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Another fine festival
“There she goes, as if she’s already won top prize,” whispered Lilac behind her rose-colored hoof held close to Petunia’s bright orange left ear. She pulled away quickly as the heat inside the contest pavilion tent was already making her sweat.
Petunia, the other earth pony mare sharing her table, huffed, her face spoking more eloquently than her terse reply. “Scandalous,” she said with a bob of her head, sending a shockwave through her massive teal beehive mane-do. Lilac was amazed at the mare’s ability to keep the ‘do from toppling over in the humidity of the tent.
Given the summer heat that usual during the annual Solstice Festival and the type of Pavilion tent the Ponyville Horticultural Society could afford, it was a good thing that had the best table position, air quality wise. Naturally their table was located at the best spot in the contest pavilion: right next to the center pole of the huge tent.
Standing proudly behind their displays of many-coloured blooms, but not too close because of the heat, the two mares watched as Floral Starburst strode fully into the pavilion, a huge potted flower floated in the air in front her, glowing slightly in her horn-field. She stepped past the central post and up to her assigned the table near the back, furthest from the opening and the light it shed.
Floral carefully placed the bloom on the table’s surface, positioning its large pot on one of the more noticeable patches in the table cloth that barely covered the scarred wooden surface. Moving behind her table, she scanned the pavilion tent from the corners of her eyes. She noticed the many tables with pristine white coverings, no doubt the tables of friends of Lilac and Petunia’s, who had volunteered to do the table set up for the Ponyville’ annual Farming Fair Flower Competition.
She took a discrete look at the competition. “Nopony even comes close this year again!” She thought. She tried to keep her elation from her face, preventing the corners of muzzle from curling up even just a little bit. She recalled the venomous looks she had gotten last year when her when her bloom won the contest to the surprise and dismay of many of the members of the generations old PHS, of which she was not only a relatively recent member, but also the only non-earth pony member.
In the first months of her arrival to the township, she had made efforts to try to fit in with the herd. In her own estimation she had generally succeeded. The town dentist had really needed an additional hygienist as the population was steadily growing following the ascension of Princess Twilight Sparkle. Maybe her only real mistake was joining the PHS. She was surprised how some earth ponies seemed very possessive of their “advantage” growing plants, to the point of resenting a “horn-head” from “horning-in” on the town’s gardening scene.
She was also surprised that her personal reaction to this low-level tribalism was to dig in her hooves and refuse to be intimidated. She considered herself a real pony-person, a personal trait to which she attributed part of her success as dental hygienist, as she just knew how to allay ponies‘ fears when the sat in the chair. The other part was a very precise and light touch with her horn field making her ministrations on ponies teeth practically painless. Her experience in Canterlot at Dental School had also made it possible for her to minister to the dental needs of other sentient species, and one her favourite patients was Princess Twilight’s young dragon assistant.
An unanticipated benefit of the relationship with Spike was the gratitude of his boss (parent/sister?) Twilight Sparkle. She gave Floral full access to her spell book library, and following a whim, Floral discovered spells that seemed to be oddly effective in potting, grafting, weeding, cross-pollinating and removing the insect pests from certain flowers. It also made it possible for her growing them to larger proportions than was usual. She didn’t consider this unfair, as earth-ponies didn’t think own their magic influence on flowers disqualified them from gardening contests.
Given her rumination on the matter, and that her attention was fully on the competitions’ tables and not her own, she entirely failed to notice that her large Chrysanthemum’s single bloom seemed to move in unison with her head, as if joining her in focusing on the other flowers being displayed. She also didn’t notice the slight tremors that shook her plant when its “gaze” alit on bouquets of cut flowers.
With noting left to do until the judging started, Floral took full note of the heat radiating from the tent fabric mere inches above the tip of her horn. She wiped her brow and decided it should be okay to momentarily leave the tent to get a snow-cone. Going out she might have noticed her chrysanthemum’s bloom track her passage out like a sunflower following the sun. But unfortunately for the PHS and some of Ponyville’s other residents, she did not look back at her table.
“My, my! Confident, isn’t she?” said Lilac out loud as soon as the subject of her remark had left the pavilion.
Petunia pursed her lips. “Pride and fall, Lil, pride and fall!” A single bead of sweat dripped down from her maneline and down her neck.
Lilac didn’t correct her friend’s misquote. It was Lilac’s firm conviction that this restraint was a large part of why they remained friends year after year. That and the fact that Lil represented no real competition in the “green hoof” arena anyway. A glance down at the table before them was sufficient demonstration of their relative gardening skills and thus augured strongly for their continued friendship… at least for another year. That, and the mare being one of Ponyville’s wealthiest ponies made up for any number of personal ticks.
Lilac wafted a hoof over her face. “Hay, it sure is hot in here! The judging won’t start for a bit,” she hinted to her friend.
Petunia blinked. Her face blossomed with a great - and surely original - idea: “I’m sure I have time to go get us some snow-cones before the judging starts!” At her friend's emphatic nod, she quickly strode out of the hot tent and into the much fresher outside air.
Lilac smiled warmly - her teeth pearly white after last week’s cleaning with a certain dental hygienist who would remain nameless - at her own vase full of freshly cut Hydrangeas, each one a perfect ball of blue or pink. How beautiful! she commented to herself. Much better looking than that mare’s drab offering, which she hadn’t even bothered to cut and properly mount in an appropriate vase.
She glanced surreptitiously at Floral’s table and the potted plant with a single huge mum bloom. It was fully two hoof-widths wider than her own. She then scanned the other tables and found no other flower coming even close. “Consarn it!” she thought, “that unicorn is going to win again this year!”
Feeling nervous, she began to nibble the tip of her left fore-hoof. Noticing her bad habit manifesting again, she decided to occupy herself by improving her own bouquet. In a sudden inspiration, she began adjusting the lengths of the stems of her Hydrangeas one-by-one using her favourite red clippers. They were much better than Petunia’s little blue snippers which had a spring that constantly fell out, usually into the mouth of the pony using them.
Satisfied at last, her gaze returned to the likely winner for largest bloom and froze. She could have sworn she had seen the flower on Floral’s table moving and stop suddenly just as her eyes turned towards it. It seemed to shake gently for a moment then was still. A further movement at the pavilion entrance stole back her attention, and so unfortunately for her she was looking in the wrong direction when the flower show’s metaphoric fertilizer hit the non-existent air-conditioning.
Princess Twilight Sparkle entered the Pavilion where this summer’s PHS flower competition was being held with a certain degree of dread. She usually hated judging competitions. This was because they asked her to make decisions that would make a single pony happy and disappoint a whole herd of others. Besides which the decision criteria were generally purely subjective, and she loathed how “non-empirical” it all could be. Thank goodness this contest was based on size alone, which is something on which she had insisted as a condition for her participation. She also had brought her brand new micro-callipers, capable on measurements down to less than a tenth the width of a pony hair! She floated the implement in her horn-field in anticipation of some rigorous measurement making.
She didn’t notice the two two ponies hurrying in behind her, one floating a snow-cone near her muzzle, and the other with two cones in two neck holders stacked one on top of the other. She didn’t notice because that’s when the potted plant attacked.
She didn’t have a name, just a vague sense of Self. She had only just come to awareness for less than a week and had been mostly content to silently observe the goings of beings around her, and to learn. The pot she was rooted in was comfortable, its soil rich loamy, and the strangely rootless being that came and went kept her watered and fed with sunlight. She discovered that she could move as well, but only moved at night when the world was still. Strangely enough she never saw any of the pother plants moving, either in the day or at night, so she made sure to always be exactly back where she had left come morning. Despite the fleeting feelings of loneliness, for Self life was good.
And then came the day of the big unrooting.
At first she truly enjoyed being floated about and taking in all the new scenery with all its beautiful plants, new flowers, strange buildings and even stranger rootless beings hustling about as if it hurt be still. But then she was brought inside the large white house and placed on a table that was only one of many such in the house. And even better was all the different plants and flowers she could see. And then her euphoria came crashing down as from one table to another she saw plants being cut from their roots, limbs and blooms being mercilessly trimmed and arranged in containers full of water, where they would surely die in days at most.
One particular rootless being (on the spot she decided to henceforth call them the “rootless”) snipped at the flowers on its table, pointlessly removing insignificant bits of stem and leaf, causing them to scream in agony.
“ENOUGH” she roared in the language of plants, and using heretofore untested haste gathered herself and leapt across to the table with the pretty blue and pink flowers still leaking agony into the space around them. She struck the rootless being there with her pot, which shattered into a thousand pieces, liberating her roots, upon which she discovered she could stand on them like one of the rootless. With a mighty kick she sent the cruel implements on the table flying over the head of the rootless being, which now screamed incomprehensibly. The implements flew towards the bright spot where the light entered, past the purple coloured rootless who brandished another metallic instrument, no sought to be used for further diabolical intent on hapless plants.
As to the flying implements, the blue one ended up stuck in the mane of the rootless that had shared the table with the screaming one. It reared back, spilling the contents of small pots it had hung around its neck. Despite the creature’s earlier association with the screamer, Self generously thought “Good for it, it will grow!”
The other flying implement embedded itself in the little pot of brightly coloured substance floating in front of the other rootless. Self suddenly felt bad about this, as this other was her rootless, who had always treated her kindly. The being in question, eyes rounder than she had ever seen them, looked down at the little pot and its torture device.
However, there were still a whole bunch of plants that could still be saved, so Self leapt to another table. Rootless scattered, many tripping over themselves or on empty pots and watering cans. Almost as one, they converged to charge away together, causing a massive, convulsive bundle of rootless at the place where the light was now prevented from coming in. It was also growing noticeably hot and humid in the house, and with the panic began to pleasantly smell of fresh fertilizer.
A glow began to emanate from the ball of the rootless, as one by one they started glowing and floating in the air. Speaking of air, a moment later a fresh breeze entered the house. Moments later, all but the purple rootless and her rootless had left the house. As the light slowly increased, Self found an abandoned pot and primly stuffed her roots inside, deciding to wait in stillness to learn what she could. Well, she thought, at least the new house has been weeded out!
Twilight Sparkle face hoofed. “Why does this stuff always happen in Ponyville?” she whispered to herself. Belatedly she realized there was a pony standing just behind her. The dental hygienist - Floral something… She straightened up her posture. It was time to get back into Princess Mode.
“Hi, Floral. Do you have any idea what just happened here?”
The unicorn sketched a quick bow, a snow-cone with a set of plant clippers sticking out of the shaved ice bobbed in the air as she did so.
“,I er, I’m not sure…” she stammered out as rose-coloured earth pony stomped into the tent.
“It’s her monster plant that did it!” the new arrival - a long-time resident named Lilac Neighponica, Twilight recalled, pointed to the potted plant near the back. “It doesn’t deserve to win! And she’s the one that made it! I bet she cross-bred a legit flower with a timber-wolf and this is the result!”
Twilight turned back to Floral. “Is this true?” asked Twilight.
“I don’t know what happened here - I went out to buy a refreshment and came back just as you arrived.” She pulled the clippers out of her snow-cone and then sniffed it gingerly. She took a tentative lick, shrugged and then took huge swipe with her tongue. She looked up apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s sweltering in here.” With a smile she took another big lick. “And no, I didn’t cross breed my chrysanthemum with a timber-wolf.” Her brow furrowed. “Is that even possible?”
Lilac wasn’t having any of it. She stamped a hoof. “Well, your majesty, are you going to do something about this, and about her?”
“I’m not sure exactly what happened either, other than something set off a stampede. This isn’t exactly a rare occurrence in Ponyville, and well… no harm no foul, I guess.”
Lilac looked at Twilight and with a murderous stare at Floral stamped out of the pavilion.
“You can’t please all of the ponies all of the time,” muttered Twilight. She took a deep breath and looked around at all the flowers, potted or arranged in vases that sat on most of the deserted tables. She was here for a purpose, and Twilight took her duties seriously. There was an obvious winner of biggest bloom. But protocol has to be followed. With a smile she took out her micro-callipers. “Time for some empirical measurements!”
Self saw the big purple rootless one take out her metal torture device and approach the table closest to the vertical tree in the middle of the house. She trembled only slightly as it gently took the biggest of the pink and blue hydrangea blooms, put it between the dangerous looking prongs of the device, and then politely placed the bloom back into its vase. Relief flooded Self as the rootless one had not caused any further damage or pain to the poor amputated flower.
Then the purple one approached her. She struggled to prevent any tremors from betraying her difference from the other plants as it placed the pointed prongs on either side of her head. The purple rootless being’s touch remained light as, with its tongue between its teeth, it looked carefully at the strange instrument and then released Self from its magical grasp.
It turned away to face the other two rootless ones, so Self decided to keep still. It knew the rootless ones couldn’t hear her voice, and so she sang a soothing song of sympathy for the other flowers in the house, especially the one that were cut and so likely to die soon. Many of the them joined her with their own simple voices.
Now outside of the pavilion, Twilight addressed the ponies gathered, some by the commotion, others to hear the announcement of the winner. “This year’s winner,” declared Twilight Sparkle, “is Floral Starburst and her lovely Mum.” She gave the mare the blue ribbon designated for the event. “But as we had a heat related incident earlier we’re closing the contest pavilion until sunset.”
A few ponies clopped hooves, and the crowd drifted on to the next of the festive day’s activities. Spike ran up to her and handed her a snow-cone. “Here you go Twi!”
She took a bite and bliss spread over her features. “Oh, and Spike?”
“Yeah?” He took a long reptilian lick at his own shaved-ice.
“Send an urgent note to Fluttershy. Tell her that we have a sentient plant-based situation that needs to be contained.”
“Right-o” he replied between licks.
“Also tell her that Floral’s chrysanthemum was about to go on a rampage, but it calmed down all of a sudden when she re-entered the tent.”
Another big lick. “So then to summarize,” he started with a sly smile, “looks like she just prevented the Mummy’s revenge.”
Twilight choked on her snow-cone.
Petunia, the other earth pony mare sharing her table, huffed, her face spoking more eloquently than her terse reply. “Scandalous,” she said with a bob of her head, sending a shockwave through her massive teal beehive mane-do. Lilac was amazed at the mare’s ability to keep the ‘do from toppling over in the humidity of the tent.
Given the summer heat that usual during the annual Solstice Festival and the type of Pavilion tent the Ponyville Horticultural Society could afford, it was a good thing that had the best table position, air quality wise. Naturally their table was located at the best spot in the contest pavilion: right next to the center pole of the huge tent.
Standing proudly behind their displays of many-coloured blooms, but not too close because of the heat, the two mares watched as Floral Starburst strode fully into the pavilion, a huge potted flower floated in the air in front her, glowing slightly in her horn-field. She stepped past the central post and up to her assigned the table near the back, furthest from the opening and the light it shed.
Floral carefully placed the bloom on the table’s surface, positioning its large pot on one of the more noticeable patches in the table cloth that barely covered the scarred wooden surface. Moving behind her table, she scanned the pavilion tent from the corners of her eyes. She noticed the many tables with pristine white coverings, no doubt the tables of friends of Lilac and Petunia’s, who had volunteered to do the table set up for the Ponyville’ annual Farming Fair Flower Competition.
She took a discrete look at the competition. “Nopony even comes close this year again!” She thought. She tried to keep her elation from her face, preventing the corners of muzzle from curling up even just a little bit. She recalled the venomous looks she had gotten last year when her when her bloom won the contest to the surprise and dismay of many of the members of the generations old PHS, of which she was not only a relatively recent member, but also the only non-earth pony member.
In the first months of her arrival to the township, she had made efforts to try to fit in with the herd. In her own estimation she had generally succeeded. The town dentist had really needed an additional hygienist as the population was steadily growing following the ascension of Princess Twilight Sparkle. Maybe her only real mistake was joining the PHS. She was surprised how some earth ponies seemed very possessive of their “advantage” growing plants, to the point of resenting a “horn-head” from “horning-in” on the town’s gardening scene.
She was also surprised that her personal reaction to this low-level tribalism was to dig in her hooves and refuse to be intimidated. She considered herself a real pony-person, a personal trait to which she attributed part of her success as dental hygienist, as she just knew how to allay ponies‘ fears when the sat in the chair. The other part was a very precise and light touch with her horn field making her ministrations on ponies teeth practically painless. Her experience in Canterlot at Dental School had also made it possible for her to minister to the dental needs of other sentient species, and one her favourite patients was Princess Twilight’s young dragon assistant.
An unanticipated benefit of the relationship with Spike was the gratitude of his boss (parent/sister?) Twilight Sparkle. She gave Floral full access to her spell book library, and following a whim, Floral discovered spells that seemed to be oddly effective in potting, grafting, weeding, cross-pollinating and removing the insect pests from certain flowers. It also made it possible for her growing them to larger proportions than was usual. She didn’t consider this unfair, as earth-ponies didn’t think own their magic influence on flowers disqualified them from gardening contests.
Given her rumination on the matter, and that her attention was fully on the competitions’ tables and not her own, she entirely failed to notice that her large Chrysanthemum’s single bloom seemed to move in unison with her head, as if joining her in focusing on the other flowers being displayed. She also didn’t notice the slight tremors that shook her plant when its “gaze” alit on bouquets of cut flowers.
With noting left to do until the judging started, Floral took full note of the heat radiating from the tent fabric mere inches above the tip of her horn. She wiped her brow and decided it should be okay to momentarily leave the tent to get a snow-cone. Going out she might have noticed her chrysanthemum’s bloom track her passage out like a sunflower following the sun. But unfortunately for the PHS and some of Ponyville’s other residents, she did not look back at her table.
“My, my! Confident, isn’t she?” said Lilac out loud as soon as the subject of her remark had left the pavilion.
Petunia pursed her lips. “Pride and fall, Lil, pride and fall!” A single bead of sweat dripped down from her maneline and down her neck.
Lilac didn’t correct her friend’s misquote. It was Lilac’s firm conviction that this restraint was a large part of why they remained friends year after year. That and the fact that Lil represented no real competition in the “green hoof” arena anyway. A glance down at the table before them was sufficient demonstration of their relative gardening skills and thus augured strongly for their continued friendship… at least for another year. That, and the mare being one of Ponyville’s wealthiest ponies made up for any number of personal ticks.
Lilac wafted a hoof over her face. “Hay, it sure is hot in here! The judging won’t start for a bit,” she hinted to her friend.
Petunia blinked. Her face blossomed with a great - and surely original - idea: “I’m sure I have time to go get us some snow-cones before the judging starts!” At her friend's emphatic nod, she quickly strode out of the hot tent and into the much fresher outside air.
Lilac smiled warmly - her teeth pearly white after last week’s cleaning with a certain dental hygienist who would remain nameless - at her own vase full of freshly cut Hydrangeas, each one a perfect ball of blue or pink. How beautiful! she commented to herself. Much better looking than that mare’s drab offering, which she hadn’t even bothered to cut and properly mount in an appropriate vase.
She glanced surreptitiously at Floral’s table and the potted plant with a single huge mum bloom. It was fully two hoof-widths wider than her own. She then scanned the other tables and found no other flower coming even close. “Consarn it!” she thought, “that unicorn is going to win again this year!”
Feeling nervous, she began to nibble the tip of her left fore-hoof. Noticing her bad habit manifesting again, she decided to occupy herself by improving her own bouquet. In a sudden inspiration, she began adjusting the lengths of the stems of her Hydrangeas one-by-one using her favourite red clippers. They were much better than Petunia’s little blue snippers which had a spring that constantly fell out, usually into the mouth of the pony using them.
Satisfied at last, her gaze returned to the likely winner for largest bloom and froze. She could have sworn she had seen the flower on Floral’s table moving and stop suddenly just as her eyes turned towards it. It seemed to shake gently for a moment then was still. A further movement at the pavilion entrance stole back her attention, and so unfortunately for her she was looking in the wrong direction when the flower show’s metaphoric fertilizer hit the non-existent air-conditioning.
Princess Twilight Sparkle entered the Pavilion where this summer’s PHS flower competition was being held with a certain degree of dread. She usually hated judging competitions. This was because they asked her to make decisions that would make a single pony happy and disappoint a whole herd of others. Besides which the decision criteria were generally purely subjective, and she loathed how “non-empirical” it all could be. Thank goodness this contest was based on size alone, which is something on which she had insisted as a condition for her participation. She also had brought her brand new micro-callipers, capable on measurements down to less than a tenth the width of a pony hair! She floated the implement in her horn-field in anticipation of some rigorous measurement making.
She didn’t notice the two two ponies hurrying in behind her, one floating a snow-cone near her muzzle, and the other with two cones in two neck holders stacked one on top of the other. She didn’t notice because that’s when the potted plant attacked.
She didn’t have a name, just a vague sense of Self. She had only just come to awareness for less than a week and had been mostly content to silently observe the goings of beings around her, and to learn. The pot she was rooted in was comfortable, its soil rich loamy, and the strangely rootless being that came and went kept her watered and fed with sunlight. She discovered that she could move as well, but only moved at night when the world was still. Strangely enough she never saw any of the pother plants moving, either in the day or at night, so she made sure to always be exactly back where she had left come morning. Despite the fleeting feelings of loneliness, for Self life was good.
And then came the day of the big unrooting.
At first she truly enjoyed being floated about and taking in all the new scenery with all its beautiful plants, new flowers, strange buildings and even stranger rootless beings hustling about as if it hurt be still. But then she was brought inside the large white house and placed on a table that was only one of many such in the house. And even better was all the different plants and flowers she could see. And then her euphoria came crashing down as from one table to another she saw plants being cut from their roots, limbs and blooms being mercilessly trimmed and arranged in containers full of water, where they would surely die in days at most.
One particular rootless being (on the spot she decided to henceforth call them the “rootless”) snipped at the flowers on its table, pointlessly removing insignificant bits of stem and leaf, causing them to scream in agony.
“ENOUGH” she roared in the language of plants, and using heretofore untested haste gathered herself and leapt across to the table with the pretty blue and pink flowers still leaking agony into the space around them. She struck the rootless being there with her pot, which shattered into a thousand pieces, liberating her roots, upon which she discovered she could stand on them like one of the rootless. With a mighty kick she sent the cruel implements on the table flying over the head of the rootless being, which now screamed incomprehensibly. The implements flew towards the bright spot where the light entered, past the purple coloured rootless who brandished another metallic instrument, no sought to be used for further diabolical intent on hapless plants.
As to the flying implements, the blue one ended up stuck in the mane of the rootless that had shared the table with the screaming one. It reared back, spilling the contents of small pots it had hung around its neck. Despite the creature’s earlier association with the screamer, Self generously thought “Good for it, it will grow!”
The other flying implement embedded itself in the little pot of brightly coloured substance floating in front of the other rootless. Self suddenly felt bad about this, as this other was her rootless, who had always treated her kindly. The being in question, eyes rounder than she had ever seen them, looked down at the little pot and its torture device.
However, there were still a whole bunch of plants that could still be saved, so Self leapt to another table. Rootless scattered, many tripping over themselves or on empty pots and watering cans. Almost as one, they converged to charge away together, causing a massive, convulsive bundle of rootless at the place where the light was now prevented from coming in. It was also growing noticeably hot and humid in the house, and with the panic began to pleasantly smell of fresh fertilizer.
A glow began to emanate from the ball of the rootless, as one by one they started glowing and floating in the air. Speaking of air, a moment later a fresh breeze entered the house. Moments later, all but the purple rootless and her rootless had left the house. As the light slowly increased, Self found an abandoned pot and primly stuffed her roots inside, deciding to wait in stillness to learn what she could. Well, she thought, at least the new house has been weeded out!
Twilight Sparkle face hoofed. “Why does this stuff always happen in Ponyville?” she whispered to herself. Belatedly she realized there was a pony standing just behind her. The dental hygienist - Floral something… She straightened up her posture. It was time to get back into Princess Mode.
“Hi, Floral. Do you have any idea what just happened here?”
The unicorn sketched a quick bow, a snow-cone with a set of plant clippers sticking out of the shaved ice bobbed in the air as she did so.
“,I er, I’m not sure…” she stammered out as rose-coloured earth pony stomped into the tent.
“It’s her monster plant that did it!” the new arrival - a long-time resident named Lilac Neighponica, Twilight recalled, pointed to the potted plant near the back. “It doesn’t deserve to win! And she’s the one that made it! I bet she cross-bred a legit flower with a timber-wolf and this is the result!”
Twilight turned back to Floral. “Is this true?” asked Twilight.
“I don’t know what happened here - I went out to buy a refreshment and came back just as you arrived.” She pulled the clippers out of her snow-cone and then sniffed it gingerly. She took a tentative lick, shrugged and then took huge swipe with her tongue. She looked up apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s sweltering in here.” With a smile she took another big lick. “And no, I didn’t cross breed my chrysanthemum with a timber-wolf.” Her brow furrowed. “Is that even possible?”
Lilac wasn’t having any of it. She stamped a hoof. “Well, your majesty, are you going to do something about this, and about her?”
“I’m not sure exactly what happened either, other than something set off a stampede. This isn’t exactly a rare occurrence in Ponyville, and well… no harm no foul, I guess.”
Lilac looked at Twilight and with a murderous stare at Floral stamped out of the pavilion.
“You can’t please all of the ponies all of the time,” muttered Twilight. She took a deep breath and looked around at all the flowers, potted or arranged in vases that sat on most of the deserted tables. She was here for a purpose, and Twilight took her duties seriously. There was an obvious winner of biggest bloom. But protocol has to be followed. With a smile she took out her micro-callipers. “Time for some empirical measurements!”
Self saw the big purple rootless one take out her metal torture device and approach the table closest to the vertical tree in the middle of the house. She trembled only slightly as it gently took the biggest of the pink and blue hydrangea blooms, put it between the dangerous looking prongs of the device, and then politely placed the bloom back into its vase. Relief flooded Self as the rootless one had not caused any further damage or pain to the poor amputated flower.
Then the purple one approached her. She struggled to prevent any tremors from betraying her difference from the other plants as it placed the pointed prongs on either side of her head. The purple rootless being’s touch remained light as, with its tongue between its teeth, it looked carefully at the strange instrument and then released Self from its magical grasp.
It turned away to face the other two rootless ones, so Self decided to keep still. It knew the rootless ones couldn’t hear her voice, and so she sang a soothing song of sympathy for the other flowers in the house, especially the one that were cut and so likely to die soon. Many of the them joined her with their own simple voices.
Now outside of the pavilion, Twilight addressed the ponies gathered, some by the commotion, others to hear the announcement of the winner. “This year’s winner,” declared Twilight Sparkle, “is Floral Starburst and her lovely Mum.” She gave the mare the blue ribbon designated for the event. “But as we had a heat related incident earlier we’re closing the contest pavilion until sunset.”
A few ponies clopped hooves, and the crowd drifted on to the next of the festive day’s activities. Spike ran up to her and handed her a snow-cone. “Here you go Twi!”
She took a bite and bliss spread over her features. “Oh, and Spike?”
“Yeah?” He took a long reptilian lick at his own shaved-ice.
“Send an urgent note to Fluttershy. Tell her that we have a sentient plant-based situation that needs to be contained.”
“Right-o” he replied between licks.
“Also tell her that Floral’s chrysanthemum was about to go on a rampage, but it calmed down all of a sudden when she re-entered the tent.”
Another big lick. “So then to summarize,” he started with a sly smile, “looks like she just prevented the Mummy’s revenge.”
Twilight choked on her snow-cone.
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