Dear Xavier Bustamente,

I suppose I should be honored that you dedicated your grand slam homer in the top of the seventh inning to me. Appropriate, considering that the ballpark that you hit it out of declared yesterday Mark Watney day. And I’m sure you had the best intentions in mind.

But the fact remains that you are a Houston Astro, and the ballpark in question was in Chicago, and the pitcher wore a Chicago Cubs uniform, and that the Cubs went on to lose that game 9 – 4.

It is therefore my duty, as a native Chicagoan and a lifelong follower of the Cubs through good times and bad, to tell you to take your stupid grand slam and shove it up your ass.

I do this with reluctance. I mean no personal disrespect to you, as I am sure you are a worthy soul without a trace of malice or ill will in your body, but my sense of loyalty to the home town team demands it.

Nor do I wish to seem ungrateful. If, today or tomorrow during the remainder of your visit to Chicago, you should hit a pop fly to center field for an easy out, please feel free to dedicate that to me instead.

Alternately, when the Astros visit the Cardinals in July, feel free to hit all the grand slams you want. I suggest dedicating them to (in order of rank) Cherry Berry, Starlight Glimmer, Fireball, Dragonfly, and Spitfire. Once you’ve scored those twenty runs off the Cards, if you are still inclined to honor me, I will gratefully accept any further homers you claim from their worthless asses.

Looking forward to seeing your team face my Cubbies in the World Series.

Sincerely yours,
Mark Watney

Dear Mrs. Rowling,

Thank you for your letter asking us how we like your stories. Thus far we are generally enjoying the Harry Potter series, though at present we are reading through what seems like a terrible time for young Mr. Potter.

We appreciate how the complexity of your story grows with each volume, encouraging us to expand our understanding of your language.

But I just wanted to point out one thing: unicorn blood does not have the properties you ascribe to it. Although we are magical, we are not natural healers, nor can our bodily fluids thwart death. I understand you had no way of knowing this thirty years ago when you wrote these stories, but I hope you will add a note in future editions correcting this. It would ease the minds of unicorns who might visit Earth in the future.

Also, phoenix tears do not cure petrification. If a basilisk or cockatrice turned a phoenix’s friend into stone in our world, the phoenix would perch on the creature’s back and peck its head until it agreed to restore its victim. Or, failing that, the phoenix would go get Fluttershy, who would either shame or out-stare the basilisk or cockatrice into submission. In no case would a phoenix cry. Phoenixes tend not to be, as Ron Weasley might say, soppy.

Thank you again for your letter and for all your work creating this beautiful legend.

Sincerely yours,
Starlight Glimmer

(P. S. Most spells don't require any spoken focus. And those that do don't care if the words are pronounced correctly. Magic is all about intent, not diction. - S. G.)

Dear Entranced on Earth,

My name is not Abby. I don’t know who she is, but if you wanted to write to her this wasn’t the email you should have used. I’m pretty sure she’s not a bug-pony, anyway.

But since you seem to know you were writing to a bug-pony stranded on Mars for some reason, and since I have nothing to do today, here’s my best answer to your question.

I am not much good at giving advice about love. I don’t make love or encourage love. I only eat it. If you want I could forward your question to Princess Cadence, the allcorn Princess of Love (or, as my queen calls her, the Princess of Food- it’s a bug-pony joke).

But my best advice, as someone who has observed a lot of pony relationships, is: ask him out, already! His silence might be lack of interest, but it might also be shyness, or simply that he has other things on his mind. You aren’t going to know unless you find out!

Yes, he might turn you down, but that can’t be helped. Rejection is a fact of life (especially for bug-ponies- most ponies find us kind of scary even now). But right now, by assuming his rejection, you are actually rejecting yourself. Let him make the choice, and quit imagining things. Real love is more delicious than imagined love, and more filling.

My friend Mark just read this and said I shouldn’t pass it on to Princess Cadence because it would “set a president”, whatever that means. I’ll have to ask Starlight about that one. Anyway, good luck!

Dragonfly

Dear Wang Zhu Tao,

I have family at home. My mother worked hard to build a large hoard for us. If she thought you were trying to take her place she would come to this world and burn your house down. So it is better we just be friends. Friends do not have their mothers burn their friend’s’ house’s down.

Fireball

To Lt. Gen. Marcel Blankenship
Sir;

I can not accept your offer to join your “Thunderbirds” team. I hold a job under our princess for our kingdom, and it would be wrong to serve another.

I am honor by your offer. Major Martinez tells me of your history and fame. But one mare can not serve two princesses.

Respecting you,
Spitfire
Major, Pony-land E. U. P. Combined Forces (Air Guard)

P. S. Starlight Glimmer helped with this response.
P. P. S. Fuck the Blue Angels, sir. Major Martinez also told me about them. If the Navy wants to fly, give them blimps.

To: the J. M. Smucker Company of Orville, Ohio
Gentlemares,

Yes, I like cherry preserves much. I would be glad to say your preserves are the best. I only ask one of two conditions before you can say that I said so.

You can send some of your preserves and some of your competitors preserves to Mars. I will taste them and pick the one I like best.

Or you can come get me and my friends and bring us to your store, where I will taste your preserves and your competitors preserves and say which is best. If you cannot come yourself, just send a ship and I will fly it back. I get good at flying your ships.

Let me know which it will be. I look forward to tasting cherry preserves and lots of them.

Yours,
Cherry Berry

P. S. Any preserved cherries will do. I like both sweet and tart.

Author's Notes:

Got home from a successful convention, exhausted, at 8:30 PM.

Got 500 words into the planned chapter.

Realized I didn't have the energy to continue, began a fluff filler chapter instead.

Very nearly didn't finish the fluff because I couldn't think of anyone important or amusing for Cherry Berry to write back to.

Going to go collapse and try to sleep for ten hours now.