//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: When You Stare Into the Abyss... // Story: Screwhead // by meme-asaurus //------------------------------// Screwball’s response took three days and nights. I was still doubtful on my decision of negotiating with this ‘other side’ of me, but every time I attempted to bring up the option of sending myself to a laboratory to Spike or Fluttershy, they urged me otherwise. It was very unlikely of Fluttershy in particular to be so forceful, but she seemed sincerely frighted of the idea of me being the speculation of scientific research. She told me again and again about how it was a bad idea to let doctors that knew next to none about my condition jab random needles into me. I suppose she had a point. It was morning now, and I was observing for any sign of Screwball in last night’s video as I sipped my morning coffee. To my startelement, I was successful. The camera caught the footage of the full transformation of my sleeping body. Seeing the complete, uncut metamorphosis between myself and Screwball was... a uniquely disturbing experience for me. Before then, the camera was a bit tilted the wrong way, and the portion where Sleeping!Twilight ended and the psycho-pony began was largely offscreen. After that, we had the camera adjusted, so we could get footage of the switch between me and my... daughter. (Ugh, I still get a bad taste in my mouth after saying that.) I was curious, after all. I wanted to see how I changed into her. I wasn’t so curious anymore. The first symptom that Past-Me shown was something that’s called Rapid Eye Movement. (REM) It’s when your eyes flick around when you’re asleep, and it’s a widely accepted theory that it’s a giveaway sign that a pony is dreaming. RPM can vary greatly in intensity, from small twitches that are undetectable without the the most advanced scientific equipment to violent winces that even occasionally change your expression to that of discomfort and anguish. Unfortunately, Past-Me’s REM fell into the latter category. It looked like I was having a terrible nightmare. The next stage was the spasms. My limbs shot out in different directions, twisting in odd and impossible ways. I’ve seen Pinkie Pie do some very strange things with her body, but it was nothing like this. Whenever Pinkie defied the basics of pony anatomy, from extending her leg length to bending her body in shapes that would make a circus acrobat turn green with envy, she always made it look like it was natural for her to do all of it, as if her bones are made of rubber. What I was seeing was completely different. The manner Past-Me’s body bent itself looked increasingly painful, and I swear I never heard so many bones crack at once. It was like watching a mangled fish work its way out of a straitjacket while simultaneously trying to break its own back. The spasms ceased as abruptly as they started, and Past-Me lay still, her chest heaving from all the exercise. Finally, there were the physical changes. My mane and tail exploded into a whirling cloud of purple and stark-white, moving as if it were alive. My previous self opened her eyes, showing spirals of violet chaos that twirled around in their sockets like spinning tops. My horn quickly vanished into my forehead with a sound that could roughly be spelled like this: *shcoolp-POP!* A feature that was new to me that I had changed my cutie mark. The image that decorated my flanks was now a baseball and a screw. I began to wonder in the corner of my mind what Screwball’s special talent was. Was it sports? Carpedering? Pulling pranks? Causing confusion? Did it have anything to do with what I was good at? Shrugging the question aside for later, I kept watching. I saw Screwball get up out of bed on the monochrome screen. She was obviously still upset that she was locked in the basement for another night, and she said some... undesirable things at the camera that I’d rather not repeat to you. (Remind me to wash out my own mouth with soap later.) After her rant, Screwball noticed the newest installments to the basement: a television with an old VCR. She watched the video I prepared for her, commenting on it as it played. “...I’m willing to try to make that happen,” my recorded voice explained, “but I need you to agree with some rules.” Screwball groaned painfully. “Rules? Really, Mommy?” “Yes, rules.” “Rules were made to be broken! What do we need dumb ol’ rules for, anyway?” “Don’t talk back to me, young lady. Rule #1: You can’t hurt anyone anymore.” “Where’s the fun in that?” “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.” “But everypony loves ice cream!” she protested. “You got a thing against ice cream? If you don’t like ice cream, you’re evil! Evil to the core!” “Rule #2...” “Wait, there’s more than one rule??” “Neither one of us tells anypony that we share a body. That also means no changing between Twilight and Screwball in public. Got it?” “I’m bored. Five seconds in and you’ve already bored me. That’s a new record, Mommy.” “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.’” “You mean to tell me I’m stuck with you? You’re mean, Mommy! I want to have fun every day!” ““Rule #4: In return for you not hurting anypony, I’m going to try to ‘loosen up.’” “Yeah, that’ll happen. How about you start with removing that seven-yard pole that’s lodged up your butt?” “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.” “Pinkie Pie? Who’s that? Can I be in her body instead? I bet she a million times more fun than you.” “To put it simply, I’m trying to make my head a more comfortable environment, so you’re not so cranky all the time.” “I’m the cranky one? You should speak for yourself, Mommy.” “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.” “Why would I want to talk to you? You’re the most humdrum pony on the planet!” “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.” “Sounds like a chore. Are you done yet? I want to come out and play, Mommy. I want to have my fun. Right now.” “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.” “Blah blah blah, can we skip to the end already? I feel like I’m going to explode if I spend another night here. Oh, and Mommy? This technically qualifies as holding me hostage.” “I patiently await your response.” “It’s over? Mommy finally shut her stupid face? Great! Let’s not waste any time,” Screwball said gleefully. “I’ll give it to you straight: The answer is no. I’d rather be waterboarded than spend the rest of my life living by your oh-so-precious rules.” She pondered for a moment, her eyes lazily turning in circles. “Hold that thought for a second, I may have an idea. How about I make the rules?” I almost spit up my coffee when I heard this. “What? You can’t possibly be serious.” “Serious?” Screwball parroted, her black-and-white head on the screen tilting to the side. “I’m hardly ever serious. Right now, I’m being threatening; there’s difference. It’s a hobby of mine, being threatening.” I stared at my crazed double through the screen, unbelieving. “You just said that you hated the very concept of rules! What this about making your own?” “Simple,” she said, giving me that awful grin of hers again. “These rules concern you. I don’t have to follow them. Isn’t that wonderful? “Rule #1: You let me the outta this room. No exceptions, no strings attached. And definately not on your terms. “Rule #2: You disappear. You close your eyes, release that tiring old grip on reality, and let me drive. FOREVER. “Easy, isn’t it? Those are only two rules. You just dragged on and on about things like ‘trust’ and ‘coexistence.’ This is a much better solution.” I gawked. “That’s... madness! There’s no way I’m doing that! I have a life, you know. I have hopes and dreams! Do you think I’m going to throw all of that away, just because you tell me to??” The insane pony in the video laughed. “Do you really presume that I care what you think? That’s cute, Mommy. Real cute. You think you have the advantage, locking me up in here? You think that I’ll just go along and obey whatever you tell me to do? Newsflash, Mommy: YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!” I hit ‘power’ on the TV remote. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t watch anymore. Screwball is a very, very, very sick pony. I was a fool to ever think we could negotiate. “Spike, take a letter,” I called to my number-one assistant. “We’re contacting the Princess about-HRK!” W͊ͬ̿̿҉̫͈̯͖̩̰ã̽ͧ̿ͮ҉̵̫̳̙̟̫͝į̫̹͖̜͈ͪ͟ţ̟̰̜͊̔̈́̅͌ͧ͆͜,̴͙̜̰̜̻̩̖̩̅̈́ͮ̑̌ ̦͎͆͊͌̎ͪͮ͝͝w̼̰̭̞̬̋̇ͭ͌̒ͫͪ̀͐͢h̖̦̗͚͉̣̮̀ͨ͆ͭ͢͠ͅa̮͖ͫ̕ͅt̝̳̻͙͌̇ͥ͂͛ͧ͘ͅ’̴̏̓͗͌ͦͭͭ͐͒͏̥̬̮̭̹̝s̵̡̲̥͕̰̰̠̙̣͙ͯ̂̊̆̆̿̏͐ ͓͖̘̒h̛͎̭̤̠͖̊̊́̀̕a͍̮̗͂̆̍ͬ͌̽p̨̝͓̳̙̼͉̦̓̾ͫ̓̃ͬͩ̚͜p̶̢̠̹̞̬̭͔̲͌̐̄̀̀̄͂e̟͍̖̺͙̦̽͒́̀̕ǹ̡͚̞̤͚̉ͭ̈́̍ͣ͆̊̕ǐ̴͍͎̝̝̩̟̠͗̏̑n͉̪̭̳͉͖ͪ̏̏ͧ̓̉́̀̕͞g̝̖͚̬̓̽ͬ͢ ̵̜̤̼͗ͨͬ̔͋ͤͪ͘t̗͈͍͆ͩõ̩͇͚͇ͬ͞͞ ͗̀̃͑̆ͩ̅ͤ̕͢͏̩͉m̟̳̉ͦ͗͋̊̽͆͗ͅȅ̛̩̫̪͖̦̰̦̫̌͐̓͗ͯ́?̮̠̈ͫ͌̍͡ ̛̮̠̹̭̮̱̫̼̓͌ͫ̽Į̸̙̜͍̯͖̜͚ͩ̓̌̾ͯ͒ͯ̀ ̱̫͚͓̾̈͗̈ͣ̍͆f̽̾͊̓ͬ̀͋̚͟҉̙ě̤̫͓̜̄͘͢͡e̱̹̞͈̙͌̇̊l̶̨̮̬͕̱͚͖͓͖̱̀ͦ̎.̝̮̹̺͉̻͙͆̿̊̒͊͊ͬ̕.̺̻̞̲̗̲ͮ̏̽̉̉͛ͦ̅͘͝.̊͌҉̳̭̥̣͖͔̖͢ ̭̲̲͖̳ͣͨa̴͕̣̙͇͎̹̮͚͐͛ͦļ̥̪͉ͦͣ͌̋͟͜l̶̡͕̺̯͕̱͓͔̯̰̋ͩ.̭̲̾͑̆̅̑͆͢.̶̩̮̱̣̬̹ͬ͛̏̿.͔͇͉͍̦̮̜͍ͮ̊̓̈̎ͯ̕͝ ̠̝͚͈̓̎ͧ̂̓̅̚̕ͅf̛͙̠͋̈́̚̕ǔ̸̷͔̰̪̙̜͎̺̎̂͒̈̐́̊ͩ͞z̳̼͓͔̻̊ͧ̂z̶͕͚͍ͣ̓́͞ͅy̗̝͙̩͎̲͙̦̖ͦ͋̽́͟͟.̛̺͓̙͚̘͔͒.̯̩̖͍̮̽̌ͮ.̣̣̻͔͑̓ͮ̊̀͐̐͜͝͞ HALLELUJAH! I thought Mommy would never stop talking. Well, sort of. She’s still in here, unfortunately. You should hear her right now. She’s super-cranky! Such naughty words you’re saying, Mommy! Not that I’m listening, mind you. Once you go through a few nights of non-stop yapping from Twilight Dorkle, you tend to tune her out with a sort of numb feeling. Anyways, I’m finally FREE! Hooray! Out of that dusty old basement! Maybe I could have some honest-to-goodness fun this time. “Twilight?” a voice said, coming from the kitchen. “I thought I heard you call me and-WHOA! You’re not Twilight! I thought you only changed during the night!” Ah yes, the baby dragon. I sorta caught a glimpse of him sleeping the first time I came out to play. Then again, I was too busy jumping out of the upstairs window to really get a good look at anything that belonged to Mommy. I gave him a smile. “I’m too cool for a schedule, ya overgrown lizard,” I said. “Now, outta my way! I’ve got some time to make up. Ponyville isn’t going toilet-paper itself, you know.” I jumped out of the nearest window, laughing as gleefully as a schoolfilly on the last day of school.