The so-called Phantom Prankster didn't strike again for a couple weeks. By that time, the police had found a total of three somewhat variable witnesses.
Each of the eyewitnesses saw the Phantom Prankster in the middle of the night, so they could only make out a blurry silhouette hovering around in the air and performing the acts of vandalism with instantaneous speed. Oddly, they also described him/her as having no wings to speak of. What they also could confirm was that the Phantom Prankster had the body build of a mare, had a coat that somehow ranged from pink to light purple, and a long, purple-and-white-striped mane & tail that billowed in the wind.
As for me, I threw that propeller beanie in the garbage without a second notion. What could I have use for a propeller beanie, anyway? I always thought they looked positively stupid. Sure, I could turn it to the police for further evidence, but I had no actual proof that it belonged to the Phantom Prankster in the first place.
Then, after two weeks of peace, the Phantom Prankster made a second attack. This time, she replaced all our running water with a disgusting amount of maple syrup. She also switched the color scheme of every blank-flanked foal in town, so it was nigh-impossible to tell who was who. (But then again, I have to admit, Scootaloo did look pretty good with Applebloom’s colors.) Her pranks seemed to affect everypony, from eight-foot-tall monsters made out of 100% mustard to switching Pinkie Pie’s secret stash of candy with a lifetime supply of brussel sprouts and broken light bulbs.
And guess what? She moved me while I was sleeping AGAIN. I woke up that morning with my head uncomfortably lodged in one of Fluttershy’s birdhouses. It took nearly three hours to get myself unstuck.
So, I had to cast my fail-safe spell again. This time, my magic curiously seemed to lack absolute effect. Only half of Pinkie Pie’s candy was turned back, and the eight-foot-tall mustard monsters were instead transformed into less-than-terrifying eight-inch-tall mustard monsters.
Oh, and just to mess with me, the Phantom Prankster also left her stupid beanie under my pillow again. That time, I turned it over to the authorities. After several tests of magical examination, the Royal Guard told me that there was nothing enchanted about it, and that it possessed no solid evidence whatsoever. So yeah, I was allowed to keep the hat.
I burned it.
It took only one more week for the Phantom Prankster to launch her next barrage of misery for Ponyville. She also only pulled one prank:
She moved the entire town smack dab in the middle of the Everfree Forest.
It took me three unsuccessful tries before I could cast the fail-safe spell properly. I was never sure whether my magic was getting weaker, that the Prankster’s was getting stronger, or that I was distracted because I was moved into a manticore den twenty miles away while I was still asleep.
On the bright side, I got a brand-new propeller beanie out of it. Whoopie.
That day, I decided enough was enough. I was going to catch this evildoer if it was the last thing I did. I planned on catching her in the act of religiously ponynapping me. I moved my bed into the basement, bought the most advanced security cameras that I could afford, and locked the basement door every single night with special spell that devised my own. (Basically, it could only be open with my magical signature.) If the Phantom Prankster was going to break in again, she would have to break the door down, and nopony can really do that with making a considerable amount of noise. I convinced my friends to take shifts watching the entrance to my new bedroom. (But not after a lengthy amount of bargaining. Rarity insisted that she did her shift in her custom-made silk pajamas.)
Then, three days afterward, I woke up one morning to find the basement completely trashed. Lamps were broken, chairs were smashed against the wall, my mattress had a rather impressive hole punched through it, but the only door to the basement was completely intact.
I raced upstairs, wanting to see what happened last night. I unlocked the door with the releasing spell, and went to the ground floor with great haste.
“What happened?” I asked Fluttershy, the pony that was on duty at the time. “Did you hear any noises?”
“No Twilight, I just got here,” Fluttershy replied. “Oh, and good morning. Did you sleep well? Spike and I made you some cute little heart-shaped waffles.”
“The time for waffles can wait,” I dismissed. “Let’s see the security tape. I want to see the face of the pony who wrecked my basement!”
Fluttershy, accompanied by Spike, watched as I took tonight’s camera footage and inserted it in our magically-powered DVD player. The image of me soundly sleeping flickered to life. The color was restricted to black and white, but I managed to afford audio. For a while, we observed in silence as Past-Me slept undisturbed. For the sake of time, we put the footage on fast-forward until we saw anything strange. Then, around midnight, Past-Twilight got up from bed.
She... I... looked different. The colors on the screen were still shades of grey, but it was unmistakable that my coat and mane had somehow changed. My once-straightly-combed hair had sprung into a swirling mass of purple and white. It moved unnaturally, reminding me somewhat of Princess Celestia’s mane. As Past-Me looked to the camera, I could see the my eyes had lost their pupils and turned into spinning whirlpools of madness. The most disturbing detail of all was that I had lost my horn.
Past-Me then stuck hoof deep in her ear, pulled out a familiar propeller beanie with a soft pop, crammed it on top of her head, and gave large, goofy grin. We all collectively gasped.
I was the Phantom Prankster. The image of me matched the witnesses’ descriptions perfectly. All this time, I’ve been trying to stop the Phantom Prankster from terrorizing the citizens of Ponyville, but I never would’ve thought she’d be staying under my own roof! For a good, long while, nopony said anything. Finally, it was the Phantom Prankster that broke the silence.
“Are you my Mommy?” she/me/whoevershewas said, addressing the camera. “Is Mommy watching me?” Her voice was innocent and high-pitched, like that of a filly. “You are, aren’t you Mommy?” Her tone went from questioning to smug. “Did you want to keep an eye on me? Is that why you put up these cameras? It won’t work, Mommy.” She sat down and crossed her legs as her face went from a mindless foal to a look that belonged to a sassy teenager.
“Still, before I go out for the night, I think it’s high time we’ve met, Mommy.” She gestured to herself. “My name’s Screwball. What’s yours?” She paused. “I know you can hear me, Mommy. I sure as hell can hear you. Right in the back of my head. Nonstop, all the time. I can hear your thoughts. All of your old, boring thoughts.” She took up a mocking tone, doing a bad imitation of my voice. “‘Study this! Organize that! Alphabetize these!’ All day, every day! I’M SICK OF IT, MOMMY!”
Screwball glared at the camera for a full minute. “Well? What are you waiting for? Answer me! I can hear you Mommy, answer me already! Go ahead, think of a number. I can guess it, easy as chocolate milk.”
I said nothing.
“Go ahead Mommy, guess! It’s a game! You like games, don’tcha Mommy?”
I remained silent.
“Any number, a big, fat number. Any silly, big, fat number! Are you too scared to play, Mommy?”
“Forty-two!” I blurted.
“Forty-two,” Screwball said immediately.
There was an “Eep!” from Fluttershy.
“Bet I was right, wasn’t I Mommy?” Screwball smirked. “I’m in your head!~ I’m in your head!~” she chanted like a schoolkid on the playground. “Bet that gave you a fright, didn’t it? I bet it did, Mommy.” She gave a maniacal grin. “Well, it’s been a blast messing with you, but I’ve got some havoc to wreak.” She made a bolt for the basement door. There was a brief moment, and she raced back to the camera. “What’s going on? Why can’t I open the door??”
I realized something. The door could only be unlocked by my own magic. Therefore, Screwball was trapped there for the entire night.
“Mommy, what is this? Why won’t you let me out?!? I’ve gotta have my fun! LET ME HAVE MY FUN!!!” Her eyes changed. Her whites turned to a sickly yellow, and her swirly, pupiless irises changed to fiery-red. Gone was foallike demeanor. She looked more genuinely angry than anypony I’ve ever met in my entire life. In fact, she now looked more like a rabid animal than a pony.
“I HATE YOU, MOMMY!!!!
IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU!!!! AAAARRRRUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Continuing her tantrum, Screwball went and destroyed all the furniture she could find, mercilessly bashing it against the walls.
“Well, at least we now know how your basement got trashed,” Spike noted, not taking his eyes off the video.
Eventually, Screwball threw a pillow at the security camera, ending the transmission. The three of us sat in silence, not know what else to say. I was still shocked over the fact that the one behind all of this was me. Well, sort of. I still wasn’t sure about the details yet. It was all terribly confusing and frightening. What was that monster that we saw? Where did it come from? What were we supposed to do about it?
“I’m contacting the Princess,” I said, standing up.
“What?” Fluttershy said, a horrified look still plastered on her face. “Twilight, you can’t! You can’t tell anypony about this!”
“Why not?”
“Because if you do, you’ll be taken away. You’ll be put in some secret laboratory far away from Ponyville, where the government would perform all kind of painful tests every day for the rest of your life!”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“Wait, what?”
I bit my lip. “Well... yeah, that’s the plan. It’s exactly what I would do if I was in Celestia’s place. I would go through any means necessary to cure my faithful student. Sure, it might take a year or two, but we would find a cure. Besides, this could launch scientific progress ahead generations!”
“What if they don’t if they don’t find a cure?” asked a worried Spike. “What if we all never get to see you again? What if during one of those experiments... you die?”
I have to admit, he stopped me there.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “Okay, I won’t tell anypony. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “But that means we’ll have to find a way to keep the other me under control.”
*Video starts recording*
“Hello, Screwball. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I’m that voice in your head. And if the nickname you gave me is any logical indication, I’m also somehow your mother.
“By now, you’ve obviously noticed that you’ve been locked in my basement again, but this time with a TV, so we could speak. I don’t know how or why you’re in my body, but I want to offer a truce. Until then, consider yourself grounded.
“My friend, named Fluttershy, believes that we can coexist in peace. I’m willing to try to make that happen, but I need you to agree with some rules.
“...Yes, rules. Don’t talk back to me, young lady.
“Rule #1: You can’t hurt anyone anymore. I’m sorry, but we live in modern society. That means we have to obey the laws and social norms. For example, no more vandalising other’s personal property with ice cream.
“Rule #2: Neither one of us tells anypony that we share a body. That also means no changing between Twilight and Screwball in public. Got it?
“Rule #3: I’ve agreed not to search for a cure. That goes both ways. You’re not allowed to get rid of me, and I’m not allowed to get rid of you. I believe that’s called ‘trust.’
“Rule #4: In return for you not hurting anypony, I’m going to try to ‘loosen up.’ I’m going to take more chances. I’m going to squeeze more fun in my life. I’ve got a plan to do that, and her name’s Pinkie Pie. To put it simply, I’m trying to make my head a more comfortable environment, so you’re not so cranky all the time.
“Rule #5: You’ve probably noticed that you might be holding a tape recorder. That’s the way I’ve decided we can directly communicate. That said, don’t ever lose it. If you feel like you’re going to change back into me, press ‘record’ and tell me where you are and what you were just doing.
“Rule #6: If either one of us breaks the rules, then it officially qualifies as a declaration of all-out war. Believe me, it would be a war you would never win.
“I patiently await your response.”