Mailpony Rules

by Pyromanecer

Chapter 8: Arrival

Mailpony Rules
Chapter 8

"Package?"

"Check!"

"Food?"

"Check!"

"Emergency supplies?"

"Check!"

Satisfied, Tempest filled in the last box on his imaginary pre-flight check-list. All necessities were accounted for; they had food to last them until they got to Appleoosa, bits to purchase a room once they got there, and, of course, their respective cargoes, without which would result in a delivery most shameful and unsuccessful.

"Tempest?" Ditzy asked. "Not that I'm questioning your experience or anything, but shouldn't we have gone over this before we left?"

The stallion felt himself flushing. "I know what I'm doing," he insisted, flying further ahead in an attempt to avoid more questions.

A futile effort, as it turned out. Flapping harder, Ditzy quickly caught up to him. "Tempest," she chided, "Did you forget to check our stuff before leaving?"

Tempest looked away shamefully. He grumbled something which Ditzy felt could be interpreted as 'Maybe.'

"Come on," she gently ribbed, "Everyone makes mistakes. It's nothing to be ashamed about."

The stallion frowned. "It's different for this," he mumbled. "Forgetting something on a big trip can be catastrophic."

"What," Ditzy asked, laughing, "Are Celestia and Luna going to make meteors come down on our heads because we didn't bring enough dried apricots?"

"Ha ha," laughed Tempest sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Okay, so maybe not 'catastrophic.' How about just 'very bad?'"

"Elaborate."

He rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, the first time I made a long-distance delivery I forgot to bring extra food. I had to use my lodging bits to keep myself from starving. Ended up sleeping beneath a bridge." He shuddered. "Never forgot food again."

Ditzy winced. "Ouch. Sounds nasty."

"It was. There was garbage everywhere and some homeless pony kept touching my leg."

Now the mare looked confused. "O... kay. That's strange." She shook her head to clear the odd thoughts. "If that's true, why did you forget to check our bags this time?"

Sheepishly, the stallion looked anywhere but Ditzy. "Well, this is the first time I've ever flown with somepony else. I only checked my bags."

"Is that all?" Ditzy asked. "That's not bad. That's actually pretty reasonable."

"Yes, I know," Tempest sighed, "But it's such a rookie mistake. If anypony else found out, I'd be the laughing stock of the bounty board."

"Oh, quit moping," she teased, jabbing him in the side. "Everypony messes up every now and then. I would know."

"Yeah, but most mistakes don't end up with us sharing a garbage-bed with some very touchy hobos," he grumbled.

Ditzy swiveled her eyes, opting not to respond. Taking this as an invite for a change in topic, Tempest asked, "So, has Sparkler foalsat Dinky before?"

The mare nodded. "Yep, all the time. Like I said, those two are like sisters."

"What do you think they're up to now?"

~~~

"Dinky! Get down off of that cupboard!"

"Nuh-uh! Not until you get off the fridge!"

Gritting her teeth, Sparkler dug her heels harder into the cold steel of her refrigerator and pushed with all her might. In response, the glow around her horn intensified, causing the corresponding blob of magical energy around the metallic sphere in the room's center to turn slightly more purple.

Dinky, sitting on a flame-retardant cupboard on the other side of the room, felt sweat drip down her face. Grimacing, she put even more power behind her spell, trying to force the ball past the flag on Sparkler's side of the kitchen. Slowly, tantalizingly, the orb began to inch its way away from her, trailing sparks and smoke where her magic lost focus.

"Heh, you're getting pretty good at this, Dinks," Sparkler admitted. Suddenly, she flashed a wide grin. "But not good enough!"

Dinky felt the massive surge of energy from her cousin before she saw its effects, filling her with a sense of dread even before the contested object began jerkily moving towards her. She huffed, and she puffed, and she put all of her magical power behind stopping the ball, but it still continued it's sporadic advance.

Sparkler, assured of her victory, allowed herself a devious smile. The smug grin was quickly wiped from her face as she felt an all-too-familiar sensation begin to build in her chest. Panicking, the mare tried to stifle the urge. In, vain, it seemed, as the feeling only continued growing in proportion with her ball's progress across the room.

"AAACHOO!

Several things happened at once. One, the force of Sparkler's sneeze disrupted her concentration, and thus her flow of magic. Two, Dinky, unaffected by her cousin's diaphragmal spasm, failed to cut off the flow of energy through her horn. Three, the ball, free from one half of its active forces, sped along the path of least resistance.

Right towards Sparkler.

The mare, recovering from her sneak-attack sneeze, looked up just in time to see the small sphere barreling towards her, trailing magic and flames. Everything slowed down. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, all she could do was watch with a growing sense of primal terror as the magically-charged projectile sped towards her at Mach 1.

*THUNK*

"Sparkler!" cried Dinky, leaning towards her cousin. "Are you okay?"

Sparkler, who had miraculously not fallen off the fridge, was currently sprawled on her back, gripping the place where the ball had impacted her with her hooves. Right between the eyes. Ouch.

"I'm fine..." she managed to groan, rolling over onto her stomach. "The only thing hurt is my pride." Pushing herself up, she winced. "Okay, that's a lie. My face hurts pretty bad too."

Dinky looked down and scuffed her hooves. "Sorry..."

Sparkler shook her head, cringing as the movement made her head throb. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. "Don't worry, Dinky, it's not your fault."

Worries assuaged, Dinky asked the next thing on her mind. "...So does that mean I won?"

Sparkler grinned ruefully. "Fine. But we're playing two out of three. And if you melt or vaporize the ball, you automatically lose, alright?"

"Aw..."

~~~

"...Hopefully nothing too dangerous."

Tempest, satisfied with the answer, looked into the sky to check the time. He was surprised to see that it was almost noon. Mentally charting their position, the stallion figured that they could stop for lunch.

"Hey, Ditzy," he called. "It's about time we stop for food."

"Got it!" she returned. Secretly, she was relieved. While she was loathe to admit it, her wings were very sore and she would greatly appreciate a rest.

Gliding downwards, the pair spotted a lone-standing tree. Settling themselves in its shade, they began taking out their food. It is probably fortunate that they saw this tree when they did, for it was one of the last ones before the real wasteland began. The next time they would see foliage-based shade would be when they hit the extensive apple orchards of Appleoosa.

While the train to said frontier town usually took at least an overnight trip, pegasus flight was much faster. With the lack of other stops and the ability to fly over obstacles, a trained distance flier could make the journey in a little under half a day. Doing some quick estimations in his head, Tempest figured that they they would arrive at town just before sunset, barring any surprises.

"Erm, Tempest?" Ditzy asked, waving a hoof in front of his face. "Are you going to eat or just stare at your food?"

Startled out of his reverie, the stallion jumped. "Huh? Oh, sorry," he apologized. "Just doing some math."

Ditzy quirked an eyebrow at him. "Math?"

Tempest rolled his eyes. "Alright, not math math, just guessing-math," he snorted, pulling out the rest of his lunch. "We should get there in a few hours."

The mare nodded and went back to her delicious sandwich. Before her nutritional package could reach her mouth, however, she spotted something unusual lying next to her companion's assorted foodstuffs.

"Um, Tempest?" she questioned, for the second time that minute. "Is that... instant coffee?"

"Hmm?" the stallion replied, looking up from rummaging in his bag. Following one of her eyes, he saw the shiny plastic package she was currently examining. "Oh, yeah. That it is."

"...Did you bring a coffee maker with you?"

Tempest scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I do that? Those things are heavy."

"Then why do you have it?"

"Um, for lunch? Duh?"

Ditzy, confused, cocked her head. "How can you drink coffee without a coffee maker?"

Rolling his eyes, the stallion gave a small smirk. Quickly, he snatched up the package and tore off the top. With one swift motion, he dumped the entire contents of the bag into his open mouth. Ditzy, wide eyed, could only cringe as he began grinding the fine powder between his teeth.

Taking a swig from his water bottle, Tempest grinned. "Like that."

Ditzy stared, her face showing a combination of shock, disgust, and admiration. "That... was very strange."

Tempest chortled. "You should see some of the other guys; they practically breathe this stuff." Nodding towards his bag, he added. "I've got another pack, if you want some."

The mare visibly recoiled. "No, no, I'm good," she laughed nervously. "You can have your strange eating habits, I'll stick to my sandwich."

Tempest shrugged. "Suit yourself. But believe me; if you do long hauls, you learn to love caffeine. It's a fact of nature."

~~~

One meal later, the pair were back in the air, Tempest much more perky from his caffeine buzz. With the wind at their tails, the pegasi made great time. In fact, they arrived at Appleoosa a full half hour before Tempest predicted. Looking below, they could see the town was constructed in classic frontier-town fashion. There was a long main street that lead all the way through town, strait as an arrow, with all the important shops, services, gathering places, and, of course, the obligatory saloon lining its edges like looming guards. Everything was faithfully depicted in the old-timey settler pony style, with all the wood, large signs, and rump-smacking doors one could ask for. Off in the distance, past some tall rock formations, a picturesque apple orchard stretched as far as the eye could see. It almost looked like it was pulled strait out of a postcard.

Touching down outside the rustic-looking post office, the stallion turned to his companion. "Alright," he began. "My package goes here. You want to come in?"

Ditzy shook her head. "Nah. You go ahead; I'll wait here."

As soon as the stallion had disappeared behind the old-style saloon doors, however, Ditzy let out an explosive breath. Panting heavily, she frantically looked around the wide street for anything she could use to quench her thirst. Spotting a metal trough outside of a farrier's shop, she dashed over as fast as her sore legs would allow. Once there, she promptly dunked her entire head below the surface, taking great gulps as she felt the water cool her sweaty face. Cringing at the water's taste, a mix of old metal and feet, she nonetheless swallowed the water as fast as she could without choking. Once her lungs began to burn, she resurfaced, resuming her panting and looking like a half-drowned dog. Shaking her head in a vain attempt to dry her mane, she hurriedly cantered back over to the post office.

While she would never admit it to her friend's face, she was dead tired. Her wings were beyond sore, and she swore she could feel every one of her feathers pulse with pain. At this point, she was basically holding herself up with nothing but strong will and a brave face. After all the stick she gave him for having trouble waking up early, she didn't think she could bear to see the smug grin he would give her when he saw how utterly exhausted she was.

Speaking of smiles of the Tempest variety, one was currently walking back out of the post office, attached to the face of a familiar stallion. Of course, this grin was less smug and more one of satisfaction of a job well done. As he trotted over, he immediately noticed Ditzy's sopping wet head. Much to her dismay.

"Ditzy?" he asked, concerned. "Why are you dripping?"

"Oh, I got thirsty," she lied, nodding her head in a random direction in hopes that there was a water source that way. "But when I got there, I tripped and fell in. Silly me."

He bought it. She mentally sighed in relief as he shrugged dismissively. "Careful next time," he cautioned. "We don't want you getting hurt."

"I'll try not to drown in any buckets."

Rolling his eyes, Tempest sarcastically laughed. "Ha ha. Anyways, we still have to deliver your package."

Taking that as her cue, Ditzy opened up her saddlebags and removed the box in question. Moving the label in close and closing one eye, she managed to make out the name and address.

"Braeburn Apple," she announced. "And he lives..."

"...Right next to the saloon."

Standing outside their destination, the two ponies prepared to knock on the door. The house itself was fairly typical of Appleoosa: wood, old-fashioned windows, an abundance of apple-themed decorations, etc. One major difference was the color. While most of the other buildings in town opted for more muted shades of brown or tan, whether from stylistic choice or dust, Braeburn's abode was painted a garish yellow color. Potted plants bloomed on the porch, despite the oppressive heat and sand, providing more bright splotches of color to the house that already stood out in the desert like a mime in a rainbow factory. On the door rested a brass door knocker shaped like an apple, being of questionable use, considering the door was the kind that swung open. The smell of fresh apples wafted out of the open windows, providing a rather stark contrast with the odor of salt and sweat coming from the adjacent saloon.

"I guess this is the place," spoke Ditzy, one eye reading the package and the other admiring the home's tasteful choice in paneling. Walking up to the front door, she pondered on whether to use the knocker or just call. Her decision was made for her, however, as a yellow stallion in a cowpony hat and stylish vest burst through the entryway like he had been shot out of a cannon.

"Visitors!" he shouted, jumping for joy. Coming uncomfortably close, he grinned in a way that was both enthusiastic and creepy. "Howdy! And welcome to AAAAAAA-"

"Braeburn..." interrupted a threatening voice. Turning around, all three ponies saw a gray stallion with an impressive mustache and a silver star on his chest. Said stallion was currently glaring at Braeburn, who was looking very intimidated indeed. "What did ah say before?"

"N-no scaring the tourists," Braeburn laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, boss." Satisfied, the gray stallion nodded and walked away, probably off to do manly things.

Once he was gone, Braeburn coughed. "Eh he, sorry 'bout that," he said at a much more reasonable volume. Extending a hoof, he gave both Ditzy and Tempest a firm shake. "Anyways, mah name's Braeburn. How can ah help ya?"

"Well, Mr. Apple," Ditzy began, "We're here to deliver a package to you."

At this, the stallion cocked his head. "Really? Huh, that's odd. Ah ain't expectin' anything." Shrugging, his face returned to a manic grin. "Oh well; ah always enjoy getting parcels!"

Tempest removed a sheet of paper from his bag and passed it to Ditzy. "Sign here, please."

Taking a hitherto unnoticed pen, Braeburn quickly scrawled his signature, even managing to make the 'B' look like a small apple. While the pegasus went to store the paper in the confines of her bag, the cowpony immediately set about eviscerating the package's top. Once the container's lid was reduced to pile of shredded tape and cardboard, he gave a foalish squeal of delight, startling both of the other ponies present.

"COOKIES!" he yelled, plunging his head deep into the box. From within the confines of his rectangular heaven, Braeburn gave off an alarming series of eating noises. Amid the crunches, smacks, and slurps, the mailponies caught each others' eyes, and saw that they both were thinking the same thing: should they stay and watch the strange spectacle, or back away slowly?

Just as they were about to quietly retreat, the noises halted and Braeburn resurfaced, face covered in chocolate and hat still miraculously perched on his head. "Woo," he exclaimed, "Them's some good treats!"

"We are glad to see you are satisfied, sir," replied Ditzy in a business-like tone. "We hope you enjoy your... cookies."

Seeing the two making to leave, Braeburn dashed in front of them. "Now wait just an apple-pickin' minute," he protested, barring their way. "Y'all can't leave yet! Ah haven't properly thanked ya!"

"Sir, I assure you, that is not necessary." This time, it was Tempest who spoke.

"Nonsense!" insisted Braeburn, stomping a hoof. "It's the least ah can do for bringin' me cookies!" Rubbing his chin in thought, a light-bulb flashed above the stallion's head. "I know! How about ah treat you to a few rounds over at the Salt Lick? On me!"

"Um, sir-"

"Braeburn."
"Braeburn. I don't know if that's a good idea. We have a long flight tomorrow , and getting ourselves dehydrated the night before probably isn't the best idea."

"Oh, don't worry," the vested stallion replied, waving away their concerns. "It's just a few cubes! Just make sure ya don't overdo it!"

Sensing that he wasn't going to give up, the two pegasi looked at each other. Reluctantly, they both nodded. Immediately, Braeburn popped up behind them, and started nudging them along.

"Well, come on then!" he said, trotting past them now that he was satisfied that they were moving. "Time's a wastin'!"

Following more slowly, Tempest leaned over to Ditzy. "Be careful," he whispered. "Don't go overboard on the salt; flying with a hangover is the worst thing you can experience."

Silently, Ditzy nodded. She wouldn't let herself go; she knew her limits when it came to salt.

~~~

Well, at least she thought she did. Apparently, Appleoosan salt was much more potent than the Ponyville variety. Despite the fact that she had only had four cubes, the mare was already swaying in her seat, eyes slightly more crossed than normal.

"An-and then ah said 'Filly, you can't do that! It'll splatter everywhere!'" Braeburn announced quite loudly, giggling.

Absently chewing on a salt cube, Tempest nodded. He was currently watching Ditzy closely, concerned for her current levels of intoxication.

"An' ya know what? She did it anyways! And it did make a huge mess!" He hiccuped. "It took forever to get out of her mane."

"Uh-huh," mumbled Tempest. Ditzy was trying to wave the bartender over again, smiling deliriously.

Braeburn bit down on his cube with a loud crunch. "Still the most fun ah ever had bakin' a cake, though. Right barrel o' laughs, that was."

Tempest reached over and lowered Ditzy's frantically waving arm. The mare turned to look at him, irritation evident in her eyes.

"H-hey," she slurred. "Was th' big idea?"

"Ditzy, remember what I said about not eating too much?"

The mare snorted. "Pssh; I'm f-fine. I know my limitssh."

Tempest removed his arm. "Alright," he warned. "But remember, you have to fly home to Dinky tomorrow."

At that, the mailmare remembered her promise to her daughter. The thought seemed to sober her up. A little.

"Alright," she admitted. "Maybe I've had enough."

"Aw, yer done already?" Braeburn complained. "Phooey. It's only been..." As he glanced out the window, the stallion saw that it was quickly getting dark. "Sheeee-oot. Where does the time go?" Standing up, he grunted as the feeling returned to his legs. "Well, ah reckon we better get goin'."

~~~

Standing outside the local inn, Tempest looked up into the building's windows. It was easily the most modern building he had seen in town, though that wasn't saying much. It still had the rustic-looking wooden eves sticking out of the front, but the door was of the more familiar variety, with a knob and mail slot.

Feeling Ditzy shift against him, Tempest looked down. The mare was currently leaning against his side, too off balance to walk unsupported. Tempest knew she would regret eating so much salt much more in the morning, and felt a little sorry for her.

"Well, here we are!" announced Braeburn. While still looking slightly tipsy, the stallion had managed to walk competently enough to not fall down. Yet.

"Thanks for showing us the way here, Braeburn," thanked Tempest.

"Aw, shucks," he said, shrugging. "T'weren't no problem. Now, y'all have a good night's sleep. And welcome to AAAAA-" Suddenly, Braeburn clapped his hooves over his mouth. Looking frantically from side to side, he dropped to a whisper. "Appleoosa!" With a conspiratorial grin and a wink, the cowpony turned around and started walking away.

Right into a post.

With a thunk that made even the intoxicated Ditzy wince, Braeburn went down like a sack of bricks. Quickly, he sprung back up.

"Ah'm, OK."

Unsteadily, the stallion toddered away, looking like he would fall over at any moment. Tempest watched him go, sending a silent prayer to Celestia that he would get home and not fall in a well.

After the tipsy stallion had rounded a corner, the pair slowly walked into the inn, Ditzy still leaning heavily on Tempest's shoulder. As they approached the front desk, Ditzy rubbed her head under his chin.

"Thanksh for being so nice," she slurred, grinning stupidly.

"Erm, you're welcome?" Tempest replied, reaching to ring the call-bell and missing. Even though he wasn't tripping over his own hooves, he was still having trouble with the more dextrous of tasks.

"I mean it!" the mare insisted as the clerk approached. "You helped me on the flight here, you shtopped me from eating too much *hic* salt, an-and now you're being a right gentlecolt and helping me shtay on my hooves!" She hiccuped again, and gave the blushing stallion a quick nuzzle. "I like you."

As the stallion blustered embarrassingly, the inn's attendant finally came up to the front desk. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the irritated scowl on her face, she been woken up by the unexpected ringing of the call-bell. Picking up a random set of keys from the rack, she practically threw them at the pair. As the mare walked away, she mumbled something along the lines of 'Pay on the way out,' mixed with a few words that don't bear repeating.

Tempest eagerly snatched up the keys and led Ditzy away, the intoxicated mare being a little too affectionate for his blurry mind to properly respond to. As they walked in what he assumed was the right direction, however, they encountered their first obstacle.

Stairs.

In a vain attempt to bypass what was currently an extremely threatening bit of architecture, Tempest glanced down at the chunk of wood attached to their room key. 207.

"Horseapples," he cursed.

Hearing the swear, Ditzy looked up from the floor. As she blearily focused an eye forwards, she snorted. "Wha? Ish just stairs."

With that, the mare confidently strode ahead, stepping onto the first stair with only a slight wobble in her step. Grinning confidently, she continued her ascent, rising to the challenge both metaphorically and literally. Unconvinced, Tempest followed close behind, bracing himself to catch her should she fall.

Glancing behind her, Ditzy saw the stallion following close on her tail. Smirking smugly, she decided to tease him. "Hey, quit admiring my rump."

"Focus on the stairs," Tempest commanded, trying very hard to prevent his cheeks from going red.

Ditzy partially rolled her eyes. "Spoilsport," she muttered, putting an extra sway in her step just to annoy him.

Thankfully, the stairs, though imposing, were few in number. Ditzy soon set her front hooves on the landing where their room would be, causing Tempest to let out a sigh of relief. The stallion, feeling the ordeal was at an end, allowed his muscles to relax and his guard to drop. A fatal mistake, as it turned out.

Among the general pony population, there is a phenomenon know as 'phantom step.' Though currently a mystery to modern science, its existence is well known and has been proven time and time again. It occurs when one has reached the top of a staircase, but the brain does not register it. As such, it instructs the pony to reach for the next step. Since there is no next step, however, the pony's hooves fail to find purchase and instead plummet the last few inches back onto solid ground. During these few inches of freefall, the brain, the most malevolent of all trickster gods, sends a rush of complete and utter terror through the body, telling it that it is currently falling and about to be turned into a myriad of meaty splatters on the ground. This experience is grouped together with dreaming about rolling off the edge of the bed under the headings "Neurological Mystery" and "Really Annoying."

While the symptoms for a healthy, alert victim of phantom step are typically limited to a slight stumble and a small heart attack, Ditzy was currently neither healthy nor alert. As such, the second her surprised brain registered her hoof hitting the ground several inches below where it thought it would, her leg immediately crumpled. The resulting loss of a critical point of balance caused the mare to lean precariously to one side. Once her center of mass was sufficiently askew, her entire body fell backwards, right into the surprised and unprepared Tempest.

Oh Celestia, is this what death feels like?

Tempest groaned and rubbed his head where he had banged it on the way down. Shaking his head to rid it of the stars, his brain reminded him that there was another entity involved in the tumble.

"Ditzy?" he called, a little more loudly than intended. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm *urf* fine!" he heard.

Opening his eyes, he saw the mare in question in a most comical position. Her back was propped up against the wall, with her front half resting on the floor and her rear legs dangling above her head like a gray and fleshy mobile. Opting not to laugh, Tempest instead crawled over and began helping her to her hooves.

"You hurt?" he asked as she began stretching.

Stomping her hooves, Ditzy shook her head. "Nothing seems broken." As she extended her wing, however, she winced and quickly retracted her left. "Ouch; that's going to bruise, though."

"Let me see," the stallion asked. When, he reached for it, though, the mare shied away.

"It's fine," she insisted. "It'll be back to normal in the morning. Now, come on; we really do need to get up these stairs."

With some of her pride salvaged, Ditzy headed back to the staircase, albeit with much more care than last time. Thankfully, they made it up without incident, and Tempest was soon fumbling with the keys as he tried to unlock their room for the night.

Wherein they discovered their second problem.

"Um, there's only one bed."

Dumbly, Tempest nodded. Within the room, there was one small couch, one end table, one door which presumably led to the bathroom, one window, sans curtains, one lamp, one dresser, and one bed, with accompanying nightstand. It seemed the room was meant for one.

Immediately, the chivalrous part of Tempest's brain took over. "You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." When he attempted to head towards his self-designated resting place, however, Ditzy extended a leg and pulled him back.

"Oh no you don't," she said. "I just knocked us down a flight of stairs; you take the bed and consider it an apology.'

"You hurt your wing," countered Tempest. "You don't need to mess it up more by sleeping funny."

"My wing is fine, and we wouldn't have fallen if I had kept my hooves. Take the bed."

The stallion was rapidly growing tired of this back-and-forth. "Alright, look," he began. Reaching into his bag, he removed a shiny bit. "We'll flip a coin. Heads, you get the bed; tails, I get it. No do-overs, no reflips. Deal?"

"Deal," Ditzy agreed, shaking hooves.

With the bargain struck, Tempest tossed the coin upwards. As the bit twirled in the air, moonlight from the window glinted off its shiny metal surface. It quickly reached the apex of its flight, and gravity once again took hold, bringing it downwards with the same force that kept the moon from flying off into space and seriously bothering Mars.

Once the coin reached ground level, however, something strange happened. While normally one would expect to hear the pitter-patter of the metal circle bouncing and rolling on the wooden floor, the room was instead met with silence. In puzzlement, both ponies looked down to see why their problem-solving device was not making the correct noises. What greeted them was a sight most unexpected.

Sitting there, in defiance of all probability, was the coin, wedged between two slats of wood and defiantly sticking its edge strait up in the air. With the end result neither heads nor tails, the two pegasi looked up at each other.

"No do-overs..." mumbled Ditzy.

"This is awkward."

"It could be worse."

Tempest snorted. Adjusting himself, he tried to find a comfortable position that wouldn't jostle his wings against Ditzy's own. "How?"

"Well," began Ditzy, smiling mischievously. "The bed could be half its size. Or filled with snakes."

The stallion rolled his eyes. "Alright, barring strange reptile intrusions, this is still pretty uncomfortable." He shifted. "I don't suppose this could be one of those things we never tell anyone about ever?"

"I dunno," Ditzy mused. "I think I'd like to tell all my friends about how I shared a bed with the handsome stallion from out of town."

Tempest's only response was to furiously blush.

~~~

Comments

[Pyromanecer]

On the bright side, at this rate I'll have a budding career working for Valve!
This chapter felt strangely easy to write (late update was because I was working on something else). That either means that I'm getting better, or I ham-handed this one something fierce.

Also, your funny mental image for the chapter is Braeburn covered in chocolate.

[ShadowLancer]

Why have I not favorited this yet?!?!

My pinkies, take them.

Sometimes I think America should switch it's currency to pinkies..... That would be way more fun.

[thewaffler]

I remember you saying no shipping, I guess like the cake it was lie.(OWWW, why'd I hit myself? Oh, yeah because I used a worn out and out of date joke whose expiration date was October 1, 2008). Well, it appears you finally broke down and said, "fuck it, it's now gonna have some." i love that scene in the bar with Braeburn. I look forward to more story, when you get a chance.

Peace Out.

[Pyromanecer]

267434
I said no direct. There is some definitely implied shipping, and there will be behind-the-scenes shipping later, but I don't think there's really enough to warrant a romance tag. I think this for the same reason that I don't believe a casual mention of a relationship going on in the background or a skip forward in time to when the characters have all found love should be labeled 'shipping.' This is more of a "How I met your mother" type thing that one would tell their kids.
Also, I like Braeburn, so I gave him cookies. I am enjoying my powers as a writer.

[NeverKnown]

Great chapter ^^ Take 5 yelling fluttershys

[foolyourself]

yay updates

[FanOfMostEverything]

265433 Really? I thought my funny mental image was Telekinetic Shove-of-War. In either case, great stuff. I look forward to more, especially if that bruise is actually a Chekov's Sprain.

[Pyromanecer]

270108
Quite so. Good eye, sir.
271333
Okay, I just spent several minutes on Google and all I came up with for that was a stuffy-sounding literary article and some Star Trek fanfiction. What is a "Chekov's Sprain?" It is going to drive me nuts.

[FanOfMostEverything]

271529 It's like Chekov's Gun, but a pulled tendon instead of a firearm, i.e. something that has plot significance some time after it's introduced.