered and my Canterlot Caviar just came in the mail. I’m happy, perfectly perfect and generous and playful and drop dead gorgeous…run along dear I’m all done’.
Rarity bowed her head with a short groan. Her vision went fuzzy all of a sudden. Why was it so hard to stand up straight in this room. Did they build the school on a roundabout. Also, did the room always have living animal heads mounted on the wall. That two headed dog snake doesn’t look like it should be around children. Speaking of the children it’s quite ingenious to have them learn their 2+2’s by blowing candy coloured bubbles. Oh those are jaw breakers. That’s a fun invention. Must be one of Pinkie Pie’s. What’s that music…is that the limited edition record of Old Blue Eyes playing through the cat cone of a four foot sphinx….
‘Hi Rarity!’.
Rarity had to strain her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was looking at Button Mash or a four eyed gopher wearing a pinwheel hat.
‘Hello…Button…how was your birthday?’.
‘It was ok. My mom bought me Big Puny World’.
‘He’s spent four straight days trying to design a game within the game that’s worth his time’.
Rarity stared daggers into the blue goose with the pleasant speaking voice. ‘One colt at a time please!’.
The gopher and the goose laughed at her.
‘That’s my big brother’ said Button.
‘Gibson’s the name’.
Rarity’s voice cracked with a manic glee. ‘Big brother!? By how much?’.
‘Uh, I’m in my 20’s’ said Gibson.
‘YAAAY!’ she knew right away that her outburst was…jarring…so hoped a cough would fix things, ‘I mean, how delightful, we’re around the same age’.
‘I guess?’.
‘So, have you been held back or are you just visiting?’.
‘My band is working on the music for the show’.
‘Oh, is that your permanent job?’.
‘Yep, and making sure this knucklehead sits still’. Gibson ruffled his brother’s hair with a wing made of cotton candy, his brother’s pinwheel hat was picked up and absorbed into the floss. ‘This’ll get in the way you know’.
‘I couldn’t have said it better’ said Rarity and stole the stool from under Button’s bum. She snickered when he landed spread eagle on the floor and said “Boof!”. ‘Care for a seat Gibson, you look well-travelled?’.
He drew back with a raised wing, this one was made of roses. ‘I, didn’t know I was getting an outfit’.
‘Well of course you are,’ said Rarity, ‘as I’m aware your band is onstage for most of the show, we should definitely try and blend you all into the background’.
‘Makes sense’. He took a seat.
‘What about me?’ asked Button.
‘Oh…go um, you know, dig a mine or something’ said Rarity.
‘Really?’ asked Button excitedly.
‘Yes, why not’.
Button ran out of the classroom crying ‘WOO!’. Gibson and Cherilee called after him as class wasn’t over.
‘Alright Gibson,’ said Rarity, ‘hold out your legs like you’ve been dying to hug me’.
‘Like…this?’.
Rarity chuckled. ‘Yes, exactly’. She measured his wingspan which was an impressive fifty inches. ‘What instrument do you play?’.
‘A mixture actually, guitar and lead vocals, keyboard and synthesizer, I also handle sound effects and explosives’.
‘Oh, you’re in one of those metallic groups?’.
‘Uh, yea’.
‘How nice…’.
Rarity made a noise of disappointment. He was one of those sweaty shredders of uncouth string bashing. They wouldn’t have very much in common when it came to music. At least he had the firmest biceps of all the gooses she’d ever met.
‘Stand on all fours for me please,’ she said whipping her mane back with one hoof, ‘you know I’ve come out in such a state today, what with the rush of getting here. I don’t normally look this unsound but I suppose it’s nothing you’re not used to after one of those…moshing pits’.
‘You betcha,’ said Gibson, ‘to be fair I’d take home the first girl who came out looking like you’.
‘Reeeallly?’ said Rarity with stretched interest. ‘Does that mean you’re unattached?’.
‘Ack…gwugsugha!’.
‘Don’t be bashful darl…oh my!’. Her measuring tape had gotten a smidge too tight around his neck. She released him immediately.
Gibson gasped.
‘I’m sorry Gibson - I don’t know what that was all about – I guess by now I’m used to smaller necks – that wasn’t lady like of me at all - why don’t you let me make it up to you – and I’ve just had an idea - how about you come by my house and we spend the day together!’. Rarity drew breath.
‘Yea…that would…be nice’ said Gibson, doubled over in his seat.
‘GREAT!’ screeched Rarity, ‘HOW ABOUT TOMORROW!?!?’.
‘Cool…is noon okay?’.
‘WWOOONDERFULLL!!!’.
Rarity turned and pronked out of the classroom in four bounces, giggling like a child. Too happy to care that she had six more kids to measure.