Flopsy was Emma’s my little pony.
Then one chilly November afternoon while Emma was shopping with her mum and dad (for tender stem broccoli which Emma thought was icky and got stuck between her teeth) Flopsy was stolen!
Emma had left Flopsy curled up on the back seat of the car snuggled up in an old rainbow warrior blanket.
“Aren’t you taking Flopsy with you?” Asked mum.
“Flopsy’s not feeling very well” replied Emma.
“Ah” said mum (in a very God is Tricksyesque manner)
“Come on you two!” Said dad. “Race you to the ice-cream shop!” And they all held hands and ran exitedly into the shopping centre.
Flopsy looked out of the car window and a single my little pony tear ran down her cheek and onto her soft flank. Soon she was fast asleep and dreaming of sugar cubes the size of mountains.
She woke with a start! Two old smelly men had broken into the car and grabbed Flopsy by her mane! She tried to shout out for help but they wrapped her muzzle in cling film (restaurant grade – remember this point – it’ll come in handy later) before bundling her into a cardboard box.
Poor frightened little Flopsy. The last thing she remembered before passing out was the THUD of the car boot closing and the roar of its engine as the thieves made their getaway.
Meanwhile Emma and her mum and dad had eaten 17 ice creams in a multitude of flavours and sizes and we’re feeling rather full.
“Let’s not bother with broccoli tonight. Let’s go home” said mum.
“Yes let’s!” Said Emma and her dad in unison. (Not the trade union or in it’s premises. Any hoo)
They ambled back to their car, ice cream bloated, giggling and shoving each other into passing lampposts as ice cream bloated happy people do.
As they approached their car Dad noticed that one of the doors was open and when they looked inside they realised that FLOPSY HAD GONE! DAH! DAH! DAH! Emma was inconsolable. Not even the promise of a dozen new my little ponies could stop her tears. And wailing. And jumping up and down like a spoiled brat. I digress.
Dad rang the police. When they arrived they said “Ello, Ello, Ello. What’s all this here then?”
The family explained about the broccoli and the ice cream and Flopsy being sick and walking into lampposts and the nice policemen wrote everything down and promised to look into it.
(Unfortunately they didn’t then produce a large box with an ‘IT’ written on it to look into. That would have been too obvious a gag. And totally uncalled for)
It was a sad journey home for Emma. Flopsy was gone. Stolen. She hoped that Flopsy was still alive. She missed her my little pony.
Somewhere, quite a looooooooooong time later……
The car suddenly stopped. Flopsy summoned up all of her strength and tried to break free of the cling film and the box. It was no good. Someone lifted the box and opened the lid. The bright light temporarily blinded her. Then a girl in tight white pants and knee boots took off the cling film. Flopsy took a GIANT breath.
“Where am I” she neighed.
“Don’t worry little one. You’ll love it here!” Said the girl.
Flopsy looked up and saw a large sign which read ‘TEAM GB EQUESTRIAN TRAINING CENTRE’
“That’s right little one. You’re going to be an Olympic show jumper. Isn’t that exciting!”
Flopsy thought about it for a moment. “But what about Emma?” She asked.
“This is what Emma wanted” said the girl “She wrote to us and arranged to leave you in the car. Why else would she do that silly!”
Flopsy looked at the girl and rolled her big my little pony eyes.
“Can I see her?”
The girl’s mood changed.
“NO YOU CAN’T” she shouted. “George! We’ve got a tricky one here. Put her with Gertrude and the other deviants!”
“Of course m’am”
And with that Flopsy was taken to a messy stable with Gertrude, Henrietta and Cybil.
“Do as you’re told and you’ll be alright” said George gruffly.
Flopsy was so tired that she crawled into a corner, wrapped herself with hay and drifted into a fitful sleep.
“Sleep tight my little pony” gently whispered Gertrude, Henrietta and Cybil. “Sleep tight”
After many, many, many, many, many, and then some months, Flopsy had become the best darnedest rootin tootin showjumping horse in the whole of showjumpingdom. And soon they boarded a plane at Heathrow bound for Rio de Janeiro! They were Olympics bound!
But Flopsy had never forgotten about Emma. And she never, ever would.
As far as stables went, the ones in Rio were pretty nice. Lots of fresh straw, clean water, good food and a big TV switched to the Olympics so that the stable hands could sit and chat and watch the sports.
Flopsy found most of it boring, to be honest, but she loved the gymnastics! Loved, loved, loved it! The agility, grace, the dizzy twists and jumps and bounces and everything!
“I’d love to do that!” She said to Henrietta. “It looks so much fun!”
“Then why don’t you little one. You can do anything you want to if you really want to do it!”
“Thanks Henrietta” said Flopsy “You’re a true friend”
Soon Flopsy’s big day came. She and the other horses were loaded into the horse Boxes and they excitedly chatted all the way to the equestrian centre. But Flopsy couldn’t get those wonderful images of the gymnasts out of her head and as the horse box rumbled down the road she kicked out with her hind legs and the side of the horse box started to splinter. She kicked again and again until she had enough room to wriggle out. She waited until they stopped at traffic lights and made her bid for freedom.
Flopsy had memorised where the Rio Olympic Arena was and quickly got her bearings and galloped through the Rio streets. People jumped out of her way or stopped in their tracks in shock. They had never seen a my little pony with such beautiful eyes and with such a sense of purpose. (Nearly said porpoise there. Boom tish!)
Flopsy galloped past the turnstiles and used her show jumping skills to traverse people and seats and the occasional duck. She burst past security staff and into the arena (stopping only to powder her dainty hooves with chalk dust).
There it was! Her favourite apparatus. The beam! She took a deep breath. ‘This is it!’ She thought.
With a flick of her mane she pushed into the floor and sailed through the air to land perfectly on the beam.
Back in Nutsandwich, just outside Spalding on the Downs, Emma and her mum and dad were watching the Olympics on TV. The gymnastics was their favourite.
Suddenly Emma shouted excitedly “IT’S FLOPSY! MY FLOPSY! AND SHE’S A SUPERSTAR!”
Flopsy didn’t, of course, win any medals but she had a fantastic time and soon she was back where she belonged. With her Emma and she could live out her days as Emma’s my little pony (until boys came along but Hey Ho)
And remember the restaurant quality cling film? And the two smelly old men? Thankfully Flopsy had kept a tiny fragment of the cling film and it was traced to a restaurant in Poddington ran by the infamous international hit men chefs, Ernest and Julio Bombastic.
They didn’t live happily ever after but everyone else did!