//------------------------------// // Out Of Sauce // Story: Mayor's Break Time // by Soufriere //------------------------------// Ponyville was trapped within the biggest not-crisis it had faced in years: a pleasant, sunny day. Radiant warmth enveloped everything around in a non-tangible blanket of pure happiness. A soft breeze wafted through the unpaved streets, bringing with it the scent of wildflowers blooming in the large stretch of undeveloped prairie just outside town. Along Stirrup Street, generic ponies went about their business, walking to and from the various shops along the way. School had just ended for the day, so the normal din of the street became punctuated with the high-pitched squeals of the foals as they played games only they could understand. No one, pony or otherwise, wants to be stuck inside on a day like this. Alas, such was the fate of the public servants working at City Hall, Ponyville’s mayor included. Mayor Meyer Mare gazed out her office’s corner window onto the scene below, sighing. She turned back to her desk, a large stack of papers covering its surface. These were simply forms and documents she needed to look over and sign, nothing truly important, just her job as an administrator to ensure her underlings had not done anything stupid – they hadn’t. But it was just so tedious, and she was not in the mood for tedium. Instinctively, she reached over to her right, where sat the large crystal carafe normally filled with the rank spirituous liquid. Today, however, it was empty. Mayor Mare stared at the vessel for a moment, realization dawning on her (as it had already done at least three times this day alone). Carefully removing her half-rimmed glasses and placing them aside, she slammed her face into the pile of papers and sobbed. A few minutes later, the door to her office opened. In walked Spike, beads of sweat visible on his forehead. “Afternoon, Mayor,” Spike said, his voice a bit laboured. “Sorry I’m late, but it took a lot of work to get her away from the other two – first the coaxing, then the running. Those fillies are fast.” Behind Spike stood Apple Bloom. The yellow filly was looking around the environs of the Mayor’s office, curious but sporting a look of utter confusion as Spike shut the door behind them. Mayor Mare, her left eye twitching involuntarily, peered over her glasses at Apple Bloom. At that point, the filly noticed the pair of bloodshot blue eyes levelled directly at her; her mood immediately flipped to apprehension. “W-what’s goin’ on? What did we– I mean, uh, what’d I do?” Apple Bloom asked, shuffling her hooves, her unusually expressive pink hair bow drooping. The mayor leaned further forward. “Do you know why I called you here today, Apple Bloom?” “N-no,” replied Apple Bloom, her voice quivering, close to crying. Spike took note of the filly’s body language. “Mayor, you’re scaring her,” he chastised. “Actually, you’re kinda scaring me too. Could you back off?” At this, Mayor Mare realized she had leaned so far over her desk that she was nearly astride it. Slumping back in to her fancy leather chair – brought in to replace the wooden one that had burned – she continued to stare at Apple Bloom, but now with what she hoped was a more welcoming, less threatening (crazed) expression. “Apologies, Apple Bloom,” the Mayor said with an air of unnecessary formality. Spike glared at her. “Why is it always so hard for politicians to use the ‘s’-word?” he asked aloud, before turning to Apple Bloom. “Look, the Mayor had me come get you because she has a problem that only you can solve.” Apple Bloom cocked her head in confusion. “Seriously?” she asked flatly, only to find the Mayor and Spike both nodding. Surprised, she sought additional confirmation. “Seriously??” “Seriously,” said Mayor Mare. “Apple Bloom, do you remember that… special water you made some weeks ago?” Apple Bloom shrank back slightly, dipping her head. “Ya mean, that stuff we cooked up behind the school that Miss Cheerilee took away, then called mah big sis and you about?” “Yes. That,” replied the Mayor. “Why, uh, do ya wanna know?” Apple Bloom asked tentatively. “Do you have any more?” “No!” the filly near-shouted. “Miss Cheerilee took all of it, I swear! Pretty sure she took it all here, come ta think of it. Big sis reamed me out that night so hard I couldn’t sit for three days. Even Granny an’ Big Mac thought she was bein’ too harsh. So, no I ain’t got any more.” Ponyville’s dutiful mayor slumped in her chair. “Damn,” she whispered to herself. Turning back to Apple Bloom, she cut straight to the point. “Could you make more?” The look on Apple Bloom’s face vacillated between befuddlement and panic. “Why’re ya askin’? Ya think I knew what I was doin’?! I swear we were just playin’! I never meant to make no demon-water!” Spike and the mayor looked at each other in confusion. “Is that what Applejack called it?” Spike asked, placing his hand on Apple Bloom’s shoulder. She nodded. “Well, it’s not,” the Mayor interjected gently. “Apple Bloom, you have a gift, a talent of sorts, in creating this so-called ‘demon-water’.” The filly’s eyes lit up. “Really?? Does that mean I can get mah cutie mark in it?” “Uh, probably not,” the mayor and Spike replied in unison. Apple Bloom looked crestfallen. “Look,” the Mayor began, gently, as she attempted to save face, “Your cutie mark, whenever it comes, will be a reflection of you as a whole pony. Making ‘demon-water’ is… just a hobby. Every pony can, and should, have hobbies outside of whatever their cutie mark signifies. For instance, your brother sings in that quartet, right? Besides, you don’t really want a cutie mark that would make your family mad, would you?” “Well, I guess that’s true,” Apple Bloom admitted. “How did you learn to make that stuff anyway?” Spike asked her, adding, “You obviously knew what you were doing, so don’t tell us you didn’t.” The Mayor jumped in to soften Spike’s unexpectedly harsh tone, ”You’re among friends here. We won’t tell anyone. So you can tell us.” “Well, Zecora taught me how to distill water to make all pure fer potions an’ stuff,” Apple Bloom said, her worries allayed. ”So I figured we could use it ta make a fancy cider, maybe get a cutie mark that way. Well, the apples aren’t in season right now, so we just threw a bunch of stuff into a pot I borrowed, hooked it an’ everything up to the school’s boiler, and boiled a drink. But it didn’t taste any good so I left it. Few months later, when she went to turn off the boiler for the season, Miss Cheerilee found it and gave us detention for the rest of the year (we kinda skipped it today).” “I see,” said the Mayor with a smirk. “Do you remember exactly what ‘stuff’ you put into your drink?” Apple Bloom looked at the Mayor like one of them was an idiot. “Of course. I figured I’d start easy an’ then work mah way to fancier stuff if it worked.” “Okay,” the Mayor concluded. “How about this? You make me more of your special drink…” Apple Bloom cut her off. “Can’t. She threw the still away and sent what was in it to you or the cops or somethin’ for ‘testing’, she said. Zecora’s gonna be real upset when she finds out y’all junked her stuff.” “I will make sure you have everything you need,” the Mayor hastily assured her. “And I will personally apologize to Zecora. We’re overdue for a goodwill lunch anyway.” “Goodwill lunch?” Spike asked under his breath. “You remember how Ponyville treated her when she first arrived?” she asked; Spike nodded, frowning. “Well, she’s never going to let me live that down, even though I wasn’t even here that week; I was in Canterlot trying to get the Celestial Senate to approve my request for emergency funds to repair the town after the Ursa Minor attack. So I decided to invite her out to lunch once every few weeks to show there’s no hard feelings, and it became a ritual we both look forward to.” “Miss Mayor,” Apple Bloom said with a chuckle, “if yer willin’ ta help me patch things up with Zecora, I’ll do just ‘bout anything ya ask me.” Mayor Mare smiled a massive smile. “Excellent. Now, this is going to have to be a secret, just the three of us in this room right now, okay?” Apple Bloom grimaced. “I can’t tell Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo?” Spike looked the filly square in the eye. “Do you trust them to not blab?” “Of course!” Apple Bloom said as she puffed up her chest, incredulous, but Spike did not break his gaze. “Really?” he asked, his tone making it clear he wasn’t buying it precisely because he knew her friends. “Well, I guess yer right,” Apple Bloom eventually answered, mildly dejected. “Good. Then we have a deal,” the Mayor said triumphantly. “I will have Spike come and get you once the new equipment comes in.” “Uh, Mayor? I know I’m not as big into government as you or Twilight, but how can you get away with using taxpayer funds to buy a still? Actually, two stills, since you have to repay Zecora?” Spike asked, clearly suspicious of Ponyville’s top politician making a promise she might not be able to keep. “That, my dear dragon, is where you come in,” the mayor replied. “If you write to Celestia explaining the situation – and for once I’ll ask you to faithfully recount all the details – she’ll probably help us out personally.” “Why’s that?” Apple Bloom asked. “Because the Princess… uh… would think replacing stolen equipment is the right thing to do,” the mayor replied. Apple Bloom nodded, “Well, that makes sense.” Suddenly, the closed door separating the mayor’s office from the outside world burst inward (despite its being an outward-swinging door) as if it had been violently kicked, which it had. Spike jumped from the startle, and Apple Bloom immediately ran and hid under the mayor’s desk. Spike closed his eyes as he turned to the door, wondering if, upon opening them, he would see what he was expecting. When he did, he found himself gazing upon a thoroughly-ticked-off Applejack, flanked by an equally livid Twilight. Yep, that was exactly what he had expected. Applejack stomped into the room. Once she had, she glared at Mayor Mare, who returned the glare with a look that could best be described as, of all things, bored. “Apple Bloom!” the elder of the two Apple daughters snapped at nowhere in particular, “Get out here. NOW.” Twilight rounded on Spike, “Apple Bloom’s friends told me you took her away from them and disappeared. Since you’ve been spending so much of your time here, I figured I could ask the Mayor what happened and, if I was lucky, drag you home, since you didn’t rearrange my books correctly this week. I said I wanted it done by original publication date, but instead, you arranged them by most recent print date! UGH! I’m so disappointed in you right now; you can’t do anything right lately!” Apple Bloom, still hiding under the Mayor’s desk, locked eyes with the Mayor and gave a look that exactly reflected what she was unable to say at that moment: Seriously?! The mayor, understanding this, replied in a whisper, “Uh-huh. And now you see why he prefers to spend all his time here, and why we both could use your little hobby. Once the new equipment is here, we can discuss whether you prefer payment in cash or credit, okay?” Apple Bloom nodded in complete understanding.