The cracks in Cheerilee's ceiling had ceased to be interesting hours ago. She had made all of the reasonable shapes out of it with her mind: Red's face, the school, donuts, Placeholder, and that terrifyingly-drawn picture of the Smooze from the bed-time book her mother used to read to her.

And she wondered why I never went to bed until late. Every so often an errant breeze through the open window would filter in, slightly shaking the hanging plants and bringing with it an errant noise of industry from somewhere in town.

The insomniac schoolteacher curled into her blanket, willing herself to sleep. Despite weeks of preparation, the looming fair terrified her. With the opening festivities a few sparse hours away, the mare of eternal optimism was finding it hard to keep her mind clear.

Admitting defeat, Cheerilee threw off her covers. She silently crept into the living room. Scanning the house, the disappointed mare saw that her stealth was to no avail. Screwball's hammock hung across the middle of the room. It resembled a foal's mobile with dozens of origami ponies hanging from it, spinning in elegant dances that Cheerilee always thought were intentional. The hammock also happened to be empty.

A pinkish teen was slumped over the table, scribbling with effort on a stack of graph paper. The bleary-eyed adult peered over her ward's shoulder. She saw a maze of twisting paths with scattered notes and equations.

“Hello, Screwy,” Cheerilee said as walked towards the fridge. “Math homework?”

The purple-haired ball of energy shook her head. “It's not a birthday dungeon for Quest.”

Her guardian nodded sagely as she looked for a late-night snack. She gave an irritated sound as her hoof stepped in something.

“Screwball? Why is there cheese on my floor?”

The young chaosborn bit her lip pensively, looking embarrassed. Sighing, the suffering schoolteacher waved it away. “Nevermind.”

Sitting down with the latest pot of long-cooled coffee, the older mare inspected the drawing. She was stunned at the intricate detail and imaginative writing that filled the page. Suddenly, and with a start, she nearly dropped her coffee cup. Placing the mug on the table, she carefully pulled the dungeon out of Screwy's hooves and rotated it around. She squinted at it in disbelief.

“Dear, if I turn this sideways it's a perfect portrait of Quest.”

The enthusiastic filly nodded.

“So... for his birthday you're running a game where he will unknowingly enter his own head to kill monsters?”

The spiral-eyed savant smiled. “I'm not framing it and giving it to him afterwards!”

The nostalgic mare smirked. Ah, young love. I remember mix tapes. She took a sip of her coffee as Screwball passed her another sheet of paper. As the youth beamed, her mother-figure raised skeptical eyebrows.

“The Perilous Caves of the Scarlet Tempest?” Cheerilee rotated it experimentally and gasped at the picture it presented to her...

“Screwy, is this Red?”

Her young friend had gotten out of her chair to stand next to her. The mischievous young mare began strongly nudging the slack-jawed teacher while winking spasmodically.

Cheerilee pushed the graph paper away. “No, Screwball... ” She looked at the hopeful face before her and chose her words carefully. “I... just wouldn't know how to run this thing for Red.” She sighed. “He deserves a better run through the dungeon than that.”

The small bringer of bedlam grinned asymmetrically, dropping a stack of hardcover books on the table. Her beleaguered guardian deflated.

“Okay, Screwy. Maybe I’ll try after the festival. For now I'll going to try to grab a hoofful of bedtime hours before the festival.” As she pulled the coffee closer a loud knocking rang out from the door.

The startled insomniac dropped the mug while emitting a noise not unlike an 'eep.' Who can it be now? She carefully crept to the door. Can't they see that it's late at night?

The jumpy mare started peering apprehensively through the peephole, trying to make out the face in the darkness. With an exasperated smile she threw open the door, bracing herself for the expected running hug-tackle.

Seconds later she was staring eye to demented smile underneath a mint green face. “I'm heeee-ere!”

The assaulted and exhausted pony sighed. “I'm glad you made it.”

Her best friend nodded, close to vibrating herself into a parallel universe. Cheerilee eyed the vibrating horn with trepidation.

The smothered schoolteacher tried a different track. “I can help you unpack your things if...”

The ballistic party girl shook her head. “Nope! Let's get ready for fun.”

Strike three. “Lyra, you're crushing me.”

Making the couch in one leap, the hopping harpist regarded the messy mare sprawled before her. She thoughtfully massaged her chin. “Say, are you okay ‘Lee? Sounds like there’s a stopper in your enthusiasm well.”

The exhausted pony threw a limb over her eyes. “I can’t get to sleep. I think about the implications of diving in too deep.” Her eyes flickered over to the drawing of Red, now resting on the chair. “...and possibly the complications.”

The perky musician slammed her hooves together. “Nonsense! I’m here now. Who always takes care of you, ‘Lee?”

The prone filly rolled onto her side. “I don’t think there’s anything you can buck to make things better this time.”

Her ebullient friend shook her head. “Man, ‘Lee. You need some of our patented old-fashioned relaxation.” Lyra saw her friend nervously gesture to Screwball, reminding Lyra that the young filly was listening. “Clubbing! I meant clubbing. So, shall we hit one of those all-night dance floors with the few hours remaining? The train dropped me off just early enough for us to...”

Her enthusiasm was only answered by snoring.

Consciousness gently pecked at Cheerilee’s mind. She felt a nagging yet not unpleasant presence intrude into her relaxed darkness. Slowly the bleariness of morning resolved into a gently singing cuckoo. The still dazed sleeper blinked at the sight.

“Um.” She offered a tentative smile. The bird gave a winged approximation of a hoof’s up. Shrugging, she relented to the oddity. “Thank you.” She kicked out of bed, yawning wildly.

The cuckoo merely smiled, nudging out of sight the pack of birdseed left behind for him by a spiral-eyed girl. Passing the whistling bird the groggy form ambled toward the already set kitchen table. As the unkempt shape came into view, a bouncy mint chef elbowed her assistant. The young filly stopped balancing eggs on her nose.

“Take a look, Screwy. Here we go.”

A fuchsia form plopped unceremoniously into a seat, mumbling illegibly. Her (although it could barely be called feminine at that point) eyes were unfocused as her hooves scratched various places. Nearly vibrating with anticipation, Lyra levitated a steaming plate of breakfast in front of the groggy pony-like thing.

Screwball’s eyes widened and spun faster as Cheerilee’s hair let loose with a ‘sproing,’ curling into familiar patterns. The pony’s posture instantly straightened as a wide smile greeted the attentive cooking crew. “Good morning everyone!”

As Screwball starting drooling in confusion Lyra leaned in, speaking in an exaggerated stage whisper. “Don’t try to think about it too hard, kid. She’s been able to do that since college.” Lyra’s hooves found Cheerilee’s shoulders. “Ready to hit the road? We’ve got all the carts loaded to go. Let’s move our feet and get our hands dirty!”

An egg-swallowing mouth briefly cleared itself. “You freaky 'fleshies' scare me sometimes.” Her obsessive wingmare only giggled as she set onto her own plate.

“Heck ‘Lee, you should see the ‘fleshsuit’ I built for the next convention.”

The subsequent choking sent the rest of the table into hysterics.

A motivated teaching cart caravan pulled themselves onto school property. The sun had been up in the school for barely a few hours, and Cheerilee had been confident that she’d arrive before anyone else. Her mind reeled when she saw forms already at work.

A line of launching pumps was being tended to by a peach-coated filly. Bomber hovered over each jury-rigged contraption, making delicate adjustments. Her teacher could swear she was talking to the devices like a gardener soothing flowers. As the started schoolmare struggled with mental composure a similarly-colored stallion stepped to her side.

“So, yer the organizing teacher.” His tattered military jacket jingled from fading metal pieces tacked to it. “My name’s Foxhole. I understand you arranged for my niece to run this little artillery nest.”

Cheerilee searched his eyes for a clue to his emotional state. Finding nothing, she settled on the old reliable. “I absolutely did, sir! Red and I have been amazed at her mechanical prowess.”

The aging veteran nodded. “She sent a tin can flyin’ four streets over last week. Yesterday she blew our old oven into shrapnel getting ready for this big hullaballoo. I wanted to talk to you about what she’s getting herself into.”

The teacher was paralyzed, flashing a diplomatic smile. Here comes parent battle number one. She waited breathlessly for his next word.

“Shouldn’t you start a club or something for this? It seems to me there has to be other kids interested. Bomber could organize it easily.”

Okay, close mouth. Begin kibitzing. “So you’re…happy with it?”

The aging soldier rolled his eyes. “Miss, in the years since her parents passed the only thing my niece looked for were fights. I counted myself lucky that she went after bullies instead of bein’ one. Now she’s doin’ extra chores t’ save up for a chemistry set. I’ve never seen her be this excited.”

He gestured at the busy teen in question. She was setting up an oblong monstrosity with spiked fins.

“I was sure that girl’s cutie mark was gonna be a hoof and some broken teeth. I think you ponies do wonderful things here, and I’m not the only parent to notice. So, where’s the pie table? I volunteered for that one.”

“Um… I see Lyra getting the hay bacon out now. She’s the green one that’s standing funny.”

With a nod the amused servicestallion excused himself. He turned back after a few paces.

“I was impressed when she fragged that stove. I swear I thought she’d never get that mix right.”

Within the hour a titling four-wheeled monstrosity was dragged noisily into the setup area. The lab coat-wearing owner scanned the crowd absentmindedly for a familiar face. As he ambled toward the readied rows of rockets a toothy grin jumped into his field of vision. Terrified, he let go of his cart as it connected with a table, leaving dents and scrapes.

Red found himself centimeters from the piercing gaze of a mint unicorn. Her unwavering vision scrutinized him in an unsettling manner. “Hi! You must be Red! I’ve heard ever so much about you.”

The unsettled science stallion began unpacking his cart. “Really? All things, I hope? Things that would be considered good, perhaps?”

He found the lack of readable reaction in her dread-inspiring. Her expression was unchanging as she inquired, “How did you two meet?”

His hooves found something to set up as an excuse to turn his gaze away. “Well, I covered her in gunk. Accidentally, of course. Then she stopped treating me like a stalker.” His tone regained confidence. “We’ve been helping each other plan. She had a great science program in Ponyville I gather. She’s been helping me to experiment.”

Lyra’s tone was wistful. “Huh. Reminds me of college.”

The noisy din of the launcher being knocked on its side covered the sound of Red’s choking. The irrepressible musician continued. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

Red felt certain he was being tested. “Um, I play games, do experiments, star-gaze…”

His unicorn inquisitor’s head cocked. “And… what does she do for fun?”

A hoof wiped across the forehead of the interrogated educator. “She gardens. She’s working on hybridizing some roses. I think Screwy’s got her learning the games.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! She sits under the tree on Hardhat Avenue reading poetry every Tuesday and Thursday!”

Silence hung in the air. “Um… knowing that is totally not creepy, by the way. Right, Miss?”

After a silent second of time Lyra giggled. Red thought he had never heard a sound with such joy and menace combined.

“You’re cute, Mr. Glare. She can bring you to my wedding if she wants. One last question though, Mr. Glare, What’s the tensile strength of something like, I don’t know…harpsichord string?”

His composure returned as he settled into a familiar area. “Fantastic! You could wrap it around anything and it’d start cutting slowly into the object way before it snapped.”

The terrifying mare leaned in very close. “I own fifty feet of heavy-duty stock and a shovel. If you ever hurt her no one will ever find you.”

His face fell as she put a hoof around his shoulder. “But we’re going to be the best of friends, aren’t we?”

He was too speechless to reply. He saw oblivion in the depths of her golden eyes. As his brain struggled with the fight-or-flight response a voice mercifully interrupted. Great, he thought with relief. A witness!

“Excuse me, Lyra. Have you seen my daughter anywhere?”

As Lyra’s gaze turned to the newcomer she thoughtfully turned Red’s head manually in the same direction. “Why, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Glare! This is Cheerilee’s mother, Orchid Petal! Say hello, Mr. Glare.” There was a pause. “Now, Mr. Glare.”

Red regarded the interloper. She had an amazingly soft-looking purple coat just a few shades darker than her daughter. Her pink mane trailed down wildly, reminding him of one of Photo Finish’s models. Traces of grey could be seen in it, but they looked more like accents than the product of age. Two perfect green eyes blinked in anticipation as the curvy older mare scrutinized him. Wow. Now I know where Cheerilee gets it from.

Red sprung to life. “Hello, Mrs. Petal! Lovely name,” he stammered nervously. “Orchid. Very pretty. Comes from an ancient word for testicle, you know.” He grunted with pain as a rocket part was telekinetically ground into his back. “I’m Red Glare! I work on your daughter. With her! Work with her!”

I’m going to die here.

The confused mare stepped backwards. She angled a hoof at the tense unicorn. “This is the boy she writes about?”

Red turned to his captor with visible terror. This is it. She ends me here. He saw a decision being weighed in her eyes. The glassy stare suddenly became warm and her limb relaxed around his shoulders. The transformed mare laughed.

“Come on, Mrs. Petal.” The now-at-ease musician gestured to herself and the suddenly hopeful teacher. “You know how she goes for us charity cases. Now, where’s your husband?”

A familiar bashful gaze at the ground told Lyra everything she needed to know. Embarrassingly aware of this fact, Orchid tried to explain anyway. “Thorn’s very busy this week. There’s a huge seed shipment due, not to mention Moon Flowers that need exact tending.”

Red felt the limb behind his neck tense. He heard an aggravated tone slip out of the strange unicorn. “Really? He couldn’t even come to her big day? It’s not like he hasn’t hired help for the warehouse.”

“My husband works hard, Miss Heartstrings. It’s not like everyone is born in Canterlot.” Red felt like he was trapped in an old battle as venom crept into the offended earth pony’s voice. “All those records you borrowed and treated so carelessly years ago cost money, you know. He only wants to provide for her.”

The aging beauty kept her eyes on Lyra as she addressed the stunned science stallion. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Glare.” Her smile dripped venom in the direction of the tense younger filly. “I’m glad my daughter’s finally met a nice…boy.” Orchid walked off with satisfaction.

The two ponies stayed in their uncomfortable position for long moments. The green mare deflated onto the ground, sitting in a position Red felt uncomfortable just considering. He threw his head back and forth, looking for somewhere to turn for help. Resigned to the decision, he painfully attempted to mimic the strange unicorn’s sitting position and put his limb around her neck.

“And I wondered why she dedicated her life to making sure kids got attention, Red.” Her eyes flickered open in surprise as she leaned into the contact. “You’re not bad, Mr. Glare. I’m sure Orchid will approve of you, eventually.” He stayed still, unsure of her tone. “I’m expecting my better half soon; you go find Cheerilee while I look for my fiancé.” She stood up with a sudden decision and turned to him with a smile that was as honest as it was vulnerable. “Just don’t sit me next to the old nag when you two get married, okay?”

As she walked away, Red finally fainted.

As the science pony enjoyed the brief respite of unconsciousness, Cheerilee found herself at the other end of the emotional spectrum. She was dealing with a breakdown of morale in the main ticket booth in front of the games area. Her perennial grin was cracking as she found herself trying to coax a fully grown pegasus out from under a table.

“Goldy, we need you out there now! The games booths won’t police themselves and the kids look up to you.”

Her pleas brought the terrified feathered faculty member out of her hiding place. “But… the parents want to talk to me.”

The set-upon literature teacher dropped onto the floor next to her friend. Empathy started to push itself through her panic. “Miss Ratio, you handled the hardest math class I’ve ever seen. Why do the parents matter?” Come on now, flash The Smile. Nopony can resist The Smile.

“I can’t shoot wind and thunder at parents and get away with it. What if they want to discuss grades? They always want to discuss grades.”

Cheerilee shook her head as she drew her friend up from the floor. There was only a token resistance. She locked eyes with her quivering friend. Okay, she deals with social fear by getting into a position of authority. If she doesn’t have authority, how can I give it to her?

The eyes of the Mare of Motivation lit up. Gnarly! I got this. She gently leaned into Goldy’s ear with a conspiratorial whisper; Cheerilee felt the math mare flinch as her hot breath fell onto Goldy’s ear.

“You know who wouldn’t be scared of a parent?” Goldy shook her head. “A John Growlssom protagonist. What happens when someone yells at a lawyer in a John Growlssom novel?”

The white-feathered law-obsessed mare smiled. “They’d bark out an objection, produce some evidence, seduce the court recorder, and then get into a gunfight.”

The relieved literature mare nodded. “There’s your answer. That’s how you handle it.” A look of uncertainty spread over her face. “Well, do two of those. You can do three, but keep the last off school grounds.” The two friends shared a relieved laugh.

Goldy smoothed her ruffled feathers as she saw a group of parents approach her booth. “Red’s really lucky, you know.”

Cheerilee stopped to consider the compliment as Goldy went into business mode. She smiled like a diamond dog addressing the jury as she talked to the parents. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Games Fair! Tickets can be bought in groups of improper fractions according to the board to my right.” She nodded with a grin to a parent waving from the back. “Mister Rattlerock! I’d like to show you Sledge’s last test paper when I can; I have it in my valise.”

As tickets were doled out to the rest of the crowd, the hesitant parent trotted over to the counter. “Let’s enter this daily practice quiz sheet into the record as ‘exhibit A’…”

The organizing schoolmare shook her head as she walked away. That girl has her booth well in hand. The festival seemed to be starting off on the right hoof. From her position she could make out Globe’s Cultural Fair; Sluice was regaling a ground of attentive parents, lecturing while looking smart in his Veneightian canal boatpony outfit. Nearby Luster and Crunch were dressed in buffalo headdresses as they sold student-made costume jewelry for raising school funds. Globe himself was drawing amiable laughter from a mustached member of the Canterlot elite.

Her proud attention was distracted as she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned to find a very nervous teen unicorn. The light pink filly looked around nervously, jumping at sudden sounds. You'd think she'd never seen an Equestrian town festival before.

“My pardons, Miss Cheerilee. My Mom is to being looking for you.”

I always told Ditzy I’d give speech tutoring to her daughter if she wanted. Where did she ever adopt her from? “That’d be lovely, Sparkler. Do you know if she has the forms and papers I asked her to bring?” The answering nod made her smile.

“Well, lay on MacRuff; show me to your parents. Did your Dad finally join us here today?”

Sparkler bit her lip nervously. “Here? Today? I am uncertain on both counts.”

The adult put a steadying hoof on her family friend’s shoulder. “You can explain where ‘Mr. John Smith’ is when we get to Ditzy and Dinky. Let’s go.” The booths seem to be fine. I can check on them later. What’s the worst that could happen?

Elsewhere on the streets of distant Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle ran through a rock candy hail, shielding her eyes with a levitated folding chair. Darn it, I REALLY wanted to go to Cheerilee’s fair today. She galloped toward a series of standing stones constructed out of pudding pops where a half-dozen of her friends and two alicorns had already fought their way through the chaos.

Cresting the hill, she dodged flying gummy sharks to reach her teacher. “Princess! How goes the divination spell?”

Celestia stared at the waves of chaos candy creations with concerned eyes. “Dearest Twilight, I fear I am having trouble locating Discord amidst all this chaos. Even our detection spell has limits.”

She was interrupted as one of the gummy sharks looped into the air around it; the Elements of Harmony had to work hard to make themselves heard over the noisy hovering heralds. The levitating hammerhead screamed out in a loud voice. “He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms!”

Suddenly, the shrieking false flying fish was cut into two by a darkly flashing horn. An inconsolable Princess Luna snorted, her eyes flashing in rage as she cleaved chaos creations in twain. “I was supposed to be at MINE FESTIVAL TODAY, CURS!” Her wrath-filled shout shattered a pudding pop the size of a house, sending three colors of cream streaking into a nearby unicorn.

Rarity shuddered at the sight of the orange, red, and purple globs sticking to her coat in irregular patterns. Controlling her shivering, she turned to Celestia. “Your Majesty, is there any way you could remind your darling sister about watching for collateral damage?” The seamstress suddenly flinched at the sound of something large collapsing. The white alicorn only gave a morale-raising smile.

Several streets over a giant gingerbread pony brought its foot down on an evacuated building. A vibrating pink pony narrowed her eyes. “Hey, nopony steps on a bakery in my town!”

Twilight regarded the nightmarish scenes around her intellectually as her friends aided in controlling it. “If he’s gone to all this trouble to create a scene, where is he? Why does this feel like a distraction?”

Twilight’s answer would have been found in the vendor’s tents in Old Canterlot. At that dramatically appropriate and exact moment, a light gray pegasus in a scoutmaster jacket was leading a small troupe of younger winged ponies through the many booths of parent volunteers. “That’s right, Junior Flyers! Let’s make our way through the sample booths to the fun stuff! Everyone stay in line, please.”

A gaggle of groans reached his ears as the campers followed. “Mister Storm Vision, could we just look around? There’s cool stuff going on!”

The smiling counselor shook his head. “We have to make sure no one gets lost on this field trip, little guy. Let’s do a head count; no one left their head on the wagon, right?”

His students gave him a nonplussed, silent barrage of stares. He nervously chuckled as he pulled out a clipboard. “Heh. Tough crowd.”

Unbeknownst to the unsuspecting troupe leader, his feeble attempts at humor were being regarded by cool and envious eyes a few tents down. There was a rather large structure between two of the snack booths; neither proprietor had actually seen it go up this morning. Two mismatched limbs hidden under surgical gloves clapped loudly to get the attention of the groups of children. A heavy Hoofsberg accent shouted out toward the unsuspecting troupe.

“Yoo hoo! Children! How vould you like a demonstration! Schnell, over here!”

As Storm looked up from his attendance clipboard, he saw his charges gathering in front of a booth marked ‘Dr. Ocsid’s Sustainable Dentistry & Candy Supplier.’ The rather tall booth proprietor was commanding their attention, gesturing wildly despite being wrapped in a bulky surgeon’s outfit that only left his eyes visible. Storm disguised his panic at the threat to his field trip’s order. Why didn’t I ask for an easier camp position, like bear wrestler?

“Come on, kids! Do I need to get some glue to get us to stick together?” He trotted to the booth, where the ‘dentist’ was staring at him intently.

“You must be Herr Counselor. That’s was a joke just then, nein?”

The high-strung counselor stuttered; the doctor towered over him, and he swore two mismatched wing flapped under the back of the scrubs. That must be one freaky pegasus under there. “Uh, yeah. A little humor helps the kids relax. W-w-w-we should really be getting back to schedule.”

A large arm snaked around Storm’s neck; the high-strung stallion was too nervous to notice the arm didn’t end in a hoof but a large paw that differed from its twin in shape. “Mein freund, you need help.” The darkly-chuckling surgeon led him into a mock dentist’s chair. “I haff a demonstration on oral hygiene that will definitely entertain the young kinders.” Surprised by a flash of light, Storm found himself already strapped down on a table before he could voice a dissenting view. He saw the children were all eagerly watching their counselor’s discomfort.

Struggling against his bonds, he chirped objections. “I really have to get the kids to the rocket launch on time, sir.”

The surgeon was washing his hands in a bin of chocolate milk. “Call me ‘Herr Doctor,’ please. I didn’t work hard to conjure a fake medical diploma out of chaos magic to be called ‘Sir.’ So, you work as a camp counselor? Make the small talk please; it’s tradition, I understand.”

Storm gulped. “Um, I mostly do search-and-rescue fulltime. You know, pull ponies out of dangerous situations.”

The grinning dentist turned around with a cone of cotton candy in his hand; the children clapped in delight at the surprise. “Really? Do you think there’s anyone else in that profession at the fair today?”

The restrained pegasus shook his head. The ‘doctor’ nodded; as he did so the cotton candy started spinning on the paper cone while making drill sounds. “Good. I’ve got a lot to do at the fair today and I’d hate to be disturbed.”

As the looming figure came closer the entranced children watched with bated breath, the wriggling pegasus stared at the spinning pink tool. “Is it safe?”

The only response given by the yellow-eyed ‘dentist’ was laughter.

As the Spirit of Chaos wove his plans together, a bouncy fuchsia mare was patrolling the launching grounds. She stood behind a protective rope line with a large group of parents and students. Breathlessly they watched as Bomber and her team worked a large pump, sending a slim rocket the length of a pony high onto the mountainside.

While the audience applauded, an older yellow stallion approached her politely. She inclined her head politely. “Excuse me miss, I’m looking for my son. I heard he might be getting into trouble around here?”

Cheerilee smiled professionally. “We try to only keep the responsible students by the launchers, sir. Currently I’m maintaining supervision while our science teacher is…out for supplies. What’s your son’s name?”

The stallion chuckled, offering a hoof to the mare. “Red Glare, miss.”

She froze. “R-r-really? It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” Recovering her manners, she pumped the offered limb up and down.

The older pony smiled. “Call me Jury Rig, or Rig for short. It’s my pleasure, Miss Cheerilee. My son’s told me a bunch of wonderful things about you. I wouldn’t know if he’d mention me; he can be a bit forgetful at times.”

The silence hung in the air as the two watched Red’s students help young foals build rockets and fit them onto the launchers. He smiled nostalgically. “Did Red ever tell you about his first rocket, Miss?”

“No,” Cheerilee chirped expectantly. Yay! I get an embarrassing childhood story!

“He turned our neighbor’s still into a pressure powered launcher. Broke down the local plumbing for extra steam power. “ He scratched behind his head in embarrassment; Cheerilee smiled as she recognized the gesture. “I think I paid that off a few years ago…”

The audience around them watched explosion after explosion, but the schoolmare only had ears for the story. “And then…”

“Then he stole the neighbor’s bench for the pilot’s seat.”

Cheerilee blinked. “He…planned to pilot it? Why would he strap himself to a rocket, apart from being…you know, Red? I mean, surely he didn’t think he could reach the Moon in that thing.”

Rig visibly deflated. “He was aiming for Cloudsdale.”

Cheerilee cocked her head. Sensing that the tale had come to the painful part she gave a sympathetic look. A loud exhale heralded that story’s continuance. “He hadn’t seen his mom in years. Her letters became sporadic, then nonexistent. Once she flew back to Cloudsdale she never left her hometown again.”

Oh. Boy. Quick, move the topic. ”It must have been some disappointment when that failed.”

He regained some pride in his expression. “Miss, for all that my son talks about you I would expect you to know him better. My boy’s a damn genius. The little colt didn’t land on that floating eyesore, but he skimmed the bottom. Ran his little hoof along the clouds. Red got his cutie mark right before the main thruster exploded.”

A conspiratorial gleam lit his eye. “I’ll never forget the look on those damn weather patrol ponies’ faces as Red’s craft scared the Holy Hay out of them. From where I saw it on the ground it was spittin’ out sparks like an explodin’ fireworks factory.”

Cheerilee was dumbstruck. He patted her shoulder with a hoof. “He’s a special lad. Deserves someone special to take care of ‘im. Look me up after the fair; I’d love to treat both of you to dinner.”

As Jury Rig turned away, the stunned schoolmare called after him. “Wait, sir!” He turned with a grin, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Did he ever see his Mom again?”

Red’s father’s expression stiffed. “Only once, Miss. Only once.” She implored him to continue with her eyes; he shrugged.

“He didn’t see her for long. Like I said, he lost his main booster too quickly.”

Cheerilee stared at the retreating form until a booming sound drew her attention. Her nostrils suddenly felt like a cactus had snuck inside. Snorting from the prickly-smelling black cloud that now hugged the ground, she looked for the noisemaker with bleary eyes.

Near the launching strip she first spotted a townspony covering their mouth and blinking back tears. The suffering bystander was only one of a crowd who had been caught inside a giant dark fog that vomited itself from the student project areas. A quick thinking local pegasus began flapping the smoke away before more than half the crowd fell to their knees.

The much-welcome gust pushed the offensive atmosphere upward, revealing a charred mark in the concrete the width of a large foal. A peach-colored young mare gagged forcefully next to it. She smelled like a chemical closet tipped on its side, but the tearful mare was grinning.

“Take a look!” She angled her hoof at the side of the mountain visible over the school wall. “Look right there!” Bomber cast a pleading glance at her discomforted audience. Well over half of them had already left. Most of the remainder looked none too pleased.

Cheerilee nervously moved to impose herself between the glee-filled daughter of destruction and the aggravated mob. An angry snort to her side decided her choice of targets. Throwing herself at the attacker, she saw that she had tackled a rickety grandfather.

“Let me at the whippersnapper! I’ll tan her hide!”

The smoked-choked schoolmare sighed. Great. I’m a big hero. The assaulted retired pony suddenly screamed as another loud sound reverberated over the fair. The embarrassed mare extricated herself from her victim, turning to the noise.

Red stood with Bomber along the rocket garden, triumphantly gesturing to the mountain in the distance. All around him the residents of Old Canterlot stared in horror into the distance. Whatever noxious device Bomber had launched into the distance, it had pulverized a house-sized outcropping of rock hundreds of feet away. Clouds of small pebbles ran down the mountainside as if trying to escape the dangerous rocket.

“Woooo-HA!” The punker pony reared back, throwing her hooves into the air. Red gave his fellow teacher a nervous glance. Bomber was too busy reveling in victory to hear the comments the school staff could make out.

An incredulous earth pony stared at the row of explosive devices. Taking in the sheer number, of projects, she asked with a terrified voice, “That’s what they teach the children here? Do they want us to have a town left?” Many of the vanishing crowd echoed the opinion.

The destructive filly’s teacher shook his head as he took off his ruffled and stained lab coat, dropping it behind an equipment table. Mister Glare put a hoof on Bomber’s head, gently forcing her back to the ground. He locked eyes with the ebullient youngster. “Kid, we only use the smaller ones today, got it?” She ruefully nodded.

The exasperated teacher walked over to his co-worker. They looked at each other pensively. At once they both said, “I met your…” Stopping with realization, they both nervously giggled.

Cheerilee found her confidence first. Full of hope, she ventured to ask, “Did Dad come?”

Red shook his head wordlessly. The depressed mare tried to keep her voice at its usual enthusiasm. “I’m sure he had a large shipment to process.” Red analyzed the edges of her smile. He realized he was finally starting to notice when she slipped on the ‘Cheerilee Mask’ for others’ benefit.

Still grinning, the schoolmare gave an analytical look to the scruffy, smoke-stained stallion she had become so close to. “Your father and I shared explosion stories. Apparently the Weather Ponies still have a price on your head or something?”

The teasing drew an appreciated head-scratch from the embarrassed rocket rider. “Um. Dad. You. You told him about the first time…” He shook his head. “I mean, he told you.”

She nodded. “It sounded adorable.” She stepped forward determinedly. Coming at Red from an angle she draped her neck over the stallion’s body, resting her head contentedly on his other side.

“Oh.” He stood still for a second, feeling the warmth of her heartbeat on his skin. “Oh,” he repeated with realization, as he nervously leaned his head backwards until it touched hers.

Equestria stood still for several seconds. Bomber broke the silence with a relieved sigh. “It’s about bloody time, you addle-pated goofs.” He heard students up and down the rocket garden start to clap on the ground and comment, but the sounds were a vague mess to him. His sense of touch had long since grabbed his brain’s controls and told his other senses to sit down and shut up. Gradually, his sense of hearing was allowed to join in as he made out the steady pattern of the blissful schoolmare’s breathing as it gently moved the hairs on his coat.

His hearing gradually untied its bonds and flung itself at its captors. A shouting din started penetrating his consciousness. I really should deal with that. Several seconds passed while the noise continued, echoing in the sounds of worried comments around him.

“Do you hear that too?” Cheerilee asked, her tone showing that she knew and dreaded the answer.

With irritation, he effected the smallest nod. “Yeah.”

Seconds passed. “We should probably do something about that, Red.”

His shoulders slumped, robbing Cheerilee’s head of its support. “Yeah,” he angrily snorted. “Let’s see who’s interrupting our…educational activities."

The smiling mare stayed in place for several seconds. Bomber stepped into place beside her. “You okay, Miss?” The filly arched a sarcastic eyebrow.

Her teacher exhaled slowly. “Just getting my hooves back on the ground.” She walked off, following something she couldn’t describe.

The children gasped as their counselor raised his weary head. A large piece of candy corn had been placed over each tooth, the pointed shapes making him resemble a candy vampire. Cotton candy and frosting dribbled out of his scoutmasters outfit, and licorice snakes were wrapped around each limb. Large marshmallows had been slipped over his hooves like socks, and two animated gummy sharks chewed violently but uselessly on each ear.

The ‘dentist’ turned back to the crowd after searching his tool rack. He produced a vat of bubbling caramel. “Now, zis shall be the crowning moment, mein kinders!” At the sound of his voice every youngster took at least one reflexive step back; one younger filly started crying.

Storm wearily said, “Help me.” With a sarcastic and hopeless tone, he continued. “Oh won’t someone go get help.” The normally high-strung pegasus had expended all of his nervous energy right about the time the circus peanuts came out.

The ‘dentist’ hovered over his reluctant patient. Storm shook his head. Is he actually hovering?

The accent suddenly disappeared, replaced by a gleeful voice that dripped menace like Storm Vison dripped sugar. “Oh, it’s far too late for that, Mister…Mister…” His tormentor scratched a claw on his chin. “You know what, it doesn’t matter! I’ll just call you ‘Owned’ from now on.” The cackling form threw its head backwards. “Because you’ve been owned!”

A tiny foal stepped forward bravely. “Please don’t hurt him, Mister. His jokes are bad, but he’s not a bad pony. He found my Mom in the snow storm.”

The serpentine form leaned over the brave child. He produced a lollipop with a terrifying face on it. It snarled loudly underneath the wrapper. “What’s that,” he asked, cupping his hand to his ear. “Did you want a treat, little girl?”

Suddenly, the dangerous dentist cocked his head as the sound of a large argument made its way into the tent. “Ooooh! That’s happening right on time, then. Well, I must bid you all auf wiedersehen, gesundheit, and farewell.” He leaned over his captive. “Everything is going according to plan, Owned.”

The teeth-cleaning tormentor vanished in a flash of light. Shuddering with relief, the candy-coated pegasus turned to his charges.

“So…can anyone help me out of this…sticky situation?”

The children groaned.

Red and Cheerilee found themselves among a gossiping crowd at the Cultural Fair. The miniature Veneightian stage was kicked over. Sluice was sitting on it morosely. His friends from nearby stalls were gathered around him for comfort without visible success. Several paces away Globe was keeping the adult crowd at bay.

The two nervous teachers gave each other a look of confusion. Trotting carefully over to the crowd, Cheerilee overheard several comments from the animated crowd.

“A shame about that stage. I was enjoying the show.”

“I haven’t seen the forepony this angry since the accident.”

“I never thought anyone could stand up to him either, let alone a school employee.”

The schoolmare pushed her way to the front of the crowd, her curiosity overcoming her politeness. “Globe, what the Hay happened here?”

The perturbed stallion looked unsure of himself. “Lookout came by and saw his son on a stage in costume. He flipped the buck out.” He turned eyes to the shaking student on the wooden pile of refuse. “He bucked the stage hard, shouted a bunch of stuff I’d rather not repeat at poor Sluice, and was getting worse by the second.”

The sympathetic literature pony shuddered. “I’m glad I didn’t have to be the one to stand up to him.”

Globe cocked his head, staring at his two co-workers. “Me too.”

A beat passed in the conversation. Red aggravatedly injected, “Hold on a second. I know I miss things sometimes, but help me here. Cheerilee and I were together, you didn’t do it, and Goldy would have melted. So if a staff member helped…”

Globe swallowed. “It was Placeholder. Placeholder got nose-to-nose with the maniac and saw him off. The last anypony saw of them they were both heading for the mine.”

The startled mare’s brain froze while trying to pick apart the confusing statement. Red turned to her. “We better go help him.”

Cheerilee drew herself straight, nodding. “With the vote tomorrow, who know what trouble those two could cause us.” She turned to Globe. “Screwy’s working the math booths. Could you tell her where we went?” At his nod, the two teachers ran off.

Galloping down the rocky road out of town, the hurrying educators found themselves nearly out of breath. By the time they finished ascending the upward curving road they were exhausted. Cheerilee stood on a platform built into the rock. Behind her was a large stone sign, ancient and worn, that read “Luna’s Silver.” A cart track wound its way down the side of the mountain. She could barely make out her festival from her height.

A hoof on her side reminded her of Red’s presence. “Hey, Flower Girl. We have to get a move on. Placeholder sounds like he needs help.” He gestured with his head toward the sounds of a loud argument inside the mine. “Hold on. Did I really say that?”

The steadfast schoolteacher nodded as she headed into the mine. A nervous looking corpulent pony paced back and forth inside the equipment room of the mine. A chubby blond head regarded the newcomers. “Youse both should just turn around. There ain’t nothing good happening down there.”

Cheerilee gave a determined yet diplomatic smile. “We’re here to talk to Hardpick, Mister…?”

The pony sat back on a chair that creaked under his weight. “Dangerfield. Running Dangerfield. I’m the hazard expert and mine inspector here. I was telling Lookout for weeks that the old B-shaft needed closin’ down, but he’d never hear of it. He goes down there to think ever since the accident.”

Dangerfield’s eyes went wide. “He’s down there now, arguing up a storm. I dunno what he’s thinkin’, bringing another pony into that old deathtrap!”

Cheerilee nodded. She turned to Red, already wearing a construction helmet. “We’re going in after them,” she said as he put a light source on her head.

As they pushed past the terrified stallion, he shouted after them. “You can’t go down there! It’s been unstable for years!” He shook his head. “Warning signs! They hear it, and they pay it no mind. I’m going home. I tell ya, I get no respect.”

The teachers made their way through the old mine. Cheerilee tried following the path, but the posted maps were poorly written and out of date. More often than not, Red pulled her along.

As she coughed dust out of her throat, she gave the dust-choked scarlet stallion an inquisitive eye. “You seem to know this place really well, Red.”
He let a silent few seconds pass. “After we moved here from Detrot my dad kept this machinery running for years. He’d take me down here all the time to show me how stuff works.”

Cheerilee felt the pregnant pause concealed something Red had difficulty talking about. She gently prodded him. “Go on.”

Swallowing hard, Red continued. “My Mom hated it. She said she couldn’t stand the idea of waiting to hear about us dying in a cave-in someday. That’s why she left.” Quickly, he changed the topic. “I hear the old river that cuts through the mountain. We’re almost there.”

The two crossed over a bridge as they detected the sounds of the argument. The angry voice of Hardpick boomed throughout the corridors.

“I want you to do your bucking job, Placeholder. That school’s supposed to be ending, not filling my boy’s head with nonsense.”

As Cheerilee turned the corner, she saw the ratty, dirt-encrusted form of Placeholder. His suit had seen better days. He was struggling to keep his tone level, stepping carefully near the bank of the underground river. The floor was filled with empty bottles, accumulated through years of Hardpick’s self-doubt sessions.

“Yes, good sir. I know endings. There is no one better qualified to finish something then I am. I tell you now this school is not quite finished! There is something here worth keeping alive, and I doubt you or I could stop it.”

Hardpick and the principal turned to the opening of the shaft as they made out the mining lights of the two teachers. A fuchsia mare stood drastically in the lights of their helmets.

“I know why you come down here, Mister Hardpick. You lost your daughter here, didn’t you?”

The miner snarled. “That's none of your business, outsider!”

She carefully stepped up to the angry forestallion. “If you’re not careful, you’ll lose your son, too.”

Red took a deep breath as he waited for Hardpick’s reaction. This is it. If anyone could reach him, she can. Come on girl; you just have to make this moment work. This is the last obstacle!

Suddenly, a gigantic rumble shook the four ponies. As the three stallions shook on their hooves, three tiny daisies with faces popped out of the ground. Cheerilee leaned down incredulously as the sickly grinning trio started speaking with a familiar voice.

Outside, a gleeful draconequus stood on the mountain. As he screamed into the rock, his magic carried his words far into the mine.

“All right Miss, what do you think you’re doing? You are a disgusting instrument of boredom!”

Cheerilee felt the rocks under her feet quiver as the tirade continued. Lightning flashed outside as clouds gathered above the ranting chaos spirit.

“Come on! Stand up sideways, wear a shirt on your head, plant some ice cream and live a little!”

As he dug his claws into the ground it vibrated. “Wipe that eternal smile off your face. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Rain of every color struck the ground around him and started running uphill.

“You are destroying your life with that garbage of hope and togetherness! What kind of a mare are you? You sit in that classroom all day and even out my chaos with your sick, repulsive grin.”

The foundations of the Canterlot Mountains started to shake as the light show continued. No way to evade that detection spell now!

“I carried chaos magic at the Battle of Flutter Valley and you carry that infernal message of blah! Who are you? Where did you come from? How round is purple?”

As Red braced himself against the falling rocks of the shaft’s ceiling Cheerilee alone clearly heard the voice of the Draconequus, squeaking out of the twisted version of her cutie mark.

Discord screamed onto the wind with the force of a storm. “ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?!”

He snickered. “Well, as for me…”

As he raised his paw, a gigantic boulder raised itself, floating above the ground. With a gesture he looped it into a wide curve, smashing it hard into the side of the Luna’s Silver Strike.

“I want a rock!” He gleefully clapped as the rock slide began.

Deep underground a cracking sound drew Red’s attention. He quickly grabbed Cheerilee with both hooves, pulling her out of the way of the giant boulder that crushed the magical flowers, sealing the entrance of the cave. He held her closely until the shaking stopped.

As the tremors ceased, Hardpick walked over to them. He stared at the pile of smashed stones that obscured the entrance of the B-Shaft. Placeholder gave a wan smile of resignation. The two teachers looked up at his grim face.

“We’re trapped here.”