Field Frustrations
Apple Bloom tapped the nail gently with a hammer, repeating the process until the head was flush with the surface of the wood. She eyed her work critically, then smiled.
"Lookin' good!" she said. She'd gotten the new board for the stair to the clubhouse installed, perfectly level and without so much as a scuff. Of course, as soon as her filly friends showed up, they'd end up scuffing up her work anyway, but that wasn't important. A step was made to be stepped on, after all. What was important was that it was well-made and well-done.
"Epiphometer at 67%, Agent 13. Are you in place?"
"Confirmed, Control. Set up and ready to take the shot, on your orders."
"Stand by."
Apple Bloom smiled contentedly, helping herself to a bottle of crisp, cold apple cider from this year's newest batch. Flim and Flam, dirty conmen that they were, had given the filly some ideas with that fancy contraption of theirs, ideas that she was eager to try out next year, assuming she could convince Applejack and Big Macintosh.
She ran her hoof gently over the newly installed stair, then looked over at the rope-and-pulley elevator that she'd installed earlier that day. The elevator was to allow the fillies to get supplies up to the main floor more easily, and it worked perfectly.
"You know, I think I'm kinda good at buildin' things," she said quietly to herself.
"Epiphometer at 79% and climbing! Get set, Agent 13!"
"Good Celestia, this might finally be it!" Agent 13 replied. Sensing silent disapproval over the line, he added, "Cutie Cannon deployed and ready for the shot, waiting on your go."
Visions of the traveling salesponies' contraption flittered through the filly's head. There were nearly endless possibilities.
"Maybe I could... "
"Epiphometer at 90%! Prepare to fire, hold on my mark!"
"Confirmed, Control!"
"Maybe my special talent is..."
"Epiphometer at 94%... 95%..." Control said, and Agent 13 felt his finger tightening on the trigger. He forced himself to relax. Premature firing could have disastrous consequences, such as that unicorn filly who now thought her special talent was making mud pies.
That hadn't been one of his better days. Premature Epiphination wasn't fun for anyone.
"Maybe my special talent is... Bein' a travelin salespony!" Apple Bloom said excitedly.
"Epiphometer at 42% and falling! Abort! Abort!"
Agent 13 cursed and began the process of breaking down the Cutie Cannon.
"Yeah, a travelin' salespony! I bet that's it! I gotta go tell Sweetie and Scootaloo!"
With that, Apple Bloom scampered off happily to find her friends.
In some nearby bushes, a tiny figure deactivated his 'See and Hear Me Not' cloaking device and stepped out into view, glaring after the filly while wearing a perturbed expression on his face.
"One of these days, Apple Bloom," he said, shaking a tiny little fist. "I'll get you one of these days!"
~~*~~
The Ponyville branch of the Cutie Mark Allocation Agency was located on the outskirts of the underground city of Gnomington, hidden near the border of the Everfree forest. To a passing observer, it would look like nothing more than a slightly overgrown gopher mound.
There were no gophers here. However, there was the CMAA satellite office, and the gnomes who worked there.
Agent 13, or Glummwriggle as he was known when off-duty, trudged his way into the CMAA HQ, making sure to drop of the Cutie Cannon at the armory as he went. Of course, that was no simple procedure. Checking in a Cute Cannon required filling out almost as much paperwork as checking one out. The fact that it hadn't been fired required its own form, with its own fields to fill out.
Glummwriggle, or Glumm as he was sometimes called by his few friends, had discovered the hard way that 'Target is a clueless idiot' wasn't something that the higher-ups appreciated on the 'Explanation of Unused Cutie Mark Ordinance' form. Instead, he fell back to his old standby when dealing with Apple Bloom and the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
Target failed to reach proper epiphany at this time, he wrote, while muttering "Again" under his breath. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his bulbous nose with his fingers, then turned to see the smirking Quartermaster behind the counter waiting for him. He glared menacingly at the other gnome, who was quite obviously wracking his brain for what he was sure to think was a witty remark.
"Sooo... Still no cutie mark for little Apple Bloom, eh?" the gnome behind the counter finally said.
Glumm rolled his eyes.
"Get stuffed, Flufferduff," he said. "I need a drink."
"Go get one, then," Fluff said, unfazed by Glumm's attitude. He'd seen much worse from the gruff gnome, after all. Like when Glumm had returned in frustration after Sweetie Belle had left choir practice after school one day and had decided that she'd like nothing better in life than to be an impressionist painter.
"I think I will," Glumm replied, passing over the last of the forms. He waved at Fluff, who was a good friend, or at least as good of a friend as Glumm was willing to make. Gnomes in general were far too cheery for him. Maybe he'd just been in this job too long.
~~*~~
The office was a cluttered mess, with the papers stacked in the overflowing inbox threatening to collapse upon the many nearly-empty coffee cups that were leaving indelible rings and stains on the ancient oak that made up what could have been a priceless antique desk, if it weren't gnome-sized, and if the Chief hadn't carved his name into it in several locations. There weren't too many folks willing to pay for a desk that had the name 'Tallywaddle' carved into it, after all.
That was the way the Chief liked it, though. This desk was his. This job was his. Anygnome who came after him would have to deal with using a desk that had his name staring back at them from several different angles.
Chief Tallywaddle leaned back in his chair and grinned over the heaps of paperwork at the newest applicant. He could just barely see the kid's eyebrows underneath his pointy red hat. He liked it that way, too. He barely knew anygnome that worked here, and he sure as fudge wouldn't be able to recognize them out of uniform. Detachment, he believed, made for effective leadership, and Tallywaddle liked to be as detached as possible. That was Rule of Effective Gnome Management #3.
"So, you want to join the CMAA," he asked the young sprout on the other side of his desk.
"Yes, sir!" the gnome squeaked eagerly. "I like the pony folk, and it would be an honor to help with such an important job!"
"We don't just let anygnome join us," Chief Tallywaddle said sternly, though he'd already made up his mind to hire the young sprout. Still, he never passed up a chance for a self-important speech. That was Rule of Effective Gnome Management #4.
"Oh, I know sir!" the eager gnomeling cried out. "Only the best of the best of the very very best!"
"And you think that's you, do you?" Tallywaddle roared. "You think you're that good?!"
"No sir!" the applicant said. "But I'll try my best to be! And I'm sure, under your fine leadership, that I'll get there some day!"
Tallywaddle blinked in surprise. The gnome was trying to butter him up! Win him over with flattery! For a few seconds, the Chief was outraged. Who'd told this impertinent sprout about Rule #2?
He got up from his desk, and waddled (thus the name) over to the flag hung up proudly on the wall. It was the official flag of the CMAA, and to the unobservant, it was a simple green cloth with no other distinguishing marks. The motto of the CMAA was 'Unseen and unheard: They must never know'. In keeping with that motto, the flag was actually meant to represent an invisible gnome on a grassy field. Only the well educated like Tallywaddle could tell the difference.
"This particular branch of the CMAA only received our charter a little over a century ago," he told the applicant, while facing the flag so as to avoid any possible viewing and potential accidental memorization of the other gnome's features. "Celestia herself signed it, and I was hired by the Gnome King himself. But the CMAA has existed for over three thousand years, dear boy... you are a boy, right?"
"Yes, sir! That's why I have the beard, sir!"
"Good deal. Though, come to think of it, my sister has a beard. Anyway, three thousand years, and not one pony has failed to get a cutie mark at their allotted time. Nor has any pony ever known of our existence. Apart from the Princesses, of course. Well, them and Pinkie Pie. We are the unseen. The unheard. That's history, boy. That's what we're about, here. And if you think you can't hack it..."
He trailed off, and predictably enough, the sprout took the bait.
"I'm sure I can handle it, sir! I promise, I won't let you down!"
The young gnome was full of vim and vigor, ready to take on the world and the bureaucracy. And eventually fail miserably, of course. Tallywaddle smiled. The boy reminded him of himself at a younger age. Wait, no. Not himself, that other gnome. What was his name... Jingle... something-or-other. Eh, it wasn't important.
"I know you won't, boy. I know you won't," The Chief said, wandering back to his desk and collapsing into his chair with a sigh. "Now, to find you a training partner. Let's see, who's the best fit?"
And by 'best fit', the Chief was really thinking of who most deserved to be saddled with a new recruit with far more enthusiasm than brains. It would have to be some gnome who'd recently annoyed him (Rule #17). Some gnome, possibly with a bad attitude...
Ah. Of course. The answer was obvious as soon as he thought of it.
"Boy, do I have the partner for you, young... er... what was your name, again?"
"Tinseltoes, sir!"
"Tinseltoes. Yes. I have the perfect partner for you!"
~~*~~
Deep in the underground city of Gnomington, in a seedy bar off of the main drag, Glumm shivered violently as a sense of terrible foreboding came over him.
"You all right, buddy?" the bartender asked.
Glumm shook himself. He wasn't a superstitious gnome, but it felt like the somegnome had just walked over his grave.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he told the bartender. "Can I get another ginger ale?"
"You sure, buddy? That's your fourth one."
"Hey, I'll worry about my sobriety, and you just keep them coming until I can't see straight anymore. Got it?"
"Fine, fine," the bartender said. "Your funeral."
Glumm stared at him in surprise. Surely, the reference to a funeral so soon after thinking of someone walking across his grave was just random happenstance. That, along with the feeling of dread that had passed through him. Surely it was all just a massive coincidence. Right?
Glumm turned back to his ginger ale, and whatever comfort he could find in its bubbly embrace.
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You've always wondered where cutie marks came from, right?
Oh, you haven't? Well, here's a story, anyway.
Sometimes I get ideas that won't leave me alone. This was an idea that was bouncing around in my head the last couple of days and simply wouldn't simmer down.
I wrote this much of it, just to get it out of the way for now so I can concentrate on my other stories. I'm not planning on adding any more chapters until I finish off my other two in-progress stories. Which should be relatively soon
I really hope I don't have to edit chapter 1 at any time. I'm really tickled that it came out to be 1234 words. I didn't plan that, but it amuses me far more than it should. Also, I hope y'all dig my self-made monstrously crap-tastic MS-Paint made cover-image
Gnomes from The Sims.
Read later.
Next time Gadget, next time!
Wow. That was...good. Like, really good. I don't normally put much stock in front page stories, but this most definitely swayed my side. I could see this easily making the featured box.
Initial shock aside, I love the idea. I have always wanted to really analyze the idea of Cutie Marks. Your story might not go into it as deep as I would want to, but it's all the better for it. Mine would sound more like a research paper than a fanfiction.
You have strongly piqued my interest. Continue good sir!
This seems interesting so far, and I'd expect nothing less from you, Mr. McGee. Keep up with the good work.
Our organization has been keeping tabs on you for a very long while, Mr. McGee. We are... content with your work thus far. Do not disappoint us. We will contact you shortly.
I'm drawing a connection of some degree between this and The Adjustment Bureau. I like where it's going.
Poor Glumm. He never saw it coming.
BRILLIANT!
This has to be the most ingenious thing I've read on this site. I was laughing so hard my stomach was aching. Honestly my only criticism is that 1k per chapter is such a tease, I definitely think you could've combined 1 and 2 into one chapter for a more satisfying result.
interesting.
images.wikia.com/mlp/images/f/f1/FANMADE_GoOn....gif
And the second chapter is even better. Can't wait for more of this, however long it takes.
This is a pretty unique concept. Feels like David the Gnome meets the Office. Please go on.
My only complaint is that I don't really see how "helping animals" translates to a shooting star cutie mark. Aside from that, fantastic work. I'm definitely looking forward to more. I'm rather curious as to how the Epiphometer works, and how the gnomes operate in Cloudsdale and other cloud cities.
How do I post comments?
sorry just not my type of story but i'm not a jerk so i won't down vote it
Up until Chief Tallywaddle entered the picture, the fic was merely OK, but I absolutely love his narration style. The description of his desk in particular amused me.
1370099 No no, the part after that. The "using his wings to help others" part.
Brilliant stuff!
Why didn't I read this sooner?! 
Agent 13, or Glummwriggle as he was known when off-duty, trudged his way into the CMAA HQ, making sure to drop off the Cutie Cannon at the armory as he went.
I'm dying. Well done, good sir, well done. XD
1404730 *Alondro sensed a desk reference in the comments... and so must ask...*
Was it made of mahogany?
Why don't they connect the cutie cannon to the epiphanometer so that only fires when the epiphanometer is at 100%?
I adore these names.
5056366 They might not have it (the shot) lined up.
At this point, an assignment to one of the three ponies everygnome called the Cutie Mark Evaders was treated as more of a paid break and Slacknose was taking full opportunity of this when his cutie cannon went off.
Once Slacknose had put his pants on and reported back to the Cutie Mark Allocation Agency HQ an immediate and urgent response had to be made.
The nature of the CMAA being what is is though, Slacknose first had to complete a form for 'Unintentional Application of Cutie Mark to Non-Sapient Being', complete the correct form, ('Unintentional Application of Cutie Mark to Non-Sapient Object') before one of the gnomes in Administration could submit a request for 'Action Vital to the Concealment of CMAA Operations (Immediate)', wake the members of the "AVeC" committee, discover that one of the members had died in their sleep peacefully some two months earlier, have a new committee member elected and have the AVCCMAAO(I) application reviewed by the aforementioned committee.
By which time the tree had been cut down and made into planks.
Though it must be said that those planks were of excellent quality.
Corrections offered without malice.
off
Cutie
Ordnance'
Ordnance is weaponry. Ordinance is a law.