The Things Tavi Says

by shortskirtsandexplosions


Sugary Things

"What can I getcha?" Miss Cake asks, her voice bordering on pink daggers.

I smile and point at a bottle behind her.

"Heheh... but of course!" She grabs the bottle of Dr. Pony while I drop a pair of coins onto the counter. "Sometimes, I swear, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be shipped any more of these!"

I take the bottle, curtsey, and spin about. I spot my favorite table across Sugarcube Corner. Early dawnlight bathes the booth while a few yawning patrons dig into their morning pastries between here and there.

I briskly shuffle over, take a seat, and pop the bottle open. With a lazy sigh, I smile and open a newspaper right in front of me, perusing the entertainment section and scanning the page for the latest album reviews. The music in my headphones switches tracks, and that's when I hear a startlingly blue voice off to the side, accompanied by tongues with lesser shine.

"See? Every Tuesday morning, on the dot! Just like I told you!"

"I still think it's yer imagination, Sweetie Belle," replies a gold tone.

"Look for yourself!"

"I mean... just because our sisters stick to tight schedules don't mean everypony does."

"I'm telling you—she's like a machine! A really cool, glowy, super talented machine!"

An amber voice rolls between the blue and gold: "Maybe that explains why she can't talk."

"Shhhhh! Scootaloooo! Don't say that!"

"What?! It's true!"

"Pfft! No it's not! Who ever heard of a pony who couldn't talk?"

"My Uncle never talks! At least... not when he's around my mom."

"T'ain't the same thang! Maybe she's just a quiet pony!"

"But she's a musician! Who ever heard of a pony with a talent in music who doesn't... I dunno... at least sing?"

"Not everypony enjoys singing like you do, Sweetie Belle. I'm pretty sure some ponies just prefer letting their instruments do the talking."

"Now that's just silly. Since when could music replace a voice?"

"Maybe we should just ask her." Echoes of blue. "Unless... y'know... she's been listening to everything we've been saying."

"Pffft! With headphones that thick?!" An amber response. "She'd be lucky if she could hear a locomotive through those things!"

By now, I have folded the classifieds up into a paper airplane and casually thrown it. The thing glides through the air, does a loopty-loop, and then bonks off the soft muzzle of the orange member of the trio. "Ow!"

The other two giggle, casting gold and blue clouds into the air.

I turn and wave at the foals with a lazy smile.

The little pegasus rubs her nose and chuckles. "Heh..." Her wings flutter slightly. "Nice throw. You even have pilot goggles on."

"Dun be silly, Scoots. Them's regular sunglasses."

"They don't look like any sunglasses that I've seen. Also, remember, she's totally blind without them—"

"Scoots, can it!" Sweetie Belle hissed, nudging the foal. She looks over at me, and her pupils instantly shrink. "Oh... uhm... s-sorry that we were talking behind your back and all, Miss. I guess that was pretty rude of us."

I shrug casually.

"Well... uhm... now that we've got your attention..." Sweetie Belle fidgets, her blue voice turning bluer. My ears are instantly intoxicated. "...we were just wondering... I was just wondering."

"Sweetie Belle, don't—" Applejack's sister hisses, but it's too late.

"Are you not able to talk?" Sweetie Belle asks. "Or is it all an act?"

"Unnnngh..." the other two fillies collectively face-hoof.

In return, I smile... and give a shrug.

Sweetie Belle blinks. "... ... ...well that's a really weird answer."

"Well it was a stupid question!" The filly with a bow grumbles.

"Better she ask than me," Scootaloo muttered.

"Well, if you can't talk, then that's too bad, Miss," Sweetie Belle nevertheless continues, glancing across the space between our tables. "Because I was sorta hoping you could tell us who you were. I mean... there's just something so familiar about you."

"She's not wrong," Scootaloo added.

"But... I-I can't quite put my hoof on it."

"To make a long story short," Applejack's sister speaks, smiling politely my way. "Would you be so kind as to tell us yer name?"

I nod. I flip a few newspaper pages, squint, then pull out a seemingly random sheet. Using my magic, I rip an article loose from the rest of the page and float it over to the table.

Sweetie Belle grasps the clipping while the other two lean over her shoulders. Her eyes scan the pages. "Hmmm... let's see... 'Baltimare house club gets an earful of DJ-P0N3's latest soon-to-be-a-hit music mix—'" The air's saturated by a sapphire gasp, then explodes with blue mirth. "No way!" Sweetie Belle's voice cracks, and she gawks in my direction. "You're DJ-P0N3?! That's so cool—" She blinks. "Uhhh..."

At least, it was my direction. At some point during the newspaper scanning, the mare in question has disappeared, leaving three breathless fillies gazing at empty dawnlight.

"Whoah! Where'd she go?!"

"Jeez, did that even actually happen?!"

"Dun be silly, Scootaloo! She was right here!"

"Omigosh! DJ-P0N3 lives in Ponyville?! In our neighborhood?!"

"I dun get it. Is she supposed to be big or somethin'?"

"Big?! Are you kidding, Apple Bloom?! She's all the rage across Equestria! Omigosh! Omigosh! This is the greatest thing to ever happen to me since I got my training bridle!"

"Yeesh. Settle down, Sweetie Belle. It's only a musician."

"Scootaloo, she's the musician!" Blue and more blue. Blue everywhere. "She's the most popular dance mixer in every major city there is! And you ran her over with the Scooter the other day!"

"Hey! Not my fault she can't hear... er... I mean see! Er... I mean talk!"

"Scoots..."

"Whatever! I'm no celebrity killer!"

"Squeee!" Sweetie Belle hugs the clipping to her fuzzy white chest. "I can't wait to tell Rarity about this! She's always rubbing up to celebrities! Well, now I've got one over her!"

"How do ya know she hasn't met this Deejay-So-N-So already?"

"Pffft! What are the odds of that happening?" And Sweetie Belle dissolves into a series of giggles. For a brief moment, they almost reach a violet pitch.

It's enough to make me smile from where I stand outside, gazing through the window at the bouncy trio. With a shuffle of my shoulders, I slide the headphones back over my ears, take a sip of Dr. Pony, and continue on my musical way.