Getting Your Hopes Up

by Sollace

Don't Let Me Down

Now let me tell you a little something about dreams.

I don’t know much about dreams on account of I never had one before, but they always say that dreams are the things life is made of, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that unattainable goal that gives us all the drive we need to exist. It’s that force, the one that makes you want to go out to do something impossible, to prove the world wrong, and leave your own mark on history.

It’s our goals that make us alive, and our goals that keep us alive.

I never used to have a goal. I’d just live my life one day at a time. Wake up, go to school, do my homework, and hang with the crusaders a bit.

That’s it.

We’d always just hang out trying to figure out our cutie mark.

I guess, in a way, you could say that was our collective goal—our dream.

We wanted cutie marks. No, we needed cutie mark. It was our life destiny, to find out what our life destinies were.

At every turn, every failure, we’d always get back up and continue working at it. We’d come back stronger, smarter, more determined.

And in the end.

We did it.

I got my cutie mark.

...

But now what?

Once we got our cutie mark there wasn’t any other reason to hang out together. No reason to go out crusading, no drive. No passion. We just... were, and I didn’t know what I was going to do.

That is, until she arrived.

~ ~ ~

I know almost everything there is to know about Rainbow Dash.

Every tiny, itsy-bitsy, little piece of trivia about Rainbow Dash is filed away and memorized in such a way that I can recall it almost instantly. I know things that not even Twilight Sparkle herself could tell you about flying. I doubt even Rainbow Dash knows as much about herself as I do.

Not only is she the youngest member of the Wonderbolts ever, the only pony who has ever performed a sonic rainboom, and done it twice, as a filly even, but did you know that the dark purple streak in her mane is actually a really deep fuchsia?

Yeah, seriously.

Her mane’s not an actual-to-goodness rainbow. It has these tiny imperfections that make it an... off-rainbow?

You can especially see it when her mane is wet, and lightened in the sun out near Lake Poneh. Purple does not have that shade of salmon in it, and Rainbow Dash is particularly self-conscious about it. She hates it when ponies point out the purple. She loathes it, though she doesn’t want to admit it.

I once saw her deck Braeburn in the face for just casually mentioning fuchsia.

True story.

She also has a birthmark on the inside of her thighs. She likes to tell ponies that it’s part of her cutie mark, but I know what it is.

~ ~ ~

After spending some time with Rainbow Dash I began to realise what my true calling in life was, and it didn’t end here with me getting my cutie mark. It wasn’t on the ground, either.

No.

For the next step of my life, I looked to the skies. I decided then and there that I was going to fly. I headed straight to Twilight’s library and checked out every book I could about bird and flight. It didn’t matter what it was about, how many words it was or whether I even knew what they all meant.

I’d learn it on the way. If Rainbow Dash—the awesomenest pony to ever live—could do it, I’m betting all my hay that I can do it too.

~ ~ ~

Every evening I spent poring over those books. I studied every diagram, every biology textbook. I focused on the wings, looked at charts of air currents. I even studied the weather.

Pretty soon I was running out of books, so I had to get more, and then more, and then more. I went for regular visits to the Cloudsdale factories, to see the rainbows. I visited the weather factory and barely got out of it alive, but had a ball of a time watching how they moved the clouds around with their hooves.

I know everything there is to know about aeronautics. I’ve studied the wind currents around Ponyville, I’ve memorized the tactics for optimal lift calculation.

When I go to sleep at night, most ponies count sheep: I count the number of feathers on a hairpin auxiliary joint.

~ ~ ~

When I wasn’t hitting the books, I was hitting the weights. I focused on the back and the triped muscles, toning and trimming them for both strength and agility, as well as an optimal aerodynamic curvature.

I did as much as I could on three legs as possible, and then two legs, and finally one leg.

I did sprints in the morning and ice bags in the afternoon to work up my endurance. Then when that wasn’t enough, I added weights and doubled the distance.

For all my efforts I eventually got recognition from Rainbow Dash. Twilight was praising me for my studious habits, whilst the pegasus had taken to watching my daily regimen with a slight level of reverence.

She even started giving me private lessons. We’d go out to the part every Tuesday and she would demonstrate various manoeuvres. She would allow me to inspect her wings and take notes, draw diagrams; do some calculations for what kind of lift I would need for a body of my build.

We continued like this for three more months. I didn’t have enough time to see my friends. There was barely enough time to sleep, hardly enough time. I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited.

Tomorrow was the day.

~ ~ ~

I stood alone on the hilltop, an outcropping that overlooked the rest of Sweet Apple Acres, my sole duffel bag slung over my shoulder with the extra supplies and weights already prepared from the night before.

The sun was just peeking over the hills of Canterlot, sending the fields awash in a mixture of oranges and greens. The little dots of apples hung in the trees, dancing to the gentle morning wind, singing their song of silence, the only witnesses to what was about to occur to day.

Today was the day.

This pony was going to fly.

They made fun of me. They said I would never make it. Ponies called me a foal for trying, that I’d never get off the ground, but I’m here today. I’m here now and I’m going to prove them wrong.

Just because I’m an Earth Pony, that ain’t no reason to keep me down.

Author's Note:

Thanks everyone for reading! That was my entry to Super Tramp's feghoot contest, written at literally the very last minute!

Special credit to Lofty Withers for donating this idea to me.

If we get over 5000 500 20 likes, I'll make an epilogue that will also be a feghoot! Or maybe I'll just do that anyway.

Comments

[StarryNight_Waifu]

First like of the day, hell yeah!

[Sollace]

9738329
Wooo!

[Herald of Opera]

Son of a... I mean, Cherry Berry exists, so it didn't quite come out of nowhere, but still.

Also, as an aside, Scootachicken is objectively dumb. If chickens can't fly, then how does the rooster get to the top of the barn at the ***crack of dawn?

[Sollace]

9738446
They... climb the walls?

[Herald of Opera]

9738457
Upon actual research (read: a Google search for "flying chicken"), nope. The article I found mentions several breeds, and the non-flying breeds are talked about in a way that makes it sound more like not actually trying rather than being truly incapable. It's only talking about hens, but what's good for the goose is good for the gander, and I know that's a different bird but it's close enough, right?

[NicLove]

Do you have a part 2 ?

TSP (Trans Species Ponies)

[Kris Overstreet]

I'm sorry, but I seem to have missed the pun...

[Dreadnought]

Is that a 737 you have for cover art? It's so hard to tell from this angle.

Dreadnought

[Sollace]

9738638
Not yet (not including the possible Epillogue). But maybe if I think of an idea I enjoy enough I will.

[NicLove]

9739240
Do you want to join the group ?

TSP (Trans Species Ponies)

[Sollace]

9739365
Sure, why not? It seems interesting.

[PresentPerfect]

Well, it's not a feghoot, but I was kind of wondering if that wouldn't be the punchline. :)

[Sollace]

9751929
aw

[Pascoite]

9739225
No, the main gear you can see in the background has far too many wheels for a 737. The windscreen is also a bit off for one, though you're right, the perspective kind of distorts the shape enough so it's hard to tell. The only plane that airline has ever operated that'd have that many wheels on the main gear is a 777.

[Pascoite]

And... I'm not quite sure what the ending means. What I think is most likely is that this is Scootaloo, and she's calling herself an earth pony because she's accepted her lot, is taking ownership of what had been used to ridicule her, or is experiencing some kind of race dysphoria where she actually thinks of herself as an earth pony. But I'm also considering the possibility that this story is actually about Apple Bloom, and we're led to assume it's Scootaloo until the end. A twist, then, but that's not what makes a feghoot. I'd be looking for a more obvious joke ending.

[Sollace]

9752899
The intention was for it to be a twist at the end. Perhaps I did just botch the ending, it seems. Either way, disqualify it if you want.

[Pascoite]

9752985
A twist that it was actually Apple Bloom the whole time? I was just curious. It's sometimes the nature of feghoots that if you don't catch a reference, you'll totally miss the joke.

[Sollace]

9753002
Yep, exactly. And I totally see that. I've read a few fegs where people have commented about not getting it, and some I haven't gotten until I read the comments.

[Dreadnought]

9752883
Yeah, I know the 777 has six wheels per main landing gear- the only airliner like that. Also, it has a noticeable hump behind the cockpit- they reused the 767's. Also, its tail is flat with the APU vectored off to the side.

[mwclaud]

Lovely story, thank you. She really tried, but if she does not have wings, she may need some kind of artificial device to help her out.

[Mica]

I've flown Scoot Airlines before. Crappy budget airline in SE Asia.

I was half expecting this to be a joke about Scootaloo staring an airline in order to finally fly.

"Hello everypony, and welcome aboard Scoot(aloo) Airlines. I'm your captain, Scootaloo, and believe me when I say that it is my absolute pleasure to be flying today."

"On an unrelated note, for today's inflight meal service, we will be serving chicken."