A Study In Nonsense

by Professor Piggy

First Impressions

As she loaded the last crate of sweets onto the back of the wagon, Smart Cookie let out a soft, gentle sigh and paused for just a moment to glance around. All around her were starving ponies, barely getting by, struggling to survive – and here she was, along with her family, shipping off food that could’ve saved them to who knew where just because the government had demanded they do so. If her father was right, it was being shipped off to the mansion that new chancellor had just acquired on the edge of town, so she could stuff her hoity-toity guests full of treats while good, honest ponies starved. It didn’t feel right. But as the bag of bits at her waist jingled heavily and she thought of her little brothers cuddled up together in their crib, she knew that how she felt about it didn’t really come into it.

“Hey, brainiac, quit daydreaming! Dad says to get your butt upstairs and get ready – Chancellor what’s-her-face is swinging by to make sure we didn’t do somethin’ awful like give her cookies to the poor, and he wants us to pretty up!”

That was her elder sister, Cookie Crumble, rolling her eyes as she called out casually from the doorway. Normally Smart Cookie would’ve snarked right back, but today she found she just didn’t have the heart. Instead she just trudged slowly back into the bakery without a word, and climbed the stairs – as she passed her sister she saw a flicker of worry in her eyes, and then it was gone. That was bad. Meant she was letting her discontent show, and that wouldn’t do – her mother had always said that she was the future of the family, and she’d have to lead it. That meant she couldn’t rely on anypony.

Everypony loved a good baker – just as long as she kept her mouth shut and smiling, she’d go far.

As her door swung quietly shut behind her and she turned to look in the mirror, she realised just how much of a disappointment she’d have been to her mother if she’d still been around. Tired, lifeless blue eyes stared back at her from a dull pink face, and her bright pink mane, drenched with sweat, stuck out randomly. She could see her ribs – probably the result of how little she’d really been eating lately. But worst of all, the pony in the mirror wasn’t smiling. And no matter how hard she tried to make that pony smile, it came out looking…fake. And bakers, as her father was fond of telling her, were not fakers. Bakers were honest ponies, and the work they did bought smiles – it ought to be sold with smiles, too.

Honestly, she didn’t think the Chancellor would care too much. Just one sad face in a sea of dozens of others she didn’t give a whit about. Didn’t mean that she wasn’t a mess, though, and so she picked up the hairbrush and began the slow task of fixing herself up. Presentation was everything, after all.

She washed her face, scrubbed her coat and was struggling in vain to make her mane lie flat when a squealing, delighted voice cut through the air and made her jump a mile.

“There!” Came the triumphant cry, “That - it’s perfect! Just what we’ve been looking for all this time!”

As Smart Cookie picked herself up off the floor the shrill, bubbling voice continued just as loudly, but more casually. “And you said it’d be a waste of time to come down here! That’s why you’re just a scribe and not a Chancellor, you know. Chancellor’s get stuff done! What have you gotten done lately, huh?”

The Chancellor. She was here, and that meant there wasn’t a second to waste – she was out the door and down the stairs like lightening to stand at her sister’s side just outside the doorway – and what she saw stole her breath away.

The Chancellor, an orange earth pony with a light blonde mane currently styled into what Smart Cookie was pretty sure was meant to be a bunch of bananas, was perched on the head of an older brown earth pony with spectacles and wearinga strange pointed hat with a ridiculous white feather poking out of it, pointing triumphantly towards the sign atop the bakery with a grin like nothing she’d ever seen.

She didn’t take her eyes off the sign, even when her perch – and presumably scribe – opened his mouth to speak in a voice shaking with barely repressed fury. “With all due respect, my lady, I fail to see how a bakery sign is going to help us sort this mess you’ve started out.”

“Of course you don’t! That’s because you’re not looking at it right – if you were as smart as I am you’d see it plain as day. Think about it…what’s your name again?”

“It’s C –“

“Whatever! Think about it, Scribey – I walk into town, and all the sad and hurting ponies look up and see their magnificent and inspiring Chancellor, as beautiful as ever – and there, atop her head, sits that!”

“…It’s a pudding cup, Chancellor. You would be a laughingstock.”

The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed and her smile grew wider and she lets out a quiet – and, Smart Cookie had to admit, somewhat terrifying – “Exactly.”

Then with one fluid movement she bounced off the scribe’s head and pointed imperiously at the bakery. “Go in and tell them I want it! It’s for official, super important Chancellor stuff they couldn’t possibly understand!”

Smart Cookie winced, and so did the scribe. Her mother had made that sign herself, and she wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she’d have to. The scribe bit his lip, slowly rose up and took a step toward the insane pony, glaring straight into her eyes. And then , quite simply, he said “No.”

The reaction was immediate and shocking – the Chancellor’s jaw dropped for a moment before she frowned and glared darkly, stomping a hoof of the ground. “Did you just question your Chancellor, scribe?”

“I did. I am afraid I simply do not understand why you think walking around with a pudding cup on your head is going to solve anything. I will follow you until the end of days – as soon as you begin acting in a manner befitting your station!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” She nodded before draping a foreleg around the scribe with a relaxed smile, “I see what’s going on here; you’re not understanding me. That’s not your fault – your brain is awfully tiny compared to mine and it’s gotta be hard to follow sometimes.”

“…Is that so? Then please, by all means, Chancellor A -”

The Chancellor shoved a hoof into his mouth and shook her head vehemently. “Nuh uh. It’s Puddinghead now. Chancellor Puddinghead though, because I’m still a Chancellor.”

The scribe’s eye twitched noticeably, and Smart Cookie could understand why. So she wasn’t terribly surprised when the scribe pulled away from the babbling pony and said, loud and clear, “I refuse.”

His boss sure seemed surprised, though – her eyes went wide, and her voice trembled. Smart Cookie wasn’t sure if it was genuine or a calculated act of manipulation, but it hurt to see. And somehow that made her angry.

“Refuse what?” Puddinghead asked quietly.

“All of this. Everything. I refuse to march in there and steal a sign from some paupers! That is absolutely unforgivable behaviour, and I will have no part of it!”

His voice grew louder with each word, and Puddinghead seemed to shrink into herself. Smart Cookie, however, was nodding along.

“And these sweets! You drag them out of this town, and for what? To feed your stupid little hobby? These supplies could be used where they’re actually needed, you stupid girl! And you mean to just throw them away? Look around you! How much food do you think these people have?”

The small, shaking joke of a Chancellor turned her gaze around, staring into the somber faces of the ponies around her with tears in her eyes. And then, slowly, she spoke. “…What do you think I should do, then?”

The Scribe spat at her. “Precisely what I’ve been telling you all along – give up this idiocy with the mansion. It will gain you nothing – nothing at all!”

“That’s not true! I –“

“It is a waste!” Hissed the scribe darkly, glaring at her with raw hate in his eyes. “You’re wasting our time and resources building your silly little orphanage when you could be sending more food to the pegasi, the unicorns – anyone who could help us! You’re an embarrassment!”

Smart Cookie’s breath caught in her throat as she processed what the scribe had said, and then everything began happening faster than she could follow – in less than a second the Chancellor was back on her feet and towering over the cowering scribe, eyes burning with a fire like the sun itself.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not the best at this Chancellor thing – but you know what? I’m better than you. Because unlike you, I’m not gonna let people die in the streets so that we can beg for help from a bunch of show-offs who’re just sitting by and letting it happen! It may not be a lot, but if I can make everypony just a little bit happier then at least I did something! Now gimme back my scribe hat and get out of my sight!”

As the ex-scribe turned and fled as fast as his treacherous little hooves would carry him, the crowd was silent. And then slowly, one by one, they began to clop their hooves against the dirt in an ovation. Puddinghead – Chancellor Puddinghead, blinked in surprise before sweeping into a low bow with a loud “Thank you, thank you! I know, I’m the best!”

And then she stopped, and her eyes were fixed firmly on Smart Cookie. She stared for a long moment, smile growing wider with each passing second. Smart Cookie took a hesitant step back, suddenly very afraid – and then her face was being clutched tightly and the Chancellor was staring straight into her eyes.

“You! Baker pony!”

“Uhm…yes, Chancellor Puddinghead?”

“Did you know that you’re pink?”Excitement dripped from every word she said, and her eyes were wide and gleaming. Smart Cookie swallowed with a hesitant nod. “Yes, Chancellor.”

“Do you know what this means?” The insane pony whispered conspiratorially, pressing her muzzle against Smart Cookie’s own. And then, without waiting for an answer, she leapt backwards and threw her forelegs in the air with a loud cry of “It means you’re perfect! The kids will love you! You gotta come with me right now, okay? I’ll pay you! Do you wanna come?”

As Smart Cookie stared at the beaming, insane, loud, childish, excitable, brilliant, kind hearted pony before her, all she could do was nod. “More than anything, Chancellor.”

And it was true.

Comments

[Professor Piggy]

I wrote this for today’s TMP prompt, but it ended up taking me a lot longer than it should have - just over an hour - so I didn't submit it. Still, I like it so I'm putting it up here.

The prompt for it: Tell the story of how Smart Cookie became Chancellor Puddinghead’s secretary

[TheAlmightySage]

Wow that was beyond brilliant.

[Convisku]

I'm having a real hard time picturing an AJ lookalike acting like that... s'just not right...

[ForSpite]

So... They got the personality nearly perfect but messed up the appearance when the casting call went out?

Well, better than the other way around, I suppose.

You've certainly made Puddinghead a trifle more sympathetic than canon.

[BenRG]

Maybe, just maybe, Puddinghead was smarter than most ponies, and history itself, gives her credit. After all, you don't get to be elected leader of a nation when your dumb! At least... I hope not!

[Donnys Boy]

“It is a waste!” Hissed the scribe darkly, glaring at her with raw hate in his eyes. “You’re wasting our time and resources building your silly little orphanage when you could be sending more food to the pegasi, the unicorns – anyone who could help us! You’re an embarrassment!”

I still think this is one heck of a sucker-punch moment, when we find out that Puddinghead, for all her foibles, does have a heart. It's what made me nod and think, "Yes. Yes, I can see why Smart Cookie would follow this crazy, egotistic pony to the ends of the Earth."