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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Lyre, Lyre
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Lyra said, sitting in her favorite chair, hooves crossed and staring at the ceiling. “I can’t even pay my half of the rent.”
“Don’t worry, hun,” Bon Bon replied, half taking note of Lyra’s little pity party while she continued to work her confectionery magic in the kitchen. “Everything will work out. I can always cover for you if you need.”
“Thanks, Bon. You know I hate asking, and I’m glad you’ve got my back. I just wish I had a better talent.” Lyra drew up her lyre in her horngrasp. With a sigh, she tossed it aside, barely missing the garbage can. “Having a musical talent is a curse. Nopony wants to pay to listen to me play.”
“Well that’s just silly talk. Everypony loves to hear you play.” Bon Bon shuffled over to the table with a tray of lemon drops. “Have a taste and tell me what you think.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “Lyre work doesn’t pay the bills.” Levitating a pair of treats off the tray, she quickly gobbled them up. The sugary sweets rolled around her mouth bringing a slight smile to her otherwise sour disposition. Melting away like her musical career in small horse town, the goodness was gone before she knew it. “Amazing as always, Bon. Don’t know how you do it.”
The doorbell chime and cooking timer both signaled an end to the taste test. “I’ll get the door,” Lyra said. Bon Bon nodded and headed back into the kitchen to check on her next batch in the oven.
Lyra moped over to the front door and flung it open.
“Hello. My name is Bob, and I represent Destiny Insurance Protection Services: Horses and Intelligent Trans-species division.” A little troll bobbed his head as if making an awkward bow. “It has come to our attention that somepony at this residence is in need of our services, a Miss Hearthstring?”
“It’s Heartstrings, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Goodbye.” Lyra made a move to close the door, but the troll slipped inside before she could even blink. Lyra turned around to find him blocking her path back to the kitchen.
“This will only take a moment,” he said.
Lyra gasped and reared back. “Whoa there! What do you think you’re doing?”
“My job.” Bob reached down into a dingy brown suitcase and pulled out a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat and began to read. “Pursuant to applicant’s request, services are hereby rendered to adjust any and all related destiny based equivalents in relation to the aforementioned applicant’s current disposition. This action provides NO WARRANTY of any kind. All liability for said action lies solely with the applicant in pursuing of said modifications.” He pulled down his spectacles and peered over the rim. “Standard boiler plate; yada, yada, yada. One destiny per customer. Be careful what you wish for. No refunds.”
He reached over and stuck the paper in Lyra’s open mouth. With a passing smile and a smack of her hindquarters, he disappeared out the front door.
Lyra felt a little woozy, like she had suddenly indulged in one too many drinks from a Berry Punch party bowl. Not sure if she was thinking clearly, she craned her head around to take a look at her aching flank. She nearly lost her lemon drops when she realized her cutie mark was gone, along with Bob.
Before she could scream or faint, she heard Bon Bon call out to her from the kitchen. “Lyra, would you be a dear and take out the trash?”
Her mind settled, and everything became clear.
“I feel great, Bon,” Lyra said, smiling bigger than she had in weeks. “I finally have a talent that ponies appreciate!”
“But, Lyra, what about your music?” Bon Bon winced, taking another peak at the trashcan cutie mark. “Don’t you regret not being able to play your lyre?”
“Music doesn’t pay the bills, Bon,” Lyra replied. “Anyway, thanks for lunch, but I better get back to work. This town doesn’t clean itself, you know.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Bon Bon said, trying to smile back, “but I have one small request. Would you at least take a shower before you come to bed tonight?”
“Will do,” Lyra replied. "See you after work."
Lyra pushed back from the table and pulled on her Ponyville Trashmare cap. She had a noticeable spring in her step as she trotted out the door.
“Don’t worry, hun,” Bon Bon replied, half taking note of Lyra’s little pity party while she continued to work her confectionery magic in the kitchen. “Everything will work out. I can always cover for you if you need.”
“Thanks, Bon. You know I hate asking, and I’m glad you’ve got my back. I just wish I had a better talent.” Lyra drew up her lyre in her horngrasp. With a sigh, she tossed it aside, barely missing the garbage can. “Having a musical talent is a curse. Nopony wants to pay to listen to me play.”
“Well that’s just silly talk. Everypony loves to hear you play.” Bon Bon shuffled over to the table with a tray of lemon drops. “Have a taste and tell me what you think.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “Lyre work doesn’t pay the bills.” Levitating a pair of treats off the tray, she quickly gobbled them up. The sugary sweets rolled around her mouth bringing a slight smile to her otherwise sour disposition. Melting away like her musical career in small horse town, the goodness was gone before she knew it. “Amazing as always, Bon. Don’t know how you do it.”
The doorbell chime and cooking timer both signaled an end to the taste test. “I’ll get the door,” Lyra said. Bon Bon nodded and headed back into the kitchen to check on her next batch in the oven.
Lyra moped over to the front door and flung it open.
“Hello. My name is Bob, and I represent Destiny Insurance Protection Services: Horses and Intelligent Trans-species division.” A little troll bobbed his head as if making an awkward bow. “It has come to our attention that somepony at this residence is in need of our services, a Miss Hearthstring?”
“It’s Heartstrings, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Goodbye.” Lyra made a move to close the door, but the troll slipped inside before she could even blink. Lyra turned around to find him blocking her path back to the kitchen.
“This will only take a moment,” he said.
Lyra gasped and reared back. “Whoa there! What do you think you’re doing?”
“My job.” Bob reached down into a dingy brown suitcase and pulled out a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat and began to read. “Pursuant to applicant’s request, services are hereby rendered to adjust any and all related destiny based equivalents in relation to the aforementioned applicant’s current disposition. This action provides NO WARRANTY of any kind. All liability for said action lies solely with the applicant in pursuing of said modifications.” He pulled down his spectacles and peered over the rim. “Standard boiler plate; yada, yada, yada. One destiny per customer. Be careful what you wish for. No refunds.”
He reached over and stuck the paper in Lyra’s open mouth. With a passing smile and a smack of her hindquarters, he disappeared out the front door.
Lyra felt a little woozy, like she had suddenly indulged in one too many drinks from a Berry Punch party bowl. Not sure if she was thinking clearly, she craned her head around to take a look at her aching flank. She nearly lost her lemon drops when she realized her cutie mark was gone, along with Bob.
Before she could scream or faint, she heard Bon Bon call out to her from the kitchen. “Lyra, would you be a dear and take out the trash?”
Her mind settled, and everything became clear.
“I feel great, Bon,” Lyra said, smiling bigger than she had in weeks. “I finally have a talent that ponies appreciate!”
“But, Lyra, what about your music?” Bon Bon winced, taking another peak at the trashcan cutie mark. “Don’t you regret not being able to play your lyre?”
“Music doesn’t pay the bills, Bon,” Lyra replied. “Anyway, thanks for lunch, but I better get back to work. This town doesn’t clean itself, you know.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Bon Bon said, trying to smile back, “but I have one small request. Would you at least take a shower before you come to bed tonight?”
“Will do,” Lyra replied. "See you after work."
Lyra pushed back from the table and pulled on her Ponyville Trashmare cap. She had a noticeable spring in her step as she trotted out the door.