The sun shone brightly through the window, a bright warm blanket of light draped over the table in the kitchen of Carousel Boutique. To one side sat the alabaster unicorn who lived there; on the other side, the buttercream pegasus who was her best friend. As they sat, they sipped from their cups.

“I’ve been pondering some very big questions lately. Hard not to think of such things, what with everything that’s been going on,” Rarity said.

“I do imagine almost dying would do that to you. Even if that’s never happened to me, specifically.” Fluttershy smiled.

Rarity let out a little sigh. “I guess I just wonder sometimes whether perhaps it would have been better if I hadn’t been revived. You and the girls could get on without me, and you know the legacy of a brilliant artist who dies young is always much more majestic than that of some old mare long past her prime.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. You bring a little sweetness to my life—no, all of our lives.”

“Hmm, alright. Say, speaking of sweetness, do you know how many licks it takes to get to the centre of a Tootsie Pop?” Rarity asked.

“I don’t know—I usually just bite it.”

Fluttershy scooted her chair out from the table and stood up, trotting over to the kitchen counter. From the stovetop, she picked up a teapot—an ornate, ancient thing—and started to walk back to the table with the thing between her teeth.

Suddenly, there was a very loud noise. SQUARSH!

Fluttershy jumped, startled, dropping the teapot in the process. Time seemed to slow down as the antique china spiralled towards the ground, and—

“Oh! Seven-hundred eighty and two!” Rarity exclaimed. Fluttershy opened her eyes—which had instinctively snapped shut—to see that, miraculously, the teapot hadn’t fallen to the ground and shattered; it was suspended aloft by a shimmering blue magical aura. Yet even though the teapot was saved, a pool of the liquid had spilled onto the floor, soaking Fluttershy’s hooves.

“I guess I thought it would be much less,” Fluttershy said wearily. “What’s the average size of those licks?”

“Well, they’d be the licks of a grown mare, of course. But I’m not sure of the exact area of each lick.” Rarity set the teapot down on the table, and then picked up a cloth rag from the counter in her magic. She moved as if to wipe up the liquid, but—

“You fools!” another voice exclaimed. The cabinet beneath the kitchen counter burst open and a smiling pink pony popped out, her mane floofing up as she stood up. “Blow Pops are infinitely superior to Tootsie Pops!”

Rarity facehoofed. “And what makes you say that? Perhaps they are paying you to spread this propaganda and lies?”

“Blow Pops aren’t bad, but I don’t think I’d ever choose one over a Tootsie Pop,” Fluttershy remarked.

“Ugh, you two are really unenlightened.” The pink pony leapt over to the puddle on the ground, and started licking. “And I bet you don’t even know how to lick! This is how you do it, so make sure to take notes.”

Rarity grimaced; Fluttershy just stared.

“I should have you know that back in the day I licked professionally, and I was quite good at it.”

“Yeah, but only in the minor leagues!” the pink pony said with a grin. “I was a major leaguer, and I did it for like seven years!”

“Then what was your licking name?” Rarity said, skeptical.

The pink one smirked. “Lickamina Diane Pie, baby.”

A beat. Then, all three of them laughed, uproariously.

“You really used that?”

“Sure as sugar, Rare-Bear.”

And, much as the sun kept shining on down through the window of the Boutique, life went on.