A performance of the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant goes out-of-hoof.
The Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant was always considered to be an unlucky play according to Ponyville theatre folklore. Ivory Scroll saw the success that was the pageant played by the Holders of the Elements. Now, one year later, as the Mares of Harmony are once again called to participate in Canterlot’s pageant, she wonders if she can break the silly mysticism circling around her small town and one of Equestria’s most memorable dates.
Act 1. “So quick bright things come to confusion.”
Maybe the fancy theater was actually just the barn at Sweet Apple Acres decorated with colorful banners and maybe the curtain was a bit tattered, resembling more of a quilt than the elegant silk curtain that hung in Canterlots Royal Center for the Performing Arts but still, the Hearth's Warming eve spirit was high amongst the crowd.
The good mood did take a bit of a toll, however, when the overture started playing and the audience got assaulted by the sound of twelve inexpertly handled brass instruments being played out of tune in unison. The curtain quickly rose, as if attempting to make the audience forget about the torturous opening.
As the lights slowly dimmed, the mayor of Ponyville, dressed in an elegant robe appeared on stage and a bright spotlight chased after her. She noticed this and helpfully slowed down so that the chaotic ray of light could find her properly. As the clumsily-maneuvered spotlight finally found its target and basked her in its light, the mayor kept walking slowly towards the crowd, who were now hushing and shushing each other.
“Once upon a time,” she said, signaling the start off the play. “Long before the peaceful rule of Celestia....” only the most observant ponies could pick up the slightly sarcastic tone she gave the word ‘peaceful’.
”...and before ponies discovered our beautiful land of Equestria, ponies did not know harmony-”
A dissonant chord echoed from the orchestral pit, interrupting the narration. The conductor, a posh mare with an out-of-place elegance about her sighed and threw her hooves up in the air.
“Not that that they are all that great at harmony nowadays. Seriously, do they even teach music theory in school around here?” the gray mare uttered in frustration.
“We've been trough this, Octavia. These are students, not professional musicians. Their music teacher fled... I mean, had other business to attend to, just make sure they do the best they can," the mayor reprimanded, seemingly forgetful that the entire crowd was focused on the two ponies.
Octavia sat back and buried her face in both her hooves. ‘I’m a respected musician, I’ve played at the palace,’ she lamented to herself. ‘Why did I accept this assignment?’
A memory from a week ago entered her mind, one of the grayed mare pleading her with desperate, moist eyes to act as a replacement conductor for her amateur theatre production. Then realization hit her as she gazed up on the mayor and she couldn’t help but blush. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ she reminded herself. ‘I have a thing for older mares.’
“Anyway,” the mayor continued from up on stage. “It was a strange and dark time. A time when ponies were torn apart, by hatred.” She put all the feeling she could muster into an overacted dramatic outburst, but the audience remained cold at her performance.
“Y'know, I was expecting more of a reaction...” The mayor said, trying to guide the audience response.
Some members of the audience gasped politely and the mayor continued. As she spoke, a pair of actors came out from each side of the stage to illustrate her narration.
“During this frightful age, each of the three tribes, the Pegasi, the unicorns, and the Earth ponies, cared not for what befell the other tribes, but only for their own welfare. In those troubled times, as now, the Pegasi were the stewards of the weather. But, they demanded something in return. Food that could only be grown by the Earth ponies.”
One of the actors carried a ridiculously exaggerated cardboard cutout of a carrot which he gave over to the winged pony. The mayor had tried to get real vegetables, but the orange earth pony who grew them had refused to lend any after several of her vegetables ‘mysteriously’ disappeared during last year's pageant.
“The unicorns demanded the same, in return for magically bringing forth day and night.”
The ropes used to hoist the celestial bodies creaked loudly, which did nothing to distract the audience from the very ill-advised cardboard cutouts that served as the sun and moon. The sun was painted bright pink, evidently the paint used had looked much more yellowish when wet. And while the moon had a more down-to-earth color, its shape only vaguely resembled a sickle, if anything, it looked more like a big yellow banana.
When the giant fruit reached its apex, the old rope holding it up finally gave up and snapped. Rather than a spectacular crash, the ‘moon-ana’ hit the ground with a pathetic ‘thump’.
“And so, mistrust between the tribes festered, until one fateful day, it came to a boil. And what prompted the ponies to clash?” the mayor asked rhetorically. To her confusion, a hoof was raised from the audience.
“Uhm, yes?”
“Oooh ah know!” Snails exclaimed from the audience, then he looked like the cogs in his head had just ground to a halt. “Gosh, ah dunno, what prompted tha’ ponies to clash?”
The mayor continued, but couldn’t help but notice that a mulberry-colored pony sitting in the back row had just buried her head in her hooves.
“'Twas a mysterious blizzard that overtook the land, and toppled the tribes' precarious peace.”
The mayor paused, but nothing seemed to happen. Snails still looked like he was trying to process the information given to him.
“I said: a mysterious blizzard,” the mayor said in a slightly annoyed tone.
“Oooh, now ah get it!” Snails exclaimed, but the mayor ignored him, only to focus her gaze upwards.
High above the stage, the other driving force between this year’s pageant, the Cutie Mark Crusaders where balancing dangerously, disregarding completely the safety lines — which lay scattered somewhere backstage — provided by the mayor. They had been the one insisting on the more extravagant attempts at special effects, remembering how awesome the pageant looked in Canterlot last year.
Applebloom was leaning out towards the center of the stage and Scootaloo was standing on top of her with a sack of feathers in her hooves, painfully grimacing as Sweetie Belle pulled her tail to create a counterweight.
With her front hooves, the young Pegasus tried to fumble the bag open. The impatience of the crowd could be felt from all the way up there, and eventually, Sweetie Belle’s patience failed her.
“Are you done yet? This is not very comfortable!” she remarked, letting go of Scootaloo’s tail for a couple of seconds. That was enough for Applebloom to loose balance, prompting her to jerk backwards, nearly shaking Scootaloo off in the process. The Pegasus managed to save herself, but dropped the whole sack of feathers. The bag flopped onto the stage dishearteningly and left only a sorry pile of feathers in the middle of the stage.
“Twist! It’s your turn!” Applebloom shouted loud enough for the audience to hear. The red-headed pony woke up from her daydreams and started trotting on a treadmill that drove a large makeshift fan. Even with the device turned on, the pile of feather refused to move; only the top layer danced around in place, creating a miniature whirlwind. The mayor continued her narration, trying to ignore the special effects failure.
“The normally industrious Earth ponies were... unable to farm their land... ahem...” her speech stalled, as tough she was waiting for a cue.
From up above, the three crusaders watched the play, puzzled by her strange way of speaking. “You think she’s trying to tell any pony something?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Wait,” Scootaloo said, climbing down from Applebloom’s back and turning to face Sweetie Belle. “Weren’t we supposed to be in charge of the sound effects as well?” The ivory filly's eyes widened for a brief moment before she hastily grabbed a copy of the script and started browsing through it.
“Oh right, we’re in charge of the sound effects too, I forgot.” Sweetie Belle desperately looked around in search for something, anything they could use to create the spooky whiny sound that the needed at this point in the story.
“Don’t worry,” Applebloom said, brimming with confidence. “I Got this! AOOOIIII!” She started yowling loudly and the two other ponies nearly fell of the ledge at this sudden noise.
The mayor sighed loudly from the stage, but she kept on reciting her lines.
“The Earth ponies were freezing. The home of the Pegasi fared no better. The Pegasi were hungry. And the unicorns were freezing and hungry. Even the unicorns' magic was powerless against the storm.”
The script called for more snow, and a secondary bag of feathers came crashing down onto the stage, much like the first one. One of the actors broke down laughing and had to be brought off the stage.
"What am I supposed to do, Octavia?" the mayor asked after quickly galloping towards the gray conductor. "We've managed to completely mess up the play, and we've barely started on the first act! You must help me!" Ivory pleaded, but Octavia merely dismissed her with an elegant gesture.
“Sorry ma’am, you’re on your own, I’m only here to make sure you can hear the actors over the music, its your job to make sure you actually want to hear them.”
“Thanks a lot.” The mayor pouted and Octavia couldn’t help but melt, just a little.
“Hey, don’t fret, trust me, I’ve seen more disastrous beginnings of a theatre production in Canterlot. Once your leading mare’s appear on stage, everypony will forget about these little mishaps.”
The mayors wrinkles multiplied by a factor of ten, and each locked themselves into a worried grimace.
“You haven’t seen my leading mares, have you?”
All the background actors left the stage and it was once again the mayor’s cue to do the narration. She left the orchestra pit where Octavia was currently trying to dislodge a small colt from a tuba, wondering to herself how in Equestria he had managed to get himself in that situation in the first place. The filly owning the tuba came with a few helpful suggestions, but none of them met with approval.
“No, you’re NOT allowed to use your classmate as a mute, it will sound terrible! Oh, and you might also damage the hearing of your dear classmate,” Octavia said, halting her attempts to help the little colt when she decided that the town’s firefighting brigade would probably be more qualified for such job.
"Each tribe blamed the others for their suffering," the mayor continued, striking an elegant pose. "... and the angrier everypony grew, the worse the blizzard became."
This time, the sack of feathers managed to hit one of the extras’ who staggered drunkenly around for a while, then promptly fell into the makeshift orchestra pit. This noise startled the colt in the tuba enough for him to somehow manage to dislodge himself.
Octavia, though famous for her ability to keep the music going trough all kinds of disasters, had to signal for the band to stop in order to remove the unconscious visitor from the box.
"And so it was decided that a grand summit would be held to figure out a way to cope with the blizzard."
“Well, here goes nothing,” Ivory muttered to herself as her mind repeated ‘everything is going to be fine’ over and over again like a mantra.
Miraculously, Octavia managed to reassemble the orchestra right on cue and they played a dignified fanfare... then the music got accompanied by strange raspy noise, as if somepony was rocking the record back and forward on a turntable. A second record started playing and instead of the dignified fanfare, the audience got treated to an energetic techno remix.
“Daughter of the unicorn king, Princess- what the hay is going on?!” the mayor blurted out.
Somebody had evidently stolen a smoke machine, because a white cloud was forming from backstage. Out of the cloud a lightly yellow unicorn pony appeared, her hair glistening with neon highlights under the stage lights. ‘I specifically told Vinyl notto take liberties with her own entrance, does nothing get trough to that mare?’ the mayor thought to herself as she buried her face in her hooves. Again.
“AWWW YEAH! What's up party ponies?” Vinyl Scratch announced as the sub-woofers she had brought on stage bombarded the audience with her obnoxious music.. “DJ- I mean, Princess Platinum is in DA HOUSE!”
Her small, but devoted fanbase in the audience cheered, but the rest of the crowd just looked dumbfounded at the strange choice of actress.
Thankfully for the mayor, the bass quickly died and the classroom band began playing another round of fanfares, prompting Ivory to carry on with the introductions.
“Ruler of the Pegasi, Commander Hurricane.”
Above the stage, the cutie mark crusaders found a shivering gray ball with wings. Scootaloo climbed closer, not sure who — or what — was hiding up in the rafters, but eager to investigate.
“Derpy! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on stage!” Derpy unfolded herself from her crouching position and looked over to Scootaloo with wide eyes.
“St-t-tage f-fright,” Derpy blurted out. "I d-d-don't think I c-can do this..." She hastily looked around, giving a little yelp as her gaze fell over the crowd. The other two cutie mark crusaders inched closer.
“Aww, don't be like that,” Applebloom said. “We've seen you at rehearsals, you were pretty good.”
"Really?" Derpy asked the trio, a trace of faint hope glimmering on her eyes. To this, the three fillies exchanged glances; neither of them wanted to tell the truth.
“Yeah...” Sweetie Belle said. “Or at least not worse than the other actors. So put your helmet on and get down there!”
“You're right!” Derpy said with new-found courage. She took the costume helmet she had been hugging and, with a very determined look, put it on her head... backwards. She staggered for a while and then promptly fell down onto the stage.
“First we dropped the bags, now we're dropping the actors!” Applebloom remarked.
“At least it's a somewhat fitting entrance for Commander Hurricane,” Sweetie Belle said to Scootaloo, but she just made a dismissive gesture in reply.
“Meh, Rainbow Dash was better,” she opined smugly.
The three fillies' ears perked up when a deafening noise was heard from the orchestra pit, like somepony was doing unspeakable things to an entire flock of ducks.
“I don't get it!” Octavia exclaimed to the little colt before her. “How do you manage to play a frigging kazoo out of tune?!”
“... leader of the Earth ponies, Chancellor Puddinghead!” the mayor blurted out, accepting the fact that the play couldn't possibly get any worse than the disaster it already was.
From behind the stage, Mr. and Mrs. Cake were whispering softly to each other.
“... you'll do fine dear,” Mr. Cake said, placing a comforting hoof on his wife’s shoulder. “Just remember to be careful with the pudding.”
“Alright if you say so,” Mrs. Cake replied as she nervously trotted up the scene.
Ivory Scroll waited until all three main actors were on stage before continuing.
“Perhaps the three tribes could finally settle their differences, and agree on a way to get through this disaster, and perhaps the three actors will stick to the script!!” The mayor added under her breath.
The three ponies sat down around a table and almost immediately the ponies began to argue. Derpy had apparently overcome her stage fright, or maybe her natural sense of imagination took over as she allowed herself to immerse into the role.
“All I wanna know is why the Earth ponies ate all the muffins!” she shouted while stomping on the oak table with a forehoof.
“Food,” the mayor helpfully whispered.
“Oh. All I wanna know is why the food ate all the muffins!” she corrected herself.
“No, hogged all the food.”
“All I wanna know is why the hogs ponied all the food!”
“Close enough,” the mayor decided.
“We're not hogs!” Mrs. Cake exclaimed. “I mean, we're not hogging all the food! We are just keeping it because you Pegasi keep making it snow.”
“It wasn't us, I swear! It was the unicorns with their magic, please give us the muffins!”
“How dare you!” Vinyl shouted, stomping hard with both forehooves on the table. “This is a drug-free establishment, I'd never... oh, you're talking about the freaky blizzard thing?”
“Yes!” Mrs. Cake and Derpy said in unison. The former had her eyes wide in surprise, unable to process what Vinyl has just mentioned, whilst the latter kept her innocent smile, oblivious to the glaring mistake.
“Oh yeah, that wasn't us," Vinyl said before shrugging.
“Well, if nopony wants to tell who made the blizzard,” Mrs Cake said with a sneaky tone, “Then neither of you get any pie!”
“Me! It was the Pegasus ponies that made it!” Derpy confessed.
“Don't listen to her, this is clearly unicorn magic,” Vinyl Scratch admitted. “Oh, and do you have any custard?”
The Mayor nudged Cup Cake slightly.
“Stick to the script, Mrs. Cake,” she demanded. Cup Cake smiled sheepishly towards her.
“Oh right, well, if the non-earths won't stop freezing us with this blizzard, then I'm out of ideas-”
“So,” Derpy said, gleaming with anticipation, “when will we get the pie?”
“They didn't let me bring it on stage,” Mrs. Cake admitted. “Not after what happened at the rehearsal.”
“Hey, featherduster, stop insulting the fair lady!” Vinyl Scratch roared.
“I never insulted anyone you... you... narwhal!” Derpy shot back, scrunching her muzzle.
“Chillax, missy, I'm just trying to stick to the script.”
The mayor stood by the sidelines, holding up a neatly typewritten page.
“Vinyl, the word 'featherduster' isn't in the script, and neither is the word 'chillax'.”
“Ever heard of ad-libbing?”
“Ever heard of 'acting'?”
Derpy had obviously picked up on the fact that they where supposed to argue, but the script failed to mention what they where supposed to argue about, and she stumbled trough her improvised lines.
“You... your hair is weird, your music is dumb and your sunglasses look stupid.” That last insult apparently struck a nerve.
“Hey, nopony disses the shades!”
“Well, nopony disses my muffins!” Derpy muttered, folding her forehooves and giving out a mock ‘harrumph’.
“Nopony is dissing your muffins, Derpy,” Mrs. Cake said in a reassuring tone. “Uhm, Commander Hurricane, I mean.”
“Exactly! You hear that, Princess Patina, nopony disses my muffins!” Derpy continued and the conversation went the way of a train derailed by a quarter. The mayor’s left eye was starting to twitch uncontrollably and she had to stop herself from simply shouting at the top of her lungs.
“That's it,” she announced, throwing the script page up in the air. “I'm out of here!”
“Wait, you can't leave,” Mrs. Cake said, sticking a forehoof out to her. “You're the narrator!”
This apparently reminded Vinyl of their place in the script and she got up from the ground with a snooty expression on her face.
“That's right, I'm leaving! This meeting isn't going well at all.”
“Hey, ladies first you know!” Mrs. Cake said, finally channeling Chancellor Puddinghead.
“I am a lady!” Vinyl reminded her.
“MAKE WAY!” Derpy declared and sped towards the door at full tilt, promptly crashing into the other two actors, sending them hurling trough the prop door. The crowd laughed uproariously, surprised how quickly the somewhat dry play had turned into a pantomime. The mayor was left alone on stage, hastily signaling for the curtain with a circling motion of her hoof.
“Fine, the blizzard rages on, yadda yadda, next scene!”
The curtains came down and the band played a lighthearted jazzy tune for the intermission. The tune suddenly stopped however as Octavia had to stop one of the fillies from using her violin as a slingshot. As the music died out, the audience was able to hear some sounds coming from the backstage.
“Get away from me! I gotta get away from here!”
“Ivory, get a grip on yourself! We can't do this without a narrator and it's too late to back out now.”
A few incoherent screams were heard, then a new voice entered the conversation.
“If it's strength you need, I can provide. I have potions in which strength reside. If you apply this soothing balm, I guarantee it'll make you calm.
“Gimme that!” The sound of a cork coming lose was heard, followed by a quick succession of clunking sounds
“Don't be so careless with the medicine that you get,” the rhyming voice scolded. “It’s liniment, you're not supposed to drink it!”
The curtain rose again and the mayor returned on stage with a new-found positive disposition, courtesy of Zecora's anti-anxiety potion. She beamed a drunken smile to the audience before Octavia reminded her of her line. The mayor quickly became serious and coughed lightly.
“Where was I... oh! So the summit of the tribes did not turn out as well as hoped, and the three leaders returned to their homes... where they read the script and decided to be serious for once.”
“We did?” Derpy asked Vinyl from behind the stage.
“I made no such promise,” the DJ replied.
“There you are, Derpy!” A voice called out from behind her. “Come on, we're supposed to be on stage.”
“I'm coming, Cloudchaser!” Derpy replied and they both trotted up on stage, only to find that it was still dressed up as the great hall.
“We forgot the clouds!” Scootaloo lamented from above the stage. “Sweetie Belle, weren't you supposed to bring those?”
“Do I look like a pegasus to you?” Sweetie Belle protested, gesturing to Scootaloo’s small wings.
“Oh, right...”
“Don't worry,” Applebloom replied. “We still have a bag of feathers!”
“Close enough, I guess.” Scootaloo said and flopped the content of the bag onto the stage.
Down below, Derpy was getting into character, or rather, into her over-the-top interpretation of the character.
“Ten-hut, forward march, about step, one two three four one two free four sugarplum fairy sugarplum fairy...”
“Derpy!” Cloudchaser shouted.
“Oh, that's right, my line! Attention soldier!”
Cloudchaser sighed and reluctantly went into character herself.
“Hi, Commander Hurricane....”
“Is that the way to talk to your superior, soldier?”
Cloudchaser groaned.
“No, Commander Hurricane...”
“Aren't you curious to know how the summit went?” Derpy asked. Cloudchaser snorted sarcastically.
“Lemme guess, you rambled incoherently about muffins throughout the whole meeting and nopony got anything resolved?”
“NO! Well, yes, but that's beside the point! Those other tribe leaders are foals! Don't they realize that we are mighty tribe warriors? READY THE BATTLE MUFFINS!”
Cloudchaser ignored her co-star and muttered to herself.
“I was supposed to play Commander Hurricane, what the hay happened?”
“Maybe they just found a better actor,” Derpy replied smugly.
“Maybe they just found somepony willing to sleep with the mayor for the role...” Cloudchaser remarked, giving Derpy a cruel glance. Derpy's simulated fighting spirit turned into quite real anger towards the white-haired Pegasus.
“You take that back!” she yelled.
“Make me!”
The curtain fell down prematurely and the audience was able to see the blurry shadows of a pair ponies trying to separate the two actors.
When the curtain rose again, they had moved on in the story. Vinyl Scratch was standing on stage together with Lyra Heartstrings. The background was at least completely changed this time, showing a cheap approximation of Princess Platinum's lavish palace. Lyra was standing at something that looked surprisingly like a bar disk.
“Clover the Clever! Come over here, I need you!” Vinyl called out to her.
Lyra took out a bottle from underneath the desk along with a metal shaker and a soda can.
“One ciderbomb coming right up, miss!” she said in a sing-song voice.
“Thank you...” Vinyl began, but then stopped herself. “On second thought, no, we don't need another drunk pony in this show.”
Lyra put the drink material back under the desk and turned towards Vinyl.
“Did the other pony tribes see reason as I predicted?” she asked the DJ, playing her role with a casual naturalness.
“If by 'reason' you mean 'incoherency and baked goods', then yes. How do you argue against somepony who's completely insane?”
“I ask myself the same question every day, your highness,” Lyra said as the curtain fell on the scene.
Mrs. Cake looked worriedly at her co-star, who had discovered the liquor under the bar disk.
“Uhm, Berry, do you really think its a good idea to drink...”
“Shaddap, I told you, I get shtage frights,” Berry Punch said in between chugs. “Thish helpsh!”
She leaned back to take another swig off the bottle, but lost balance and fell backwards onto a prop table. Ivory came out from behind the stage, wearing a pitiful expression.
“Ladies and gentlecolts, she said to the audience. “We interrupt this pageant for a brief public service announcement. Alcohol is is harmful to your health and can seriously impair your judgment, like making you think you can act.”
“You're the one th'talk,” Berry Punch remarked, trying to point a hoof towards the blurry, duplicated mayor. “Not even I drink Zecora's liniment.”
“It was an accident!” the mayor shouted, then she gestured to the burly stagehoofs. “Get her off the stage, and try to get her to sober up, I'll fill in for her for this scene,” she said as the two ponies carried the drunken mare away.
Ivory Scroll waited for Berry to leave the stage completely before she turned towards Mrs. Cake. “So Chancellor, how did the meeting go? Chancellor?”
Mrs. Cake looked around hesitantly, not knowing what to do with the situation.
“You told us not to argue with the narrator,” she said weakly.
“I'm not the narrator, I'm Smart Cookie, your secretary.”
“Oh, alright then,” Cake said and perked up. “The meeting didn't go well, but I have an idea. We'll just go somewhere where we can grow food and don't have to worry about blizzards or meddling non-earths.”
“Sounds like an-”
“Hey, that'sh not me,” Berry Punch shouted as she galloped onto the stage, having evidently escaped the grip of the stagehoofs. “Thatsh an imposhtor!”
“What?” the mayor exclaimed. “No, for this scene, I am you.”
“Balderdash, you're a changeling!” Berry accused, having a hard time standing on her hind legs to point at the mayor.
Nopony could fault Berry’s talent for improvisation at least, and Ivory decided to resign.
“Oh I might as well just play along,” she muttered to herself. “No, youare the changeling, or possibly a spysent by the other tribes.”
“No, you're the spy!”
“Am I a spy or a changeling?” the mayor asked, unimpressed by Berry’s drunken logic. “Make up your mind!”
Mrs. Cake looked from one pony to the other, utterly confused by the new direction the scene took. She decided to try and end this as quickly as possible and from underneath her hat, she took the pie she had smuggled in for Derpy and Vinyl and held up like a weapon.
“Alright, who's the real smart Cookie?” Cup Cake demanded. “Speak up!”
“I AM!” Berry and Ivory yelled in unison.
The two Cookies exchanged glances. Berry Punch had a dangerous look in her eyes.
“Blast us both,” she demanded. “It's the only way!”
“No, wait, I was just-” Ivory protested, but before she got finished, Cake had already thrown the pie and she got drenched in chopped apples and crust.
“Alright that's enough, the two ponies go on to find a new land, next scene!” Ivory screamed in annoyance.
“Hey, that was supposed to be our pie!” Derpy protested form behind the scenes.
“Hey, that whole idea of trying to find a new land was a pretty awesome idea, why didn't we think about that?” Vinyl commented.
“We did think about that, we're supposed to have the same idea,” Derpy explained.
“Whoa, spoiler alert!”
“Didn't you read the script?” Derpy asked her.
“I read it before each scene, I don't wanna spoil the ending!”
Derpy gave the unicorn a quizzical look, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the mayor.
“Derpy, it's your scene!” she called out from the stage. “I hope you've apologized and made peace with Cloudchaser.”
Derpy was back into her role of Commander Hurricane, and once again she switched over to her clumsy interpretation of the character. Cloudchaser made an only half-hearted attempt at acting like Private Pansy. They were both on a somewhat crude conveyor belt that had been put on stage so that the actors could walk and still stay in place.
The sides of the belt were decorated with fluffy patches of feathers, the same kind used to simulate the snow from before, and cardboard clouds, or rather, indistinct white shapes that looked vaguely like a cloud if you had a lot of imagination.
Derpy trotted proudly on the treadmill, flapping her wings slowly in pretend-flight, and Cloudchaser walked behind her, looking somewhat bitter and tortured.
“C'mon, Private Pansy, let's get a move on!” Derpy ordered. “Sugarplum fairy sugarplum fairy... “
The cutie mark crusaders helpfully provided thunder by rattling a thick piece of paper and the sudden noise startled Derpy. She immediately yelped and jumped off the bandwagon and hid behind one of the cardboard clouds
“Oh, did I do that?” Derpy asked, to which Cloudchaser merely groaned in reply.
“Oh for... it's just somepony rattling a paper, and it's me who's supposed to act all scared, you're supposed to be the brave Commander Hurricane, remember? The role I I was supposed to pay, before you stole it!”
"OH that's it!” Derpy steamed, shooting up from behind the rock. “I will muff-martial you for insube... insubo... for being a jerkyface!
“Derpy, calm down!” Ivory demanded from behind the stage.
Derpy stopped in her track, halfway about to jump Cloudchaser. She closed her eyes and took five deep breaths. When she opened them again, she was back in character... or her version of it, anyway.
“Hupp-hepp, Private! We cannot let anything distract us from the mission at hoof...” she exclaimed towards Cloudchaser, who looked less than amused.
“What mission?” she asked sarcastically.
“TO CONQUER THE WORLD!”
“Conquer?” Cloudchaser asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We'll bring forth the new muffin utopia, and then all will bow before me!” Derpy laughed with megalomaniac glee, only to once again hide behind the cloud as yet another crack of thunder produced by the cutie mark crusaders rang out.
Cloud chaser sighed deeply and kept trotting on the treadmill until the scene ended.
Lyra and Vinyl were walking on the same treadmill as before, but this time the background had been hastily changed to resemble a small grove with trees and rocks. These props were mostly made of cheap wood and had nails sticking out of them at various angles.
As with most of the backgrounds used, these gave the impression of somepony working really hard with a lot of inspiration and very little actual skill.
Lyra ignored the scenery and simply looked straight on with a bored expression but Vinyl was shifting about nervously, pestering her with questions.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, sounding uncannily like a small colt in his daddy's wagon.
“No.”
“How long have we’ve been walking?”
“You mean how long have I been walking with you on my back?” Lyra asked, turning her head to face the flashy unicorn perched behind her shoulder-blades.
“Hey, my wagon is at the shop to get a slick new paint-job and some hydraulics, and besides, I can’t walk to a new gig with all my gear.” With that she produced two turntables from her own saddlebags. Lyra groaned, not realizing until now where the extra weight had come from.
“You didn't really have to bring your turntables.”
“Of course I had. What if we meet any enemies that wants to challenge us to a rap-off?” Lyra raised a questioning eyebrow when the possibility of Vinyl being serious crossed her mind.
“Is that... likely to happen?”
“It's likelier than you think. I better practice: My name is MC Platinum, and that's how my records sell, got a kick-ass facial horn that'll put you under a spell...”
“Vinyl!” The mayor scolded from backstage, “There are no rap battles in the script either!”
Vinyl’s fanclub booed, but most of the audience were relieved at this interruption.
The treadmill really didn't do nice things to Berry Punch's already grumbling stomach, forcing her to leave the stage briefly to taste her dinner a second time, much to the crowd’s disgust. Mrs. Cake smiled motherly at her as she returned.
“Are you feeling better now, Berry?” she asked softly
“I didn't know that many carrots could fit into one pony,” she replied with a hoarse, sick voice. “So how did the meeting go?”
“Uhm, we're already past that scene, dear.”
Berry tilted her head and tried to make both images of Mrs. Cake merge into one.
“Then what are we doing now?”
“We're trying to find a new land for our tribe, and I'm leading us in what is definitely the right direction,” Mrs cake said, trying to nudge Berry towards following the script.
“Well, carry on then.”
“Uhm, Be- I mean, Smart Cookie. Aren't you supposed to notice something?”
Berry put her tongue to the corner of her mouth and studied Mrs. Cake intently.
“Oh, is that a new haircut?” Berry said. “You look pretty!”
“Thanks!” Mrs. Cake said and shone up. “No! I mean, about how we're walking.”
Berry just stared dumbly at Cup Cake.
“We're walking in circles!” Mrs. Cake exclaimed. Berry still looked at her dumbly, blinking a few times.
“... this is a sobriety test, isn't it?”
Mrs Cake closed her eyes and let out a disappointed sigh.
“Yes, I guess that being able to read a script counts as a sobriety test.”
Again Berry looked incredibly confused and stared right trough Mrs. Cake.
“We have a script?”
Another sigh from Mrs. Cake, she was way too nice to say anything beyond one or two good-natured comments. She paused and inhaled deeply, making another desperate effort to stick to the script.
“Anyway, don't you think I'm reading the map wrong?” she nudged, holding to prop up to her face.
“Well ,of course, lemme look at this!” Berry Punch said, finding herself quickly. She grabbed the map, took out a pen and made a mark on the paper. “There, do you see the X? That's where all the gold is.”
“That's... not what the play is about,” Mrs. Cake complained weakly, but Berry Punch had already gone off the rails.
“Arr mateys! Shiver me timbers, ye'll never get me gold, Captain Puddinghead!” At this point, Mrs. Cake decided to give up and just play along.
“Curse you Gin Hogger!” she said in a painfully fake raspy voice. “You saw trough my clever plan, now we duel!”
Berry Punch signaled for swords and a very confused Applebloom appeared on stage and gave out one prop sword to each pseudo-pirate.
“What the hay are they doing?” she asked Sweetie Belle as she returned backstage. “This isn’t at all how I remember the play.” Sweetie Belle merely looked confusedly at her friend and shrugged.
“Haven't you heard of improv?” Scootaloo remarked.
“Yes, but not in a Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant.”
“En garde!” Berry said, drunkenly swinging the sword around.
“En Garde!” Mrs. Cake said in return. The mayor saw both ponies getting ready to destroy the play further and rushed out from behind the curtains.
“Cup Cake, what are you doing?” she yelled. Mrs. Cake just turned around and smiled gently.
“I figured, we're not going to get this play back on track anytime soon, might as well just go along with it.”
The mayor made a noise from the back of her throat and tossed her hooves up into the air.
“Fine! Put a pirate sword fight in a morality play about love and tolerance! See if I care!” she grumbled as she once again walked backstage.
The two pirate started to cling their wooden swords together as the curtain fell.
When the curtain rose again, Ivory stood alone on the scene which had been outfitted with cardboard cutouts of trees and patches of flower. The rough but idyllic mise-en-scene looked very much like a three dimensional version of a children's crayon drawing.
“And so, each actor- I mean, leader encountered obstacles along the way, but eventually, they all arrived in a new and wondrous land,” she narrated. “Nopony had ever seen paradise before.”
Derpy and Cloudchaser appeared on set from the right side of the stage. Derpy gazed joyfully at the scene and started to skip about.
“This is it!” she exclaimed. “The new land we've been searching for!”
Cloudchaser didn't look nearly as happy, but reluctantly followed in her hoofsteps.
”... and to think,” she filled in. “In the future they'll make a crappy play about us.”
Derpy produced a tattered grey flag with a light yellow streak running trough the middle. As it unfolded, she placed it in between two planks on the set floor.
“I proclaim this new land to be... Bubbleopolis!”
“Really? I thought you where gonna go with Muffinville.”
“I DO have interests other than muffins, y'know!”
“How about ‘Muffdiver-ville’ then?” the white-haired pegasus suggested with a dirty grin, but Derpy either chose to ignore the comment or didn’t understand the euphemism.
The two pegasi remained in a corner of the stage as the two unicorns entered the scene. Vinyl Scratch squealed with delight as she took in the sight of the paradisaical place.
“Look at these awesome mice, and these awesome fields. This is the biggest dance-floor I've ever seen!” She produced a tie-dyed flag in a variety of obnoxious neon colors and planted it on the ground. “In the name of the unicorns, I hereby dub this land Mau5ville!”
“Strange name,” Lyra commented.
“No it's not. I named it after the first species of animal on this new land, spelled ‘maus’ to make it shorter, and with a five at the end cuz’ it's cool.”
Just like Derpy and Cloudchaser, the two ponies remained on stage as the last set of leading actors appeared.
“Take a look at this beautiful ground, this will be the perfect place for my future bakery,” Mrs. Cake raved until a noise from behind her interrupted her spiel.
“Uhm, Berry, are you feeling all right?” she asked. Berry looked awfully green and her voice sounded broken and forced.
“Let me...” she choked out. “Let me borrow your hat for a second.”
Mrs. Cake gave her hat over to the inebriated pony and she grabbed it greedily. She leaned over and before Mrs Cake could stop her, she was hurtling what little was left in her stomach into it.
“Thank you, you can have it back now.”
She hoofed the hat over and Mrs Cake stared at it with a concerned and somewhat disgusted look. Thankfully, Sweetie Belle appeared on stage to take the soiled headgear from her to clean it up.
“Thank you, dear!” she whispered to her and then turned towards Berry.
“Should I take this as your naming suggestion?” she asked, and tried hard to turn this into a name. “Uhm... Pukesdale?” she offered. Berry Punch stared at her co-star with displeasure.
“Mrs. Cake? Are you drunk?” she asked in earnest. “Let's go with Earth instead.”
“Yes, earth sounds good,” Mrs. Cake replied, trying hard to keep a straight face.
“We found our new home!” all the three leading mares said in unison. There was a silence for a fraction of a second as they exchanged glances. Berry Punch took this opportunity to sneak off-stage. Behind a rack of costumes she found her secret stash of fermented grape juice and she started drinking merrily, forgetting all about her previous sickness.
“I was here first, go away!” Derpy demanded from back on stage.
“No way, I was here first!” Vinyl Scratch retorted.
“Calm down girls,” Mrs. Cake said softly. “Let’s say you both where here first...” Then her smile took on a slightly evil quality. “But I was here EARLIER than first!”
“Hey, while you girls are in Mau5ville, you better behave, or I'll call the bouncer on you!” Vinyl Scratch threatened. Lyra looked over at her superior.
“Who's that?” she asked, feeling completely lost.
“You are, Clover.”
Derpy stepped in between them and gazed angrily at Vinyl.
“The name is Bubbelopolis!”
“Earth!” Mrs Cake corrected.
“Muffintown!” Derpy shot back.
“Klub Klopspiracy!” Vinyl Scratch offered. “Only it's spelled with a K instead of hard C, cuz’ it looks cooler...” Derpy gave her a steely gaze.
“Let's fight about it, you blue-haired, bug-eyed freakshow!”
“I knew there were going to be rap battles in this story!” Vinyl Scratch said smugly.
“Check this out, my Derpy friend: I'm the MC of this rappin' conspiracy, badass beat poet who's searching for clarity...” A twinkle appeared in Derpy's eye and she interrupted Vinyl's spiel with her own rhymes.
“Keep on playing those derpy grooves, but don't try to outmatch Derpy Hooves. For the lyrical power that I wield, perfected on the battlefield are beyond that of any mortal mare. Just sit and stare while I handle this with flair. Got a booty that can crash trough solid wood, on a mailmares salary I still got it good. Raking in million with one album track, eating up praise like a midnight snack. So you better go back to massaging your horn, nothing left here but ridicule and scorn sit there forlorn cuz’ your rhymes are worn wishing that you never where born!”
“Uhm, did I do this right?” she asked sheepishly as her confidence faltered. The audience were stomping their hooves in appreciation and steam was practically coming out of Vinyl's ears.
“Oh, this has gone too far! Nopony upstages DJ Platinum! Bouncer! Throw this girl out!”
“I’m not a bouncer, this isn't a club!” Lyra yelled, losing her patience. “Look, maybe we should all just calm down and actually focus on the-”
“AAAAOOOOIIIIIII”
“What was that?!” Lyra asked, feeling a strange chill creep down her spine, mirroring the reaction of most of the crowd.
“I think it was the wind,” Mrs Cake explained to her. “Or rather Applebloom trying to sound like the wind...”
“Well, she’s getting really good at it,” Lyra said and shuddered.
At this point, Berry Punch returned from behind the curtain, and she had a distinct wobble in the way she walked. She attempted to turn around to face the arguing ponies, but ended up spinning 360 degrees.
“I... hic.. agree with the two cyan ponish” she slurred out, pointing in the rough direction of Lyra. “Thish has gone far enough... I don't even remember what play we where schupposed to perform.”
Cloudchaser gave out an annoyed groan.
“The Hearth’s Warming Eve's pageant! What did you think we were staging,‘Adventures of the town drunk, the musical’?”
Berry blinked twice and tried to focus her gaze. “... Thish ish a musical?”
“NO!” The rest of the actors shouted back at her.
“I have been at karaoke night with you,” Cloudchaser explained. “You're not allowed within ten miles of a musical!”
Derpy turned towards her and shot invisible lighting trough her eyes.
“Have you... fraternized with the enemy, private? I'll have you court-martialled for this!”
“You betcha!” Berry Punch said with a perverse grin. “You should see her in-” Cloudchaser flailed desperately, trying to interrupt the drunken pony.
“No, nothing happened at all, I swear to Celestia!” Cloudchaser noticed that everypony appeared to be staring at her.
“Moving on...” she added with an embarrassed blush. Suddenly something cold hit her from behind and she turned around to see Lyra brandishing a snow ball.
“Hey what was that for?”
“Distraction,” Lyra said, smile a sinister smile. Before Cloudchaser could react, Vinyl Scratch appeared from behind and dumped a hoof-full of snow over her. Cloud chaser turned around to attack, but Mrs. Cake interrupted her.
“Hey, you kids behav-” It was already too late, Cloudchaser had launched a snowball and it hit the kind baker right in the face.
“Oh that's it!” she said and scraped together a hoofful of snow. But before she finished shaping it into a ball, she realized something. “Wait where did the snow come from?”
Lyra groaned as the realization dawned upon her.
“Oh no, we're at that point in the story, aren't we?” Lyra said.
From behind the stage the cutie mark crusaders admired their handiwork.
“Where did you get the snow?” Applebloom asked Scootaloo. “That was a nice touch!”
“I didn’t do anything,” the earthbound pegasus admitted. “I just opened a window and I saw a whole pile of new snow, ripe for the taking!”
“That’s strange,” Applebloom replied, looking puzzled. “It hadn’t snowed yet when we started the play; the weather team was late! You think they could’ve fixed it during the play?”
Something dawned in the eyes of Sweetie Belle, her pupils shrank noticeably as she analyzed the implication of her thought.
“What is it, Sweetie Belle?” Applebloom asked.
“Look!” Sweetie Belle said and pointed out to the audience. The other two ponies didn’t really know what to look for and just started out with confused expressions.
“The entire weather team is right here!” she explained. “They can’t have done it.”
Sweetie Belle fell silent, it was obvious from the look of her friends that they too had realized the implications. In the distance, they could hear a sharp, hollow howl.
“AAOOOOIIIII!”
Chills crept down the spine of each of the three crusaders. This noise had very little in common with Applebloom’s shrill yodeling yowl.
“... And so the paradise that the ponies had found was soon lost, buried beneath a thick blanket of snow, and hard feelings. Everypony was forced to seek shelter. They searched high and low, but the only shelter for miles was a cold and desolate cave.”
The temperature in the barn had suddenly dropped significantly, tough only a hoof-full of ponies in the audience seemed to notice. Most of them where focused on the spectacle on stage, eager to see which disastrous turn it would take next. The snow had been shuffled off the stage, nopony seemed to question it, they just assumed that the snow was one of the cutie mark crusaders’ bright ideas.
“And, of course, the three tribes had to share it, and nopony was too happy about that, least of all the director, who looked at the production with regret in her heart and an inexplicable thirst for strong liquor... or maybe more of Zecora’s liniment. That thing had some kick to it...”
The six ponies were crammed into a large box roughly the size of half the stage. The floor of the box had been sprinkled with sand to act as the dirt floor and it’s sides where lined with a paper-mache structure dozed in several layers of blue and gray paint. Vinyl Scratch studied the wall of the cave with delight, but the other five characters didn’t look nearly as amused.
“Aww yeah, Mu5ville has badass caves! Look at this, do you know how many awesome parties I could throw in here? We'll be raving trough the night!” she said, beaming with happiness.
Cloudchaser looked over to Vinyl Scratch with despair in her eyes.
“If I’m gonna be stuck here, I’ll get stark raving MAD!” she lamented.
Derpy seemed lost on her own train of logic, chanting something to herself.
“Xyzzy! Xyzzy! X-y-z-z-y! It's not working! I guess this cave just isn't colossal enough!”
Vinyl Scratch turned to her, perceiving it as an insult to what she considered to be 'her' cave.
“Hey, if you don't like it, Featherduster, you can go somewhere else!”
“No, we can't! We're stuck here,” Cloudchaser remarked. Vinyl Scratch snapped and jerked up from the floor. She trotted up to the center of the cave, the shuffling of her hooves echoing trough the barn.
“FINE!” she yelled, a little more loudly than she intended in order to break the awkward silence. “See this line over here?” With her hoof she pointed at an invisible line.
“No?”
“This line separates the party animals from the lamers, if you wanna be all wallflowery, you do it on this side!”
At this, Derpy also got up and pointed towards the same patch of ground.
“Oh yeah? See this line! This is the official border of the Muffin Kingdom, set one foot over this line and you'll be executed!”
“Executed?” Cloudchaser said with a raised eyebrow.
“Or forced to listen to Berry sing, whichever is deemed more humane.”
“Execution it is, then,” Cloudchaser concluded.
“Now throw all non-pegasus out from the glorious fiefdom of Muffinarnia!”
“Oh, no you don't!” Mrs Cake shouted. “Berry, sing at these intruders!”
“NOOO!” each of the ponies screamed in unison.
“See this line?” Mrs. Cake asked, pointing at the ground. “This is the sovereign territory of Pukesville, nopony is allowed to cross this line!”
The tree leaders each ordered their underlings to draw the borders between the kingdoms. The notion of drawing a straight line was a bit too complicated for Berry Punch, forcing Mrs. Cake to take over the line-drawing duty herself.
While she was drawing, Cloudchaser found one of Vinyl’s turntables that had fallen out of her saddle-bag and, not wanting to face the unicorns wrath about other ponies touching her equipment, she simply drew the line around it, giving away some territory.
“What are you doing Cloudchaser? That rock is ours!” Derpy scolded her, prompting Cloudchaser to look at her with questioning eyes.
“Neither of us knows how to use that thing, it has no value to us whatsoever.”
“But it is our turntable!”
Vinyl Scratch noticed the commotion and trotted to the site. She looked at the device and smiled
“Oh thanks dudettes, you found my turntable!”
“Your turntable?” Derpy said with a combative frown.
“This isn’t a pegasus toy, it has Un1kornland written all over it!”
“How do you even spell that?” Derpy protested.
“With a numeral and a “k”... look, you're just not leet enough to understand.” Derpy looked at the DJ as tough she was crazy.
“If I need to be an onion to understand, I'd rather not understand it at all,” she announced.
As the two ponies argued, Mrs. Cake trotted over and promptly took the turntable away.
“Oh you found my rock... turntable, thank you very much!” she said, ‘I guess those young mares decided to change the script again,’ she thought.
“Hey, that's ours!” Vinyl Scratch yelled.
“Finders keepers!”
“Gimme my rocktable!” Derpy demanded.
Outside, a blizzard was raging, the sky had turned from its usual pleasant blue to a steely gray curtain that seemed to slowly get darker. The gloomy sky contrasted with the bright frisbee-sized snowflakes that were tumbling violently in the harsh wind. The ground was an almost perfect white blanket, interrupted only by three pair of hoof-prints forming a staggered path out of the barn.
The cutie mark crusaders looked up towards the sky, squinting to protect their eyes from the snow. Above them circled a trio of what resembled large horses, only ghostly and pale, like the winter itself had taken form as a group of beasts.
For a moment, the three fillies stood paralyzed on the ground, until Applebloom managed to get a grip on herself. She jerked out of her trance and turned around to run back at the barn. One of the gray horse-spirits noticed this, however and intercepted her path. The young mare nearly fell backwards as the cold wind knocked her back.
As she was struggling to regain balance, she felt something encapsulating her hooves. Before she could regain her composure enough to struggle, the windigo had managed to cover her hind legs with a thick layer of ice.
The other two ponies galloped up to her and tried to pry her legs away from the ice. Applebloom yelped in pain as her two friends pulled hard on her front legs. The ice was spreading from her hind legs trough the ground, and soon the other two ponies found themselves trapped in a similar manner. The windigo apparently lost interest in them and joined the other two spirits as they circled around the barn.
“This... this was not what I meant when I said I wanted lifelike special effects,” Applebloom said with a broken voice, a single tear ran down her cheek and froze before it hit the ground.
“Cheer up!” Scootaloo said, trying to comfort herself more than anypony else. “The windigos are attracted by hatred, right? And we don’t hate each other!”
“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said with a hopeless look in her eyes. “But we’re only three ponies, that’s not going to be enough to stop them!”
Applebloom shone up ever so slightly as something dawned on her.
“Three!” she said. “That is exactly the number of mares it took to keep the windigos away in the Hearth’s Warming Eve play.”
“But that’s just a story!” Sweetie Belle protested.
“It has to be true,” Applebloom said with conviction. “Ponies wouldn’t lie about this sort of thing. Now, please help me!”
The three friends butted their heads together and tried to focus all the good feelings they could muster into the center. One of the windigos looked around, looking almost worried, if that emotion was even possible for a windigo. In the corner of its eye, one could see a bright white aura starting to form.
Inside of the barn, the play was continuing undeterred, and it was hard to tell if the argument between the six actors was real or acted-out. They nearly came to blows but were interrupted by Lyra, who pointed towards the entrance.
“What is it Ly- Clover the Clever?”, Vinyl Scratch wondered.
“The entrance,” she said, pointing at the neat Styrofoam blocks Twist and the other stage-hooves had put up on the side of the big box. “Looks like we're stuck here.”
“Oh noes, I'm stuck in this cave with a bunch of lame losers!” Vinyl Scratch lamented.
“Who are you calling lame losers?” Clodchaser growled.
“Oh come on, you've done nothing but argue and fight like a bunch of schoolchildren,” Vinyl Scratch replied.
“And you haven't?
“When I do, it is an intellectual debate,” Vinyl Scratch responded smugly.
This was the last straw for Cloudchaser. She inched uncomfortably close to Vinyl Scratch and stared into her mirrored shades with eyes that shot daggers.
“Oh look missy, you may think you're so cool and provocative, but that's not an excuse to be rude!” Cloud chaser ranted. “Ever thought that ponies may not be stunned by your awesomeness but avoid you because you're being a jerk? You’re just so immature. It’s time for you to grow up!”
Vinyl Scratch's jaw hit the floor. She raised a hoof to comment on her hypocrisy, or come up with a smartass remark, or anything. But words failed her and she lowered it again with a forlorn demeanour.
It would be impossible to know whether it was because of the good cheer being broadcasted from the three nearly-frozen young ponies outside or if the air had gone out of the ponies by completely natural means, but the feeling on stage was instantly a little less chilly.
“I... know,” she admitted, swallowing her words like bitter medicine. “I’m sorry. My life is just a mess right now. I can’t afford to pay the rent on my apartment. Again. And the last time, my landlord told me he’d kick me out the next time I was late... So not looking forward to beg my friends for a couch or sleep under my wagon. Again.”
Her ears flopped down on the side of her head and she studied the ground intently, glad that the shades obscured her eyes.
“I thought being a DJ would be the dream-life, but I gotta hustle like crazy just to get a gig in this miserable town. And when I do, I gotta appear happy and carefree even if it feels like the world is falling around me, and its like I’ve just gotten stuck that way.”
Vinyl sighed deeply, trying to hold back her sobs before and falling silent. Derpy forgot her character and sat down next to her.
“I know how you feel,” she said reassuringly. “I mean, wherever I go, I get this reputation of being a klutz. That's all anyone ever knows about me. So no matter what I do, they expect me to fail at any moment and I just can’t concentrate.” Unlike Vinyl, she utterly failed to hide her moist eyes.
“I didn’t really care when I was on my own, but then Dinky was born and I don't know what to do with myself anymore. She keeps asking about her father and I don’t want to tell her that it was some random stallion I don’t know the name of... I... I don't want her to feel like one of my mistakes.”
Derpy was having a hard time holding back her tears, something that prompted Mrs. Cake to hug her when she recognized the anxiety in her eyes.
“If it’s any consolation,” she said with a sweet, calming voice. “It's normal to doubt yourself when you become a mother.” Vinyl Scratch just smiled at the scene from the sideline.
“I gotta say Mrs. Cake, I’m jelly. Here we are a bunch of young fuck-ups and you got a successful business and a loving husband. You got it made, Cake!”
“Yeah right,” she said, but it sounded unconvincing. Something dark came up in Mrs. Cake eyes and she looked away.
Octavia had completely forgotten to conduct during this last unscripted part and the music from the orchestra pit just kinda petered out, leaving a very long and awkward silence. A young filly pulled her tail, urging her attention.
“Miss ‘Tavia? Aren’t we supposed to play something?” The classically trained mare smiled gently back at the young pony.
“No, Little Hoof,” she said, thankful that she even remembered the filly’s name; the introductions had been very hasty and rushed. “I don’t think we can make this any more disastrously entertaining than it already is.”
As the three main actors huddled in a corner, the secondary characters were talking with each others.
“Okay, it seems that the leads have formed some sort of support group and left me with the weirdo and the drunk,” Cloudchaser complained.
“Who are you calling weird?” Berry Punch said, placing herself in a wobbly fighting-stance.
“I don't drink!” Lyra protested, sounding very hurt. “I can’t stand the taste of alcohol.”
“No, you are the weirdo and you are the drunk,” Cloudchaser corrected. “Gah, I can’t believe it, I was supposed to have the main role in this!” She groaned angrily but gave up. “Nevermind, how about we actually get in character and end this wretched play?”
Berry Punch perked up as some sort of notion entered into her mind.
“End? Waitaminute! Chaotic plot, lots of fourth-wall leaning, yodeling fairies in the distance...”
“Those are windigos,” Lyra corrected, oblivious to the events outside.
“This is a production of a Midsummer Nights Scream!” she concluded. “Ha, and you told me this was a Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant!” she said to Lyra with a satisfied, smug grin.
“This is a Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant!” Lyra shouted, but Berry Punch wouldn't listen, she was still stuck on her own strange train of logic.
“Don’t worry, I performed this back in pony high school, I think I still remember the ending soliloquy:
”Let not a weak conclusion to a story splendid Leave the audience confused and offended Let it not be what their cruel heart desires to burn the whole theater down in a fire Instead let these merry gaps in story seem as nothing but mere figments of a dream.”
Somehow, Berry recited these lines perfectly. The two mares looked wide eyed at her until she got a green look in her face, hunched over, hurled dryly and promptly collapsed. Lyra observed the scene with a quizzical grimace, unable to even begin comprehending the situation that just unfurled.
“Ivory, our co-star passed out in her own vomit,” she informed the mayor. “Is that supposed to happen?”
Ivory gave out an annoyed yell from beside the box and galloped into it. She took the drunk in her arms and began to shake her violently.
“Wake up you drunken slob! Could you at least try to sober up enough so we can get your sorry butt off the stage? How is it even possible for a mare to vomit three times during one play when it’s not even supposed to be physically possible for ponies?!”
Berry Punch regained something faintly resembling a consciousness.
“Just five minutes more, mummy,” she said, turned around and promptly fell back to sleep. The mayor let go of the sleepy actor to nurse her own budding headache. Ivory scrunched her eyes shut, trying to gather what little strength she had left. Cloudchaser trotted up to her and gave her an accusatory look.
“You really should have directed this show better, you know that?”
That proved to be the final straw for the mayor. You could practically pinpoint the moment where her strength ran out and something snapped inside of her.
“I should have directed the show better? You should have acted better! YOU SHOULD HAVE ACTED AT ALL! ” she roared, making Cloudchaser take a step back. “What am I supposed to do?! The music is performed entirely by a bunch of amateurs who wouldn’t know a tuba from the back end of a cow if you drew them a labelled diagram! And if there was any sort of effort put into the special effects at all, then Celestia help the bumbling bunch of baboons that created them.”
A young filly from the orchestra pit started to sob uncontrollably. Tears and snot ran down her face, forcing Octavia to try and calm her down. She held the foal at hoofs-length, desperately attempting to avoid the slimy stream of snot.
“There, there. Take it easy, you weren't that bad, for an amateur...”
At this point, the three crusaders entered the barn, somewhat battered but still okay after their encounter with the hateful weather-spirits, just in time to hear Ivory’s hurtful comment ring out.
“But... we worked real hard!” Applebloom lamented to nopony in particular. Scootaloo nuzzled her hair to get her attention, then looked at her friend with a gaze weary beyond her years.
“We nearly got frozen solid,” she reminded her. “And we pulled trough together, saved everypony’s skin without them even noticing. It doesn’t matter if the mayor thought our set-design was a little shoddy, she can go stuff it.”
Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement but Applebloom let out a deep sigh.
“You don’t suppose we could tell anypony what happened?”
“Who would believe us?” Sweetie Belle asked and shrugged it off.
“Hey!” Appleboom perked up. “At least we...” she turned around to look at her flank.
“Aww chucks! Neither a windigo warrior cutie mark nor a stage effect cutie mark!” she announced, bitterly disappointed.
On stage, the mayor still glowered frightfully, having rolled herself into what resembled a ball of anger and rage. Cloudchaser started at the beige mare with uncharacteristically kind eyes. She placed one hoof on Ivory’s shoulder, but the mayor just slapped it away.
“Ivory, maybe you should calm down-”
“Calm down?” the mayor snarled back. “Did you see your performances up there?! I don’t think there is a word in the pony language strong enough to describe this horrendous assault on the senses,” the mayor jolted up, trotting around the stage as she continued ranting.
“Somehow we managed to, in one night, make a mockery out of thousands of years of theatrical tradition. We have failed as entertainers, and our entire civilization has failed for allowing this disaster of a play to take place!” Her words was accompanied by a faint, but still bone-chilling howl. Outside of the window, Sweetie Belle noticed — with cold sweat in her brow — that the three windigos were still in the distance, hovering indecisively.
Ivory was about to storm off the stage, but when she turned around, she was met with Derpy's cross-eyed look, each eye as wide as dish-plate and each brimming with tears. Ivory's anger came to a screeching halt and she ran over to the mare, hugging her like you would a little child.
“Please don't cry Derpy,” she whispered. “I... didn't mean it, I'm just stressed. Please, I'm sorry!”
In the orchestra pit, Little Hoof kept tugging Octavia’s tail, getting no reaction from the elegant mare.
“‘Tavi? You okay? You just froze up like you where playing freeze tag. Is something wrong?” she asked innocently, but all the filly could get from her was an incoherent sputtering sound.
Octavia had suspected that the mayor had a special somepony even before Cloudchaser hinted at it, but she had never expected to get first-hoof confirmation like this. It was only after several minutes of the increasingly distressed filly trying to get her attention that she finally snapped out of it.
“Aunt ‘Tavi?” she pleaded.
“Ah... uhm... oh... yes dear?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the stage in disbelief.
“You’re acting strange, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing is wrong,” Octavia said, mindful that their conversation could be heard from onstage, even though the two hugging ponies weren't paying attention to anypony but themselves at the moment. “I just realized that something wasn’t the way I wanted it to be, nothing more.”
The gray musician fell silent and the young filly wisely decided not to probe any further.
On stage, the other actors had gotten over their initial shock at the rant and the ensuing display of affection and they soaked in Ivory’s harsh, but not entirely undeserved criticisms. Vinyl Scratch trotted up to the two ponies with a new, more humble, look on her face.
“Hey, I'm sorry, miss Boss-mare,” she said to Ivory. “I should’ve taken my part more seriously.”
“And I should've been more assertive,” Mrs. Cake offered.
Derpy had finally calmed down and looked up from the mayor’s warm embrace.
“And I shouldn’t have made you switch my role with Cloudchaser’s,” she said, still choking on her tears.
“Ha! I knew it!” Cloudchaser remarked.
“Group hug!” Lyra announced as she jumped towards the pile of ponies. After the chaotic hug, Ivory's spirit was a little higher, suddenly the barn seemed much warmer than it did just a few minutes ago. When the audience stomped in applause, she couldn't hold back a faint smile.
Outside, the windigos neighed, sounding not threatening, but dissapointed. The three ghosts dissolved like the memories of a bad dream, leaving only a thin blanket of powder-snow.
“Think about it this way,” Mrs. Cake whispered to the mayor. “At least nopony will ever forget this performance.
“Somehow, I don't find that notion very comforting,” Ivory replied with a sigh.
THE END
Mad props to Lucefudu for editing, proofreading and helpful suggesitons.
