//------------------------------// // 6-Swarm of the Century // Story: A Novice Swordsman in the Canterlot Court // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// Chapter 6 Alan took a deep breath, held it for a brief second, then exhaled through the nose. Across from him, was a pony opponent armed with a stick. A stick that had a basic sword-like shape, and was held by a lavender aura. “There are three stages of Swordsmanship.” Arthur had said, “Stage One: The Sword and Swordsman are in conflict. This is the first stage of any page, and one of any novice. The Sword will not move correctly, it will not flow in the hand of the wielder. It is in conflict with swordsman, and will forever be until the man subdues the sword. A sword will always bow to its maker, sometime to a heir, but never to a stranger. A stranger must subdue the sword before making it his.” Alan gave Judgement a quick look. Prepare to be subdued. The opponent pony jumped for him, swinging his stick in a wide arc. Judgement slapped the stick, its edge biting into the magically hardened bark, before he twisted the stick away, giving it momentum away from him. Just as Arthur had instructed. The stick, now flying wildly off to Alan’s left was now nowhere to protect the equine, and Alan made to strike. Judgement, however, chose that exact moment to rebel. What was supposed to be a smooth, swift motion, swung wide instead. Not as wide as the stick, but wide enough to give his opponent time to recover. The blade and bark met again, pieces of the latter flying as the edge bit into it. Alan growled. No. Judgement is mine. He pushed forward on the stick, feeling the other resist before suddenly disengaging. The stick flew into an uppercut as the resistance it was facing suddenly disappeared. An uppercut that Alan easily sidestepped. Alan brought Judgement up as the pony tried to recover, catching the opponent in the jaw. The pony dematerialized, and the stick flew over to Twilight’s side. “There, you practiced. Are you happy?” she asked impatiently. “Not especially,” Alan said, looking down at his blade. Why do you fight me? Judgement did not answer. Alan sighed before sheathing the blade, signaling to the impatient unicorn that practice was over. “Finally,” she harrumphed. “We have too many preparations to make to just let you goof off all day with that sword.” “Yeah, yeah, preparations for Celestia’s visit and all that,” Alan said, waving her off. “How is it that a ‘Casual’ visit means break out the banners and streamers?” “She’s still the Princess,” Twilight argued. “Casual for her means not having every pony dress in their most expensive suit. Only the second most expensive suit.” Alan rolled his eyes. How was it that Twilight Sparkle, Celestia’s own student, never got the fact that when the Princess says “casual” she means casual. It was obvious to him, and he had only seen the first season. She had studied under her for 12+ years now and never caught on... “Fine, let’s go check up on the decorations you’ve insisted on putting up a day in advance.” Twilight ignored the jab, and led Alan straight through the town of Ponyville checking and rechecking various decorations. Alan, meanwhile let it all go past him, thinking about the other two stages of mastery. “Stage Two: The Sword and Swordsman are One. There is no longer any competition between wielder and blade. They flow as one, move as one, act as one, cut and kill as one. This is the longest of the two stages, and one that most become masters of. However the potential in this stage pales in comparison to that of the next. “Stage Three: The Sword and Swordsman are None. This last stage is a state of mind, rather than a level of proficiency. A novice could potentially reach this stage if particularly gifted, although it would be considerably more dangerous. In this stage, the Sword and Swordsman not only flow as one, but they flow with the battle. Time itself slows for them and they can feel the swings of swords and the raising of shields. They know when things are going to happen moments before they do, allowing them that much more time to act. “My style of swordsmanship relies on activating Stage Three at a whim.” That was a pretty tall order, Alan thought. The ability to go into a state of consciousness where your mind functions at a higher rate. Alan had heard that martial artists and the like would normally go into such a state, and he had even heard of normal people going into it, sometimes for very mundane things. He still remembered the story of one of his high-school friends, where he watched his glass of milk slowly fall to the ground giving him ample time to move his foot. “Alright,” Twilight said, pleased. “That just leaves the food.” Alan gave that just enough attention to hear before returning back to his thoughts. Arthur had given a few examples of exercises for such a thing, but he had never really had a chance to use them. He needed opponents, and since he didn’t want to hurt anypony, he did the one thing he knew was a good idea. He turned to Magic. Twilight did indeed have a spell that he could use. A simple affair that made a half-physical form of mana, something to make a target, before taking the stick and swinging it from the fake pony’s perspective. It did make a pretty convincing illusion, and while Alan had yet to lose against one of them, he still felt Judgement rebel. Every now and then it would act out. It would swing wide, move slow, and there were several times when he was sure that the blade had a mind of its own. It proved to be very annoying. All of his work so far would be for nothing if he could not harness the blade. He sighed, before following his hostess into Sugarcube corner. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Cake!” He said as he entered. He was met with a simple “hi” from the scrambling ponies. “How’s the banquet coming?” Twilight asked. Mrs. Cake pointed towards the table of half-eaten baked goods. “Uh...it would be going better if...” the last words escaped her, probably in a heartfelt attempt to not be rude. Of course, a certain pink pony made the effort pointless, especially when she ate an entire chocolate cake with three bites. “Pinkie!” Twilight yelled, “Those sweets are supposed to be for the Princess!” “I know!” Pinkie said, looking only a tad guilty, “That’s why I’m tasting them, I’m make sure that everything is tasty enough to touch the woyal tongue.” The word “royal” had been horribly massacred as Pinkie stuck out her tongue to prove her point. “And I,” she said, adopting an air of royalty, “Pinkie Pie do hereby announce these sweets to be fit for a king, or queen, or Princess!” “Except these cupcakes, right?” Alan said, hovering over one plate in particular, “They don’t look too fitting for a royal, we may have to get rid of them.” Alan picked one up, “I take it upon myself to sacrifice my stomach so that the Princess may have a better feast.” With that, he took a bite into it. “Ooh, that is a good point,” Pinkie said, bounding over. “I will not let you suffer alone, Alan, let me help you with this burden!” She then proceeded to eat half of the plate with a single bite, paper wrapper and all. Twilight sent both of them a glare. “Twilight, Pinkie, Alan,” the soft-spoken voice of Fluttershy said, “you won’t believe—” she started, coming through the door before skidding to a stop inside. The way she did it seemed to fit her somehow. “Oh. I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” “No, not at all,” Pinkie said. “Come on in and make yourself at home.” Then taking advantage of Twilight’s attention being somewhere else, ate another five cupcakes leaving only one more left for Alan. Twilight caught the move and resumed glaring. “What’s going on, Fluttershy?” Pinkie asked, possibly in an attempt to get out from under Twilight’s gaze. “You won’t believe what I found at the edge of the Everfree forest,” She said, a hint of pride in her eyes. “Come on out, little guy.” Alan knew what they were before the first one popped out of the pink, heart-shaped mane. Parasprites. “The Swarm of the Century”, huh? Honestly, he was expecting his next episode to be “Applebuck Season.” Alan watched as the scene unfolded before him again. The confusion over the appearance of the two additional insects, the wonder over what these adorable things were, Twilight daw-ing over one, and offering to take it home. Followed by her quick explanation over her slightly embarrassing moment. “Pinkie, do you want the other one?” Fluttershy offered. Pinkie stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Blegh, a Parasprite, are you kidding?” The two other ponies were absolutely confused by her reaction. “A Para-what?” Twilight asked. “How could you not li—” Fluttershy began, only to be cut off by Pinkie’s annoyed groan. “Now I’ve got to go find a trombone.” The unicorn and pegasus gave each other a look. “A what?” Twilight asked. “You know, a trombone!” Pinkie said, imitating said instrument’s slide before bouncing away. Alan picked up his other cupcake and followed the pink earth pony. “I’m going to make sure she doesn’t come back until you guys are done.” “That is an excellent idea!” Mrs. Cake said, rolling some more dough. “Thank you!” Mr. Cake yelled after him. Alan left, leaving only two confused friends, two busy acquaintances, and three demon spawn. Just an average, normal day in Ponyville. <<<|Ω|>>> “Alright!” Pinkie said, going through a checklist that Alan was sure she wasn’t carrying a few minutes ago. “We still haven’t found the trombone, but we’re going to have to live with that it seems. We still need two Percussion instruments, one Brass, one Wind, and ideally two Strings. One is mandatory.” Alan shook his head. How was it that this pink ball of energy could sometimes be more organized than Twi? “Alright, so the best place to find a couple of string instruments would probably be Lyra’s, it’s a shame Octavia isn’t in town anymore.” “Hey, Pinkie,” Alan said. “I’ve got a question for you.” “Shoot,” she replied happily. “Where did you first see a Parasprite?” “What?” “Well, you seem to know what they are as well as how to get rid of them, and I just want to know how.” “Oh,” Pinkie said, as a look of understanding flew across her face. “That makes sense I guess. Let’s see now...” she began, putting a hoof to her chin. “The first Parasprite I saw was back on the rock farm where I grew up. They had swooped in and began to eat all of our food, and we don’t get a lot of it, especially since all we grew was rocks. Marble doesn’t taste good you know. “Then they multiplied and before long they covered the entire farm like one big, nasty, carpet. It was pure luck that my sister, Inkie was in the school band.” “What did she play?” “The band.” “Huh?” “She was the whole band.” Alan blinked. Apparently, insanity did run in the family. “She was quick with that trombone of hers, and by the end of the day, we had them all bouncing out of Equestria into the small country of Cowmandu.” Alan blinked, again. “Cowmandu?” he asked. “Not the Cowmandu that had 99.9% of its population die of a massive famine?” “The same!” Alan blinked again, before shaking his head. “So you grew up on a rock farm?” Pinkie gave him a look, “Why are you asking me that? You know that already.” “I do?” “Yeah, you said it yourself, Equestria is just a story in your world, and since we’re the main characters it would only make sense that they would tell the stories of our cutie marks.” Holy Crap. Pinkie was using logic. “Well I...ok I did.” “Then why did you ask?” Alan paused at that. “Well...I...it’s hard to explain.” “I’ve got plenty of time,” Pinkie countered. “Well,” Alan said, figuring she wouldn’t let him get away with it. “I want to be your friend.” “But you are my friend, silly billy.” “Yeah, I know, but you're friends with everypony. The others, though, Fluttershy, Twi, Rarity, AJ, and Dashie you’re friends with them in a way that’s different from everypony else.” “Well yeah, but that’s because they're my bestest friends.” Alan smiled. “Well, I just want to be one of your bestest friends, I want to be bestest friends with all six of you, but if I just say all of the things that I know, I may just end up pushing all of you guys away.” Pinkie gave him a questioning look. “I mean, I know you guys. I know that you love to party, but hardly anypony takes you seriously because of that. I know that Twi is a very good student, but she has a few perfectionist tendencies as well as a few self esteem issues.” Alan did his best to explain, but the words felt lacking somehow. Pinkie gave him a long, hard look. “And how would that push you away? I’d think that would make us friends faster wouldn’t? Friends know each other, that’s how you become friends.” Alan sighed, how was he going to explain the awkwardness that Pinkie obviously never felt. How could he explain the idea that he was essentially a stalker, and he knew much more about these six ponies than he had any business knowing. “Well, yes, but you guys don’t know anything about me. I’m ready to be your friend, but I don’t think you guys are ready to be mine.” Pinkie thought about this for a second. “So, you act like you don’t know us that well so that it seems fair?” Alan blinked, she seemed to have caught it, surprisingly. “Yeah, something like that.” Pinkie giggled. “That’s so silly.” “What do you mean?” “Of course you know more about us than we do you. You’ve watched us become who we are, and even things that haven’t happened yet. We weren’t able to watch you, but if we had I’m sure we would know you inside out.” Alan smiled. “So you don’t mind if I know things you normally wouldn’t tell anypony?” “If you already know it doesn’t really matter does it?” she asked sagely. “If you know I wouldn’t tell a secret to anypony, would you?” Alan hesitated for a second, that was a good question, “Well, not if it hurt anypony.” “And that’s the only reason why I keep secrets,” Pinkie replied. “We don’t have a problem, then. Now come on, we have some instruments to find!” she smiled before bouncing away. Alan smiled before catching up to the pink pony. “Hey, slow down for me, alright.” “Well hurry up, slowy-pokie, we have Ponyville to save.” she said in her usual chirp. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Alan cried, catching up to the pink mare. He was sort of happy that Pinkie didn’t seem to mind his vast knowledge of all things pony. He could tell her how he felt watching them go through the things he could easily stop. It meant he wouldn’t have to carry this puppet master thing alone. He could confide in her, and explain himself, it...it was nice. “Hey, Pinkie,” Alan asked, now that he had more or less synced his pace. “I have another question.” “Go ahead.” “When I saw you on the rock farm, your hair was all straight and stuff.” “Yeah?” “Have you ever had that happen again?” “I thought you knew all about us,” Pinkie teased, before answering. “Yeah, a few times. It mostly happens when I get serious, not pouty-serious, but more, not-really-the-time-to-smile serious. It doesn’t happen too often.” Alan wondered at that. It was generally accepted that the straight-haired Pinkamena was an alter-ego of the pink mare, possibly something like a split personality, but apparently that wasn’t even close to the truth. It was a simple attitude change, the difference between Pinkie and Pinkamena was simply how often she smiled. This required further study. Right after he figured out where he was. “Hey, Pinkie, where are we going?” “To get instruments.” “Well, yeah, but where?” “Have you ever heard of a pony named Vinyl Scratch?” <<<|Ω|>>> The wubs of a overly loud bass could be heard outside the door of the relatively secluded house. Alan wondered if knocking would even be worth it. Pinkie, however, just rang the doorbell, and all of a sudden the lights, sounds and well, everything that even looked like it ran on electricity stopped. A second later it was back on, but the wubs were significantly quieter. The door opened, and out stepped a white unicorn with a short, frizzy, electric blue mane, and purple-mirrored sunglasses. “Pinkie! The Party Pony herself! What is up, girl?” They hoof-bumped. “Hey Vinyl!” Pinkie chirped, “I’ve brought a friend!” “Sweet! Any friend of Pinkie’s is a friend of mine.” “Guess you’ve got a lot of friends then,” Alan said, stepping forward. "Hello!" Vinyl exclaimed. “What have we got here? The Human of Ponyville? Hey man, if we’re partying tonight, it’s gonna get crazy! I’m the mix master DJ PON-3, but you can call me Scratch.” “Alan Williams, Pendragon in training, but you can call me Alan,” he said, holding out his fist. “Al, huh? Sweet,” Scratch replied, giving it his waiting fist a bump. “So what brings you two to my humble lair?” “We have an instrument emer—” A white hoof suddenly invaded Pinkie’s mouth. “Not here!” The DJ said, a new sense of urgency in her voice, before a pale blue magic pulled them both inside. Scratch shut the door behind them, locking it with no less than three deadbolts. She turned to Pinkie. “You said you would never talk about that in the open.” “Oopsies.” Scratch’s head snapped to Alan. “Are you cool?” Alan didn’t really know how to answer that. First of all, the question seemed very...spontaneous. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and without proper context, it could mean any number of things. Do you do drugs? Do you like dubstep? “Cool” could literally mean anything at this point. “He’s not going to say anything, Scratch.” “Are you sure?” The DJ asked. “Abso-positively!” Scratch hesitated for a second. “Make him Pinkie Pie Promise.” “Pinkie Pie Promise?” Alan asked. “Nopony breaks a Pinkie Promise,” Scratch replied cryptically. “Here, it works like this,” Pinkie said, before leading Alan through the motions. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a Cupcake in my eye.” Alan smiled before repeating the oddly familiar promise, swearing under penalty of...well whatever it was to not speak a word of this thing that Scratch had so well hidden. Finally satisfied, Scratch took them down the stairs to her basement door, which admittedly looked like a safe. There, she proceeded to unlock more deadbolts and tumblers than Alan wanted to count. The door opened, and the unicorn pushed them both in before locking the door behind them with two-inch thick steel rods that went straight into the concrete of the floor and ceiling of her basement. Vinyl turned to Alan. “I want you to understand this perfectly well. None of the things you see belong to me. Alright? If anyone asks, I'm holding them for a friend.” Alan suddenly hoped that it wasn’t actually drugs. Scratch then led them down a short spiral staircase, and Alan suddenly understood the secrecy. Scratch’s basement, you see, held an entire orchestra. Timpanis, Cellos, Basses, Double Basses, Violins, Violas, Tubas, Trombones, Trumpets, French Horns, Bassoons, Clarinets, Flutes, Piccolos, and a few others that Alan could not identify were spread across the basement, ordered per section, all surrounding a single podium with a white baton. Alan almost didn’t notice the Grand Piano in the corner. “It’s just a hobby!” Scratch explained, a blush on her cheeks. "Something I look into every now and then. You know, something I do when I’m looking for inspiration, Timpanis make a great beat, and you can’t really get that with synthetic drums, and remixed violins sound totally awesome when used right, and it is possible to beatbox on a flute, and—” “Scratch, I get,” Alan said. “No one will know.” Pinkie began picking through the instruments, worrying the DJ to no end as she bumped into several chairs, nearly sending more than one horn to the floor. “C-careful, Pinkie, please.” “Sure! No problem, Scratch!” The DJ, however, was not put at ease as the Party Pony picked her way through her orchestra. “So...uh...Al...” “Yeah?” “What are you going to be doing with this stuff?” “Well, there’s going to be an infestation.” Scratch raised an eyebrow. “And?” “And apparently, the only way to be rid of them is to lead them out of town Pied Piper style.” “Pied Piper Style?” Scratch asked, trying the words on her tongue, "That would make a decent song title,” she mumbled before asking. “What on earth is a Pied Piper?” Alan gave her the abridged version, “The story goes that there was a town that was overrun with rats, and they couldn’t get rid of them. One day, a man showed up, and offered to take care of the problem. He then began to play his pipe, and every single rat followed him out of town, and he led them off a cliff. When he got back to the town, they wouldn’t pay him, so he led all of the children out of town and over the same cliff as revenge. Thus the phrase, ‘Time to pay the Piper.’” Scratch nodded. “Alright, and while I like the sound of that, I’m...well...” she leaned in close. “Did Pinkie tell you about these things?” “Yeah.” “Well,” she started, whispering. “It’s not that I don’t trust her, it’s just that well...” “Scratch, I’ve seen these things,” Alan said. “I know what they can do, and I know that they will be led away just like Pinkie said they would. I’ve seen it before.” Scratch bit her lip. “Alright, but take care of my babies, and do not. Tell. Anyone. Especially not a grey earth pony with a black mane, bowtie, and light purple treble clef cutie mark. I’d never be able to live it down if she found out...” “We won’t tell anyone, promise,” Alan said. “You got what we need, Pinkie?” “Yessirouni!” Pinkie answered, a mishmash of instruments on her back. “We’ll get these back to you tomorrow,” Alan said. “People won’t figure out these things mean trouble until morning.” Scratch nodded, “Alright, but again, please be careful, and if anyone asks, they’re not mine!” <<<|Ω|>>> Alan thought it would have been a good idea to sleep over at Pinkie’s. Twilight’s house would soon be overrun by a swarm of Parasprites, and he wouldn’t even be able to think about sleeping without one of those adorably cute devils coughing up on his face. “Slumber PARTY!” Pinkie yelled. “Ooh ooh ooh! We can play pin the tail on pony! or we could play...” Alan checked his watch. 3 am. Demon spawn and sleep vs. Pink Pony Party and no sleep. Maybe he should flip a coin. She continued her rant, giving no notice to the toothless alligator that was hanging onto her mane. “Pinkie!” Alan groaned. “Yeah?” “It’s three in the morning, go to sleep.” “But you’re—” “And we have too much work to do in the morning to party.” “Aw,” Pinkie groaned, giving a pout. “Oh, well, I guess you’re right,” she said, smiling again, before bouncing into her trampoline-like bed. “Goodnight, Alan!” she said, before clapping her hooves together and turning out the light. “Goodnight, Pinkie.” <<<|Ω|>>> Alan could not go to sleep. It was like he was cursed or something, because he could not keep his eyes closed. He just couldn’t do it. It was like something was keeping him awake, and he didn’t know why. Sighing, he sat up. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could see the room in all of its pink glory. Streamers perpetually hung from the ceiling, and the balloons were everywhere from bumping against the walls to laying half-deflated on the floor. It was almost silent in the room, with the exception of Pinkie, who was tossing in her sleep. Alan sighed again, and was about to lay back down when he heard the pink pony mutter. “No...sorry...didn’t mean it...sorry...no...” Alan stopped, those were odd words for Pinkie, dream or no. Her muttering became more frantic, and she began to toss and turn faster in her bed. “No...no...sorry...sorry...I’m sorry...no...please...” Suddenly, Pinkie shot up onto her haunches, breathing heavy. “Please?” she said, her dream still so vivid in her mind. Alan watched as her hair straightened as she began to cry. “Pinkie?” he asked, standing up. She looked at him in the darkness. “Oh...Alan...” her voice was much more somber and subdued than usual. “I’m sorry did I wake you?” Alan ignored the question. “Are you alright, Pinkie?” “Yes,” she said, a defensive tone edging her voice. “It was just a dream.” Alan moved over and sat on the edge of her bed, “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, tears in her eyes, before sobbing. “They hate me.” “Who?” “Everyone. They all hate me. I’m too crazy for them, I smile too much, I laugh too often, I’m too annoying.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as she repeated “They hate me!” “Pinkie,” Alan said, putting a hand on the shoulder of the pony. “You know that’s not true.” “But it is! Earlier today, downstairs in the shop, they just wanted me gone. They wanted me to leave them alone. Nopony wants me around.” Alan felt a tear well up in his own eye, “Pinkie...” “I’m just too much, too much all the time. I want to change, but I don’t dare." She looked up at him, before burying her face in her hooves as tears streamed down her cheeks "If I change, if I tone it down, then I lose myself. I’m the party pony, that’s my talent, that's my Cutie Mark, that’s who I am. But—” she interrupted herself with a gasp for breath as she cried, “It’s too much sometimes...I know it... "I’m afraid to change, but I’m afraid not to change.” Alan couldn’t take it anymore, he reached both arms around her, and gave her the biggest hug he could muster. “I don’t want you to change, Pinkie, I like you just the way you are.” She hugged him back, crying into his chest. They sat like that into the wee hours of the morning, neither moving, neither speaking. Someone once said, “It is those who laugh the most that have had the most pain.” Pinkamena Diane Pie was no exception. <<<|Ω|>>> Twilight felt something snap in her brain. This was far worse than out-of-control. Celestia was on her way, and in probably her most brilliant move, she had decided that she would make this things not eat food. Everyone had tried to stop these things. All except Pinkie and Alan, who had decided that they should sleep in. They had come to Sugarcube Corner, and talked to the half-awake Pinkie. “Don’t worry about the Parasprites, guys, Alan and I will play them away.” That sentence, followed by more talk of instruments, was all the ‘help’ that had been provided. Anyway, back to that thing that snapped. “Alright, here’s the plan!” she said, her brain going into a total meltdown. “Rainbow Dash, you distract them.” Dash suddenly flew by, attempting to escape a small swarm of Parasprites that were adamant about becoming a living bikini. “Good!” Twilight said, madness evident in her eyes. “Everyone else, we have to build an exact copy of Ponyville over there! We’ve got less than a minute~!” Everyone promptly ignored her, going on as they were, screaming at this cute terror. Lucidity returned to the unicorn, and she dropped her head as she sighed. “Zecora was right, we’re doomed.” A trumpet call sounded. “Oh, no the Princesses precession is here! It’s all over!” Then Twilight heard that trumpet again and realized that it sounded nothing like how it should. The precession normally plays slow, high notes, not this fast-paced jazz-like tune. Then she saw Alan, wearing sunglasses, and carrying both a trumpet and saxophone. Pinkie was behind him, carrying a very nice looking guitar, matching sunglasses and a large drum on her back. “Comin to ya on a dusty road,” Alan sung “Good lovin I got a truck load, And when you get it you got something, So don’t worry cause I’m coming, I’m a soul man!” Alan let loose a trumpet blast. “I’m a soul man!” Pinkie followed with the guitar. “I’m a soul man! I’m a soul man!” What the buck were they doing!? Couldn’t they see that Ponyville was in shambles!? Couldn’t they see that they needed... Were the Parasprites dancing? “Got what I got the hard way, And I’ll make it better each and every day, So honey don’t you fret, Cause you ain’t seen nothing yet, I'm a soul man, I'm a soul man, Play it Pie! I'm a soul man, I'm a soul man!” Twilight blinked as the insects began to bounce after the two-man band, despite logic. Twi blinked again. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask.” -------------------------------- And that’s it, another chapter down. “So You don’t think I’m crazy?” Not actually mentally ill crazy, no disorders, just different attitudes. You may be a little Mad, but I’ve heard that the best people are. “You really mean that?” I do. “Aw, thanks!” O.O … Pinkie...How are you hugging me through the screen? “Just shut up and say bye.” Questions, comments, exclamations, whatever, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for reading so far. And just as a warning, I'm going to be slowing down on updates, got to work on my actual story and stuff, hopefully this will whet your appetite. Bye!