Cheerilee swallowed the last dollop of her pudding. She put the fork and the spoon in the plate, then carried the tableware to the kitchen and let it crash into the sink. She briefly contemplated the idea of washing up right away, but chucked it. She felt pooped. She needed a slug. She turned round, picked up a glass and an old bottle of brandy from the cupboard and walked back to the living room. She put them on the end table and slumped into the sofa. Almost reflexively, she took the remote and turned the TV on. [i]Yuck,[/i] she thought. As usual, only shit. Did she care about the umpteenth retelling of the Nightmare Moon incident, or the hornball match between Canterlot and Ponyville? No. She clicked the remote and the TV went black. She looked around her: boring colours, stupid furniture, ugly canvases, icky pictures, useless gewgaws. Beyond the corridor, in the bedroom, she took a glance of her bed. Double bed. She giggled. [I]So stupid![/I] How long since she’d last spent the night with a stallion? How long since she’d last had sex? She couldn’t keep the tally. Her private life was a total failure. She would retire and blow her brains out the very next day. She filled the glass with brandy and sipped it. She felt the burning beverage trickle into her throat, down her oesophagus to her stomach. It was warm and pleasurable. Like the last time she’d given— Her gaze fell on the heap of papers that lay half-scattered over the end table. [i]Oh crap![/i] ‘Write about what you’d like to do when you’re a grown-up’, she’d asked. She’d promised she’d grade the papers before tomorrow. Reluctantly she leaned and took the first one. No byline. She’d wanted them anonymous, just to add extra fun. It wasn’t difficult to tell which was whose. She’d just hoped the pupils would write bolder things if their identity was masked. [i]When I’m older, I want to help my sister at the farm. Because I love the animals… apples… blah blah blah.[/i] Apple Bloom’s one track mind. She scanned the rest of the paper, and her gaze fell on the brandy bottle. [i]Yeah, growing apple trees makes sense, after all.[/i] She scribbled a B+, and went on to the second paper. This turned out to be a letdown. Many kids wanted to be what their parents or older siblings were. Sweetie Belle wanted to work in the fashion industry. Diamond Tiara wanted to be rich. Silver Spoon wanted to become a noble mare and go live in Canterlot. This was so predictable. Cheerilee knocked back the dregs left in the bottle, sighed, and took hold of the last paper. She half-smiled when she saw a blue pegasus scribbled on it. No need to ask whose paper this was, nor what it was likely to be about. She began reading. [i]When I’m grown-up, I want to be like you, a teacher.[/i] What?! This was so unexpected Cheerilee almost startled in her couch. She carried on reading. [i]You know, I look up to Rainbow Dash, but I know I will never be like her. She’s my role model, but I have to prove her I can be as good as her in my own way.[/i] [i]I thought it would be nice to be a teacher because I love to help other ponies find what they like to do the most. That’s what you do, miss Cheerilee. You teach us things: sometimes we don’t like them, sometimes we do, and then one day you make us discover something we love. And we realise that’s what we would like to do later. It’s like, you know, presenting us with a lot of possibilities, explaining each one and letting us decide what we like best. You help us define ourselves, and I think this is the best job in the world, and that’s why I’d like to do the same when I’m older![/i] [i]Miss Cheerilee I love you. You’re the best tea–[/i] An unexpected droplet landed smack on the word, smearing the ink. Cheerilee sniffled. The paper slept from her hooves and whiffled down on to the floor. She curled up on her couch, and let the tears flow and flow, until they were spent. Then slumber took her, a bright smile on her face.