//------------------------------// // Left Open for Encore // Story: Happy Go Lucky Me // by Chemtest //------------------------------// —(200 years later)— I imagine canvases up in the void, and a paintbrush on the end of my ukulele. I swish it out to flick off the bristles, and look up to the paintings. I look at all of them, “Let’s go.” I start some high powered rock music in the background, and run at a canvas. With a single flick, and multiple tricks I’ve learend, I paint the entire thing with one stroke. I spin around to stroke another, and use the momentum of the spin to throw the brush at another, painting both. I roll over and grab the brush before it falls, and use my roll to swish another painting. And with that, I flick out the brush again, and look back at the masterpieces I’ve made in the last three seconds. I smile as I look at my works, and will all of them to appear all over Equestria, signed as being painted by the ‘Jester’. And as I breathe in, I smell some new magic in the air. It has the same flavor as a musical appearance, but is stronger and more vibrent. I decide to follow it, and find myself in a room. This room has a grey furred earth pony in it, with a moustach and some slicked over hair. I look around, and find art supplies everywhere. This pony seems like an artist. I see him suffer on the painting he is working on, and he makes a mistake. He gets so mad that he smashes the painting canvas into pieces, “Damn it! I’m never going to succeed!” I decide to show myself to him, “Hello there, my name is Tim. Would you possibly want some help?” He glares over at me, “What do you think you can teach me that others cannot?” I smile calmly at him, “Because I am the only one who knows how to paint my way. What might your name be?” He loses his glare, “Adolf Hoofler. What can I do?” I smile, “Good, you’re eager. First thing is to get a canvas and paint over it with white paint.” He follows my instructions, and I set up a canvas of my own. When he has painted his, he looks over to me, “And?” I smile, and draw my brush across the canvas, “You paint. Feel deep inside of yourself, and picture your deepest feelings, your greatest respect.” I look back at him, “But remember, only paint what you want. The reason to paint isn’t to have a job, but to have fun. The whole idea of art is ruined if the artist isn’t having fun.” He nods, and starts to paint on his as well, “I might not be the best painter, but it’s what I want to do.” I smile and continue my own art, “It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it, as long as you’re having fun. That’s the lesson to take from my role models. Mister Rodgers, Bob Ross, Tiny Tim, hell even Gordon Ramsey. If you don’t find something fun, the thing will become worse. The best work of art, the best song, the best food, the best person is one who had fun doing what they love. You only failed because you didn’t paint from the heart, you painted from the brain. And, heh, brains are for the scientists and lawyers, we artists of differnt types are the ones who have the harder job of connecting to the heart.” He smiles, and continues, “To be frank, I’ve never had anyone encourage me like you. My parents didn’t like it, my friends didn’t say anything, and the collage of Muneigh just told me I would be better off as a structural engineer. They didn’t believe in me, none of them. But, maybe it is true that I should listen to myself now, and understand my own heart.” I nod and smile at him, “That’s the most important part, understanding yourself. Musicians, Arists, Writers, Movie Makers, Devolper Studios, all need that important understanding.” Adolf stops for a second, “And have you figured yourself out?” I stop as well, and think, “I’ve come closer to who I am, but I’m not there yet. There is so much inside me I don’t know, and I still try to figure it out. I will only be released when that happens, I can only trust myself to exist when I can control myself.” Adolf looks up at me as he continues, “Released? You make it sound like you’re trapped. Wait... Tim? As in, the Jester Tim?” I nod, and continue on my own, “Yes, that would be me.” Adolf looks at me again, before smileing, “The stories made you out to be a wild party animal who never sat still except for when he slept. But here you are, calmly painting, talking, and teaching lessons all calm like. Are the stories wrong?” I shake my head, “They were perfectly true, I was a wild party animal. I’ve had a while to sit down and think about myself. As I said, I’ve come closer to discovering myself. And truely looking into yourself requires one to stop moving so fast, and to calm down. I can interact with the outside, but I cannot be released fully until I am at peace with myself.” Adolf puts a finishing touch on his painting, “I wish you luck in your journey.” I finish mine, and look over at him, “What did you paint?” He flips the canvas around to show me his painting, “My heart.” I see it is a nearly photolike painting, so realistic in its design. It shows me skipping down a path in some bright woods, playing the ukulele, and smileing as ponies follow behind and with me. Trotting along with me is Adolf himself, and my Jesters, all wearing cloths just like mine. I tear up for a second, “It’s beautiful.” Adolf smiles, and looks at mine. I look to see what I’ve been painting all this time. I see a picture of me poseing in between all my friends. The Jesters, Celestia and Luna, Adolf, all of them like we are posing for a picture. Tears threaten to fall out of me. Adolf pats me on the shoulder, “Tim... we can make that happen. Somehow, we can make that happen.” I nod, “I think I might return now.” Hoofler holds up a hoof, “Wait. Why dont we paint some more together? As friends.” I nod, “Yeah, okay. I can return later. Let’s paint, dear friend.” —(???)— Those follish Elements thought they could be rid of me that easily? Nothing but the Jester could beat me, they need to learn that. But I need some cannon fodder, a prodigy of sorts. Oh, but there is a soul I can manipulate easily. ——— I appear in front of the pony, having seen his altercation. I start to whisper to him, “Not to happy about Sheogorath’s lies, are you? I can help.” He looks over at me, “And who might you be?” I smile, “Khorne, and I believe we can help each other.” “And how would that be, Khorne.” I smile devilishly, “You have an enemy, and I have an enemy. I can train you, and you can help me, right?” He smiles as well, “I can see that working, Khorne.” I nod, “Then we are in aggrement, King Blueblood.” He smiles, “Wonderful.” I look out a window to the Wasteland his world is, “If Blood is to be spilt, it will be Blood for the Blood God. If heads are to roll, then their skulls shall decorate the Skull Throne. If war is to be had, then I endver to gain from it.” “A shared sentiment to be sure.” I smile, and turn around to face my own reflection, “That Jester will die, and his blood shall be spilt into my drink. His Blood for the Blood God.