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It was the day of the annual Applewood Derby, and it was beautiful out. Celestia's sun shone in its full fury, not a cloud to be seen and only a small breeze to offer the slightest bit of relief from the relentless summer heat.

For the derby, conditions couldn't be more perfect. So somepony had either been paying close attention to the weather forecast, or somepony cheated.

Where ponies were involved, the latter was more likely true.

Accusing ponies of cheating is of course a rather harsh accusation, but let's analyse it for a moment, shall we?

How could the weather be so perfect on the exact right day in the year for the Applewood Derby? Because ponies, more specifically pegasi, controlled the weather.

Why were ponies the most respected species on the planet? Their princess controlled the freakin' sun.

How come evil had never truly prevailed in Equestria? Weaponised friendship.

Ergo, ponies cheat.

Nopony was more familiar with this unusual concept of ponies' loose interpretations of certain rules, predominately the rules of physics, than Ponyville's solitary schoolteacher, Cheerilee. She was after all, a bit of a cheater herself. Tenured teachers eat your heart out, she had the monopoly on education in the area, taking job security to a whole new level. But what made her more qualified on the phenomenon of pony cheaters was the fact she was in charge of students. Because we all know, where there are students, there are opportunities to cheat. Be it in classes, on tests, and as we will explore shortly, even in competitions.

Ever the watchful mentor to the little ponies under her tutelage, Cheerilee wasn't out solely for the purpose of looking for cheaters. Less of a judge, jury and executioner, Cheerilee was instead focused on supporting the young ponies who had been hard at work building their carts and were now about to race for the first time.

As such she'd dressed for the occasion. It had to be an 'occasion,' as such was the only reason ponies tended to put on stuffy clothing. That being said, Cheerilee's cheerleading outfit was anything but stuffy.

A breezy short skirt straddled her flanks, partially obscuring the three smiling daisies that formed her cutie-mark. The yellow complimented her cerise coat nicely, a sleeveless vest completed her cheerleading outfit.

Reared up on her hind legs she waved a couple of pom-poms in the air, wagging her hips to an unheard beat as she cheered on the racers prepping at the starting line. As she gyrated up and down the opening straight run which would grant the racers some momentum following the start, Cheerilee glanced over and spied a couple of admirers.

Some of the stallions, and also a couple of teenage colts were looking rather intently in her direction rather than where the derby racers were getting ready. Each time a light breeze lifted the ends of her skirt, she noted their eyes would bug slightly to take in the sleek, sumptuous curvature of her flanks.

Cheerilee managed a subtle smirk and even gave her garnished butt a little wiggle so she could relish in the result it had on the stallions.

This old mare's still got it, she thought to herself with pride.

While Cheerilee was distracted she didn't notice the trouble about. The very trouble she had anticipated before the derby even got on the way. As the little ponies got their carts ready on the starting line, two colts in particular readied their four-wheeled deathtrap for the race.

Their cart was the loosest possible interpretation of the Applewood Derby rules. Built out of lightweight materials like most others - but taken to a new extreme. Wooden wheels, sure, but a frame made of matchsticks, super-clue, cardboard panels and plenty of duct-tape.

For reasons totally escaping the reason of other ponies' casual observations there were several wing-like stabilisers, nacelles giving the cart quite a rocket-like profile. The whole thing was bright blue with a red nosecone at the front - since red tended to go faster - and had just about enough room to seat both Snips and Snails.

"Wouldn't it have been better to make our cart out of wood like the others?" Snails asked in his typical slow monotone.

"Too heavy. These art supplies will make our cart light and fast," the other unicorn colt answered. Snails resisted the urge to point out the short and pudgy Snips would be enough to slow them both down.

"But aren't we going to attach rockets to our cart anyway?"

Snips' eyes bugged and he jumped the lankier unicorn, shoving a hoof in his mouth and looking around to make sure nopony had heard him. Satisfied the coast was clear, the other colts and fillies were far too busy making final adjustments to their own carts to pay the duo any attention, he unplugged Snails' mouth again.

"Keep it down, willya?" he hissed. "Now get the duct-tape."

Snails nodded and dipped his head into the back of their cart to retrieve a roll of silver tape. Snips in the meantime covertly collected a pair of very large rockets. The fireworks were bright red, as the most dangerous ones usually were. Stubby, fat rockets with a long fuse allowing the idiot who sparked it enough time to run away as far as possible before the thing went off.

These were clearly not the kind of fireworks colts should have been playing with. So, they strapped them to their cart. Because 'why not?'

It didn't take much to load the rockets. They were fairly hefty, but to Snips and Snails' credit so were the carboard and staples constructed wings on their cart. They used a few strips of tape to attach them, but the duo would later look back on their stingyness with their duct tape and grimace.

As they donned their helmets and climbed into the cart, all down the line the other ponies did the same. Some were sibling pairs, father-son teams, etcetera. The one thing they had in common was that everypony was strapping themselves into a four-wheeled soapbox and preparing to careen at breakneck speed downhill.

The stage was set. The main event was about to get underway.

"Alright," Snips muttered out the corner of his mouth. "Get those fuses lit. We want to be going as soon as the flag is waved."

Snails nodded and ducked down again, this time popping up with a pair of matches in his mouth. He struck them off his forehoof then scurried about the cart to light the fuses. The powder infused ropes sparked then spat a shower of white sparks with a hiss as Snails, as quickly as he could manage, spat out the matches and dove back into the cart.

The anticipation killed them, listening to the hissing and watching Cheerilee moving closer to get the race started. Both colts were buzzing with excitement, ready for the crushing rush of acceleration their super-illegal rocket boosters would give them. They were totally going to win first place!

So long as the wheels remained on the road of course.

Snails braced himself. Snips licked his lips as he tightened his hooves over the steering wheel.

However, all was not totally right. Typically the fuses would have given them about sixty seconds. Enough time for Cheerilee to reach the start line and wave for go. Unfortunately, the fuses were... faulty.

They burned through in less than ten seconds. And as soon as Snails was strapped in the rockets let out a high-pitched whistling noise and began spitting a tail of multi-coloured fire.

The colts thought this was it. A false start. They'd just jet off down the track ahead of the others, wasting a pair of perfectly good rockets. Of course, Snips and Snails' understanding of structural engineering was... loose, to say the least.

As such both rockets took off at the same time, leaving the colts behind as their cardboard nacelles were torn from the fuselage of their cart. The first drunkenly weaved ahead of them, showering the duo in flames as it jetted off towards the spectators. Several ponies dove out of the way, others diving for cover as the rocket shot among them. Several singed manes and Wilhelm-screams later the rocket ploughed through a lemonade stand, managed to ricochet off something, tore a smouldering hole in the canvas roof of the stand and shot up into the air before exploding. And not even into a beautiful shower of sparks. It wasn't even that kind of firework. Just a violent second sun bloomed into existence, letting off a boom that shook Princess Celestia's study and knocked the contents of an ink bottle onto a political proposal that had taken her hours to prepare.

While the first rocket did its thing, the second shot directly at Cheerilee who had been trotting over to signal the start of the race. She saw it coming of course, a big red rocket trailing light and flame was hard to miss, and covering her head in her hooves she dove for the deck.

The rocket streaked overhead with a fiery hiss. But before the mare could breathe with relief she realised something was terribly amiss. In her hurry to go to ground, she'd left her bueatiful rear-end sicking up in the air and vulnerable.

The smell of smoke hit her before the intense heat burning in her flanks did and she turned her gaze with horror.

The rocket had clipped her skirt, setting it ablaze, angry tongues flames spreading to her tail and lapping at her cutie-mark.

Cheerilee howled with a mixture of panic and agony, the sensation of having dipped her butt in a vat of boiling water searing at her lower body. The heat was intense enough to put tears in her eyes, and she leapt into the air, wildly kicking all four legs as she tried to figure out how she was going to put the flames out. Everything she'd taught her students about stopping, dropping and rolling went out the window and she shot off like she'd grown a pair of wings.

She ran one way, blowing desperately at the flickering flames now consuming the entirety of her butt.

She then dragged herself like a dog on the carpet another way, hoping the dirt she was kicking up would put the flames out.

When that didn't work she galloped down the track with enough speed to overtake one of the racers who'd misinterpreted her howling leap as the signal to go. The leading racer blinked confoundedly when he swore he'd just been overtaken by a fire elemental. Cheerilee made it to the first sharp turn before any of the racers did and practically tackled the nearest water-barrel that served as a safety barricade.

Several spectators, staring in confusion, watched as Cheerilee dove into the top, ass-first into the water. Her flanks hissed as the attached mare let out a long sigh of relief, steam billowing from the barrel as the flames were finally doused. Cheerilee stayed put for a protracted moment during which the racers, watching in bewilderment, turned the first corner and continued down the set track.

Eventually when the burning heat in her butt equalised to the frigid water in the barrel, Cheerilee climbed off and let out another sigh before inspecting the damage. Considering she'd been lit on fire she fared rather well.

Her skirt was bedraggled, soaked now and fringed with crusty charred fabric. Her tail was a crackly, twisted mess that would take months to grow back to normal, and the fur on her flanks was blackened with soot and carbon. It generally took more than that to really hurt a hardy earth-pony, but Cheerilee was pissed all the same.

Her lovely tush that had the rapt attention of many hunky colts wasn't going to be drawing anyone's fancy for a good while. The fact somepony had been playing with fire when they shouldn't have was drowned by Cheerilee's personal ire. The playful wag in her hips gone now, the teacher started a firm trot back up the racetrack with a fairly good idea of whose fault this was.

It is true, ponies cheated in a variety of life's challenges. From the weather, to earning respect from Equestria's neighbours, and even in matters of counter-terrorism. But let's not deny that it works out for the betterment of pretty much the world. Crops grow strong and bountiful; world peace is secured and evil is only proliferated by a very select few.

With that being said, there are these rare instances where cheating was marked as decidedly... bad.

Stuck on the starting blocks; their coats charred; their mouths puffing little O's of smoke and their car smouldering as a result of their pyrotechnic misdemeanour, Snips and Snails saw their teacher come closer to have some very terse words with them. They shared a glance, then both gulped audibly.