//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: A Smoulder To Cry On // Story: My Life As A Psychopathic Nine Year Old Filly // by deadpansnarker //------------------------------// Now, I feel I must’ve mentioned this at least once (read back if you don’t believe me) but Smoulder is by far my favourite member of the so-called ‘Young 6’. Yona? Cute, but extremely loud. Ocellus? I like my changelings evil. Silverstream? Too ingratiatingly upbeat. Gallus? Griffons remind me of my mean ex (shiver). Sandbar? He’s cool I guess, apart from the stupid name.  In fact, you could lay that claim against most of them. And they say ‘Nigel’ is lame. Anyway, back to Ms Smoulder... She’s smart. Sassy. Cynical. Basically, everything I am (especially the first. Shut up) except for the thin midriff. Galloping into her like this would usually be a fanboy’s wet dream. I could ask who her actual parents were. If there really is any sparks flyin’ between Spike and Ember. How long it would take to chargrill a petulant pipsqueak pegasi using a medium flame over a spiked skewer. (Something to think about for the future, once I’d hopped bodies again: can’t wait!). But right this second was probably the most inopportune time for a meet & greet you can possibly imagine. Any moment now, random background characters would be pouring out of their respective classrooms, and the phrase ‘sitting duck’ couldn’t be more appropriate for this particular circumstance… ...That’s if my goose wasn’t already cooked enough from being spotted by a certain orange dragoness. Damn it, just because I have feathers now doesn’t mean I have to overuse tiresome bird analogies. “Birds? What are you talking about?! I didn’t think it was possible, but every time we talk I think you get a little more crazy.” Smoulder was on the verge of raising the alarm, but apparently the shock of seeing her hated adversary out of prison blathering nonsense was enough to shut her up temporarily. “Oh, sorry. Was I monologuing again? Since arriving on this godforsaken other-realm-masquerading-as-a-TV-show, it’s gotten to be a bad habit.” I frowned at the unsatisfactory introduction I’d just provided, before remembering the gravity of my situation. “I-I mean, please don’t grass me up to the cops! Or, whatever they’re called here. The fact is, I may look like me, but the Cozy you think I am is not actually the person inside. You see, I was brought here under false pretences from another planet to wear her skin like a cloak of shame. Ask Tirek, he’ll vouch for me!” “Hmm. It’s a bit hard for me to translate gibberish, even after listening to Yona all day. But what you’re saying is, even though you look just like Cozy Glow and sound like her, you’re not her…?” “That’s right! Finally someone… I mean, somecreature gets it!” “You actually come from another world, and Cozy took over your body and switched places? So, where is she now?” “On Earth I would imagine, wrecking my life and ploughing my girlfriend. Oh, and perhaps trying to take it over, but that’s of secondary consequence to me. Wait till I get my hoove… hands on her: that little freckled freak isn’t gonna know what hit her.” “ ‘Urth’? Rriigghhtt. And your entire basis for this claim rests on the reliability of your criminally-insane centaur cellmate. Well, I don’t know about you: but I’m convinced!” “R-Really?” “...No. Maybe you could’ve fooled my brother, who fell out of the nest and hit his head when we were still hatchlings, but not me. Time for you to go back to where you belong, Cozy Glow. Help, she’s here! It’s…” bonk. Nope, I hadn’t suddenly changed my name to ‘bonk’ (still better than ‘Sandbar’ though). What I had actually done in a fit of blind panic, was pick up the biggest, heaviest book in that library within reach to chuck straight at Smoulder’s head. Clonk. A direct hit. Why I didn’t bring that same kind of vigour to school sports day, I don’t know. The shot-putt would be a shoe-in every year. Oh, that’s right… we all got ‘participation trophies’, with no special prizes for first, second or third. I tell you, this ‘everyone wins’ mentality is really stifling the competitive spirit in our public education.  Who cares if Little Johnny cries all the way home cos he didn’t win anything, it’s preparing kids for the ruthless Rat Race that awaits them as jaded grown-ups. We’re breeding a generation of softies, people… wake up before it’s too late! Oops, I went off on another aimless tangent, didn’t I? Maybe I should save my expletive-laden rants for when I’m not running for my very life. And soul, come to think of it. I couldn’t help but emit a slight chuckle however, when I saw the title of the large tome now lying upturned on the floor next to Smoulder’s motionless form. ‘The Sleeping Patterns Of Reptiles’ indeed. What are the chances? ………………………… Dragging a dragon around the ground with my teeth was difficult, even when I had a lavender coat to cling onto (I still needed to ask her about that when she came to… that is, if she’s not too upset about the whole ‘knocked me unconscious with a massive encyclopedia’ incident). Finding an impromptu hiding place, with a torrent of students about to head in my general direction was even harder. All I saw is shelves upon shelves of boring literature, with nary a nook or cranny within sight for me to squeeze my pinkened rump into, let alone the more scaly posterior of my unwilling ‘hostage’. So I did what any truly composed genius would with such dire odds set against them. I completely lost my nerve. “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!! I’ve come so far after escaping from Tartarus, only to be foiled at the last second by a meticulously-designed book depository!” I couldn’t help but begin headbutting one of the shelves in pure frustration. At this point, I didn’t care if I exacerbated any existing cranial injuries: I’d reached peak despair. In fact, so downhearted with depression was I at this particular juncture, I failed to see the cause-and-effect of my impactful blows… ...That is, until an avalanche of books from the top and middle shelves decided to dislodge themselves to utterly envelop me and a slumbering Smoulder, until nothing could be seen but a huge heap of hardcovers where we once were… ...Just as the real actual Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash and her ‘lovely’ parents happened to turn the corner and emerge on the scene. Guess the party was cancelled, then. Considering the perpetual bullshat I’ve dealt with of late though, I say I’ve deserved this kind of unlikely and outrageous good fortune. Don’t argue, just accept it. Anyway… time to listen in. Shush. ………………….. “I can’t believe you gave a known terrorist a free pass back to the scene of her crimes! Don’t you read the news? Didn’t your daughter tell you about Cozy Glow?” Twilight sounds mighty pissed off and it isn’t too hard to ascertain why. “I think that might be my bad, Twi. Though I love my parents, sometimes they can be a bit… much, so maybe I don’t keep in touch with them as much as I could.” Wow Rainbow, way to tell it straight. Now don’t wuss out like you did in the episode by making out their overzealousness was somehow all your fault. “T-That’s right, we haven’t seen her as much as we’d like, except briefly at the monthly Scootaloo Appreciation Society Meetings we attend.” Is that thing still ongoing? Top marks for continuity there, Bow Hothoof. “How were we supposed to know the adorable filly we found in such a bad way, was capable of such evil acts of villainy? It’s not like we had any warnings…” “Well. come to think of it, there was that guard en route who mentioned her, even if he never gave us a proper description or spoke her name.” Oh dear. Way to implicate yourself and your husband, Windy Whistles. There’s a time for brutal honesty, and it ain’t now. “I-I guess you could say, we’re partly responsible for not taking him seriously…?” “Grr. This debate is getting us nowhere. We can point hooves later, for now I have to organise a search party, place the school on lockdown and alert the other Princesses. I’m so stressed, I haven’t even got the energy to clean up that dreadful mess over there.” What? Twilight must mean the one I made. Thank goodness for useful distractions. “What a way to treat valuable books! Whoever left the library in this state is in big trouble. But not as much trouble as Cozy, when I find her. Now: Bow and Windy… where did you say you saw her last?”  …………………….. As a very hot and bothered Twilight passed by with her companions blissfully unaware of my presence, I pondered with a sinking feeling that getting her to aid me in my noble quest had just been made much trickier.  She probably thinks I manipulated that ‘nice’ couple into smuggling me on site, so I could deliver my sweet sweet revenge. Just like the other Cozy would. But how am I gonna persuade her it’s all a frame-job, a stitch-up, a… complete load of old bollocks? Maybe I need another plan... My deep soliloquy was unexpectedly interrupted by the sudden stirring of a dozing dragoness, who’d been spared further book-related head trauma by my bouncily-curled mane. It had somehow acted as a makeshift shield for both of us from the cascade of novels which’d rained down earlier. Who says that ridiculous hairdos don’t have their uses? “H-Huh? What happened?” were Smoulder’s first words on reentering the land of the living, and I realised I had a lot of explaining to do. Better make a more convincing fist of it than my last attempt.  ...I of course, mean ‘hoof’. Jeez, the sooner I leave this weird world and it’s confusing alternate vernacular, the better.