“Come see the Great and Powerful Trixie perform live at the Canterlot Theatre,” Discord read off of a poster in Ponyville. “One night only, and it’s tonight. Hmm, I suppose Ponyville has exhausted its entertainment value for now. Let’s go back and check on the royal mustache and maybe see a show while I’m there.”

The Great and Powerful Trixie admired her reflection in the makeup mirror. “What a lucky break,” she thought to herself. “To be invited to perform in Canterlot. Get this right, and no more filly’s birthday parties or rock farms for you.” She had spent almost all of her remaining connections to get one night at Canterlot Theatre. A knock on her door snapped Trixie out of her daze.

“There’s a package for you, Trixie. It looks like a gift from a fan,” the security pony said.

“If this is another letter from Snips and Snails, I swear…” Trixie rolled her eyes. “Send it in,” she said. The pony came in carrying a fancy, extravagant gift basket.

Trixie smiled, walking over and examining it. “Who’s it from? It has all of these nice shampoos and perfumes and… wait.” Her face adopted a menacing expression as the security guard looked at her, puzzled. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Umm…” the security guard was unsure of what to say. Trixie glared at him, grabbing the gift basket and throwing it out of the window with her magic.

“Shampoo for dry, damaged manes? Trixie’s mane is NOT dry nor is it damaged! What do you mean, umm? Leave at once and don’t bring such rubbish in here again!” Trixie snapped. The guard left rather quickly, muttering something about stuck up ungrateful magicians.

“Now then, where was I?” Trixie asked, looking back into her mirror. She adjusted her hat and sprayed a small amount of perfume behind her ears, picking a stray hair off of her cape. “Wonder what fool was in charge of cleaning my cape,” she muttered, turning full circle and inspecting her appearance. Oddly enough, the cape now contained three more hairs.

“Disgusting…” Trixie said, brushing them off. Her head suddenly felt extremely itchy. She removed her hat and scratched softly, gasping when a large clump of hair came off in her hoof. “What? But… Trixie’s mane has always been perfect!” She sputtered in disbelief as her entire mane fell off.

The door to her dressing room inched open. “Five minutes to showtime!” a stagehand called. Trixie slammed the door shut with her magic while rushing to close the blinds.

“Don’t worry, Trixie, you’ll think of something…” Trixie said to herself, eyes darting frantically around the room. It was then that she noticed a wig stand and a bottle of glue in the corner.

Five minutes later, Discord watched invisibly from the audience as Trixie emerged, clad in a purple cape and hat with a mystifying star pattern. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has arrived!” she proclaimed, strutting to the front of the stage to scattered applause. “Today she will be performing various feats of magic, starting with her signature lightning storm!”

Discord materialized some opera glasses into his hand, examining Trixie’s mane more thoroughly. “She’s more resourceful than I thought,” he mused. “Not many ponies can throw together such a convincing wig in five minutes.” He watched Trixie’s performance, applauding with the audience at appropriate times.

Trixie smiled nervously. “I’m pretty sure they haven’t noticed. Surely they haven’t noticed,” she said to herself. “Just keep wowing them with your magic, Trixie.” Half an hour later, she was feeling wonderful, nailing every trick she attempted. The audience was completely transfixed and Trixie had even forgotten about the wig.

“Thank you, you’ve been a wonderful audience,” Trixie said, releasing another cluster of magical fireworks into the air as the ponies cheered. She took a bow, making them cheer louder. Then her hat fell off and flopped onto the stage, followed by her wig.

The theater fell silent as Trixie stood still, frozen in mid-bow. Some hearty chuckles rang out, and then the room erupted in laughter. “How could I forget something as stupid and simple as that?” she hissed to herself in her mind. “Now everything’s ruined.” She could feel her face growing warm as she slowly rose back into a comfortable posture, walking over and retrieving her hat.

As Trixie put it back on her head, ready to turn around and run in shame, her scalp felt itchy, extremely itchy like the time before. The audience let out a collective gasp. Trixie’s mane had suddenly returned, flowing out from under her hat like water from a faucet and covering her eyes. She shook her head, making her mane fall into place.

“Bravo!” one of the audience members called out and the crowd burst into applause again, standing up from their seats.  

“I’ll never understand how she managed to do that without using her horn,” Discord heard an audience member say to her companion.

“It’s obviously an illusion, dear,” came the response.

Trixie was frozen again, in a mix of shock and relief. She gingerly felt her mane, tugging on it lightly with a hoof. It was firm. “Thank you!” she bowed a final time, exiting the stage.

“Not a bad performance,” Discord said to himself. “But I think the crowd liked my trick better.”

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