"Do you guys mind?" Spike said with a growl. "I was up early fire-roasting those snacks you're all eating and I'm pooped!" Of course he had been. I'd been in the kitchen section of the dining car, helping him prepare. The day had passed to late evening, and I'd guiltily watched Spike try to sleep despite the endless conversations all the other ponies were having. I'd wanted to say something, but he was Twilight's assistant, not one of my many animal friends. It wasn't my place, and I couldn't have brought myself to interrupt or speak over the others anyway.
But Rainbow Dash, well, nopony can help who they are. She couldn't help being Rainbow Dash.
"Ah, speaking of - some of these popcorn kernels didn't get popped," she replied, her casual tone indicating the degree to which she had missed the point. I wondered how she even knew - the theater box she had been eating from was still full above the brim with poofy, buttery delight, but uncooked rejects always cowered together at the bottom. Thus they hid the truth as long as they could, and thus they doomed themselves to be discarded all at once. I didn't say anything, of course.
"Okay, fine," said Spike. I could tell his resignation was faked for effect, and I wanted to warn everypony off from further antagonizing him (no matter how oblivious they were to the fact of their doing so), but he was readier to act on his frustration than I first thought. He expelled a gout of bright green flame that Rainbow Dash ducked aside from just in time, but her popcorn wasn't so lucky. Where once stood buttery delight, a little tower of charcoal that had formerly been kernels looked down on the seared remains of the box, and on the still-burning corpses of their fluffy comrades.
The kernel at the top, glowing bright red, popped as Rainbow leaned in to inspect the damage, and hit her squarely in the face.
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