Chapter 4 - Applewood Derby
“The Apple what?” I asked my wife curiously.
“The Applewood Derby, dear,” she repeated as she took off her coat in the hallway. “Cheerilee and I are letting the kids take part this year now that they’re old enough to be safe.”
It was early on a Friday afternoon. In light of how busy I’d been over the past few days with Dr. Horse’s hearing, which had resulted in him ultimately not being prosecuted after it came to light that all of Captain Mareclellan’s claims were grossly inflated, Celestia had given me a bit of time off from my work, allowing me to take a half day today in addition to my usual weekend off. Margaret had just come home from the schoolhouse, where she works as one of the two teachers for the small class of fillies and colts. I typically ask her about her day, just as she does mine. Normally I just get some interesting and amusing stories about the stupid stuff kids get up to, but today she’d come back with something a bit more unusual.
“So what is it then?” I asked as we both headed through to the kitchen, where I’d left the kettle to boil. “Is it a race thing like that Running of the Leaves whatsit?” Margaret shook her head.
“No, nothing like that,” she said as she sat down at the table. “It’s like a cart race, you know, like those soap box races the kids used to do back when we were younger. You have one pony steering and another to push it. Otherwise it just runs on momentum. The Applewood Derby’s been going for years. You get a bunch of ponies in teams of two designing and building their own carts ,and then racing them along a specially built course. Honestly, darling, it was in the paper last week.”
“Really?” I asked, picking up the latest edition of the local rag. “I don’t remember seeing anything.” My wife rolled her eyes.
“That’s because you only read the politics section, dear,” she replied. The kettle began to whistle and I got up to make the tea,
“So what, the kids are getting into teams are they?”
“Sort of,” Margaret said. “To be safe, we’re not letting the kids all compete together. Each cart needs to have at least one adult pony on board for safety.”
“And to push it too I’d expect,” I added. “Even earth ponies probably find those carts heavy to push over level ground. I take it that this means your three favourite students will be participating?”
There’s three foals that my wife really has taken a shine to; Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Collectively, they are known as the Cutie Mark Crusaders. They became friends as none of them had yet got their cutie marks; those odd symbols on their hind quarters. They tried all sorts of stunts that occasionally even caused me the odd headache. But last year, they finally got their way, and are now running their own free advice clinic for ponies looking to find or understand their cutie marks. My wife gets along with all three of them, having helped them on their quest and deal with a couple school yard bullies from time to time. In any case, there was a chance for mayhem and widespread destruction. That usually meant either the Cutie Mark Crusaders, or Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer were involved.
“Oh all three of them jumped at the chance,” she replied as I set our cups of tea down on the table and took my seat again.
“I’m pretty sure they all ran straight to their siblings. And with the way the ribbons are set up, I’m expecting them to do well.” I took a sip of my tea. Still too hot. I can’t feel my tongue.
“How’s that then?” I asked.
“Well, the derby has three awards rather than just the one,” Margaret explained. “The first one is for the fastest cart; the one that actually wins the race. But there’s also prizes for the cart with the most creative design and the most traditional cart.”
“Is this one of those deals where everypony gets a ribbon?” I asked tiredly. “Like those stupid school sports days we always had to go to for the kids.”
“No!” she exclaimed crossly. “Honestly, just because ponies have this whole value of love and tolerance doesn’t mean that everypony gets a prize. They do recognise how that kind of thing cheapens actually winning something and removes the sense of pride and accomplishment.”
Far away on Sweet Apple Acres, my son was suddenly overcome with giggles.
“The kids are all taking this very seriously,” she went on. “They’ve already started work on their carts.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Apple Bloom is going for traditional, Sweetie Belle is going for style, and the other one that Discord keeps annoying by turning her into a chicken is going for speed.” Margaret huffed and folded her arms.
“Actually, Scootaloo, is going for the most creative cart,” she replied. “Honestly, darling, you can’t go around stereotyping my students like that. All three of them want to try something different. Apple Bloom is trying to win the fastest cart ribbon and Sweetie Belle is going for most traditional.”
Huh, that I actually didn’t expect.
“Well, I stand corrected,” I replied teasingly. “So what are you doing in all this then?”
“I’m helping out with the judging,” she replied. “And now that you mention it, we could use a bit more help with getting the track set up. It’s quite the undertaking, you know. We need to set up hay bales to mark out the course, put together spectator stands and dam up the river to use the riverbed as part of the track.”
I’ve been married too long not to pick up on that hint, which came with all the subtlety of an iceberg looming towards the Titanic. Regardless of my feelings, I would be helping to build the track. Well, that’s what I get for teasing I suppose. Swallowing my pride, I resigned myself to the fact that at least it was a nice day out.
And so my pleasant afternoon off turned into a spot of the old standby; ‘volunteer’ work. Heading into Ponyville proper, our house is quite on the outskirts, I found that preparations were indeed well underway for the derby. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of race this was supposed to be. On the one hand, it was your classic soapbox race from 1950’s America, with kids driving crudely built carts down steeps hills in a test of who could build the most aerodynamic box. But on the other hand, you had a very different kind of track. The race went through parts of the town’s larger streets, and also through the somewhat muddy temporarily dry riverbed. In that sense, it reminded me a bit of rallycross.
In any case, it looked like a fun spectator sport. Which brought in the more NASCAR side of things. Everypony loves watching a good car crash and catastrophic fire right? I kid of course. As far as I know, nothing on these carts could make them go up. The worst that would happen was somepony might end up with a busted foreleg.
Then again, Sweetie Belle did manage to burn toast into a liquid state. Even Twilight still isn’t sure how she managed that one.
Regardless, preparations for the race were in full swing, and many residents of the town were busily setting things up for the big event. As I reached town hall, I came across my son, Bones and Big Macintosh, Applejack’s older brother. The latter is one of the few ponies who comes anywhere near to my height. Celestia and I see eye to eye, and including her horn, the mare actually has a few inches on me. Luna and Cadence are ever so slightly shorter. I’d say Big Mac was somewhere between Shining Armor and Luna in terms of height, putting him somewhere around 5’5; larger than the average pony by quite a way.
The two of them were busy unloading a wagon filled to the top with hay bales that were evidently being used to mark out part of the course and stop carts straying off the path. Mac was using a combination of teeth and hooves to move the large bales, while Bones was relying on his magic.
It struck me as a little odd seeing him do that. Back on Earth, as a human, Bones had had really bad hayfever. I have a mild case myself, although some concoction from Zecora every summer is enough to keep it under control. It’s certainly better than Rainbow’s idea of following me around with a rain cloud all day long to keep the local pollen level low. I felt a slight tickle in the back of my throat as I breathed in the dust.
“Hey there, Big Mac. Hey, Bones,” I said, waving as I wandered over. “The memsahib said you lads needed some help setting up the course for this Applewood Derby thing.”
Bones paused in his work, setting a bale down with his magic and trotted over to me. His grey coat had a few strands of hay caught in it, as did his dark blue mane. His signature stetson, a gift from his girlfriend, had also picked up a fair bit of dust and strands floating on the air. Pausing for a moment, he did his best to get a few out of his mane and eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, in an accent that mimicked the Apple family; a consequence of living with them for so long. The boy’s gone from a Bond villain Brit to a country yokel. “Yeah, me and Mac were just settin’ up this part of the course. We’re almost done, but we could use your helping settin’ the dam up in the river.”
“Sure, happy to help,” I replied. “Just as long as I don’t have to deal with those hay bales. You know how I react to that stuff.”
He nodded sympathetically. He’s lucky his new pony body doesn’t have the same problems his human one did. No glasses, no hayfever, and he gets to use magic; he’s done alright for himself if you ask me. As for me, just touching hay tends to bring me out in a rash, with my skin going red raw and itching for ages.
“Me and Mac were just about to get started redirectin’ the river to make the rest of the track,” he said. “Y’all are welcome to help if ya like.”
“And just how are we supposed to do that?” I asked. Bones opened his mouth to reply. “And don’t say magic.”
“Ah never said anythin’ ‘bout magic,” he retorted hotly. “Ah may be a unicorn but that doesn’t mean Ah use magic to solve every problem Ah come across.” He should impart that bit of wisdom to Starlight.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked, now more curious.
“Me,Mac and AJ have been diggin’ a trench this past week. It’ll take the river water around Ponyville and then back into the river, letting us seal it off at both ends through town to dry up the bed, without having to deal with floodin’ somewhere. All we need to do now is put the dam itself in place.”
And so we headed up river, with the silent Big Mac pulling the wagon that held the supplies. Essentially, Bones planned to put a waterproof fence down that would block off the river, and then force it into the temporary trench riverbed that had been dug. Think of it like a bypass A road around a busy town.
I was impressed that they’d managed to get it all done in a week. Then again, you had my son with his magic, Mac with his famous strength, and then you had Applejack, who, despite her smaller size, is significantly stronger than her brother, or anypony else in Ponyville for that matter. Even by earth pony standards, she’s ridiculously strong. While even I would never tease Bones about it, it must make her pretty interesting in the bedroom.
Back on the outskirts of town, we reached the site of the temporary dam. The water was already splitting somewhat, with some of it flowing into the artificial diversion, causing the river through town to drop noticeably. Now all we had to do was put the dam in place to stop the flow of water altogether.
Mac pulled up and began unloading the cart. It was very much like a fence in construction. A series of posts would be driven into the river bed, and between each would be waterproofed boards to block the flow. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would last long enough to keep the riverbed dry for the derby. When it was all over, the whole thing could be easily disassembled. It was certainly easier than building a proper dam. Just to be sure though, there would be two layers, with earth filling the gap between the two.
“Alright, here’s good,” Bones declared, taking a look at the steadily flowing river. “Ah’ll start stickin’ the poles in the river bed. It’ll be easier than us all wadin’ out to do it.”
With that, he activated his magic, his horn glowing a dark blue colour. That same glow soon enveloped one of the large wooden posts, and a moment later, it began to slowly levitate. On two sides, there were grooves to slide the plates into. Big Mac and I watched as the first post rotated in mid air, floated out into the river and then slowly lowered itself into the torrent, sinking into the soft ground of the bed.
As the first post was laid down, Bones paused to wipe the sweat off of his brow. A lot of non-unicorns see magic as cheating, or taking the easy way when it comes to manual labour. The reality is quite the opposite. It required just as much energy to move something by magic that it did to do so by hand. Magic for a unicorn, was just as much a muscle as any other body part, and using it was just as physically taxing.
I remember on the occasions where I’ve been present to see Celestia raise or lower the sun; the concentration on her face had been as if she were lifting some heavy object on her back. And in a sense, she was, moving the sun purely with her magic. The only difference is that to an untrained observer, it’s not always apparent. As a result, a lot of earth ponies in particular dislike using magic in their work.
But enough about that. Bones set to work on the remaining posts, with the two of us helping guide them into position. They needed to be in exactly the right place, or there would be gaps in the line, making the whole thing a waste of time. So we carefully made sure that each post was equidistant apart.
Now came the harder part; moving the boards into place. These would slide in between the posts, slot into the grooves, and actually block off the river. Due to their size and weight though, they were too much for Bones to move on his own. He may be magically gifted, but he’ll be the first to admit that he’s nowhere near as strong as Twilight or other powerful unicorns. That meant that the three of us would have to do it by hand, or hoof. We’d wade out into the river and slide each section into place. At least Bones was kind enough to offer me some sort of drying spell so that I didn’t go home soaked to the skin.
The river was shallow enough that Bones and Mac could comfortably keep their heads above the water. For me, it was more like wading. Still, even in the warm sun, the water was properly cold as we descended, and I didn’t have the protection of a warm hide.
The three of us carried the first board out together. This was was the easiest, and only needed to be carried a few steps in. Taking care to keep it straight, we pushed it down between the two posts, feeling the pushing power of the water against the flat board as we moved it into position. By degrees, we slowly moved further and further out, into the deeper water, until Bones and Big Mac were up to their necks. The deeper the water got, the harder it was to put the boards into place, as the force of the water, would constantly push them back, stopping us from easily sliding them into the grooves between posts.
Eventually though, now soaked to the skin, we managed to cross the river and completely seal it off. As we’d worked our way across, the river had reduced from a strong flow, to eventually a mere stream, which got through the few gaps in the wooden boards. The trench that had been dug seemed to be working well, and we hopefully wouldn’t need to worry about any flooding as a result. All that was left to do now, was put the other boards down and fill in the gap with earth to make the temporary dam strong enough to resist the continued pressure.
This was a bit more simple; just shovelling earth to fill the gap between the two fence like structures. All three of us set to work. It also however, gave us some time to talk.
“So,” I said, hurling another clump of earth into the ditch, “How’s Apple Bloom’s cart coming along, Bones? Your mother said she was going for something more speedy than traditional.”
“Well, she was,” Bones replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “AB had a real fine design for a racer. Only problem is that Applejack’s helpin’ her.” I was puzzled by that.
“What do you mean?” I asked. Big Mac explained.
“Applejack started off just helpin’,” he elaborated. “Only now she’s kinda taken over the whole thing; makin’ a traditional cart instead. Last time Ah checked, AB was getting mighty frustrated with her.”
“So why not just tell her that then?” I asked curiously. Ponies do have this habit of missing the obvious solution that’s staring them straight in the face.
“Are ya kiddin’?” Bones asked. “Have you met my marefriend? C’mon, ya know how stubborn AJ can be. Besides, Ah already tried. She’s pullin’ that whole ‘sister knows best’ horseapples. And anyway, AB might be annoyed about her big sister makin’ changes to her cart, but she’s still enjoyin’ workin’ with her.”
“Okay, fair enough,” I replied. “She’ll still have fun racing the thing in any case.”
Before too long, the three of us had completed our temporary dam. The river bed, although still something of a quagmire, was now steadily drying up, the the river being diverted around Ponyville. A couple more days, and it would be dry enough to race on.
It was now three days before the Applewood Derby, and I was on my way up to Canterlot as normal. I’d left home about twenty minutes ago and was on the way to the train station, with Charlie, my disguised changeling/dog, following behind. Having been the one who took him in, he often hangs around me and follows me to the station.
As it was still quite early, the town was relatively quiet, with few ponies up and about at this time in the morning. There were some exceptions though. Glancing up into the sky for a moment, I picked out two pegasus ponies, one of which was a mare with a dark blue coat and a chestnut mane. That was Lizzie, my daughter, and with her, I could see a stallion, who I quickly recognised to be Dewdrop, her best friend in the weather patrol, and possibly more if rumour is to be believed.
I hadn’t seen Lizzie in a while, and as I had a good fifteen minutes before I needed to be at the railway station, I figured that it wouldn’t do any harm having a chat with her. At the moment, she and Dewdrop were clearing away a few stray clouds.
“Hey, Lizzie!” I called up. Unfortunately, due to the altitude difference, it didn’t look like she could hear me.
“Lizzie!” I tried again, now waving an arm over my head. Still though, she seemed engrossed in her work, kicking away at the small clouds and instantly breaking them up, causing them to vanish in a puff of vapour. I decided to try something a little more clear. Cupping my one hand around my mouth, I tried an old Aussie trick .
“Coo-ee!” I called out, the cry travelling much further than an ordinary shout. That got her attention.
Performing a graceful spiral dive, Lizzie descended down to about ten feet off the ground, hovering in the air.
“Hey, Dad,” she said with a wave. “What’s up?”
“What?” I asked. “Can’t a father just say hello to his daughter? What are you and Dewdrop up to anyway?”
“Oh, we’re just clearing up a few clouds to get ready for that race thing that’s on in a couple days. Dash is going nuts about it.”
“She’s helping Scootaloo, right?” I asked, Lizzie frowned and shrugged her shoulders.
“For a given definition of ‘helping’,” she replied. “Last I heard, Scootaloo wanted to win the prize for the most creative cart, but Dash has been building something that can probably do a sonic rainboom.”
Huh, it sounded like Scootaloo was having the same trouble Apple Bloom was. Then again, I’d made the mistake of assuming what each filly would want from this competition. And Rainbow Dash is infamous for not listening to others when she should. You’d have thought that somepony with that kind of responsibility wouldn’t just charge ahead regardless. Still, this is the mare who kicked a dragon in the face and was surprised when it nearly roasted her alive in retaliation.
I chatted with Lizzie for a little while after that, catching up on what was going on in her life. She’s been living with Fluttershy as her roommate for some time now, and while she hasn’t done anything officially yet, I know for a fact that she’s sweet on Dewdrop. I’m not the kind of dad to threaten to bury any would be suitor, but I do like to make sure she’s okay. He seems like a nice enough lad to my mind, having met him a few times now. He's a touch on the shy side, but not painfully so. He’s certainly a damn sight better than her last boyfriend back on Earth.
Anyway, before too long, I had to head off to the train station. It was five to the hour, so the train would be leaving any time soon. Charlie and I reached the platform, with me flashing my government issued rail warrant (train tickets in Equestria are just as stupidly expensive as they were back home) to the station master. Charlie turned around and headed back home, while I climbed aboard and headed up to Canterlot.
Today wasn’t looking too bad on the books, but I did know that Tia wanted to see me about something before court opened. I knew it wouldn’t be anything bad, trust me, if you’ve screwed up, you’ll know well before you’re up in front of the big white mare herself. As I’ve said before, while I am Celestia’s legal advisor and counsel, I’m also a fairly close friend, so every now and then she’ll ask to bounce new ideas off of me and get some feedback, and sometimes she likes to just chat about her own problems in private. Given her position, it’s not easy for her to just vent to someone about something.
Before I could wonder any further though, I was jostled from my thoughts as the train released its brakes and slowly began to pull out of the station.
The train actually made good time and we reached Canterlot a few minutes earlier than expected. Taking a cab up the hill, I had soon cleared security and was on my way to Celestia’s chambers. While the princess does have an office of sorts, it’s a medium sized room just off the throne room, she also has a study as it were in her personal apartments. I’ve been in here a few times to see her outside of court hours. She finds it less formal, providing a relaxed atmosphere. Still, it is something only a select few are permitted to do.
Walking up to the door, I greeted the sentry stationed at the door and informed him that Celestia had asked to see me. After giving me the once over, he stepped to one side and opened the door for me.
I found Celestia seated on an oversized cushion at her desk, a large quill dancing in the golden hue of her magic. Her ears pricked up as I entered, and she quickly turned around to face me.
“Ah, Roger, good,” she said with that familiar maternal smile. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you in a little early.”
“Not at all, Tia,” I replied with a smile of my own, offering a brief bow for the sake of protocol. “What can I do for you?” Celestia got up, a few sheets of paper in her magic.
“Remember that fundraiser I was telling you about?” She asked. I grinned and decided to take a rare opportunity to tease her.
“You mean the one that you’ve been strong arming half the nobility to donate to?” I asked, my voice sounding perfectly innocent. Celestia snorted good naturedly and rolled her eyes at my antics.
“Yes, that one,” she admitted. “I’ve just been crunching the numbers as they say, and it seems like we’re still going to be a couple thousand bits short. I’ve been racking my brains all day yesterday trying to think of a way to come up with the funds. I was wondering if you had any ideas.”
I had a quick think. This wasn’t the sort of thing you could reasonably ask the general public to donate to, being essentially a public school (in the British sense; a public school if paid for by donations from public members, whereas a state school is paid for by the government). A bake sale or other typical event certainly wouldn’t raise the amount of capital Celestia was looking for. Nor could she use her own wealth from Equestria’s coffers, since that was all earmarked for keeping the country running.
We needed something that generated a lot of profit quickly, that also didn’t require too much in the way of setting up. I actually started thinking back to my UVF days. When we needed money back then, and God knows we needed it a lot, we usually did something south of legal, but we also had quite a few rackets; black cabs, cheap cigarettes, lotteries.
Wait...that was it! A possible idea jumped to the forefront of my mind. Celestia clearly read my body language.
“What is it?” she asked as I began to inwardly celebrate. I finally had an excuse to use a phrase I’d not been able to until now.
“I,” I declared. “Have a cunning plan!”
Leading Celestia down to my office, I surmised the little plan I’d come up with. We could take bets on the Applewood Derby down in Ponyville. The event had attracted plenty of ponies, and not just from Ponyville. If we could get enough ponies placing bets, even paying out winnings, we’d still have a tidy sum left over.
Now, normally, this wouldn’t be possible. Gambling outside of a casino is just as illegal in Equestria as it was back in Blighty. However, as part of my job, I keep up to date on case law; judgements made in court that come to serve as a precedent for future occurrences of the same offence. Not too long ago, there had been a case down in San Franciscolt. A community centre had organised a seemingly harmless rabbit race (yes, a rabbit race) for a charity event. The public attending had placed bets on who would win, not more than four or five bits. Somepony however, reported it as unlawful gambling. At the resulting trial, it was explained that the money was all being donated to charitable organisations, and for that reason, the judge had dismissed the case summarily. Anti-gambling laws exist to stop organised crime using gambling as a way to make money and to ensure any gambling is regulated properly. But in dismissing the case, the judge brought into precedent that it was not illegal to permit gambling where the resulting proceeds were donated to recognised and registered charities.
Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was a registered charity, (a tax dodge) and thus could use this loophole to help with the deficit. We could set up a bookies down in Ponyville, set up the odds accordingly for each prize, and then earn a pretty penny for our trouble. If nothing else, the opportunity to gamble outside of Las Pegasus would attract a fair few ponies.
Stepping into my office however, Celestia was not exactly convinced.
“Are you sure about this, Roger?” she asked, sounding unsure.
“Absolutely, Tia,” I replied.
Walking over to the large bookcase, I thumbed my way along the one row until I came to a collection of recent judgements and case law. Opening the book and scanning through, I soon found the section I was looking for.
“See, here it is,” I said, pointing to the relevant section. “Heart Strings v the City of San Franciscolt. These books aren’t just for show, you know; they’re chock full of useful legal titbits.” Celestia leaned over my shoulder and quickly scanned the judgement over.
At first, I could still see uncertainty on her face. But as she read the judgement and saw how the land lay, and the potential reward up for grabs, that look was replaced with a pleased one. She gave me permission to get the operation going. Celestia may be entirely incorruptible, but she does so enjoy bending the rules once in a while.
And so, a couple of days later, the derby was on, and I was busy collecting a whole lot of cash. As soon as I’d got back to Ponyville, I’d had some posters made up and put up around town. That had netted me quite a local market, but I’d also, with the help of one Derpy Hooves, been able to use the telegraph system in the post office to take bets from further afield. I’d never realised that so many ponies were willing to bet serious money on a kids soapbox race.
Now, obviously, I’d needed help from somepony to help work out the odds, set the line and so forth in order for us not to lose out massively. Twilight had told me flat out that she’d be no part of it, even if Celestia had given me the nod. Despite the fact that it was for charity, the little purple alicorn was flat out against gambling. So instead, since Derpy was already helping me, I made use of her remarkably smart daughter, Dinky.
The little filly has an IQ north of 200; the result of a union between Derpy and Time Turner, who, like Dinky, has two hearts if that’s any explanation. Unfettered by the ethics of gambling on a children's sporting event, she was able to work out some odds that gave a good payout for winner,s while still keeping us in the black.
By the time the small booth I’d set up in Town Hall closed up, just prior to the race. I had enough squared away that even if all the underdogs won, we’d still have the two thousand or so bits needed for the fundraiser. All was going well until the derby itself got under way.
The first thing that I noticed was off were the drivers. By tradition, the foals drove the carts, while the adults provided the pony power. Today though, that seemed reversed in some cases, with Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo all pushing their carts and their older siblings driving them. They also seem to be quite in contrast to what the fillies claimed to be building. Instead of a speedy racer, Apple Bloom had a traditional cart, while Sweetie Belle had a rather aesthetically pleasing one, and Scootaloo had the bullet with wheels on it. None of them looked particularly happy.
Still, the crowd was eager for the off, and as the green flag dropped, ponies were cheering and singing like nutters. The carts roared around the track at a fast speed, apart from Apple Bloom’s obviously, which trundled along at a pace that I think would warrant a citation for failing to make adequate progress (a real traffic offence back in Britain). Rainbow zoomed around the track, but was unable to pass Rarity, who was also fighting for the lead. Things soon got dirty, which ultimately ended in Rainbow’s cart losing a tyre, and all three of the Crusaders' carts smashing into each other.
Luckily, nopony was seriously hurt, apart from the carts, which were a write off. Still, that marked the last straw for the Crusaders, and rather publicly, they blew up at their sisters and mentor figures, who had pretty much hijacked their carts for themselves by all accounts. The three mares realised how selfish they had been, and ultimately convinced Cheerilee to organise a second derby, just for the foals.
That was all well and good for them. I however, had to contend with the fallout from the derby. Who won, you might ask. Well, it was Derpy and her nephew Crackle Pop. Once again, the two of them crossed the line first. The odds on Derpy winning were 50/1. I’d had her as an underdog because of the Crusaders. Now I was out more than a few bits.
Annoyingly, there was no longer enough to completely cover the cost for Celestia’s fundraiser. But I was more grateful that nopony cottoned on to the fact that Derpy had been helping set up the bookies in the first place. Back on Earth, that might have got my head kicked in by some unhappy customers.
Still, it hadn’t been a complete disaster, and Celestia could still drum up a few more donations when she went to visit the orphanage in a few weeks. And Celestia’s great at those sorts of things, Luna not so much, but why would she be doing anything in the daytime, right?
Stats
Page generated in 0.019 seconds
Total duration
1,003 users online
1,620,907 hits today, 2,004,447 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Its the Wacky Races.
Id be no good at such a race, I used to easily hit flat out running from the stops pushing a loaded wheelchair, and only slightly longer to get up to speed in the mobility scooter drag. I think the hardest I ever did was help my Uncle get his 3 ton van up to jogging speed so he could jump start its diesel engine.
Making a speed cart reminds me of that video of someone using a coring drill and lathe to turn wooden spheres. Use them as ball bearings? but might as well just use roller bearings, simple turned cylinder, for cart wheels?
And as Im typing this, the stream is playing the 50s classic, Beep, Beep.
I had a feeling you'd reference BlackAdder sometime soon, lol
And here I am missing all the references. Also, you missed the obvious chance to make an Initial D reference.
"Volunteer work". Heh. He got voluntold. Got to do plenty of that in the Army.
Ok so they have the $2k money
And now they don’t you said that even if all the underdogs won they would still have $2k+ so how are they now less than $2k?