//------------------------------// // On Writing... // Story: On Writing... // by Heavyhauler75622 //------------------------------// It’s actually a nice day today in the Southwest. I got up, showered, had a decent breakfast, and now, with a cup of coffee nearby, I sit down at my computer. Writing is something you’ve got to do everyday. Every chance I get, I put a few more words down in a string of electronic impulses, taking ideas in my head out, and trying to make sense with them. Hopefully, some people will get to read them as well, and a few of those will give me a little feedback as to what they liked or didn’t like about something. So I turn the thing on, log it in, and root around in my documents folder looking for the last brilliant idea I had. There’s a few in here that died early; an auspicious start, but soon, they ran into walls, or rolled while taking a corner, and the burning hulks just sit in here and smolder. I hope that one day the inspiration that had me start them will come around again and stick around long enough to finish one or two, but so far, the smoke is the only thing that remains of that. Ah, here it is. I put it up, and start writing… “What’cha doin’, DJ?” comes a voice by my side. Rainbow Dash is hanging off my right shoulder, fascinated, as I type. “Talking about you, Dash,” I say, as I put some finishing touches on the last paragraph. “You’re contemplating…” I’ve known Dash for four years now. Those expression-filled eyes DHX made for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic are a dead giveaway. The minute I say anything that seems to be erudite, they immediately glaze over, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. This time was no exception. “Look, RD…you’re not stupid. Why then, should I make you seem stupid?” I ask reasonably. “Because I’m not an egghead, DUH!!” she says, exasperated. “You know, if you’d just stick to making me twenty percent cooler…” “Dash, we’ve been over this…catchphrases are cool, up to a point. Past that finite shelf life, they become clichés. I’m trying to avoid that with you. Clichés are not cool.” I grumble, taking a sip of my coffee. “Heh. Says you,” she points out, sniggering. “Does Hasbro kick you payola or something every time someone uses that? It gets used in an episode, you get base plus percentage? C’mon, just be up front with it,” I say as I try to reason with her. “No. It’s my trademark. It gets me noticed,” she sniffs. “Oh, like everyone ignores a four-foot tall cyan Pegasus with magenta eyes and a rainbow mane and tail? ‘Oh, look, who’s that flashy blue speedster over there? Fluttershy?’” I say, frustrated. “Um…if you don’t mind, I’d like to be left out of this, please…” I scrupulously avoid looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Flutts, but RD gets me so upset with that brashness act. It’s like she’s a one-trick pony. Take her out of her comfort zone, give her a chance to stretch, and I get Diva.” “You know…you could just, I don’t know…ask her, maybe?” Fluttershy says, gently tapping the tips of her forehooves together nervously. “If I did that, we’d get two outputs…flying, and Wonderbolts. No, make that three, Daring Doo, flying, and Wonderbolts.” “And what about her, Mister Hot-Shot Writer?” Rainbow Dash asked almost plaintively. “Fluttershy stretches. And we’re talking about you, not her.” “Oh, stretching like, ‘Angel Bunny’, and ‘shy’, and, ‘nervous’…” “Maybe we should bunk Discord down with you for awhile, and see,” I say significantly. RD blanches a bit. “Could I say sumthin’ here?” Applejack interjects. “Look, I want to put you in something that lets you be the big star, AJ. Its taking awhile, just be patient. You’re hard to write for. That apples and Honesty thing. I get Honesty, I really do, girl, but honest ponies don’t get too challenged by dishonest ones, despite the Flim Flam brothers. It makes it hard to get any traction on you.” She just looks at me now. I sigh ponderously, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Sorry, AJ. What?” “Y'all want anythin’ from the market?” she asks moodily. Seems I poked a raw nerve. “Fresh produce. Don’t buy the cherries, we can get them cheaper here. And apples.” “Are you implyin’ ah don’t know ‘bout nuthin’ except apples?” she says defensively. “NO, I’m not. But they really laid it hard on you with RD’s last featurette. Very unfair. I have to fix that, but I’m blocking as to how to do it. Please, a little patience.” I say. “How are you getting to Equestria?” I ask nervously. Somehow, I’m always worried the government is going to find out about ponies, do something they’re very good at, meaning being stupid, and we’ll be full on in a war with magical beings, said beings that can use that ability on us with our own weapons. I have a great aversion to glowing in the dark. “Twi’s givin’ me a lift. I’ll be back in two hours, if anyone at Hasbro thinks a poor country farm Earth pony can find her way back to the right place on time,” she says morosely. Jeez, that background pony thing she read on the interwebz really hit her hard. I need to get back on that thread and flame that pinhead up. Though it’s Tumblr…no one will notice. “Hey, come on,” I tell her, a hand on her shoulder. “The season is almost done, and then you can go home and relax, hang out with everyone on the farm, take it easy. Take the time for a mini-vacation. Just don’t…” “Don’t what?” says a pink ball of energy, poinging into the room. I facepalm. “Don’t let cousin Pinkie Pie leave her Party Cannons lying around. They have laws against that here.” I finish, glaring at her. It was hard to explain to the Sherriff’s Department that the loud bang they heard the other day was a carbide cannon. I still got cited for disturbing the peace, and do you think a certain hyperactive mare with a glucose problem, (addiction), would volunteer to pay for it? I’ve got a bridge in Equestria to sell you if you did. You’re an easy mark. “But it was so much fun!” she says, grinning. “We can try that other thing I saw on TV next!” I have an irrational compulsion to want to explain to her again that “World’s Stupidest (blank)” is not something to emulate just because you aren’t subject to all sorts of physical laws and consequences. Like it helped the last four times I tried. I manage to push it back down. “Pink, just because you’re the ‘Bestest Pony’ of my youngest, don’t think you can skate by on everything,” I say, just as a blue-tinted aura with a rolled-up newspaper wings by me, applies itself to her head firmly once. Pinkie Pie rubs the spot, giving the stinkeye at the wielder. “OW! Why did you do that, Rarity?” she says. “It’s because you are out of control again, darling. That escapade with the gendarmes should have been a proper indication to you at the time. And you hid my spray bottle,” Rarity says calmly. “But I was wet like, forever! How can I be the most super-duper party pony of all time when I always look like Pinkemena and drip water on the floor? Huh? HOW?” Pinkie screeches. Three or four of us flinch from the pitch, but Rarity, being Rarity, doesn’t. She stares at Pinkie balefully. “It’s because she thinks she’s better than us, because he wrote that story about her and Marilyn Monroe’s dress,” RD says, trying to shove herself back into the spotlight. Fluttershy shakes her head, but no one else notices. “Girls…” Oh, great…Purple Smart’s here, attracted to the noise, no doubt…prepare for lecture… Twilight Sparkle strides in, all self-confidence and brilliance. All of us wilt slightly, knowing we’re all about to be subjected to all sorts of demagoguery about Friendship, Friendship Magic, Harmonic Elements of Friendship, Friendship Through the Ages, anon, anon, anon… A quick review of my day for today reveals I have absolutely nothing, not even a dreaded dental appointment, which I can use to extract myself from this situation. Nor does anyone else. And she controls the teleporting. They that control the teleport, control the universe. And even if I could cut my wrists to avoid this, she wouldn’t allow me. Magic. Thou sucketh. She pops Applejack, wearing a relieved smile, on her way to the Ponyville market. Lucky her. “DJ, girls…we’re all friends here. There’s absolutely no reason to get all upset about this situation. If we just apply our principles to this we can rapidly reach an appropriate conclusion beneficial to everyone…” Rainbow Dash decides to make a last-ditch stand. Gotta give her props for having the scrotum, (figuratively), to make the play. I wouldn’t. I got nuthin’. Until I discover what it entails... “You wouldn’t be saying that, Twilight, if you stopped reading all those new books here and paid attention!” she says. “And why is that, Rainbow Dash? DJ has been very a very accommodating and generous host. He’s even helped some of us meet our fans in a more personal way…” “If you knew how personal it was, you wouldn’t be so happy about it,” Dash says, smirking at me. Suddenly, I understand. I’m about to get it for not playing her to her typecast like she wants. The Diva is about to start smashing up the hotel room over the M&M’s… Twilight immediately switches tracks. Rainbow Dash always knows what button to push when and in what way with Twilight Sparkle. I cringe internally. “What personal?” Twi says, confused. “Nothing much. Just that he takes it a little too far, if you know what I mean,” she says, shooting me a wicked grin. “It’s not like that,” I start to say…and realize, with that statement, I’ve already lost. “Yeah, sure,” Rainbow Dash goes on. “Everyone saves all that ‘Princess Molestia’ stuff…” Twilight’s face darkens, and her head lowers until she’s staring out from beneath her eyebrows. RD just pushed the “Arm” switch on an Alicorn. I feel my face blanch, the blood in my body draining into my left shoe. “And who favorited ‘Tara's Badonkadonk’ on his YouTube account? It wasn’t me… At least I’m not watching an animated Tara Strong dance while some guy sings, ‘Tara Strong has a nice Badonkadonk’ for one minute, fifty-three seconds!” Rainbow Dash says, chuckling at her little joke. “You what? Tara is my Voice Actress…you keep her out of this!” Twilight yells. She’s staring right at me. I wisely drop anything in mind about Harley Quinn, Raven, and Timmy Turner. “Hey!! I didn’t say it…she said it!” I tell Twilight, pointing at a blue Pegasus, who’s rolling around on the floor in hysterical spasms of laughter. “Told ya!” RD says, giggling between gasps of air. I’m probably going to die now. Twilight Sparkle doesn’t have to teleport me one hundred miles above the planet, though it would definitely solve the problem as to what to do with my body. She has as many options as there are stars in Luna’s sky. A quiet grey Pegasus mare with odd eyes comes in, unnoticed. “The toilet’s clogged…” she starts to say, when she sees how on edge everyone is. Sighing, she goes to the utility closet, pulls out the plunger herself, and tugs it after her to the bathroom. The room is getting very tense. Everyone is staring at everyone else, wondering what’s next… “ENOUGH!” I say, as I close out the file. When it asks me to save, I click the “No” box…and I stare at the quiet room. There’s an odd noise coming from the bathroom. I decide to go look… And see Derpy trying to unplug the toilet with an unwieldy tool. “Derpy, sweetie, let me do that,” I say, as I take it and fix the problem. She sits on the edge of the tub, with a sympathetic, pained smile. I flush it, and it works as designed. “There.” “Why, DJ?” she asks, a hoof on my shoulder. I stare at the toilet, unable to look at her. “It’s been a rough last six months, hun. Sometimes, it just gets loose…” “You miss them.” “Yes. All of them. Even that rotten wife of mine that abandoned me, and took my family away. I miss the chaos, the smiles, the stony silence, the smart mouthed arrogance, the happy parts. The quiet…sometimes, I have to fill the quiet. I know they’re not like that; your friends. Even when they’re disharmonious, totally out of character, it’s better than the quiet…” “You know its slowly getting better,” she says. “You get up, you do things, and you take care of the cat they left behind, too. You’re picking yourself up, a piece at a time, and when you find where it goes, you glue it back in place. You’re finding new people to talk to, to be around. Don’t give up.” “Thirty years, Derps.” I get up off the floor; sit near her on the tub edge, too. “Thirty years is a long time after which to try to find a new way to live, girl. Even if it gets to be the best it can be, the cracks will always be there from now on…” We just sit there, the two of us…