Hi. My name is Phantom Horn, and I’m a unicorn. Don’t let those other plebian ponies affect what you think of me. Just because I was born an earth pony doesn’t mean I am an earth pony. Just like Albert Reinstein and Bill Gaits, both born into families non-conducive to their futures, I plan on making my own future. I am a unicorn, and nopony else can take that away from me.
Phantom Horn was just like any other pony, if a bit delusional. He’s an earth pony, with the determination and heart of an earth pony, but, well, he’s put that power into believing with the full potential of his heart that he’s a unicorn. His cutie mark, earned at a Summer Sun Celebration when he was but a foal, is even of an invisible horn. When he earned his cutie mark, however, there was still no horn. He still can’t use magic, and can’t perform spells. That doesn’t stop him from trying.
“Fucking sandwich can’t lift itself… Why isn’t my horn working today? It’s usually at least glowing by lunch time.” Phantom sat a table in Ponyville, eating his hay sandwich the normal earth pony way. Other ponies stared at him intently, not because his eating style was weird, or because he was talking to himself. No, what caused them to stare so much was the toilet paper roll taped to his forehead. Combined with a bright pink shirt emblazoned with “Unicorns Rule” made for a quite unforgettable sight.
He slammed his hooves on the table. “I need to get in contact with the damn Magic Council and see if we’re having a shortage today. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to lift this sandwich.” He angrily chewed on, paying no attention to the stares he was accruing. He was used to it.
He had to get used to it. Once he discovered that race roles were chosen, and not bestowed at birth, he knew he had to tell everyone he was actually a unicorn. It made for a tough time at school, where all of the other fillies and colts made fun of him for not having a horn. “Who’s ever heard of a unicorn without a horn?” they’d taunt.
When he returned home, his brother, Keg Standard, talked to him after finding his own calling. “Look, bro, now that I know that picking up babes and partying all night is my destiny, I need to talk to you about yours.” Keg grabbed his brother’s shoulder and sat him down. “Mares can be really fickle whores, you know that? But even though they slap me, and throw their drinks on me, and call the cops on me, and put restraining orders on me, do you know what I do? I keep trying. I don’t let it get me down. I keep trying until those mares stop me themselves. And if it doesn’t work, I try a new one.” Phantom looked up at his brother, tears still in his eyes, but smiling a bit.
“You have to just not let them get to you, bro. Just keep at your destiny, regardless of what anypony tells you. Now get out there and work your magic!” Keg put on his glasses, smiled at his brother, and trotted away. Secretly, Keg was thinking to himself just how much of a faggot his brother had to be to cry about his own dumbass decision, but he was glad that his brother was functional again, if a bit crazy.
Nowadays, Phantom minds his own business, running his own errands and ignoring anything anypony says about his horn. He knows what’s right and what’s not, and those dumbasses always mentioning his horn are what’s not. They’re just lucky his magic isn’t working today, or else they’d pay.
He finished his sandwich and headed off to his next task: a seminar he was running at the town hall about privilege. He organized it months in advance, had his entire speech and presentation prepared, and should have a decent showing. It’s not often that everypony has the opportunity to learn about the master race and check their privileges at the same time. He trotted to the hall, smiling and ignoring the snickers and giggles along the way. It doesn’t even make sense anymore, seeing as they see him everyday.
He arrived at the town hall and saw the banner introducing him as the guest speaker for that week. He read it, seeing the title of the seminar, the pictures he added and… “Presented by Sub Standard”. He paused, smile subsiding. Sub Standard? What the fuck were these ponies thinking? He specifically told them not to use his birth name, as it was oppressive to his true destiny. He considered it one of his triggers, but, given that he read about those in a psychology book years ago and didn’t get the full understanding of the text, it wasn’t. But he still thought so, and in his head, that meant it was true.
He angrily huffed and strode into the hall, preparing to see the hundreds of attendees he was expecting. Instead, he saw hundreds of empty chairs and one pony sitting near the middle on the right side. One pony. One pony out of a town with a population of more-than-one. This isn’t fucking Appleloosa, this ain’t no one-horse town!
“Goddammit! Can this day get any worse?” he shouted into the sparse room. The single pony he had in attendance looked at him.
“Yes,” he said as he walked to the center aisle, walked past him while muttering something under his breath, and walked out of the hall. “It has to, or it’ll never get any better.” The pony, an older gentlecolt, smiled briefly before disappearing into the town.
“Shit.” Phantom plopped down onto the closest chair, exasperated, and just stared to the podium, where he was supposed to give the seminar. Not one pony at all. What did he do wrong? Was it the newspaper ads he put in? Nah, plebian isn’t that bad a word. Or maybe the flyers? I’m sure nopony was offended by the pro-unicorn propaganda. In fact, why weren’t there any unicorns here? Phantom hoped nopony thought this was a race rally.
He sat there for several hours, as he had rented out the space for five, just staring. He had developed a headache, just a slight throb, but it got worse as time wore on. He got up and trotted out of the building when the throb escalated into a full blown migraine. Phantom decided it was time to sleep off his bad day and start again tomorrow, happy and ready to enlighten the ignorant.
When he reached his house, a really sharp pain shook him, causing him to dip his head as he entered the door. He twisted his head and knocked it into the jamb. “FUCK that hurt. Goddammit!” He rubbed his head to ease the soreness and continued on, ignoring the pain. He walked upstairs, removed his Cardboard Unicorn Nonpermanent Tube (which he got as a standard issue replacement when he confronted the Magic Council), and lied down, preparing to sleep. It had been a long and horribly disappointing day, but he’ll make sure tomorrow starts off right.