Flash Sentry and Trenderhoof discover that crime doesn't pay, but jail’s not that bad, if you’ve had a big breakfast.
Flash Sentry’s a nobody, and he knows it. But when a mysterious fortuneteller hints at his path to greatness, he determines to embrace his destiny—and to bring along a famous journalist to record the details for posterity.
Story canon-compliant up through the end of Season Four. It stands on its own, but it occurs after Slice of Life. In relation to my other CheesePie stories, it falls just after Goodbye, Boneless and just before Good Morning, Beautiful. Oh, yes, and implied CheesePie, although this shouldn't be a big surprise.
Inspired by a blog post by Elric of Melnipony, and a prompt suggestion by Sweet Al Belle.
Flash Sentry pressed his muzzle and both front hooves flat against the cold iron bars. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, but it felt like forever. His coat was getting itchy, his boots were full of gunk, and the plaintive musical wail coming from the back of the cell didn’t help. He whirled around and snapped at one of his two cellmates. “Shut up, Cheese!”
The music stopped. Cheese Sandwich pushed back his hat and looked up from where he was seated, his back to the wall. “You’re supposed to play the harmonica in jail,” he retorted, and went back to playing.
His other cellmate’s pale blond mane shone in the gloom, highly visible from his spot huddled on the floor to Flash’s right. “This is probably an excellent place for me to have my nervous breakdown,” Trenderhoof said, his voice deceptively calm. “One does like to be at the première of any new attraction. I’m certain I’ll be the very first to suffer a complete mental collapse here. If I remember my tour with Miss Rarity correctly, Ponyville didn’t have a dungeon before.”
“Ponyville didn’t have a castle before,” Cheese pointed out helpfully, and began playing the harmonica again.
Flash wasn’t really surprised to be here, not after what he’d done. The question wasn’t, “how could this possibly have gone wrong?” There wasn’t really any scenario in which it could have gone right. The real question, the true million-bit question, was, “what was I thinking?”
~~
There are some ponies who think going alone to a book reading is a perfect way to spend a Saturday night, but Flash Sentry wasn’t one of them. Accompanying Princess Cadance on a visit from the Crystal Empire, the sophisticated life of Canterlot, Saturday night off duty—you’d think a Royal Guard could come up with something better to do. And yet here he was, the only pony present at a book signing by a travel writer who claimed to be trying to be “relatable.”
The travel writer, a thin brown unicorn wearing a green sweater, read from a chapter in which he’d eaten seaweed with spruce in Vanhoover. Flash sat politely and with perfect posture—a habit acquired from spending most of his adult life in the Guards—and let his mind wander—a habit also acquired from spending most of his adult life in the Guards.
He hadn’t had a good day. There had been a lot of paperwork, the other guards had made fun of him for being spooked by an opossum, and he’d received a letter from his little brother. It was nice to hear from First Base, but at the same time, it wasn’t, because First Base had a totally unrealistic idea of what his big brother’s life in the Guards was like. He was brave, dashing, and on top of it, he was seeing a princess!
And this was technically true, thought Flash. He saw princesses all the time. They walked past him, and if he was lucky, he didn’t draw attention to himself by sneezing or something. Sometimes he got to say things like “His Blahdy Blahness of Blahvia!” and he supposed that counted as talking to them, or at least in front of them. As for the youngest, the one First Base thought he was “seeing,” he’d seen her a grand total of two or three times, and he hadn’t known much about her except that she was purple and a lot shorter than the other ones, until she kicked some serious monster flank a while back. Then everypony knew all about her, but he didn’t know more about her than anypony else.
It would be kind of cool to get a commendation some time. Something like “Best Guard Announcer of the Year Who Hardly Ever Coughs” would do. Then Princess Cadance would attach it to his uniform, next to the Surprisingly Long Service pin, and he could tell First Base a princess gave him a medal, and that would make him feel important at school.
It would be even nicer to have a real adventure and be really great at something, and have everypony read all about him in the papers, but he knew his limits. Someday, they’d write on his tombstone: “FLASH SENTRY: HE WAS JUST SORTA THERE.”
The travel writer stopped reading. “You’re not really interested in this, are you?” he said.
Flash started and looked around guiltily. “Um, yes! Of course I am!”
“That’s very polite of you,” said the unicorn, and he began levitating his papers and copies of his book into his saddlebags. “I was tired of being The Most Interesting Pony In Equestria. It’s a nice change of pace. I need some coffee.”
Flash noticed his jumpiness and the dark circles under his eyes, and thought that the last thing the travel writer needed was some more coffee, but he said, “Do you need any help, Mr. . . . Mr., um . . .”
The travel writer stared at him through his glasses with narrowed eyes, then let out a sharp crack of laughter. “Do you mean to say you’ve been sitting through my reading, and you don’t have any idea who I am? Priceless. You must have been terribly bored.” He lifted his hoof. “Trenderhoof,” he said, shaking his pale blond mane out of his eyes, "but you can call me Trend. I take the mundane, the simple, and the unappreciated, and I make it relatable.”
Flash clinked hooves with him. “Flash Sentry. I stand around and announce things.”
“Well, come join me in having something with quite a lot of caffeine in it, Flash Sentry,” said Trenderhoof, securing his saddle bags, “and I shall be able to provide tedium tête-a-tête.”
~~ “Have you ever reached a crisis in your affairs, Flash? A crossroads?” said Trenderhoof some time later, as they sat in the coffee shop adjoining the bookstore. “You’ve achieved nearly everything you’d always meant to,” the unicorn went on, absently levitating his spoon around in his latte, “and it’s begun to feel hollow. Empty. You have reached the summit, and now there is nothing left to do and nowhere left to go but a long slide downwards. Do you know what I mean?”
Flash didn’t. His career in the Guards had leapt from pinnacle of mediocrity to pinnacle of mediocrity. The few promotions he’d had were almost all owing to seniority. No—he was not going to look back on a brilliant military career. That was not going to be his road to greatness.
But—but there was what that gypsy fortuneteller had told him! It was all coming back to him now. It was back in the Crystal Empire, the evening of the visit from the Duke and Duchess of Maretonia, right before all Tartarus let loose. He’d been walking around aimlessly, trying to think of something to do, when he’d seen a gaily-painted tent he couldn’t remember having seen before, with a banner reading “FORTUNES TOLD.” There wasn’t any harm in having his fortune told, right? Maybe his future would be more interesting than his past or his present.
He pushed past the tent flaps and peered into the semi-darkness. He could just make out a table with a crystal ball on it, and behind it, a mare swathed in shawls and a turban that clashed with the bright pink of her coat and mane.
“Can you really tell the future?” he said.
“I have the answers you seek,” she said, waving her hooves over the crystal ball. “Let us consult the mystical orb.”
He came forward and sat at the table, feeling like an idiot, but excited at the same time. A real fortuneteller!
“Is there anything interesting in my future? Am I ever going to be really good at something?”
“Hmmm,” said the fortuneteller. “Nope. Not seeing anything yet.”
“Like, maybe I’ll be a great military commander after all?”
“Nope.”
“Or maybe I should quit the Guards and be a musician? I’ve always wanted to be a rock star!”
“Umm. . . I’d say you wanna keep your day job. Ooo! Hey! There is something. That’s amazing.” She brought the ball so close to her eyes that it and they were practically touching. “You are going to be great at something!”
“Really? What?” Flash asked excitedly.
“You’re going to be a great waffle stealer!”
“What?”
“A waffle stealer! You’re going to be the greatest waffle stealer ever.”
Flash removed his helmet and scratched his head. “How am I going to do that?”
The fortuneteller shook the ball. “Reply Hazy, Ask Again Later,” she said. “I dunno,” she said, shrugging. “Just passing it along. That’s all I’ve got.”
She was entirely absorbed in the ball now, and Flash thought he’d better leave. As he slipped out of the tent, out of the corner of his eye, he could just see the fortuneteller shaking the ball again. “Ooooo,” she said, as glittery flakes moved around in its interior. “Sparkly.”
~~
“Waffle stealing!” cried Flash, seizing Trenderhoof by the front of his green sweater. “That’s it! A waffle stealing raid! And you’re going to come with me!”
“Excuse me?” stammered Trenderhoof, catching the latte before it spilled.
“You’re a journalist! You write about food! You said you take the mundane and make it relatable. And what’s more mundane than waffles?”
“This is really rather . . .”
“Strawberry waffles, chocolate waffles . . .”
“I don’t think . . .”
“Apple cinnamon waffles . . .”
Trenderhoof froze, and his eyes suddenly went wide. “Apple . . . waffles,” he intoned. “Apple waffles. Yes.”
“I knew it was a great idea!”
“Yes. Steal all the apple waffles,” said Trend. A tic had started going in his cheek now, too.
“You said you wanted to do something different, Trend,” said Flash, grabbing one thin leg and pulling him to his feet. “Well, this is different. It’ll be an adventure! And you can write it all down!”
Trenderhoof didn’t actively resist. “Apple waffles. Must write it down.”
“C’mon!” cried Flash. He was a leader now! Of something! “It’ll be fun!”
“Ponyville?” Trenderhoof exclaimed in a panic, as the train sped on its way. “You didn’t say anything about Ponyville!” He had snapped out of his stupor or whatever it was some miles outside of Canterlot. Unfortunately for him, it was an express train, and there were no other stops.
“I can’t steal waffles in Canterlot or the Crystal Empire,” explained Flash, as Trenderhoof struggled to get his breathing under control. “Not when I’m on duty. Somepony would recognize me. And I know the perfect place in Ponyville.”
“You’re omitting something critical,” said Trenderhoof, sliding his glasses down his muzzle and peering out over them. “Just how are you going to become the greatest waffle stealer of all time if you don’t want your name associated with it?”
“Um,” said Flash, “I really hadn’t thought about that bit. You could call me the Mysterious Waffle Stealer, couldn’t you? Everypony would still read about it, but I’d know it was me. I’d know I’d done something with my life.”
The streets of Ponyville were deserted and quiet, but then Flash saw a long shadow cast by the moon, and heard the clip clop of hooves. A lanky figure crossed the street: a pony with a dark hat and with a peculiar bulge seated on some sort of saddle. Flash barked, “Halt! Who goes there?”
The pony froze, and then came ambling forward. Flash saw that it was a tall yellowish brown stallion with what appeared to be a rubber chicken. “Me goes here,” he said. “Cheese Sandwich.”
“What are you doing out in the middle of the night?”
Cheese hesitated. “I was thinking about stopping in to see a friend,” he said slowly, “but it’s later than I thought it was. I was going to come back in the morning. Hey,” he added, “who goes there, come to think of it? What are you doing out in the middle of the night?”
Flash glanced back at Trenderhoof. “He knows too much,” he hissed. “He’ll have to join the party.”
“A party?” said Cheese, his ears perking up. “Did you say a party? What kind of party?”
“We’re stealing waffles.”
“A waffle stealing party? I’ve never even heard of a waffle stealing party! HEY, EVERYPONY! WE’RE HAVING A WAFFLE STEALING PA—”
Flash shoved a hoof into his mouth. “SHHH! It’s a secret party!” Cheese raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand ‘secret?’ As in, ‘don’t let anypony know?’” Cheese nodded. “If I take my hoof out of your mouth, will you promise to keep your voice down?” Cheese nodded again, and Flash took his hoof out of his mouth.
Cheese glanced past Flash at the pony just behind him. His jaw dropped. “Is that Trenderhoof? Really? Well, it’s a good thing you brought me along. Trenderhoof has no idea how to throw a party at all.”
“This isn’t that kind of party,” began Flash, and then decided against explaining. “Oh, never mind.”
“Are you a Guard?” said Cheese. He was trotting briskly alongside now, despite Flash’s attempts to get him to move more inconspicuously. “You don’t look like one of Princess Celestia’s or Princess Luna’s Royal Guards. Are you from the Crystal Empire? I was just there last week, throwing a barracks party for the Royal Guards. How come I didn’t see you there?”
Flash stopped dead as the implications sunk in. “I never received an invitation,” he said coldly.
“Wow,” said Cheese, and whistled. “You didn’t even get an invitation? That’s pretty bad. If P . . . ponies didn’t invite me to a party, I’d begin to question my whole reason for existence.”
They crouched in the bushes behind the Ponyville Café. All Flash’s commando training was coming back to him now. “See that door over there?” He pointed towards it. “When I say, “move,” you get over there, fast.” Cheese stood up and began to amble towards the door. “Get DOWN!” snapped Flash, and tackled him. “You don’t walk, you scramble, flat on the ground. Got it?” Cheese and Trenderhoof nodded. “Ready? MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE!”
They arrived at the door, panting and blowing. “Hmm,” said Flash. “We’ll need to get in through the window, maybe. Or maybe I can pick the lock with a twig.”
Cheese nosed at the door. “It’s unlocked.”
“Oh.”
They slipped through the door, and stood in the kitchen. It wasn’t clear what they were supposed to do next. What was absolutely clear was—
“Where are the waffles? I don’t see any waffles.”
“Of course not,” sniffed Trenderhoof. “No café would make waffles and let them sit out overnight. They’d be terrible. I wouldn’t be surprised, however, if there was a container of waffle batter in the refrigerator. It makes the waffles light and fluffy.”
They found the refrigerator and Flash pulled the door open. There, sure enough, was a large container of waffle batter, almost the size of a young vat. “Et voilà,” said Trenderhoof. “I’m afraid if you want to steal waffles, Flash, you’ll have to make them yourself.”
Trenderhoof and Flash both turned and looked expectantly at Cheese.
“What?” said Cheese, and looked behind him.
“Make waffles.”
“Why me? I can’t cook.”
“I thought all earth ponies knew how to cook.”
“That’s a stereotype,” said Cheese, and blew his rollout noisemaker with a “pffflt.” “The Cakes don’t let me touch anything in their kitchen. Mr. Cake said he’d never seen anything like it,” he added, proudly. “I don’t need to cook, anyway. I can just pull party food out of my—”
“Yes, yes, all right!”
“Honestly,” said Trenderhoof. “Such a fuss. I’ll do it.” He carefully levitated a spoon down to the batter and tasted it. “Hmm,” he said. “Very nice, but just a touch on the sweet side. I would have added—”
“All right. Just make them,” sighed Flash.
“Just get that vat out and place it over there, will you? There must be a waffle iron around here somewhere. Aha!” Trenderhoof exclaimed, and lifted a large waffle iron from the wall behind the stove. He lit the burners.
“Hey, everypony,” said Cheese, “look!”
Flash turned to see Cheese Sandwich balancing on a wheel of Gouda and juggling a dozen eggs. “Put those down!”
Cheese missed the next egg, and they all fell to the stone floor, one by one, with a splat. “You shouldn’t have startled me,” he complained. “Fine. I’ll clean it up.” He turned and bumped into a table, knocking over a jug full of cream. Flash just managed to grab it before it hit the floor. Some of it splashed over his hooves and formed a puddle, but at least it hadn’t smashed.
“You sounded just like Mr. Cake when you said that.”
“Shut up. Just go stand in the corner and don’t touch anything.”
“How’s this?” said Cheese, standing next to a sack of potatoes.
How much harm could he do with a sack of potatoes? thought Flash. “That’s great,” he added aloud. “Just remember—don’t touch ANYTHING.”
“The iron’s nearly hot enough,” said Trenderhoof. “Go get some plates. I’ll need something to stack these on. Had you given any thought as to how we’re going to take all these waffles out of here?”
He hadn’t, actually. “There’s got to be a bag or something somewhere. How many of them will there be?”
“I’d say at least several dozen. And if you want to get out of here before the owners arrive, you should find me those plates and that bag and be quiet so I can focus. Lemon zest,” he muttered. “These will be much nicer with lemon zest. It’s too bad I wasn’t able to put it in last night.” He levitated a lemon from out of a bowl on the table and set a peeler working.
Cheese called from his corner, “Well, this was fun, but now I’m bored.”
“Just keep standing there,” said Flash, trying to find a bag and some plates.
“Is there any salt?”
“I don’t know. Probably in the cabinet back there.”
“Ok.”
Trenderhoof ladled some batter into the waffle iron. The kitchen was filled with the buttery smell of perfectly cooked waffles. Flash began to relax as he tidied the kitchen. All those times cleaning the barracks was paying off. You’d really be able to eat off that floor when he was done with it.
“I think I’ve got some wire around here somewhere,” Cheese muttered.
The first waffle slid off the iron and onto its plate. Maybe he could eat that first one, Flash thought. After all, Trend said there would be dozens and dozens.
“Oops.”
Flash became aware of some jets of flame coming from the corner. He turned to see that the entire bag of potatoes was now on fire, and that Cheese was making the whole situation worse by fanning the flames with his serape.
“Little problem over here!”
“You didn’t even have one job!” screamed Flash. “All you had to do was stand there!”
Cheese was galloping around in circles, his mane and tail sizzling. Flash lunged for a towel to drop over Cheese, but instead seized Trenderhoof, who was trying to ladle more batter into the waffle iron. In the distance, but coming closer, sounded the “woooooo” of a fire engine. Three large earth ponies hurled themselves through the back door and aimed a fire hose straight at Cheese. The blast of water knocked Flash and Trenderhoof off their hooves, and Trenderhoof made a grab for the vat of waffle batter, pulling it on top of both of them. There was a great roar of sound: gushing water, breaking crockery, and a lot of shouting.
Flash wiped his eyes clear. He and Trenderhoof were both completely covered in batter. Cheese had been splattered, and the edges of his mane and tail were blackened and crispy. The air was full of the smell of burned potato, spilled batter, and over it all, the horrible stench of singed mane.
Two Royal Guards stepped from behind the fireponies.
“You’re nicked, laddies,” said one.
~~
In retrospect, it had been one of the dumbest ideas he’d ever had. He’d wanted adventure, and what he’d gotten was trouble, and what was worse, he’d dragged two other ponies into trouble along with him. He had nopony to blame but himself, except maybe for the fortuneteller who’d given him the crazy idea in the first place.
He heard a scrabbling noise in the far corner where Cheese was sitting. The scrabbling noise got closer, and then a tapping and grinding noise, as though somepony was getting some rock loose and then lifting it clear. Then one of the rock slabs rose and slid over and a beam of light slashed across his vision. When his eyes re-focused, he saw a small, plump, pink mare, a flashlight wound into her mane like a miner’s light, still hanging halfway in and halfway out of a hole in the floor.
“Pinkie?” Cheese gasped. “Pinkie! Did – did you come to find me?”
“Of course, silly Cheesie. Could you lift me out? My hoovsies are kinda hanging on nothing right now.”
Cheese lifted her out of the hole and pulled her in for a tight hug that took her clear off the ground. Flash glanced away. There wasn’t anything obviously romantic about it, and certainly nothing indecent, but seeing it somehow made him feel bad all the same. Then he remembered where he’d seen that mare before.
“You!” he exclaimed. “You’re the fortuneteller!”
Cheese let Pinkie drop back to the ground, and she shook herself, dirt flying everywhere. “Yep!” she said. “I was so bored in the Crystal Empire that day, and it’s a nice way to meet more ponies and make friends.”
“But you’re the one who predicted I’d steal waffles!”
“Well, didn’t you?” she replied. “Ooooo,” she said, darting around the cell. “I haven’t been down here before. A really real dungeon! Do you have steel mugs and everything?” she asked Cheese.
“I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “We’ve only been here an hour or two.”
“But,” Flash stammered, “I would never have tried stealing waffles if you hadn’t given me the idea!”
“Are you sure? Besides, now you are the greatest waffle stealer ever! Anypony in Equestria would say so. Although maybe you are, too,” she added to the miserable figure on the floor.
Trenderhoof sighed. “I’m not sure what I am anymore, but I think I’d like to try being somepony else for a change.”
Two long shadows fell across the bars. He looked up to see two more Royal Guards.
Princess Twilight Sparkle sat in her throne room, wearing a fluffy bathrobe, bleary-eyed, her tousled mane sticking up in chunks. Spike curled up on the seat of his own throne, clutching a blanket.
“Can we go back to bed, Twilight?” complained Spike, yawning. “Do we have to do this now?”
“Of course we do, Spike,” said Twilight. “Princess Celestia wouldn’t leave anypony waiting until morning like that, especially not in a dungeon.”
“No,” said Spike, rolling his eyes, “she’d just have Princess Luna see them instead. And Canterlot Castle doesn’t even have a dungeon. Although it’s awesome that we’ve got one,” he added, brightening up.
Two Royal Guards entered, bringing with them three disheveled figures. Behind them trotted a cheerful pink pony, apparently unaffected by the fact that it was now so late that it was very, very early.
All three of them looked terrible. Both Flash and Trenderhoof were still covered in batter, which had begun to dry, stiffen, and flake off, leaving their coats with thick patches of flour and egg. Trenderhoof’s sweater was a damp, misshapen mess. His pale blond mane was still wet and plastered close to his head. Cheese was less thoroughly battered, but his coat was drying into bristles from being blasted with the hose. His mane and tail were shorter, surrounded by blackened, frizzy ends that had begun to crumble away. His rubber chicken, however, was in pristine condition: he’d probably grabbed it and protected it somehow when chaos broke loose.
Flash knew that he himself looked like a parade ground nightmare. It would take hours and hours to get his armor clean and burnish it back up to its usual shine. His metal boots were still full of waffle batter caking his fetlocks. He quickly removed his helmet, but that didn’t help: it just created a flour line halfway up his mane and made it look as though he’d dipped it in library paste.
“That has to be Cheese Sandwich,” Twilight said, rising from her throne and coming closer. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time recognizing you two.”
Spike squinted at them. “Is that Trenderhoof?” Trenderhoof nodded, his eyes on the ground and his head bowed in embarrassment. “Twilight, can we just put him back in the dungeon and maybe leave him there for a kazillion million years?”
She laughed. “Absolutely not, Spike.” She turned to them. “I’ve heard from the café owners. Fortunately, there was less damage than they’d thought: some smoke marks, a burned bag of potatoes, smashed dishes and a big mess, but nothing that can’t be fixed. What they don’t know is how it happened or why, and I’m hoping you can explain that part.”
“How” was easy to explain. “Why” was entirely different, because Flash wasn’t sure now himself. He was trying to come up with an explanation that made any kind of sense and that didn’t implicate the fortuneteller, when Pinkie Pie interrupted.
“They were fulfilling their destiny, of course!” she said. “Duh.”
“Excuse me?” said Twilight.
“I mean, you’ve got a destiny, right?” said Pinkie, trotting in front of them. “You said ‘magic of friendship, woo’ and our destinies got fixed and then your new wings went ‘spoing’ and Princess Celestia said you were a princess, and that was your destiny, so these guys have gotta have destinies too and they’re waffle stealers, and you can totally tell from their cutie marks.” She pointed at Flash, “He’s got a spatula or something.” She turned to Trenderhoof. “And he’s got a waffle iron. And Cheesie’s got a grilled cheese sandwich, which almost kinda counts, only it’s an accordion, too, so not really, and besides, he’s a party pony like me and that’s all that really matters.” She trotted back to stand beside Cheese.
Twilight massaged her temples. “I don’t think their cutie marks are a spatula and a waffle iron, but even if they were, how would they know? It’s not the kind of thing most ponies would think of, especially grown ponies with jobs.”
“Because I told him, of course!” said Pinkie, pointing at Flash again.
“Ah,” said Twilight. “Yes. I wouldn’t say this is beginning to make sense, but I have a better idea of how it might have happened.”
“But,” Flash Sentry cut in, and then stopped.
“Go on,” said Twilight. “I’m afraid I don’t remember you, so you’ll have to remind me.”
What a way to introduce myself to a princess, thought Flash. “Flash Sentry.”
“Go on, Flash Sentry.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he said, looking straight ahead as though he were in parade lineup. “Your friend did give me the idea, but I’m still responsible.”
Twilight walked up to him and looked him directly in the eye. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, you are. Now, Cheese,” she added, turning to him, “how did you get involved in this?”
“I’m not really sure,” replied Cheese. “I was going to set up camp for the night with Boneless 2, and I ran into these two, and they told me to come along with them, and things just spiraled out of control from there.”
“And you’re here because your Cheesy Sense told you there was going to be a party you had to throw. Is that it?” said Twilight. She was becoming very good at not giving away what she was thinking. She’d learned a thing or two about diplomacy from her mentor.
“I . . . um . . .” Cheese began, and hesitated, looking from side to side, then cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “I’m not here because of any party. I’m here because I wanted to see Pinkie.”
Twilight smiled slightly. “I’m always glad when ponies tell the truth,” she said. “It makes my job a lot easier. I’d tell you to go and help clean up the café, but I have the feeling that the owners would be much happier if you didn’t. We are having a party, as it happens, and I’d be honored if you’d stay and help Pinkie with it. As her assistant,” she added somewhat severely, as Cheese was looking indecently happy about this decision. “This isn’t meant to be a reward.” She walked back to her throne and seated herself again.
“C’mon, Cheesie,” said Pinkie, turning and beginning to trot away. “You heard what Twilight said: you’ll have to be my assistant. And first you’re going to Sugarcube Corner and taking a bath, ‘cause all that crusty batter and frizzy black stuff makes you look and smell awful.”
“Yes, boss,” he said meekly, following her.
“I like the new mane style, though,” she added, as they trotted through the door.
“Thanks!”
“Twilight, I didn’t know we were having a party,” said Spike.
“We are now,” said Twilight, floating a clipboard towards herself, glancing over it, and making a few tics with a quill. “We’ve just opened the castle. We can probably throw a castle-warming party. Besides, there’s always a festival or celebration or something going on every few days. Pinkie will think of something, and it will keep Cheese busy and doing something useful the whole town can enjoy. Trenderhoof, maybe you can explain your part in this for me.”
Trenderhoof sighed. “I really can’t. I was at the bookstore in Canterlot and this gentleman mentioned waffle stealing, and something just snapped. Your friend said something about destiny. I thought I was a journalist, but for all I know, maybe I am a waffle stealer. I just don’t know anymore. I’m terribly tired. They would have been excellent waffles, however,” he said. “I’m positive on that point. The rest is just a blur.”
“Trenderhoof,” said Twilight, “will you please come a bit closer? Excuse me,” she added in a softer tone. She used her magic to lift Trenderhoof’s lip and looked all around the gumline until she reached the corner of his mouth. His gums were an unpleasantly pale color, and when she gently pried his mouth open to look inside, the roof of his mouth and his tongue were the same pale shade. She allowed his mouth to drop closed, and looked gravely at the dark circles under his eyes and the way his sweater hung loose around the cuffs. “You really don’t look well.”
The travel writer drooped his head. “I’m really not, no. I’d been thinking of going away, out into the country.”
Twilight nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. In fact, I think you should go right away, before Rarity and Applejack realize you’ve been here, and I don’t think you should go back to Canterlot alone.” She turned to one of the Royal Guards. “Would you accompany Mr. Trenderhoof to the train and ride with him to Canterlot? In fact, both of you may go," she said to the other guard. "And I am sure you understand--not a word of this to anypony."
“Yes, Your Highness," they said, taking Trenderhoof between them, and leaving the Princess, Spike, and Flash alone.
“As for you, um, Smash Entry?”
Flash sighed. “Flash Sentry.”
“Flash Sentry,” said Twilight. “You said you’re responsible for this, and I think you are. What in the name of Celestia were you thinking?”
“I wish I could answer that,” he said. “But when your friend was telling my future, she said I had a chance at being somepony; that I could be great at something. Waffle stealing made about as much sense as anything else. And,” he burst out, “I really wanted to have an adventure. The Guards isn’t the way you’d think it would be, Your Highness. It’s mostly standing around. It was stupid and irresponsible, and we broke a lot of stuff, and I got covered in waffle batter, and spent some time in a dungeon, but it was sort of an adventure. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life, anyway, so maybe it counts.”
“Please,” he said, “I know you should tell Prince Shining Armor, but that would be the end of my career in the Guards.” The end of me, he thought, because I’m a lousy Guard, but I’m even worse at everything else, and I just want to go back to being a non-entity again.
Twilight Sparkle frowned. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t tell him. I don’t have to tell my brother everything. Still, I must do something with you, Slash Defenestrate.”
“Marry me?” he suggested, and then slapped both front hooves over his mouth. Argh, no! Where in Tartarus did that come from? “I mean, no!” he blurted. “I don’t mean that! I don’t want to marry you at all!” Argh, worse! I am dead. I am so, so dead. He covered his face with his front legs, waiting for the fury of offended royalty, waiting for the end.
Princess Twilight started to cough, and then twitch, and finally threw herself backwards, all four legs in the air, making wheezing noises.
"Twilight," Spike gasped, "are you all right?"
“AH HAH HAH HAH!” Twilight howled, laughing. “AH HAH HAH HOO!” She was actually waving her legs now, completely incoherent with guffaws.
Flash ventured a look. The Princess of Friendship and Libraries was rolling from side to side, snorting with mirth, tears streaming down her face.
“Whoo!” she finally said, rolling onto her front, getting to her feet, and levitating a hanky to her face. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Um, no, thanks, Flash. I think I can come up with something better.”
Look on the bright side, he told himself later in the kitchen of the Ponyville Café, his front legs half submerged in a tub of dishes. I’ve still got my job. And at least I made a princess laugh.
