Mailpony Rules

by Pyromanecer

Chapter 5: Dayjob

“Well, Mr. Rider, you seem to be healing up nicely.” Nurse Redheart said, reading her clipboard.
It was the day after the visit to the park, and Tempest Rider was getting a check up at the hospital. After Redheart had removed the bandages from Tempest’s head and leg, she had been pleased to see that the wounds were cleanly sealed and free of infection. As the nurse had poked and prodded at his tender flesh, Tempest had fidgeting uncomfortably on the tissue paper-covered table. Meanwhile, Ditzy had sat in the corner, quietly reading a magazine article about some celebrity’s new foal, one eye disinterestedly scanning the page while the other watched the examination.
Tempest looked at Redheart hopefully. "Really?" he asked.
"Yes," the nurse replied. "I'd say you're ready for regular flying."
"Does that mean I can fly back to Hayton now?"
Upon hearing this, Nurse Redheart nearly dropped her clipboard. "Hayton?" she exclaimed, "My goodness, no! That is much too far!"
Tempest looked irritated. "I can make it," he insisted, "I'm a long-distance courier. I do that sort of thing all the time."
"Absolutely not," Redheart asserted, stomping her hoof.
"But-"
"While I have no doubt in your athletic skill," the white mare interrupted, "Your body is not ready for such a journey. If you attempt it, you will quickly overexert yourself and probably end up getting hurt again. It is in your best interest to wait."
Tempest stared defiantly at Redheart for a while, before sighing and slumping his shoulders discouragedly. "Fine," he mumbled, "How long?"
"I'd say five days minimum," she said, tapping her chin. "A week to be safe."
"That long!?" Tempest groaned despairingly.
"Afraid so," the earth pony replied. "Until then, try to get some light exercise and do some stretches."
As Tempest snorted, Ditzy, who had been watching the exchange with some amusement, stood up. Tossing aside the magazine full of gossip about famous ponies she didn't care about, she looked at Redheart.
"Will that be all?" she asked.
"Yes," the nurse answered, "You are free to leave."
Tempest Rider immediately hopped up from the table and made for the exit, looking dejected. Before Ditzy could follow, however, Nurse Redheart put a hoof on her shoulder.
"A moment, please," she whispered. After making sure Tempest had left the room, she continued. "I'd like you to watch him, Ditzy. He seems like he kind of pony that would ignore my advice if he didn't like it."
Ditzy nodded and whispered back. "Don't worry; I'll keep one eye on him."
Redheart paused. The she chuckled. "You know," she said, "For most ponies, that would be a figure of speech."
Dizty grinned. "I'm not most ponies."

Ditzy and Tempest were walking down the street in the midday sun. Tempest had his head down, and looked as forlorn as a lost puppy. Seeing this, Ditzy decided to give him a playful nudge.
"Come on," she said, "Cheer up. You just got a clean bill of health."
"Yeah," he replied, "But I was kind of hoping I'd be able to fly back to Hayton today."
"Are you that eager to get home?"
"Honestly, no," he admitted, "But I still feel awkward staying in your house."
“Hey,” Ditzy asserted, one eye looking at him seriously while the other gave the clouds a particularly intense glare, “You shouldn’t. You have every right to be there. You’re paying rent fair and square, and against my insistence, I might add. As long as I’m here, you are perfectly welcome in my house.”
Tempest gave the mare an grateful smile. “Thanks,” he said, “I appreciate that.”
Looking up into the sky, he gave a frustrated sigh. “But still, what am I going to do for an entire week? Sitting around doing nothing gets boring after a couple hours, let alone seven days.”
Ditzy ‘hmm’d and rubbed her chin, trying to come up with an idea. Suddenly, her eyes flashed. “Weellll,” she drawled, grinning at her idea, “The nurse did say you should get some exercise, right?”
“Yeah,” Tempest grumpily replied, glaring at the the dirt in what might have been an attempt to intimidate it into inspiring him.
“Well then, maybe you should do something that requires flying around,” Ditzy said, trying to edge him on.
When the only reply Tempest gave was a grunt, the mailmare tried again. “Maybe something you’re familiar with...?”
“That would be a good idea,” he agreed, her words making a ‘whoosh’ sound as they flew over his head.
Losing patience, Ditzy stopped Tempest and turned his head towards her. “Think, Tempest,” she commanded, “What do you do for a living?”
“...Deliver things?” he replied, confused and a little frightened.
Nodding, Ditzy continued. “So, what do you think you should do...?”
Tempest only stared blankly back at her.
Sighing in exasperation, Ditzy took her hooves off his face. “Get a job at the post office, you dunce!” she told him, bopping him on the nose.
“Oh. Ohhhh!” Tempest said, realization dawning in his eyes. “Like a mail route!”
“Great Celestia, he understands! It’s a miracle!” Ditzy cried, sarcastically waving her hooves in the air.
“That’s a great idea!” the stallion exclaimed happily, choosing to ignore Ditzy’s exaggerated display. “This way, my boss won’t yell at me for slacking off when I get back!”
It was true; the EPPS was a national enterprise, with outposts in many places. If Tempest logged hours here, they would count the same as if he had logged them over in Hayton. It was something that he had taken advantage of many times when he had been sent to more vacation-y places and didn’t want to leave for a while. Indeed, many long-distance specialists practiced this, which was part of the reason jobs were always available. It was strange that he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“There we go,” Ditzy said, good-naturedly headbutting his shoulder. “That fixes both your problems. Now that we have a plan of action, what should we do?”
“Let’s go get me signed up,” he enthusiastically replied. “I want to start tomorrow!”
“Well then, post office is this way!”

An hour later, and after a fair amount of credential-checking, Ditzy and Tempest exited the Ponyville Post Office, one smiling and one hovering excitedly.
“Well,” Ditzy asked. “How do you feel about your new route?”
“Great!” Tempest replied, beaming. Suddenly, he sobered up. “Your boss has facial hair.”
“Yeah,” Ditzy said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how he does it; I’ve never seen another stallion with anything like it.”
“I have,” the stallion told her. “My boss.”
“Huh, that’s odd.”
“Maybe it’s a boss thing,” Tempest contemplated. “Like, if you get a high enough position in something, they teach you how to grow a beard.”
Ditzy scoffed. “Right. Because everypony in a position of power aspires to have facial hair.”
Unbidden, an image of Princess Celestia with a handlebar moustache popped into both of their minds. Tempest snerked, while Ditzy stifled a giggle.
“Well,” the mare said, clearing her throat. “We should probably get home.”
“Already?” Tempest asked, looking at the sky. “It’s still early.”
“Oh, believe me, you’re going to need all the sleep you can get.”
“Why’s that?” Tempest asked, suspicious.
Ditzy allowed herself a mischievous grin. “Because you’ve got a mail route tomorrow.”

“Rise and shine!”
Startled, Tempest yelped and fell out of bed. Crashing onto the floor, he waved his limbs around in a panic, succeeding only in entangling himself in the covers. After a few moments of blindly rolling around on the floor and making noises somewhere between a choking goat and a particularly ill-tempered turkey, the pegasus eventually righted himself, sitting up with a blanket hooding his head and an irritated scowl.
“What the hay was that for!?” he yelled at Ditzy, who was standing in the doorway and laughing.
Once she calmed down, Ditzy spoke. “It’s time to get up,” she said with a chuckle.
“What?” Tempest barked. Looking out the window, he saw the sun was barely peeking above the horizon. “No way; it’s too early.”
“Mailponies get up early,” Ditzy told him, smiling with a mixture of smugness and amusement. “Now come on, Mr. Long-Distance, it’s time for breakfast.”
With that, the mare turned and left. Grumbling, Tempest followed, stopping once to stumble over the blanket again. A whispered curse and a trip down the stairs later, he arrived at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes. Seated before him in her special chair was Dinky, looking at him happily and tauntingly awake.
“Morning, mistah Tempest!” she greeted.
“Morning, runt,” he replied, taking the opportunity to stretch. He sighed in relief as he heard his spine pop, and flapped his wings a little to get the blood flowing. The breeze created by this movement caused a small piece of paper on the floor to flutter across the room and mussed up Dinky’s mane.
“Oops, sorry,” he apologized, patting the filly’s little blond mop back into place. She giggled as he did so, making him crack a small smile.
Hearing a clunk from behind him, Tempest turned around and saw Ditzy setting a plate on the table, with two more on her back. All plates had a neat stack of pancakes on them, still steaming from being hot off the oven.
“Pancakes!” Dinky cried, throwing her hooves in the air in excitement.
“S’right,” Ditzy mumbled around the plate in her mouth. Setting the last one down on the table, she sat down. “I hope you both like them.”
Setting himself down in front of a plate, Tempest eagerly took a bite of the one on top.
“It’s delicious!” he complimented. Dinky, however, didn’t respond. She was too busy burying her face in the entire stack and munching noisily.
And they were! They were so soft, and fluffy, and golden, and tasty, and fluffy, and warm, and soft, and aromatic, and buttery, and soft...

“Mama?”
“Yes, Dinky?”
“Mistah Tempest fell asleep on the pancakes.”
Indeed he had. His head was resting on his breakfast, using the cakes as an impromptu pillow. His mouth hung open and drool and bits of partially-masticated foodstuffs dribbled out.
Ditzy laughed. “Yes, I can see that,” she said.
“...Can I pour syrup on his head?”
“No, Muffin. That would be mean.”
“Aw...”

Stumbling, Tempest Rider trotted through the door of the Ponyville Post Office, right behind a much more alert Ditzy. Squinting at the bright light, he managed to see the blurry shapes of a few ponies conversing among themselves. The rest of the mail crew, his sleep-addled brain surmised. Following the vague grey shape of Ditzy’s back, he walked up to the front desk.
“Hey, boss,” Ditzy said.
Hearing this, Tempest jolted upright and shook his head, trying to appear more awake. Looking in front of him, he saw the same large brown pegasus stallion that had been there yesterday. His chin was preposterously large and covered in 5-o’clock shadow, and atop his head sat a black baseball cap. Feeling eyes upon him, the stallion looked right at Tempest.
“Ah!” he greeted, voice loud and gravelly. “The fresh blood! Tempest, right? From the Hayton branch?”
“Yes, sir,” Tempest replied, visibly trying to stifle a yawn.
The stallion noticed this. “Something wrong, recruit?”
“No, sir. Just a little tired, sir.”
“Tired?” the pegasus repeated, then chuckled. “He he, isn’t that cute?” Suddenly, he slammed his hooves on the table and shouted in Tempest’s face. “BUT IT’S WRONG!”
“AAH!” Tempest screamed, jumping in the air and flying backwards. Heart pounding, he stopped about twenty feet off the ground and twenty-five away. Looking down, he managed to stop his hyperventilating for long enough to notice that everypony was laughing, including Ditzy and the boss pony. Suspiciously, he flew back down to the counter.
The brown stallion was still holding his sides by time Tempest touched down. “Hehehehe,” he wheezed, “I love doing that.”
Tempest glared at him. “Right,” he said angrily, stalwartly ignoring the fact that the entire crew was laughing, “Mind telling me what that was about?”
“Boss likes to do that to all new recruits,” Ditzy interjected for her boss, who was still trying to catch his breath. “He thinks it’s hilarious.”
“It is!” Boss gasped. Judging by the guffawing of all the other mailponies, they thought so too. “He actually flew away! Backwards! AHAHAHAHA!”
Seeing Tempest’s scowl, Ditzy decided to try and redirect attention from him. “Don’t worry,” she soothed, patting him on the back. “He did it to all of us. Personally, I ducked beneath the counter.”
“I screamed and jumped!” one pegasus called from the crowd.
“I almost fainted!” cried a unicorn.
“Raindrop punched him in the face!” yelled somepony from the back.
“It was a reflex!” a dark yellow pegasus with a teal mane protested. “I didn’t mean it!”
“My flank you didn’t mean it...” Boss grumbled, rubbing his stubbly cheek at the memory. Thus sobered, he looked towards Tempest. “Anyways, your cargo and route are on the table in the back room. Start time is in ten minutes. I suggest you get ready.”
“Yes sir,” Tempest replied, and marched off to get his things.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Sir?”
“Get some coffee, boy. You need to be awake.”

A minute later, Tempest walked into the break room properly burdened with mail and a list of homes on his route. He set the paper down on the table and grabbed a steaming mug from a nearby table, absentmindedly sipping it as he read over the parchment. Peering over his shoulder, Ditzy examined the addresses on the paper.
“Ooh, good,” she said. “Your last house is right near mine. We can meet up for lunch!”
“Ok, sure,” Tempest answered, not taking his eyes off the table. “How long should this take?”
“Depends on the day,” the mare explained. “Usually, we finish around noon, maybe a little before. Then we head back here and help with packages. After our break, of course.
Tempest nodded. “Of course.” Looking up, he asked, “Where should we meet?”
“I’ll be waiting near your last house.”
“Oh?” Tempest asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “What makes you think you’ll get done before me?”
“Simple,” Ditzy said, smiling confidently, “I know where I’m going. You’re going to be spending half the time looking at your list.”
“You’re on,” the stallion agreed, holding out his hoof.
An amused smirk on her face, Ditzy shook his foreleg. “On?” she questioned. “Is this a contest now?”
“It’s a bet,” Tempest answered, looking smug. “Whoever finishes last has to...” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Has to buy lunch! Deal?”
Ditzy rolled her eyes (in opposite directions). “Deal.”
“Good,” he said, before dashing out the door at top speed.
Ditzy watched him go, and chuckled, before following him at a more leisurely pace. She wondered when he was going to come back for his list

Lying leisurely in the dappled shade of a tree, Ditzy watched other ponies go about their business. Lunch hour was just beginning, and the traffic on the streets was starting to increase. Groups of workponies intermingled as they walked towards whatever destination they had in mind. Families with foals too young to go to school were out enjoying the sunshine or going for a little jaunt down the street to keep them awake on such a lazy-feeling day.
Just as she considered the possibility of taking a short nap, Ditzy spotted Tempest, mailbag in tow, flying in her direction. With one eye on him and the other watching a potted plant, she saw the incredulous look on his face as he saw her. Gliding down to his last delivery of the morning, he snappily popped the letters in the mailbox and made his way over to her tree.
“How did you get done so fast?” he asked with a disbelieving tone.
“Years of experience,” Ditzy cheerfully replied. “Actually, I’m impressed you got done so quickly; I’ve only been here for a few minutes. Lots of the new recruits don’t get done until past noon.”
Tempest snorted. “Well, it’s not like I’ve never delivered things before.”
Ditzy chuckled. “Now, about that bet...”
“Yes, you won,” Tempest sighed in acceptance. “I’m buying. Where should we go?”
“I know a place,” Ditzy replied as she sat up and stretched. “Follow me.”

“‘The Porcelain Horseshoe?’” Tempest asked, staring up at the large wooden sign. Above the diner’s name was a picture of an immense horseshoe painted a shining alabaster white. A slightly ajar cerulean door leaked an aroma that smelled slightly like cinnamon.
“Sounds froofy, I know,” Ditzy said as she trotted inside, “But this place has the best sweetbread I’ve ever tasted.”
Doubtful, Tempest followed. Upon entering, he was greeted with a sight he most certainly didn’t expect. While the name made it sound like a high-class club where rich ponies would gather to discuss their favorite types of imported cheeses and flick cashews at plebeians, the inside gave off an atmosphere of friendliness and joviality. Ponies sitting at tables talked and laughed with each other in between bouts of stuffing their faces with food. The decor seemed to have a theme of “blue,” with the walls being painted sky-tones, the floor being cobalt tiles, and the tables being a rich indigo. What Tempest assumed to be the restaurant's namesake was sitting on the mantelpiece: a gleaming white shoe apparently made out of solid porcelain, encased nicely in a regal wooden frame with a glass pane in front. Spotting Ditzy already sitting down on one of the cushions surrounding the tables, Tempest walked over and sat down across from her.
“Well?” Ditzy asked once Tempest had seated himself. “First impressions?”
Cocking his head to the side, Tempest thought for a moment. “It’s nice,” he admitted. Sniffing, he added, “It smells really good too.”
“That’d be the Sweet Potato Special,” said a copper-colored mare as she walked up to the table. “Fresh outta the oven. Get it while it’s hot!”
“Hi there, Two-Tone!” Ditzy greeted, waving a hoof in her general direction.
As the unicorn turned her head, Tempest noticed that while one side of her mane was pearly white and vaulted high, the other was ruby red and laid flat against her head. “Oh, Ditzy!” she gasped, her waitress’s smile turning into a genuine one. “I didn’t see you there, hun! How’s it going?”
“Great! Just stopping by for lunch!”
Two-Tone chuckled. “Good ta hear! I’m still waiting to hear back from that hairdresser. ‘Til then, I’m stuck here.” She stuck our her hoof. “Here’s hopin’.”
Ditzy bumped her hoof against the unicorn’s. “I know you’ll get the job, Tone. You’re the best hair stylist I’ve ever seen.”
Putting her leg bag down, Two-Tone levitated a pen and pad up. “I take it you want the usual?” Ditzy nodded.
Looking over at Tempest, she continued, “What about you, hun? You know what you want, or do you need more time?”
Suddenly, Tempest realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu. Thinking fast, he said, “Uh, I’ll have what she’s having.”
Nodding, Two-Tone tucked the pencil behind her ear. As she trotted off to the kitchen, Ditzy shot Tempest a curious glance.
“You don’t even know what I ordered,” she accused.
Tempest shrugged. “Guess I’m going to find out.”
Quickly, the two lapsed into silence. After a distant shout of what sounded like ’Oi, Cooky, we got orders!’ Tempest decided to try and start a conversation.
“So,” he began, “Is there a story behind the name of this place?”
Eager to end the silence, Ditzy nodded. “Mm-hmm,” she affirmed. “You saw the shoe on the mantle, right?” After a positive nod from the stallion, Ditzy went on. “Well, they say it belonged to Pegalisus the Mad.”
“Who?”
“Ooh, you haven’t head the story!” The mare clapped her hooves together excitedly. “That means I get to tell you it! Yay!”
Settling down into a more comfortable position, Ditzy began the tale. “Once, way up north in Solitrot, there was a son of a pegasus noble named Pegalisus. Throughout his foalhood, he seemed completely normal, if a bit ‘creative.’ Eventually, through family ties, he managed to become head of the weather development team. That’s when the chaos started. At first, it was just little things; a missed shower here, an oddly windy day there. But then it started to get stranger. Frogs started falling from the sky, bitter cold winds started blowing in summer, liquid rainbows started coming down like... well, rain. The cause of the unstable weather was eventually traced back to Pegalisus, and the citizens of Solitrot formed an angry mob. They stormed to his estate, which he had turned into a virtual fortress over the years. The mob and the city guard laid siege to the place for three days, all the while Pegalisus stood on the battlements and shouted gibberish at them. It only ended when they captured Pegalisus after he came out and tried to shoo them all away with a broom, of all things. From that day forth, he was known as Pegalisus the Mad, and psychological exams are required to hold positions of power in weather control.”
“Ok...” Tempest said, “That’s a really cool story and all, but what does that have to do with the shoe?”
“I was getting to that. They say that, while he was still in charge, he ordered new shoes for everypony in the force. Shoes made out of weird things. Granite, obsidian, rubber, wood, all sorts of strange materials. He himself got a set of porcelain ones, which he never took off.”
“Why would he do that?”
“‘Cause ‘e was a nutter.” Two-Tone interrupted as she walked over, two platters held aloft by an amber aura. “Nutters do all sorts ‘a weird things.”
“Eloquently put, Tone,” Ditzy mockingly admonished.
The unicorn grinned as she put the plates on the table. “I try. Here’s your food.”
“Thank you, miss,” Tempest said, trying to be courteous. Two-Tone just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Quietly, she chuckled. “Polite one, innit he?” she laughed. “Found yourself a nice catch, eh Ditz? Anyways, nice talking to you, but I gotta get back to work. Bye!”
As the waitress trotted away, Ditzy blushed furiously at what she had implied. Luckily for her, however, Tempest had been busy inspecting the dish before him and had not heard her comment. While she was trying to pale her rosy cheeks, Tempest spoke up.
“So,” he began, still staring at the plate, “What are they?”
On the plates before them were two piles of lightly frosted pastries. They had a slight orange tint to them, and smelled vaguely of warm cinnamon.

Quietly coughing, Ditzy answered. “Sweetrolls. They’re a bit like a cross between muffins and cupcakes.” She licked her lips. “They taste amazing.”

With that, the mare began eating with impressive gusto. After watching her for a moment, Tempest shrugged and flipped one of the rolls into the air with his hoof. Catching it in his mouth, his eyes widened. It was delicious! He immediately started decimating the pile of confectioneries with great enthusiasm. Face-first.

After the sweetrolls had been vehemently devoured (much to the amusement of Two-Tone) and the meal paid for by Tempest (also much to the amusement of Two-Tone), the pair of pegasi started on their way back to the post office. Tempest, still trying to brush icing out of his mane, attempted to start some mid-flight conversation.

“So,” he started, “Now that the mail is delivered, what are we supposed to for the rest of the day?”

“Well,” Ditzy responded, picking up a little speed, “Like I said earlier, now we usually deliver the packages that came in during the day. Some of them were dropped off by locals, some came from other cities and are on the final leg, some are heavy loads, you know, that sort of thing.” Hearing Tempest chuckle, Ditzy looked at him questioningly.

“Hehe,” he quietly chortled, “It’s kind of funny actually.”

“What?”

The stallion twirled a hoof in the air in a vague gesture. “It’s just that, you know, I’ve always been the one to take packages to their last leg. Now I’m taking them on their last leg. It’s ironic or something.”

“Not quite ironic,” Ditzy corrected, “But I see what you mean.”

“Whatever,” Tempest said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t become a mailpony to get grammar lessons.”

Ditzy opened her mouth to correct him again, but decided against it. After a few more minutes of silent flying, Tempest piped up again.

“What’s the strangest thing that ever happened to you on a delivery?” he asked.

“Erm,” Ditzy hesitated, caught off guard by the unprovoked question, “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Tempest egged, “You have to have a funny story somewhere in that head.”

“Just give me a-”

“Funny story, funny story, Tempest want a funny story!” the stallion chanted, grinning stupidly and bouncing up and down.

“Alright, alright!” Ditzy cried, laughing. “I have a story! I didn’t realize I was flying with Dinky.”

“Hey,” he said, smiling victoriously, “My strategy works.”

“Anyways,” Ditzy began, ignoring the smug look on Tempest’s face, “The weirdest thing was probably when me and Raindrop dropped a bunch of stuff on the most powerful unicorn in town.”

“What kind of stuff?” Tempest asked curiously.

Ditzy bit her lip. “A plant pot.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“And an anvil, and a cart full of hay, and a piano...”

Tempest winced. “Ouch. Did she sue?”

“Thankfully no. She was too busy stalking Pinkie Pie, the party pony.”

“Um, Ok...”

With one eye looking at Tempest and the other staring at a flock of geese, she jabbed the stallion in the side. “Your turn,” she told him. “What’s the weirdest delivery you ever made?”

Tempest rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm,” he pondered, “I guess it would have to be that time that I flew through that one storm that passed through Fillydelphia. You see, there had been a veterinary convention...”

Tempest was just finishing his story as they landed outside the office.

“...And when I gave the lady the package, one of the Guinea pigs that I missed fell out of my mane and started running around on the floor. Apparently she had some phobia about rodents, because she jumped up on a chair and screamed.” He snorted. “Didn’t even give me a tip, mean old nag. If only she knew what I went through to get that box to her...”

“She probably would have had a heart attack,” Ditzy added. Suddenly, she visibly shuddered. “I can’t imagine having all those hamsters crawling all over you. It must have been terrible.”

“Don’t remind me,” Tempest said, clenching his eyes shut. “I can’t even look at anything small and furry anymore without getting chills.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Walking through the door, the two headed for the back room. It was immediately apparent that they were two of the last ponies to arrive back from lunch. All around the board where delivery jobs were posted, ponies were jostling each other trying to get closer. Standing at the back of the pack, Ditzy looked at them with a frown.

“Darn,” she pouted. “Looks like we get the leftovers.” Tempest only stared at the pile of mailponies, wondering if he was looking at a fight for jobs or a pack of starving wolves.

After the majority of the crowd had cleared off to start their deliveries, Ditzy waltzed up to the board, Tempest close behind. Leaning in close, the mare perused the list in the same way that a wine enthusiast might examine a bottle. Suddenly, she jabbed her hoof into one specific job.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, removing the sheet containing the delivery information from the adjacent pocket.

After watching her look at the other jobs more casually for a moment, Tempest decided to inquire. “Why is that one perfect?” he ventured.

“It takes me right by the schoolhouse,” Ditzy answered, taking another envelope from the board. “I pick Dinky up soon. This is how I usually get her home. Sometimes, if I get good jobs, I can just stay home with her.” She placed another two envelopes in her bag and turned to face the stallion. “Of course, since we were late, that’s not likely to happen.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the mare said, smiling. “You’re the last guy, so you have to take the rest. Pick up room is in the back. Hop to it.”

As she trotted off, Tempest looked at the remaining jobs on the board. There were only four left. Picking one up, Tempest looked it over.

This can’t be too hard, he thought.

By the time the jobs had been finished, Tempest had revised his opinion. The leftover deliveries he had received had taken him to all the four corners of Ponyville and back. His still-recovering wings ached and he felt buzzing in his mane from several trapped flies. Touching down in front of the office on what he hoped was his final stop of the day, he shook the offending insects from his windblown indigo mop and trotted into the doorway. A short bit of spacial comprehension later, he trotted through the doorway and into the office proper. Seeing Ditzy sitting at the front desk conversing with the boss stallion, he headed her way, hoping that they hadn’t noticed his little collision with the woodwork.

“Hello, Tempest,” Ditzy greeted.

“Hey, rookie,” the grizzled pegasus grunted.

“‘Ey,” Tempest mumbled, spitting his signed order completion forms out on the desk.

Sweeping the papers into a box to be gone through by interns later, the brown stallion asked, “So, how’d your first day go?”

“I learned to never be the last one to the job board,” Tempest growled, an irritated frown on his face.

Ditzy and the boss chuckled. “True enough,” Boss said. “Now, go on, you two. Day’s over.”

Needing no further invitation, Tempest grumbled his farewells and left, Ditzy close behind. Soon, both of them were airborne and headed towards Ditzy’s house. About halfway there, Ditzy abruptly stopped in midair.

“Oh, horseapples,” she exclaimed, smacking her forehead. “I need to pick some flour up at the store real quick.”

“Go ahead, then; I can find my way there,” Tempest replied. After a moment, he gave her a creepy smile. “I know where you live.”

Ditzy jabbed him in the side. “Don’t do that; it’s scary,” she chastised. “I’ll probably only be a few minutes late.”

“Gotcha,” Tempest confirmed, flying off.

I bet I wouldn’t have used so much flour this morning if Dinky hadn’t tried to help with the pancakes, Ditzy thought, fluttering off in the other direction.

With a large bag of flour balanced precariously on her back, Ditzy landed on her doorstep. Silently appreciating the skills that carrying Dinky around had given her, she reached for the doorknob. Just before she opened it, she hesitated. Inside, she could hear strange noises; it sounded like a small filly giggling and squealing, and somepony attempting to make monster noises. Easing the door open slowly, the mailmare peeked inside.

Within the house, something rather strange was taking place. Dinky, making all manner of happy noises, was sitting on Tempest Rider’s head. Tempest, for his part, was galloping madly around in circles, bucking and playfully trying to shake Dinky off. They both looked to be having gratuitous amounts of fun.

In the middle of his pseudo-rodeo, Tempest noticed Ditzy standing in the doorway. He screeched to a halt, Dinky squealing and holding tightly to his mane. As the filly giggled, Tempest tried to quickly come up with something to say.

“Your daughter appears to be on my head.”

It was several minutes before Ditzy recovered.