Inkie, as she was calling herself again now, gulped as she trotted up to her boss. She cleared her throat. He turned. Her boss, Testing Zone, had a thinning neon red mane and a white coat. He was shorter than Inkie, but nearly everyone was. He was also very very fat. His Cutiemark was a tank of gasoline. He was a tyrant and a grump. "What you want, Ms. Link Quill?" He snapped. "Its Ink Quill," she replied coldly. "Whatever. Now, whaddo you want?" "Sir, I-I do not understand why you have Scribe handle all the big stories. I was thinking-" "Thinking?" howled Testing. "Then I know this can't be good." "-that he may need some help. I volunteer my writing to help him carry all that weight," she finished as if he hadn't said a thing. Testing stared, bewildered at her for a second, then he snapped," No. Scribe carries this gazette just fine without your help." He said 'your' the way some people said 'manure'. Inkie opened her mouth again. "Sir, I tried to be nice with my point, but you did not listen to me. Now the dog shall turn 'round and bite. Sir, I want to write about something that matters. Why, in Celestia's name, did you hire me if I am to write once and then sit and read War & Peace for the rest of my natural life?" Even in her rage, Inkie's voice stayed slightly monotone. Testing snapped then. "Yooooooou should know your place, missy! If I think only Scribe is good enough to write, then he is!" Testing turned to everypony staring. "I said if. Now, EVERYPONY, BACK TO WORK!"