The Tragedy of the Lemon Ice Lolly
Nov 27, 2011 8:52:36 GMT -8
Post by ladymoondancer on Nov 27, 2011 8:52:36 GMT -8
Three cousins--Birdsong, August Blueblood, and Angel (no relation to the rabbit.) This is another illustration for my fanfic.
And now, Birdy narrates the harrowing tale of . . .
The Tragedy of the Lemon Ice Lolly
“Imagine, if you will, yours truly aged five or six or some other significantly small digit. There I was, not a care in the world, bobbling down a garden path whilst my many, varied aunts chattered amongst themselves on the distant horizon. For my pleasant demeanor on the ride over, I had been rewarded with an ice lolly, lemon-flavored. I levitated it along in front of me as I trotted past the flower beds in my second-best suit. Can you picture this scenario, Greaves?”
“I think I have a good mental approximation of it, sir.”
“Brace yourself, Greaves, for this pleasant pastoral scene is about to be rudely disturbed. With a crunch of gravel, my cousin August stepped onto the garden path. He was somewhat larger than I, being what is known as a 'stocky' foal. His eyes lit up with envy as he witnessed young Birdsong enjoying a frozen treat on this hot and humid summer day. He stepped forward menacingly and said in a tone that did not in the least acknowledge our mutual familial ties, ‘Hey Birdbrain, gimme that lolly!’”
“Most distressing, sir.”
“Of course in the true Rooster spirit, I put my ears back and refused. The promise of a lemon ice lolly was the only reason I had silently suffered the long, hot, and all around miserable carriage ride. So I retorted, ‘No, it’s mine!’ Did the rotter give up and push off? Far from it! In a trice his horn lit up and he tried to wrest it away. I don’t suppose you have ever been involved in a levitation tug-of-war, Greaves?”
“No, sir. Being an earth pony, that particular manner of brawling has eluded me.”
“Well, it’s not so different from regular tug-of-war, except you’re using magic instead of muscles. The ice lolly ping-ponged between us for a few minutes until August got the upper hoof and yanked it out of my control with such force that not only did I stumble forward, but also tripped right into a rather deep mud puddle. And how did Cousin August react to this turn of events? Did he apologize like a civilized pony, perhaps holding out a hoof to help his blood relation out of the muck?”
“I am agog to know, sir.”
“I am sorry to inform you that not only did he not come to my aid, but he laughed most heartily. Even when I lamented aloud the scolding I would undoubtedly receive for the ruination of my second-best suit, even then he showed no remorse, merely grinning and licking his stolen treat. No, it is no surprise to me, Greaves, that servants feel an overwhelming urge to give notice when stuck in close proximity to this blister.”
“Could one not put down the episode you describe to foalish folly, sir?”
“Not at all, Greaves, not at all,” I said firmly. “Can the chimera change her spots or the dragon her scales? No, not only did this incident foreshadow the deeply flawed personality that August has since revealed in full, but it also unveiled the sweet, gentle nature of my other cousin, Angel, for all to see.”
“Indeed, sir? I had not noticed her partaking in your narrative.”
“She was not present for the first bit, Greaves, but she happened along as I dragged myself out of the mud, disheveled and (between you and me) shedding salty tears while August laughed himself silly. Upon viewing this scene, she correctly surmised what had happened and punched August so hard that he ran off crying with nosebleed.” I sighed fondly. “A saint, that girl.”
And now, Birdy narrates the harrowing tale of . . .
The Tragedy of the Lemon Ice Lolly
“Imagine, if you will, yours truly aged five or six or some other significantly small digit. There I was, not a care in the world, bobbling down a garden path whilst my many, varied aunts chattered amongst themselves on the distant horizon. For my pleasant demeanor on the ride over, I had been rewarded with an ice lolly, lemon-flavored. I levitated it along in front of me as I trotted past the flower beds in my second-best suit. Can you picture this scenario, Greaves?”
“I think I have a good mental approximation of it, sir.”
“Brace yourself, Greaves, for this pleasant pastoral scene is about to be rudely disturbed. With a crunch of gravel, my cousin August stepped onto the garden path. He was somewhat larger than I, being what is known as a 'stocky' foal. His eyes lit up with envy as he witnessed young Birdsong enjoying a frozen treat on this hot and humid summer day. He stepped forward menacingly and said in a tone that did not in the least acknowledge our mutual familial ties, ‘Hey Birdbrain, gimme that lolly!’”
“Most distressing, sir.”
“Of course in the true Rooster spirit, I put my ears back and refused. The promise of a lemon ice lolly was the only reason I had silently suffered the long, hot, and all around miserable carriage ride. So I retorted, ‘No, it’s mine!’ Did the rotter give up and push off? Far from it! In a trice his horn lit up and he tried to wrest it away. I don’t suppose you have ever been involved in a levitation tug-of-war, Greaves?”
“No, sir. Being an earth pony, that particular manner of brawling has eluded me.”
“Well, it’s not so different from regular tug-of-war, except you’re using magic instead of muscles. The ice lolly ping-ponged between us for a few minutes until August got the upper hoof and yanked it out of my control with such force that not only did I stumble forward, but also tripped right into a rather deep mud puddle. And how did Cousin August react to this turn of events? Did he apologize like a civilized pony, perhaps holding out a hoof to help his blood relation out of the muck?”
“I am agog to know, sir.”
“I am sorry to inform you that not only did he not come to my aid, but he laughed most heartily. Even when I lamented aloud the scolding I would undoubtedly receive for the ruination of my second-best suit, even then he showed no remorse, merely grinning and licking his stolen treat. No, it is no surprise to me, Greaves, that servants feel an overwhelming urge to give notice when stuck in close proximity to this blister.”
“Could one not put down the episode you describe to foalish folly, sir?”
“Not at all, Greaves, not at all,” I said firmly. “Can the chimera change her spots or the dragon her scales? No, not only did this incident foreshadow the deeply flawed personality that August has since revealed in full, but it also unveiled the sweet, gentle nature of my other cousin, Angel, for all to see.”
“Indeed, sir? I had not noticed her partaking in your narrative.”
“She was not present for the first bit, Greaves, but she happened along as I dragged myself out of the mud, disheveled and (between you and me) shedding salty tears while August laughed himself silly. Upon viewing this scene, she correctly surmised what had happened and punched August so hard that he ran off crying with nosebleed.” I sighed fondly. “A saint, that girl.”
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