• Published 13th Mar 2016
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Princess Twilight Sparkle's School for Fantastic Foals - kudzuhaiku



Princess Twilight Sparkle's School for Fantastic Foals is the place to go for friendship studies.

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Chapter 33

The thoughts and new awareness in Sumac’s mind were heavy and difficult to bear. He sat on the couch, knowing that he had homework to do, but he was far too distracted to even make the attempt. In his mind, Sumac had discovered the concept of evil. It wasn’t terrible monsters, or unicorns using dark magic, or nefarious villains bent on destruction—no, it wasn’t any of these things. Evil was something far more simple, something far more tangible, and something far more prevalent in the world around him—a lack of benevolence.

Twilight had helped him understand what was possibly the most dangerous evil of all. She even had a word for it, a word she had spent several long and uncomfortable minutes explaining—apathy. The Princess of Friendship had given him a lesson about apathy, something she had told him that she considered one of her greatest foes.

Being a little scrapper, he had offered to help her fight it, but now, at home, he realised that he had no idea where to even begin to fight such a thing. He felt foolish and a little bit stupid for having said something. But he did intend to fight. Perhaps Twilight would teach him what to do if he approached her and asked how, in some subtle manner. He didn’t want to look stupid, because looking stupid was embarrassing beyond measure, and unbearable.

Crossing his eyes, he looked up at Boomer, who seemed to be content to hang from his horn and groom herself. She was picking crumbs and bits of debris out of her scales with her claw, then flicking them away.

“Boomer…”

The hatchling paused her grooming and twisted her head around to an unnatural angle. Sumac was able to look her in the eye. Her tiny eyes glittered with what he knew to be intelligence.

“You have it easy, Boomer… you don’t know the difference between right and wrong yet.” Sumac squirmed in his seat and studied Boomer’s face as she looked at him. “When you do, the world becomes complicated.” He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Or maybe it doesn’t for some ponies. Maybe they learn the difference between right and wrong and they don’t care. Maybe they can’t be bothered. Maybe they don’t think that the little things that they do that are bad aren’t such a big deal and so they just don’t care. But little things add up to big things.” Sumac’s brows creased into deep, wizened furrows. “It’s like eating unripened green apples, Boomer… you can eat one, and you might get away with it. You can eat two, and you might get away with it. But if you keep eating unripe green apples…”

The colt paused for dramatic effect, something he had learned from Trixie.

“Sooner or later, you’re gonna get the green apple splatters.”

Boomer let out a trilling sound, puffed out her frills, and then, wasting no time, she returned to grooming herself. Sumac let out a flustered grunt. Boomer didn’t seem to understand how devastating the green apple splatters could be.

“Sumac, be ready to go,” Trixie called out. “We’re going to the Ponyville Pickle Palace!”

A scowl crossed Sumac’s muzzle and one ear drooped. “But I don’t want to go… my legs hurt—”

“Kiddo, you’re going. You’ll be in a cart so you don’t need to walk.”

Knowing it was pointless to argue, he settled into a silent sulk. He wasn’t in the mood to go to the Ponyville Pickle Palace, whatever that was. He wanted to stay at home and have a good think—or better still, go to the cemetery, where it was quiet and peaceful. But he didn’t think he could walk that far.

Without realising it, his lower lip protruded quite a bit as he pouted. “Don’t wanna go to no Ponyville Pickle Palace…”


The Ponyville Pickle Palace, as it was known, was down near the river. As its name suggested, it sold pickled goods of all kinds. Anything and everything that could be pickled was sold here, and it sold supplies for pickling. As they approached the large, ornate, brass decorated double doors, the smell of salty brine was thick in the air. It made Sumac think of the ocean. He had seen the oceans a number of times, on both the east coast and the west coast, after having walked the length and breadth of Equestria several times over.

The river was low in its bed, a mere trickle after a long, hot summer. Sumac, sitting in the cart, watched the river flow. Lemon Hearts had borrowed the cart from somepony. It was a small thing, compared to a full sized wagon, two wheeled, and it had a squeaky, annoying axle that needed greasing. Lemon Hearts was pulling the cart, but she wasn’t very good at it. Her stops were sudden, jolting him, and she didn’t seem to know how to take off in a smooth manner either.

“Hmm, Trixie Lulamoon, Lemon Hearts, and a little bump on a log with a pouty lip!”

“Hello, Discord,” Trixie said as she began to chuckle.

Turning his head, Sumac looked away from the river and up at the towering draconequus. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for Discord’s shenanigans. There was something about Discord’s grin that gave Sumac cause for alarm. The tall serpentine figure floated past Lemon Hearts and Trixie, then hovered before Sumac.

“You look bitterly bummed out, Sumac Apple.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Sumac replied.

Discord’s leering grin grew ever wider. He clapped his paw and his talons together as his eyes glittered with mischief. “I think a distraction is in order… I can never pass up the chance to have a chat with a sour looking Apple.” The tall, floating figure paused. “You look so very much like Applejack when you make that face. The family resemblance is so startling!”

Sumac’s brows furrowed and behind his darkened glasses, his eyes narrowed. It didn’t help matters at all that Trixie and Lemon Hearts were both laughing. Sumac just wanted some quiet so he could process everything in his head. Was that so much to ask for? He didn’t want to be at the Ponyville Pickle Palace, and he wasn’t in the mood to be harassed by Discord.

“Tell me, Sumac Apple, which weighs more… a pound of bricks, or a pound of feathers?” Discord leaned forwards, getting a little closer to Sumac, and his ears waggled in anticipation of an answer.

Before saying anything, Sumac though about the question, suspecting a trick. And it was a trick. “Hey… a pound is a pound… a pound of feathers is no different than a pound of bricks. Everypony knows that.” His ears pivoted forwards.

“No difference, eh?” Discord leaned back, reclining on the nothingness below him. He began to stroke his chin with his talons. “Very well then… Sumac, which would you rather be hit by? A pound of bricks, or a pound of feathers?”

Sumac’s mind went blank as his mouth dropped open. It took him a moment to recover his senses and there was a click as his teeth clacked together. Boomer let out a shrill trilling sound and snorted smoke at Discord.

“A pound is a pound, Sumac…”

“I’d rather be hit by the pound of feathers.” Sumac, feeling a little confused, wasn’t certain what Discord was driving at. The troubles plaguing his mind had fled from him. Now, he was trying to understand what was going on.

“But there is no difference. A pound is a pound. Why should it matter?” Discord’s grin vanished.

“A pound of feathers won’t hurt as much as a pound of bricks,” Sumac replied.

“But they’re both a pound—”

“But the feathers are a soft pound while the bricks are a hard pound.” Sumac drew in a deep breath and tried to bolster his mental defenses against confusion and chaos. All unnecessary thoughts were jettisoned in favour of marshalling better defenses against the Herald of Chaos. He even ignored Boomer, who was bobbing up and down on his horn, making squeaky honking noises at Discord.

“So, not all pounds are equal?”

“B-b-but-but…” Sumac stammered, “it has nothing to do with being equal, and everything to do with… with… with, uh, um… uh—”

“Perception?” Trixie said, being helpful and coming to Sumac’s rescue.

“Yeah!” Sumac nodded. “Yeah.” He nodded again. “Yeah… maybe?” He blinked, no longer so sure. “Getting hit with a feather pillow isn’t so bad, but getting hit by a brick hurts. Bricks are hard—”

“I should say so,” Discord said, interrupting Sumac with a casual, dismissive wave of his paw. “So… would a pound of bricks have more emotional weight?”

“I…”—Sumac’s mouth moved as he tried to make words come out—“don’t know!” His ears pinned back against his skull. “How would one even weigh emotions anyhow? They’re not tangible—”

“Ah, but there is where you are wrong,” Discord said, interrupting again.

“How?” Sumac demanded.

“Easy.” Discord grinned once again. “Friendship is magic. Which means it is a measureable, tangible force that can be observed and studied.” Discord’s eyebrows bounced up and down and he let out a chuckle. “So, tell me, Sumac Apple… which weighs more… a pound of bricks, a pound of feathers, or a pound of friendship?”

“I… don’t… know…” Sumac felt himself start sweating.

“Which would you rather be hit by?” Discord’s tail swooshed and swished from side to side. “Having been hit by the full force of friendship, I can tell you, it’s heavy stuff… so, again I ask, which would you rather be hit by?”

Sumac never got his chance to answer. Boomer, perhaps sensing Sumac’s distress, belched a gout of flame at Discord, setting the elder draconic creature’s eyebrows on fire. Discord let out a worried cry, patted the flames out with his paw, and then gave both Sumac and Boomer a displeased glare while his eyebrows smouldered. Trixie and Lemon Hearts began to giggle together.

“Young lady, that was rude! So very rude!” Discord continued to pat out his flaming eyebrows as he glared at the tiny hatchling. “No respect for the older generation I see. That is not how one wins a debate! Setting your opponent on fire is dirty pool!”

Her tail lashing from side to side, Boomer sucked in a deep breath and held it in a threatening manner, her cheeks bulging as her head swayed in a circular motion. Smoke curled from her nostrils. She growled, making a valiant attempt to sound menacing.

“So that’s how it’s going to be!” Discord let out a harrumph and just as Boomer belched out another gout of flame, he snapped his talons and vanished. His voice remained behind however to get the final word. “Contemplate a pound of friendship, Sumac Apple! It weighs as much as five tons of flax!”

“Eh, getting his eyebrows set on fire serves him right,” Lemon Hearts said as Trixie laughed.


A whole bunch of barrels all stood stacked atop one another, forming an impressive sight. Sumac, whose nostrils flared from the briny smell, looked up at the sign hanging over them. He stared at the sign for a moment, fought back the urge to sneeze, and then asked, “What’s a gross?”

“One hundred and forty four,” Lemon Hearts replied as she lifted up two of the small barrels and set them down into the cart with Sumac.

“We need two hundred and eighty eight pickled eggs?” Sumac blinked and scooted out of the way, shuffling to the very back of the cart.

“Well, think about it, Sumac… there are three of us living in the house.” Lemon Hearts looked over her shoulder at Sumac, giving him a patient smile. “If each of us eats two pickled eggs a day, how many days will one barrel of pickled eggs last?”

“A math lesson? Now? After Discord just messed with my head?” Sumac’s voice was a low whine and he started feeling sulky again. He let out an annoyed huff and tried to do the complicated arithmetic in his head.

Trixie wandered off, looking at jars of pickled okra.

“If we each eat two eggs a day and there are three of us and there is one barrel of pickled eggs…” Sumac closed his eyes and tried to visualise a sheet of paper inside of his head to help him figure this out.

Lemon Hearts waited.

“Uh, twenty four days?” Sumac opened his eyes.

“Very good.” Lemon Hearts looked pleased. “So, what if we eat more than two eggs each or have guests over? How long do you think a gross of pickled eggs will last?”

Eyes widening, Sumac had a moment of understanding. “Less than a month.”

“Sometimes, Sumac, things might seem very large, or something might appear to be much more than it is, but, if you look at it, if you break it down, you sometimes find that what we see isn’t as large or as much as we first thought.” Lemon Hearts turned her head and looked over at Trixie.

“My perspectives feel all jumbled,” Sumac said to Lemon Hearts. “I find myself doubting if a pound is really a pound and things that seem large aren’t nearly enough when you examine them. Life got confusing all of a sudden.”

Lemon Hearts nodded. “Yeah, there are a lot of things in life that don’t make sense.” The yellow mare stared over at Trixie, let out a wistful sigh, and then, after turning her head to look at Sumac, she said, “Wait ‘till you get older, Sumac… a lot of things will become a lot more complicated and confusing.”

As Sumac sat watching, a contemplative expression upon his face, Lemon Hearts returned her stare to Trixie, who was eating a sample of pickled okra. Lemon Hearts’ ears drooped for a moment, her smile looked sad for a second, but then her ears stood back up, pivoting forwards as they did so, and her sunny smile broke through the sadness that had become like clouds crossing over her face.

Author's Note:

That's a lot of flax...

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