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20% Lesser	By : Eccho Category: +M through R > My Little Pony Views: 331 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not have ANY affiliation with anything MLP or Hasbro related.

Chapter List
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-Rainbow Dash POV-
“I still don’t see what the big deal was. Kids love guitars. I have a guitar. What are we running from?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. That argument holds up well,” Twilight replies in her sarcastic tone that I don’t much care for, “By that logic, since kids also love bumper cars, you should drive them drunk.”
“...Well, that would just be irresponsible.”
“Gee, ya don’t say.”
“Ugh, you’re such a stick in the mud. The slightest bit of any fun just rubs you the wrong way, huh? Why kick me when I’m already down, anyways? I’ve already been docked a week’s pay. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
“Nope. You still don’t know what you did was wrong.”
“No, what I did wasn’t ‘wrong’. What I did was just ‘against the rules’. The absolute hell we live in. Kids beat on desks with their pencils all the time and no one bats an eye. But I wanna play on my guitar and Celestia gets all uppity.”
“You know, you really suck when it comes to comparisons.”
“It’s the principle of the matter. I’m trying to get these kids engaged. Wake ‘em up a little. Make them forget the jail cells they’re shackled within.”
“You’re a gym coach. That’s literally your job regardless of what you do.”
“You just don’t get it. I wouldn’t expect someone as uptight as Celestia’s history teaching footstool to understand anything about engagement or anything remotely interesting.”
“Insult me all you want. You’ll still think twice before doing something that stupid again. I mean, if you wanna keep your job, of course.”
She cements her point with a smug grin. God, she’s such an unbearable cunt sometimes.
“The amount of joy you’re getting from my misfortune is just disgusting.”
“It’s only because I love you and want you to realize that rules are in place for a reason.”
“Whatever, mom. Just get outta here so I can get the day’s activities in order.”
“What are you talking about? You shouldn’t have to do that. This week's FitnessGram test week.”
“...What?”
No. No, she can’t be right. That’s supposed to be next week. I was mentally preparing for that stupid fucking week! Don’t tell me it's really this week! I frantically search it up on my phone and, sure enough, there it is, plane as day. The FitnessGram test starts as of today. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
“Yeah. That’s this week. Oh my God. You forgot, didn’t you? Wow, I never thought I’d see the day where the great fitness junkie, Rainbow Dash, would forget something as prevalent as this.”
“UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Again, she laughs at my misery before saying,
“What, you finally realize how much that test sucks? Has the almighty Dashie come to her senses about the FitnessGram test?”
“No, I’m not like you. I can actually take care of and use my body in the way it was meant to be used. It’s just all these out of shape punks are gonna be unbearable to watch. Losing the Pacer Test at, like, the 8th ring, the sorriest excuse of ‘push ups’ the human eye has ever bore witness to, pull ups that would make blind men cry, I swear, it’s just the worst week of my fucking career!”
“Huh. I thought you’d find things like that to be the most entertaining thing in the world.”
“Hell no! It would be like your entire class telling you that Thomas Edison invented the lightbulb.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, this week must be hell for you.”
“Understatement of the goddamn century. Man, now my day’s ruined. I was having a good one, too. Thanks a lot.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault your class doesn’t know the difference between a push up and dry humping the floor. Besides, it can’t be all bad, right? I mean, surely you’ve got at least a few people who won’t disappoint. Like that one girl, uh-...Scooter?...Skateboard?...Scallywag?...”
“Scootaloo.”
Ugh...Of all the promising performances, she’s not someone I’d really put that highly on the list.
“What’s with that tone? I thought you said she’s one of the best students you’ve had.”
“I mean, yeah. Performance wise. But she’s just. So. Fucking. Annoying. She’s always trying to show off. And before you say a single word, when I do it, I at least have the common knowledge of following up on my boasting. Half the time, she lands square on her face. Both figuratively and very literally. I mean, I like the kid, but come on. At least be somewhat coordinated. Bare minimum 20% more accuracy is all I’m asking.”
“Aww, looks like you’ve got your very own shadow. She just wants to show the impact her teacher’s having on her. What’s wrong with that?”
“Dude, if we’re talking about the impact on her, I’ve got nothing on the floor, the wall, and her locker.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Mean and truthful. Like, she’s a hard worker, sure. But hard work alone isn’t gonna stop you from falling flat on your ass.”
“Yeah, I guess. Oh shoot, what time is it?!”
She retrieves her phone from her pocket before expressing a look of utter dread.
“Heh. Well, would you look at that,” I taunt as she scatters out the door, “Ms. Prissy’s got a bit of a punctuality issue.”
“I’ll get you for that comment later. In the meantime, enjoy your flawless display of physical prowess.”
She then smooches at me before closing the door. Ass. Alright, guess I should start preparing for the worst. Or maybe I’ll just be dumb and have some blind optimism. That’s always fun. Lying to yourself never leads you astray.
Welp, that’s the funny thing about lies: they sting more than the truth when it’s revealed. It’s only the 6th ring and damn near half these pussies are already out. I miss when fitness was the forefront of education. Now these poor bastards are getting the irrelevant parts like math and history. Ugh, I do not envy them.
I guess it’s not all bad, though. As expected, Scootaloo’s still in it. Unexpectedly, though, she’s not really boasting or showboating. She seems to be taking this really seriously. And that’s kinda bittersweet to me. On one hand, she’s flawless from her form all the way to her execution. But on the other hand, it’s just the 6th fucking ding. It’s not really worthy for any cause of true effort. Does she have something to prove or something?
The test goes on and the rings sound off. 12th turns into 19th. 19th turns into 26th. Music starts intensifying. And everyone’s dropping like flies. But the more I pay attention, the less of a damn I’m giving. This small handful of knuckleheads are actually kind of impressing me right now. Most notable, though, is Scootaloo’s performance. We’re to the point of barely any time for rest and she’s barely winded. All the while maintaining that stoic expression on her face. So I guess that answers the burning question of her having something to prove. But the new million dollar question is who’s the message for?
We’re nearing the 40 mark with just a few more casualties. All that’s left is Button, Scootaloo...that new girl that I couldn’t be fucked to remember or look up the name of, Biscuit, and Peach. And Scootaloo looks like she’s gonna go the distance. She looks unstoppable.
After minutes of the endurance pushing exercise, the twerps finally seem to be reaching their limits with Biscuit being the first to leave. And a few points later, the new girl and Button are unanimously gone. Now it’s between Scootaloo and Peach with both of them clearly racing against their own exhaustion, but too stubborn to lose this. But one of them will have to konk out eventually. So who is it, girls? Who wants it more?
38, 39, 40, 41. Not an ounce of quitting in either’s eyes. Their bodies have gotta be screaming at them right now. And I couldn't be more entertained. I love it! Work it, girls!
“That’s what I like to see!” I encourage, “Don’t stop now! Screw this old guy and his dumbass voice! Go until the tape gives out! There we go! WOOO!!!”
And as if I needed more proof that my motivation skills are unmatched, Scootaloo cements that fact by completely and utterly fucking Peach with no lube. She’s running even faster now. The gap between them is widening by the second. Holy fuck! Where’s this been all this time? She’s coordinated. She’s focused. She’s unstoppable...Kinda like me at that age...Ha! No. She doesn’t deserve that much praise. This is still nothing to me. But she’s still giving Peach some hell now.
“That’s it, Scootaloo! Show these wimps how to do it! Work that body, girl! Hell yeah!”
After giving my supposed shadow some encouraging words, Peach, seeming to have taken it to heart, starts to show me something within her. She’s gaining a little more speed, but nothing compared to Scootaloo. But that can only end in one way and one way alone.
Yup. There it is. Lost in her competitive drive, the poor thing trips on her own leg and plants herself right on the paint. Ooo, ya hate to see it. It was a hell of a showcase, too. Ah well. Can’t be too mad. My expectations were met a little bit. I guess I can’t ask for much more than that.
The bell soon rings as I head over to the radio to shut off the ungodly tape with the girls heading into the locker room to change for their next class. But as Scootaloo passes me, I make sure to give her her props for giving me one hell of a performance with a swift pat on her plump bottom. She gasps in response, clearly unfamiliar with the gesture. Another reason that I love this job. It’s so funny seeing newbies not knowing the culture.
“Good shit out there, girl,” I say with a wink, “I wanna see every bit of that from now on, you hear me?”
She gives me a starstruck gaze before frantically nodding and heading in the locker room. And there’s my supposed shadow. Hm...My shadow, huh? Now that I think about it, that’s not the worst thing in the world. I mean, she’s still got a ways to go before she’s even close to it, but I could stand to have a pupil I can call my own. Yeah. Yeah, let’s see where this route goes.
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20% Lesser