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#1 September 1, 2012 3:51:33 PM

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The Race: Prologue

I decided to write a prologue to The Race.

Spitfire was sweating gallons by the second, but she kept flying for a couple minutes. After all, the track competition was tomorrow.
    She decided to stop and did a power dive back down to Ponyville to run a few errands.
    First, she needed a black coat to disguise herself. The only place she knew to stop by at was Rarity's house.
    The door was unlocked, and Rarity was sewing as fast as Spitfire had ever seen her sew. “Good evening, Rarity.”
    “Well, hello, Miss Spitfire! How can I help you?” Rarity didn’t seem as distracted as she normally was.
    “I need a coat, preferably long enough to cover my mane and tail.”
    “Why would you want to cover your beautiful—what in Equestria HAPPENED to you?” Rarity was now facing Spitfire with a look of pure horror on her face. She turned her full-body mirror towards the pegasus, and only then did she realize how horrible she looked.
    Spitfire’s mane was sticking up in odd places from the sweat coursing down her face and body. Her tail was drooping, and she had a few spots of white near her cutie mark from the clouds she hit.
    “Let’s get you fixed up,” Rarity decided.
    From the look on Rarity’s face after the “fix-up”, Spitfire was sure that the unicorn had done the best she had ever done in her life, and that the pegasus wasn’t going to like it.
    The full-body mirror turned towards her, Spitfire stifled a sigh of relief. She looked just the way she had from when she started training.
    “Thank you, Rarity. Now, about that coat . . .” Rarity handed her the longest coat she had ever seen.
    “You’re very welcome, Miss Spitfire. I did the best I could for the fastest Wonderbolt I know. Why did you want it again?”
    “Oh, well I couldn’t tell you. It’s a secret. But thanks again, Rarity!”
    Spitfire smiled and walked out of the shop.

    Spitfire flew over to Applejack’s place next to get as much of a dinner as possible to keep her strength up.
    Trotting into the barn, Applejack was sorting the apples as to what she would do with them.
    “Hello, Applejack.”
    “Howdy, Spitfire! Looks like Rarity fixed you up prim and proper.” Applejack looked up.
    “Yep. So, the track competition’s tomorrow, and I was wondering . . .”
    “Why, of course! Big Mac an’ I’ll have the best meal cooked up you’ve ever seen!”
    Spitfire wasn’t sure if Applejack had ever lied in her lifetime, but when she walked into the Apple family’s dining room, she was sure she hadn’t.
    “Wow! I don’t think I can eat all of this. I mean, I’ve got to keep my strength up for the competition tomorrow and all, but really, maybe you made too much.”
    “On purpose! The leftovers will be served at the farmer’s market next week. Don’t worry,” Applejack promised.
    “All right then.”
    Ten minutes later, Spitfire walked out of Applejack’s place. “Thanks again, Applejack!”
    “Our pleasure!”
    Next, Spitfire decided she would stop by Rainbow Dash’s place to cheer her up from her broken leg.

    “Hay, RD!” Spitfire said as she entered the supersonic flyer’s bedroom.
    “Oh! Hi, Spitfire! What brings you here?” Rainbow Dash was lying on her back when Spitfire opened the door, but now she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
    “I just came to cheer you up—after all, that’s what friends are for, right?”
    “Oh, yeah! I guess I am a little disappointed after realizing I can’t be at the track competition.” Rainbow Dash lowered her head.
    “Well, that’s okay, ‘cause I’m racing in your place.”
    “I guess you’re right—wait, you’re doing WHAT now?”
    “I thought I’d challenge the racers this year, because after quitting the Wonderbolts, I can choose to judge if I want to.”
    “NO WAY! I want to be there!”
    “I got you a ticket if you want to go. It’s your choice, though.” Spitfire smiled.
    “Awesome! You are the single best friend in the WORLD!”
    “See ya!” Spitfire was possibly more happier than ever in her life.
    Later, in her bed, Spitfire lay in her bed at the house she shared with Soarin’, trying to go to sleep.
    Just as she was about to, Soarin’ arrived, eating a huge piece of an apple pie. “Wow, Spitfire! I didn’t expect you to look so prepared the day before the day before the competition!”
    “Soarin’, stop eating that apple pie in front of me. You’re making me hungry—wait, what did you say?”
    “I said, I didn’t expect you to look so prepared the day before the day before the competition.”
    “Wait, so the race isn’t tomorrow?”
    “No! Why would it be when your calendar says it’s not?”
    There was a long pause as Spitfire glared at Soarin’ like she was going to kill him. Then she said, “Normally I’d think of some way to torture you for looking through my stuff, but now you refuse to tell me that I have the wrong day?”
    “Hey, calm down! It’s not wrong to be extra prepared, is it?”
    There was another long pause. “I guess you’re right. Have fun making out with your pie.”
    “Good night to you, too, Spitfire!”
    The last thing Spitfire thought before she went off to sleep was, Another long day of training ahead of me . . .

There are two pictures I found that go with this part: and

Last edited by Rehydration (September 1, 2012 3:52:26 PM)

"A regular Friday audience, 90 percent feminine and 100 percent well-bred, sat stoically yesterday through thirty minutes of the most cacophonous world premiere ever heard here - the first performance anywhere of a new Violin Concerto by Arnold Schoenberg. Yesterday's piece combines the best sound effects of a hen yard at feeding time, a brisk morning in Chinatown and practice hour at a busy music conservatory. The effect on the vast majority of hearers is that of a lecture on the fourth dimension delivered in Chinese." -An anonymous Philadelphia Record reviewer, on Schoenberg's Op. 36 Violin Concerto.

"I am delighted to add another unplayable work to the repertoire." -Arnold Schoenberg, on his Op. 36 Violin Concerto.



September 1, 2012 3:51:33 PM



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