Ugh…I burned the nightday oil too hard…so please, be patient with me.
Now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it is almost fucking ten in the morning, which is only two hours away from that time that is most evil to me. Why was I out for so long, you would ask if you had a mouth? Well, that’s kind of a funny story. End paragraph.
I’ve had a great deal of crap on my mind and it made concentrating a real bitch. I mean, what kind of poor fool has to be plagued with thoughts about whether or not they were wrong about certain ponies, whether or not they were wrong about THEMSELVES, and just what the crap else they were wrong about? Worst yet, that poor fool had to work at the same time and his work is VERY taxing on his mind as he is required to use his world class observational skills to judge the worth of an object. Also to pick up crap, but that’s easier to do.
My mouth is so crapping dry right now…I would really kill to have some cider of the hard variety…
Oh, yeah, and I found stuff that we need to do the Break-It-Down game for.
I don’t know what it was or exactly when it started, but at one point very early on I started thinking about all the ponies I so desperately have opinions about. It was really muggy territory for me to think through, but I did come out with a list of ponies of whom I thought at length about -to varying degrees of discomfort-; Lyra the Word Raper, the lesbian, Rose the spy, Fluttershy, Octavia, the one filly everypony says I know, the Pinktard, Rarity, and perhaps most disturbingly, the Derptard. I thought about thinking about Twilight, Big Macintosh, Applejack, and the Mayor, but then I didn’t.
What is there to say about the destroyer of the spoken word? I mean, I don’t really know her very well -which might have something to do with the part about it being a ‘her’- and I can’t imagine ever having felt the urge to know this -the eradicator of language- mare -ugh- and yet here I am literally taking every opportunity to insult her. Why exactly is that? I don’t really care about the spoken word THAT damn much. In fact, I’m more or less in the process of modifying it into my very own perfect thing so I can leave this puny artifact behind, yet here I am. To be really strange about it, she’s not the worst looking foal machine -now you see, I actually like that more than the other word- and yet she has a face I want to hurt really badly.
Do you think it could have something to do with my mother? I’m sure you remember how my family has the tradition to name members using the dead language of Ancient Equestrian. Well, my mom was very interested in that old crap and she regarded that culture very highly and they in turn valued the spoken word quite highly. According to my memories -of which I’m beginning to lose trust in- they used vocal chants in their daily lives and had many different mantras to get them through their days. And since I regard my mother so very highly, I could easily reason that my hatred of the bane of spoken tongue is just disgust with just how much my dear mother regarded words and with how little this foal machine regards them.
What if, just what if I hate her because I want to hate? That’s possible, very possible. I’m so misfortuned and so many are not and thus I resent those that are comfortable in their success whilst I decay here in my lot of life. Deeper still, what if my so-called misfortune is that of my own doing? I actively decide to treat the ponies of this town the way I do, I actively decide to overcharge a unicorn who so generously does so very much for so very many for objects that do not belong to me, and I choose to be this miserable. Is that it? Is this boiling cauldron of existence a concoction of my very own? Perhaps worst of all is that emotion that drives those decisions; my life leading up to them. I lie about so much and I do it all the time. Given all of those lies, it’s almost perfectly possible that my father didn’t run away, he didn’t take a mare one year my junior to be his bitch, I wasn’t pulled out of school out of malice, I was never abused, and that I simply said all of that to try to make sense of a world that told me to grow up and take command whilst I curled up into a ball and began trying to fool myself into thinking that I was in no way responsible and thus only a victim and not perpetrator. That’s so terrifyingly possible that I’m shivering. Is all of this, all of my pain and suffering, my own fault?
Nah, I’m pretty sure I hate that shredder of the spoken syllable because she don’t talk good and I would rather she did and thus have her not receive my immense and unending -yet totally mature- hate.
Oh my yes, the lesbian, that prismatic -you’re damn right I’m happy about finding a dictionary, but more on that later- maned homosexual has been ever so present in these recent times. I remember that in the old days -we’ll refer to it as the Pre-Derp Age- when I still had Shirley -HOW I MISS HER SO- and a home to speak of that is not this one, I never ever ever dealt with her. Crap, I don’t even recall having to talk to her at all. No, wait, yes, I did. Like two years ago I found a Spitfire -the Wonderbolt, not my fiery wit- poster in a field and I didn’t make it five steps before she accosted me and asked for it back. I said no. That poster now belongs to Twilight, who I can only imagine returned the damn thing to the lesbian in -being the stinker I am- damaged quality. That doesn’t count due to it not counting. So yeah, I never really knew this bitch. I remember that her involvement in my life started with my absolutely heroic defeating of her. Yeah, I can still feel the thrill of victory of having beaten down such a mighty competitor and her thirty ninja guards. I also remember that was the day that my Pancake Day was ruined. Being the genius I am -admit it, you think so too- I forged an alliance with her via flowers and stuff. That alliance was supposed to be my safety net once I broke the Pinktard and desteroyered the Derptard; however, it has come to mean…something else entirely since then.
Practically any time I have found myself in misfortune -I don’t have time to count the times- she was there in my corner or simply present. Why is it that I am affected in the way I am by that? I mean, I literally never even considered her -ugh- more than a tool for me to use when the time was right. She was really the only one who never had an agenda -excepting the time she did have one- and, ignoring that filly I don’t know, she was the one who came to my aid when I needed aid. I’m aware that the concept of ‘friendship’ is vastly different in both terms of understanding and intensity of belief in between her and me, but surely she wouldn’t have taken to me that quickly, right? Ultimately I find myself confused every time I think about her. Why have I cared for her? I know I never expressed it openly, but I mean come on, I gave the bitch brownie points; BROWNIE POINTS! When did that mare -ugh- become something of a friend to me?
Perhaps equally as disturbing is the thought that I have perhaps wooed the lesbian. Yes, I know, her being the lesbian means that she is, in fact, a lesbian and thus prefers the company of the foal machines, but you have to remember that I actually have very little evidence -as in none to speak of- proving her preference. Most damning, perhaps, is what Fluttershy said about how the lesbian isn’t actually a lesbian and is really only unsure of what she wants. What if -bear with me here, I’m getting deep- I had made her sure with my attempts to win her favor so I could in turn betray her? I mean, the signs are all there: flowers, tickets to something she likes, a book, and injury. Those are all the classic staples of romancing the opposite sex. What does this do to me? I mean, I would never consider her as an option, but you have to understand my possibilities for sex are dwindling and thus plan GETTIN’ BUSY is likely never to be completed. To be honest, I don’t know if I’d mind if I were to give her a chance.
However, despite the claims of Fluttershy, my evidence proves her preference and thus I doubt the above theory is accurate. As for my considering her an actual friend…hm…well, I guess that since she has the preference for foal machines she technically counts as a stallion and thus I would not be lowering myself if I were to become -GASP- friendly with her -to be referred to from here as a he-.
I’ve just reached the middle ground of my inwardly inclined investigation. I do not know Rose the spy on terms approaching familiarity and I actually have been slightly acquainted with this foal machine. It’s so very slight, almost unnoticeable, but this bitch has been there in these Post-Derp times. Never a big player and never just a penciled in background character, no, she’s had just the slightest amount of influence whilst providing just enough to actually have an effect. So yeah, like a spy. Whether it be those weird smiles, her odd kindness, or her seeming persistence of being present in my life, this foal machine clearly has had something in store for me. My question is whether or not my opinion of her being an agent -a horrible one at that- of some gigantic conspiracy that clearly exists and includes those royal bitches is correct.
What about her makes me think she’s working for them? I mean, she’s been present at my times of misfortune -though those have come in spades and thus she was not without multiple chances- yet has always come to my side in those. Does that mean she’s simply trying to endear herself to me so that she can get closer so her betrayal will hurt all the more? That’s certainly possible and if so then I commend her on her efforts. What if it’s more than just simple espionage? I recall her first true reactions to me being how she had scowled at me after I had nearly crippled the lesbian and then beamed with something of a sympathetic smile at hearing who I was buying flowers for -I was buying them for the lesbian-. I’m pretty sure that scowl was supposed to be something of disgust, but, as per usual, I didn’t care to look too much into it. It makes sense if it was, though, as she smiled when she learned I was -seemingly- trying to right my wrong. Wait…what if that smile…had been one of the knowing smiles? What if she knew my intentions were far from generous?! HOLY CRAP! That crafty minx…
An ally, one I didn’t even know I had, lurking in broad daylight. Think of it, Booky. She knew, SHE FREAKING KNEW! She knew that I had no intention of actually befriending the lesbian and that wooing him was the farthest thing from my mind. She knew and allowed me to do as I pleased! That makes so much freaking sense. This whole time, throughout everything, she knew. That means that the time that I punched the Derptard in the face with my face…that means that Rose knew; she knew that my retaliation would be premature and ruin everything if I were to do so then and there. HOLY FREAKING CRAP!
Well, this is certainly a surprise. Rose the spy is actually…a double agent...and she’s one of her own volition rather than my meddling! Ho boy, that’s gonna be useful!
You see, this is why I’m doing this. Not because I’m changing…or whatever crap I’ll be getting more into in the next paragraph, but because I’ve missed a few things. Things such as the lesbian being my kinda-friend and Rose being my ally. OOOH, what else have I missed???
Alright, Flutt- I’m just so EXCITED right now! Oooh, no, I gotta calm down and write or I’ll be here until the mevening.
Fluttershy, the foal machine I met the other day when she ambushed me during my attempt to be outside my home. I literally have spoken to her -ugh- once and I don’t actually have an opinion about that bitch. To be honest, the reason I wanna talk about her is because she’s the one who said that I was…ugh, fuck, that I was changing. I wanna talk about that, you know, the changing part. Moreso about how I feel about it in regards to her.
You see, the only reason I even spoke with her was because I felt strangely strange about how she did exactly as I asked her to. It was weird, like she knew it would happen. I mean, as nice as it was talking with her, I could never shake the feeling that I was talking to a foal machine who was getting exactly what she wanted. Recall that the Pinktard had tried to talk with me about the filly I don’t know and that Fluttershy herself even got me talking about the filly I don’t know. That tells me that had been her intention the entire time. The Pinktard had been trying to tell me that I should care about whatever was happening to her and that she was missing me -I really wasn’t paying attention- and since Fluttershy is the Pinktard’s friend, I can only assume that bitch had the exact same thought process.
Who do these bitches think they are? Why do they think I value their opinions on anything? And, why isn’t it apparent to them that I don’t know that filly for a reason?
No, that Flutterbitch is just…a bitch. I mean, it took me until tonight to realize her manipulations. If anything, I’m proud that I met a foal machine as deviously cunning as she. Imagine it, she, with little more than seven spoken words, got me to start talking to her about things that I shouldn’t be telling ponies about. It’s absolutely uncanny. As annoying as the Pinktard is and as destructive as the Derptard is, who would’ve thought there would be a third pony that could devastate me in such a way? The Pinktard has ruined many of my days, the Derptard has ruined my LIFE, and now this Flutterbitch has sent me into a spiraling river of possible insanity. Worse yet is that her words have merit.
I’m going through a change, Booky. Things are different. I mean, before I had noticed the…change…I had found solace in my home. It was a place devoid of those things of which plague me outside of it. Now that I’m aware that I’m changing, my home feels stifling, almost suffocating in a way. It’s almost like every time I turn a corner I come face to face with more and more painful memories. That’s why I had to leave the house the day that the Flutterbitch encountered me. It was too much…too damn much. I know that in the future…probably the very near future…I will have to make the decision to either embrace this change or reject it as violently as I can. If I accept it…well…I suppose I’ll just leave what happens after that to fate. As for the option of rejecting it…if I do so…I’m taking as many ponies down with me as I can.
As for the Flutterbitch, well, that adds plan BUTTERFLY KATCHERER to my docket.
You know, in a way, I really do miss Octavia. How she would sit there and listen to me talk and then talk back…in that accent I so adored. She was so different from what it was I expecting -so I thought-. I really did think I had a truly happy future ahead of me with her. She would let me stick the icky sticky to her and she would talk while I did it. Oh…how nice that would have been… I don’t even know what the fuck it was that drove her into the legs of a foal machine. I mean, I get it, I’m not exactly THE pinnacle of what a stallion is, but to be THE reason a foal machine becomes a lesbian…is something that I’m not proud of. What made her so different -so I thought- was how she simply accepted me for who I am. She knew that I lacked a cutie mark -still do-, that my job was nothing special -still is-, and that I hardly came from an upstanding background -still don’t-. What really struck me…truly endeared that bitch to me was how I told her about my mother and Shirley and she told me that I was lucky to have known them. I mean, who says that? Certainly nopony I know -I’m looking at you, Booky-.
It occurred to me as I picked up a little trinket during my shift that I was really wrong about everything with her. She didn’t hate me and she definitely didn’t break up with me -by becoming homosexual- because I’m me. No, she did it because of the filly I don’t know. I can’t believe I never saw it before, it’s so obvious! She didn’t want to be in a relationship with me because I had the filly I don’t know! Yeah, she’s just not ready to have foals and the thought of becoming the step-mother of one scared her off.
Alright, Booky, remind me to talk to her tomorrow. I can try to salvage my access to her foal parts if I really put my mind to it. Although, there is the issue of that note I found. I mean, it shouldn’t be too much of a thing, but I’m sure I can find a way around it.
Hm? What, you mean the note? I found it pinned to my door when I got back, but can I get more into that later? I’m kind of on a role right now. Thank you very much.
Now, where was I? Hm, Lyra the word killer, the lesbian, Rose the friendly spy, Flutterbitch, Octavia, and…oh…her…
What is there to say about she who shan’t be named? She was everything I ever needed and more. No, she wasn’t the same kind of comfort my mother was or the same kind of ‘comfort’ a foal machine could be; she was something more deep…even more deep…more-deep? Ah crap, give me a minute.
I am attempting to discern what word to replace deep with. Although I am deeply- wait, there! She was something more deeply! Hm, no, still not right. How do I describe how much more deep something is and not sound stupid? I could always use another word, but I’ve already written deep and thus am committed. What if I add a modifier of sorts? You know, like, incredibly or something like that? She was something more incredibly deep. Hm, still sounds off when you sound it out. What if I add an er to it? She was something more erdeep? No, no, that’s not how that works. She was something more deeerp? Hm, close. She was something more deeper? Yes! There it is!
Alright, sorry about that.
What is there to say about she who shan’t be named? She was everything I ever needed and more. No, she wasn’t the same kind of comfort my mother was or the same kind of ‘comfort ‘a foal machine could be; she was something more deeper. It’s hard to explain, especially under the kind pressure I’m under. Think of it as something between a book and its table of contents. Early books didn’t have any kind of table of contents -yes, I know, THE HORROR, THE HORROR- and they got along just fine. However, a book with a table of contents is so much more useful. She’s like that for me. I was so much more betterer when she was around. Sure, she scared Octavia off, but she who is nameless in this mention meant more than the seductively voiced foal machine.
As you know, I value silence when I need it. I guess it’s just a side-effect of being forever alone, but I just get something out of silence that I can’t get out of a myriad of noises. However, what I gain in that silence is overwhelmed by what is lost by being alone. She fixed that, the nameless one never spoke -nor do I believe she could for that matter- and that meant that when I wanted silence, I got it. What’s even better is that when I required noise, particularly of the audible variety, she was more than willing to giggle or make other cute noises. That was nice, really nice. The best part about her…above all other things...was how she legitimately came to my defense. When I was hurt, sad, angry, horny, and even just bored…she was there for me. She would help me to my hooves, show me how much the little things made me smile, discourage me from reacting purely out of rage, hook me up for my first true kiss, and even help me dust my button collection. You couldn’t ask for more than that.
I would more than happily reunite with that filly I’ve never met before if not for how it ended. She left when she had the chance. Crap, she even left me a note saying all of her crap! I mean, I opened my home to that bitch! No, worse, I opened my fucking HEART to that bitch! She stomped on it the very second things didn’t go her way. Yeah, that’s it, she wanted to go to Canterlot -not that she missed anything- and when I didn’t take her, she up and got the fuck out! That fucking bitch of a whore! I aught to…aught to…aught to…oh…oh no.
Booky, I don’t think I can be angry with her…not anymore. I mean, I never thought about her like I have this evenoring…not since she was still here. See what I mean by me changing? This right here is prime evidence!
Well, if I can’t be angry at her anymore…who do I be angry with?
…
Who do I be…hm, um, who am I angry with? No, not yet, um, who should I be angry with? Yeah, there we are!
Well, if I can’t be angry at her anymore…who should I be angry with? It’s not like anypony else was responsible for her leaving…OR IS IT?! Oh, here we go! She said in her dinky little note that she was leaving because the others were taking her! Who was it that took her? Rarity? No, no, she was who she was with when she was taken. Twilight? Hm, well, I’d love to say yes, but money is ever so nice to have, so I’ll say no. HER PARENTS! That’s it! They took her! Those bastard parents of hers! She wasn’t at fault!
HOORAY!
V! Oh, how wonderful it feels to say and write it! V didn’t leave because she wanted to, she didn’t do it to spite me, and she didn’t do it because she knew it’s what I didn’t want, no, she did it because those parents of hers forced her too! Oh, that just will not do! I want her back in my life…but…how do I do? I can’t just stomp up and demand her back, that’d be too simple, they’d see it coming. I have to be more subtle. I’VE GOT IT! I’ll…oh…well…if I’m changing…alright, here’s the plan, since I’m apparently fucking changing, I’ll have a plan for both outcomes. If I choose to change and accept it…I’ll…I’ll just be her friend, like she wanted. However, if I choose to reject my change, then she’s coming with me so that I can show her how a real father should act! Yeah, plans CHANGE-ED and V SNATCHERER are to be set into motion once I’ve dealt with everything! Until then, I guess I’ll just start talking to her again…though I cannot fathom how the crap I’ll manage that.
Oh, this is turning into quite the entry!
Alright, who- DAMN IT! I was riding so damn high on that smile I just got that I didn’t even notice that it was time to think about the Pinktard! How the crap did she get me IN MY OWN DIARY?! Her persistence is proving to be very persistent!
Hmph, I don’t even want to write her paragraph now.
…
…
Nope.
…
…
No, just no.
…
…
…
Fine…damn it, this is gonna suck.
Why is it that Pinkie is so persistent with me? It’s almost uncanny that she is able to overlook every hint I give her to leave me the fuck alone. There’s just no side-stepping it; she’s a nuisance. The reason I wanna mention her is because I am beginning to think differently about her. She’s no longer just an annoyance for my Annoysense to ignore; she’s a menace. I seriously wouldn’t say and write this if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s been shoving her fucking morals and thoughts down my throat ever since I decided I was done with V -who I am no longer done with-. Why? Just fucking why?! Why can’t I figure out why the fuck I’ve become the target of this utter bitch?! It’s ridiculous! She’s possibly the absolute worst pony in existence and yet the whole damn town just lets her run around doing whatever the fuck she wants. No, I can’t let it go on. That’s right, plan PINKIE BREAKER just gained an extra er! Plan PINKIE BREAKERER will be carried out to the fullest extent I can.
Yeah, that’s it for her. Like I said and wrote, I don’t want to even picture her right now.
Who I do want to picture right now -in ways that are not the usual reason I picture foal machines- is Rarity. She was one of the first foal machines that I looked at and decided she would be a good ally. At first she seemed scared, but that’s absolutely normal given the fact that I almost crippled her friend around the time I first met her. Now, however, I think she sees through all the smoke and mirrors everypony has put up. She’s -ugh- shown me respect, kindness, and undue generosity. Those reasons -alongside that accent- are why I decided that she’d be a good option for plan GETTIN’ BUSY. I chose Octavia as my priority because I had already progressed with her and was unwilling to change my progress. As for Blossom being the backup option…well, she can still be the backup option -heh, I’d like to see her backup towards me-. She just doesn’t have the accent.
Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Not only is Octavia no longer the priority, but I’ve still got the whole business with the note to sort over before I can decide who the priority is. And no, Rarity will not be it. You’ll understand in a second, you sick fuck.
After that little party for the Apple family that I chose to grace, I discovered something previously unknown to me; when I get drunk, I no longer can restrict my verbiage. The perfect example is when I spoke with the Derptard and Rarity. As I found out via Applejack and the lesbian -unlike every other pony who was anywhere near earshot when I said what was said- Rarity reminds me a great deal of my mother. It’s disturbing when I really REALLY look at it. Let’s start listing those many disturbing ways they are similar to each other, shall we? Rarity has a white coat while my mother had a white coat -actually more of an eggshell white rather than a light gray like Rarity’s, different but the same to the stupid-, Rarity’s high society accent is clearly fabricated to cover a more rustic one while my mother did the opposite in order to cover her Manehatten tone of voice, Rarity will be entirely superior to whichever stallion she ends up with while my mother was CLEARLY superior to that slob of a father of mine, Rarity’s mane is purple while my mother’s was dark purple -actually more of a dark indigo to Rarity’s moderate indigo-, Rarity’s name is Rarity and my mother’s name was Difficille Invenies -which means ‘hard to find’ in modern Equestrian, a short phrase that is summed into the word rare-, they both are fond of styling their manes, they’re both unicorns, and Rarity is clearly of a higher caliber to every foal machine in town while my mother was the highest caliber mare -the one time I will use that word with pride- in Equestria. Yeah, you can see it. Rarity not only reminds me of my mom…she practically could pass for her. Of course she never could, but she could try better than anypony else.
It really is no wonder I called her my mommy. I miss my mother more than can be expressed and in my inebriated state I couldn’t tell the difference.
Hey, Booky, do you think that Rarity would mind being my…well, friend? I mean, I don’t really care to be around her for
the conversation -minus to hear her voice-, her hobbies and the such -none of which I share or care for-, or anything else, except, of course, her company. Imagine just how soothing being in her presence would be for me. Isn’t that grand? So yeah, I’ll try…something…I have to. I want my mom back…even if I have to settle for a poor placeholder.
Hm? Oh, well, I suppose I never did. Yes, my mother’s name was Difficille Invenies. My bastard father’s name is Sale Barter. See? See why I didn’t want to say? It’s such a letdown. My name is so fragile and special, hers is absolute perfection, and his is something cheap and worthless.
And now…onto the main event…
The Derptard…where to start? I was wrong…about so much… She’s pretty much perfect for me. I won’t point anything out, but I mean, come on, it’s obvious. She’s got a personality I don’t absolutely hate, she defends me even when I myself cannot see her do so, she thinks of me when I myself am not even…um…when she does, she’s got obvious flaws, and she’s obviously not as stupid as I portray her. Plus, our colors are almost complimenting; my brown coat with her gray coat, my gold eyes with her yellow eyes, and my banana yellow mane with her pastel yellow mane. She even took in a filly…just like I did. Crap, she even finds a way to get things done when everything tries to stop her. It’s easy to see why I said I love her. In fact, it’s even easier to just go ahead and admit that I do, in fact, love her. However, it’s easy to admit for a reason.
Despite all of that…every little bit, I cannot overlook a few facts. She burned my house down, melted my old button collection, incinerated Shirley, enflamed those last pictures I had of my mother, entombed me in a crypt of flame, denied me peace in my time of mourning and recovery, punched my face with her face, stole my first kiss from me, broke my SWAG, humiliated me in front of my very own door, entered my home without my consent, tripped me and Carty into a river, gave me mouth-to-mouth, and many other things. Pretty much all of those are unforgivable. I will never be able to look at her and see anything but a seething rage. No matter how I feel about her, she crossed the line so far that it can’t even be seen anymore. That’s it, there’s no change that will turn me into some sort of sympathetic slob who would be able to even consider showing her these feelings that I am knowingly withholding from the world.
Well, there you have it, Booky, my perspective is certainly changing and these are just the most glaring examples. I actually have a reason for hating the word pillager, the lesbian is my kinda-friend, Rose the spy is now Rose the ally, the Flutterbitch’s fate is sealed, I will be seeking to reconnect with Octavia, I will be seeking to do the same with V, the Pinktard will be utterly destroyed, I will try to establish some sort of kinda-friendship with Rarity, and I love Derpy. If there was doubt about any of what I’ve said before about my changing, it is unbelievably gone at this point. I left the house for work yesterday with no allies, friends that aren’t you or Carty, any conquests, or kinda-friends, now I have an ally, a soon-to-be friend, two conquests -do not forget the note I have to go into detail about-, one kinda-friend, and one soon-to-be kind-friend. All of them foal machines.
How should I feel about that? As I’ve said, there will come a time when I have to choose whether or not to accept this change or reject it, but what do those two options really entail? Those things I’ve spent five thousand words listing are merely the effects of my changes. What exactly about me has changed? Just as puzzling, do I really want to know?
Think about it, the very thought of the change is making me flip my crap. Just as capsizing is the thought of what the changes have done to my life already. Everything’s changing and I have even decided on whether or not I’ll allow it to do so or not! So why would I want to know exactly WHAT is changing when I only care about the fact that no matter what it is, it has flipped all kinds of switches.
With that thought in mind, what are the repercussions of these choices? Let’s take a look, shall we?
If I choose to accept them, then my life is gonna get a huge overhaul. I’ll have to make time for my new kinda-friends, my new friend, and those new conquests. That means that I’ll have to find a way to sleep when those ponies are awake to spend that time with me. I can see that it’d be rather difficult to accomplish, but not impossible. Should I take this avenue, then other things will have to change alongside those that are doing so anyway. That means my plans will be heavily affected. You see, I cannot in good conscience carry out plans PINKIE BREAKERER, BUTTERFLY KATCHERER, MUFFIN DESTROYERER, and -obviously- V SNATCHERER without ostracizing myself from those I’ve newly connected myself with. Yes, I agree with you, such a thing is a shame of justice if there ever was such, but I cannot act on those plans if I so choose to remain in contact with those I’ve just contacted. So what does that entail for me, in regards to the individuals those plans describe? Well, let’s look at it.
Flutterbitch is the newest addition to the group and the smallest offender of the bunch. Her machinations are what lead to this breakdown of mine and have forced a reorganizing of my life. However, this is simply via her one act and thus not a determinate upon the rest of her acts. So, feasibly, given time and incentive, I could see myself forgiving her. I don’t think I’d ever want to socialize with her again, but I doubt I’d hold a lifelong grudge.
The Pinktard is bit of a different story. Rather than be the annoyance she always has been, she’s see fit to upgrade her antics to menacing rather than her typical crap. That means I have to look at this with different eyes. The whole reason for that upgrade is because of her force feeding me her words. I simply cannot deal with it should that continue. So I’m left with -yet again- two options; do as I would do for the Flutterbitch and forgive her transgressions or ignore her until the day I die. In order for the former to occur would entail that this be the end of her ravings and the return to her annoying self. I can tolerate that, especially seeing as she’s well aware to stay the fuck away from me when at all possible. Should she do that, I could easily coexist alongside her. Crap, I could even see myself conversing with her once every two months! However, should she decide to retain her more menacing features, then the latter of the two options shall be enacted. And by ignore her until the day I die, I mean abso-fucking-lutely that. Even if she’s drowning in a river, crying out for help under a pile of rubble, inside a burning building, or being stabbed to death, she is but nothing to me and will be treated as such.
Most heartbreaking will be Derpy. There is no course of action where she escapes my judgment. The best I can do for her is to have two separate judgments for these two options of mine. Obviously one of them will be the same kind of ignoring that the Pinktard might have to receive. Honestly, I even stated as much in the prior paragraph. However, like with the Flutterbitch and the Pinktard, my other option is to carry out my plan to the fullest extent of my abilities. Lucky for her, that will only come to pass if I reject the change.
If I choose to reject the change, then there will still need to be a complete overhaul. I will make no attempt to salvage life here in Ponyville and will only set my sights on the four goals I have set. You see, despite whom I am and the amazingness that implies I possess, I cannot continue to occupy the same town as I do now if I choose to reject those changes. Remember that I said I would violently do so and take down as many as I could. This entails the carrying out of my plans to absolute completion. Plans BUTTERFLY KATCHERER, PINKIE BREAKERER, MUFFIN DESTROYERER, and V SNATCHERER will be -seen through in that order, cause, you know, OCD-. Basically, should the rejection occur, I could very well be committing murder -a sin that I am absolutely unsure of has been committed in the last thousand years or so- and I will for sure be foalnapping V. Won’t be too bad, I suppose. I’ll grab you, Carty, my button collection, V, and get right the fuck out of town and make a life for myself out in some dark hole or something. Sounds almost pleasant.
Clearly one of those options is better than the other, but that is what I’ve been left with.
Now, since that is out of the way -minus, you know, actually making a decision on which of the two options I’ll go with- let’s move on, shall we?
Though I was saddled down with those infinitely deep thoughts, I actually managed to pull a rather decent load in. I suppose you could say I’m amazing, but I wouldn’t begrudge you if you were to decide to say I’m awe-inspiring. In fact, go ahead and say it. Thank you.
My haul daynight was, as previously stated, impressive. It includes the aforementioned dictionary -which is already proving itself to be useful as crap, yeah, what your binding, Booky, this book has it out for you-, a gold pendant, this really cool marble, a ship in a bottle, what appears to be a journal, a small mirror, a…um…cannon…yeah, a plush muffin, and a gigantic plastic tooth. Yeah, not your usual run of the mill grouping, but not the most wonky I’ve ever found.
Alright, let’s do this, BREAK-IT-DOWN!
The first item on the docket this evenoring is the mirror. Now, this is one of those little ones that are really easily
portable and useful for styling on the go. This one has a simple heart design on the back of it and the pink of that heart is offset by the turquoise that makes up the rest of the non-reflective parts. I’d say that this thing wouldn’t be worth too much, but due to the presence of an ABSOLUTELY stunning stallion in the reflection, I’ll mark it up. Perceived value: thirty-five bits.
As I’ve been showing off throughout this entry, this dictionary has made itself quite useful. The quality leaves a good bit to be desired as it seems like this thing was just sitting around for twenty years before it got thrown out. And yes, it is twenty years obsolete. However, I do not own a dictionary and this one has already been of hingdangering use, so yeah. Perceived value: nothing, but I’ll be keeping it anyway, so that doesn’t matter.
This next item comes to us courtesy of the Pinktard. How to describe this thing, hm, well, it’s a cannon. A freaking cannon. Yeah, like, off a pirate ship. I’d say I’d be able to make a mint off it, but the retard went and scratched her name into it. What does she even need a cannon for? Stupid bitch. Perceived value: one hundred bits.
Clocking in at a solid what the fuck on the Ipsa Unica scale of bull crap -ask later- is this giant, plastic tooth. This seriously might be the most bizarre item I have ever come across. I actually had a good deal of trouble deciding if it was junk or not, but I’ve decided to try and make some money here. Making this thing weirder, is that it seems to be made to stand on a desk and that is has a gigantic smile of its own. Yeah, you read that right. The tooth is smiling. Yeah, a solid what the fuck will do nicely. Perceived value: twenty bits.
Perhaps most interesting in my finds is this journal. Apparently this thing belongs to Big Macintosh of Sweet Apple Acres, otherwise known as the stallion I kissed. Yup, that still happened. However, making this thing more interesting is that it appears to be his dream journal. I’ve never seen much use for such things. My picturesque memory is more than enough to remember my dreams. His dreams, for some strange reason, deal with him abandoning his family and becoming a pirate. Hm, can’t say that isn’t an admirable goal. I’m not too fond of pirate stories myself, but I suppose I see the value in something like this. Too bad there’s no good blackmailing info in there. Perceived value: twenty bits, but I’ll mark it up to thirty cause I’m a stinker.
This right here is an item of class. How often do you see a ship in a bottle? Even moreso, how often do you see one this nice? I made one Tartarus of a find with this and I feel I will eat heartily because of it. For that matter, who would just leave this thing lying around? I mean, I know I made a rule not to wonder where any of it comes from, but this is something of an exception. This thing is downright nice! Why? Why would somepony just chuck it out? I mean, I found it in a bush outside somepony’s window, but still, why put it there? A mantle is where something like this belongs. I’d put it on mine if I had one. Perceived value: one hundred bits.
Sometimes I like to sit back and just look at the things I’ve found. This is one of them. Though I’m far more partial to buttons, I appreciate art when I see it. It isn’t very often that a pony takes pride in making marbles and this is clearly one that was fretted over for many days. What I’m holding here is a see-through gold marble with the design of an intricate dragon on the inside with what appears to me a flaming heart in its claws. That’s art right there. It is also something I like to call a meal ticket. Perceived value: fifty bits.
Ah, as was the cannon, this too is of oddly meaningful timing. This plush muffin toy is clearly the possession of Derpy. Believe me when I say that this thing is old. It’s heavily worn, has multiple stitches in it, five separate patches of replaced fabric, and it feels as though the stuffing has lost a lot of plushness. This tells me that this is an item of which she cherishes and has meant a great deal to her. How cruel fate is that it landed in my cart. Yes, it kinda just appeared in my cart out of nowhere. I assume it fell out of the sky, somehow. Perceived value: ten bits, cause I’m a stinker.
The final object in this evenoring’s game is going to be yet another meal ticket for me. I often find jewelry and accessories of varying varieties and this is one of the gold variety. It appears to be grafted out of gold rather than just encased in it, which means that it is even more expensive than I originally thought. Also useful, is that it is crafted into the logo of the Wonderbolts and thus has a customer I know would love to have it. All of these are things that will make my dinners fuller. Perceived value: sixty bits.
I suppose that does it for this rendition of the BREAK-IT-DOWN game, let’s just hope Twilight went to the bank this week.
That leads me to the note. Now, understand that I was quite surprised by its appearance on my door, even moreso by the quality with which it’s written. Though I’ll leave that up to example:
Dear Mr. Ipsa Unica,
I’ve been meaning to come to you about this for a little while and only now did I get the courage from my friends to actually give you this note. However, I kind of chickened out at the last second and decided to leave it on your door for you to find. Sorry, but you’re kind of scary.
Don’t take this the wrong way, please, don’t do that, but I feel like you and I should talk sometime really soon. I know you don’t know me very well, but I know enough about you to know that this talk is more than needed. I really think that what I have to say will really mean something special to you.
Before you get mad and come looking for me, I wanted to mention that I really do respect you, me and my friends all do. We’ve been really intrigued with you since the day we first saw you and we’ve only become more interested with time.
Please meet me at midnight tomorrow at the gazebo. My friends won’t be coming, but I figured you’d like it better that way.
To be safe, only my friends know I’m doing this. Not even my sister knows. I’d ask you not to tell anypony that I’m doing this, but I understand if you do.
Thank You,
SB
That’s it. See what I mean by well written? Whoever wrote this clearly picked their words carefully and made each pencil mark deliberately. I’m actually very impressed by whoever ‘SB’ is. They actually managed to come off as attractive whilst sounding like I had a knife to their throat or something. Look at how every line pretty much begs for my satisfaction and stays as far away from insulting as possible. This is a pony who clearly wrote this with the intention of getting in my good graces before even meeting me. That is a very good sign.
You see, this is why I wanted to wait to talk about plan GETTIN’ BUSY. She is absolutely a candidate for it and I would absolutely hate to mess up an opportunity to stick the icky sticky to a foal machine. What’s even better is that this one actually seems to be coming onto me rather than the other way around. Though I suppose the hotness has something to do with that. Oh, how I wish Derpy hadn’t broken my SWAG. Imagine it, my SWAG turned on and my hotness on high. This foal machine would be under me faster than you can say ‘target acquired’!
Here comes the difficult part; whom do I choose for plan GETTIN’ BUSY? Blossom, Octavia, SB, and Rose are all viable options. Hm, what to do, what to do -hehe, more like who to do-? Do I go for the naughty teacher with the absolutely luscious flanks, the sophisticated musician with the boner causing voice, the more than willing SB -if a bit shy it seems-, or my new ally who seems to be infinitely clever and thus would be a ton of fun in bed? Hm, time to ABP -analyze by paragraphs-!
Blossom, the large flanked teacher is going to be the easiest to actually analyze -hehe, I’ve looked her over enough times- due to her previous existence as the back-up to Octavia. Her knowledge could prove useful, though I’m not sure her history as an educator has lent itself to teaching her forbidden sexual knowledge that would spin the head of any stallion. However, it does indeed lend itself to having taught her biology and thus she is by far the most aware of the group in terms of what to do and how to do it right. Also, those flanks of hers are rather large. That is all.
Hm, how would I go about seducing her? I’ve lost the opportunity to utilize V as a door opener for that. I suppose I could use my past with Blossom to fill that role. Yeah, she already knows me and thus is well aware of what to expect. All I have to do is play the sympathy card! Yes, finally, a reason to be happy for my lifetime of torment! To seduce her, I’ll start in with something casual that relates back to some tragic event in my past. Blossom, probably aware of what event that I’m speaking of, would sympathize quickly and thus become vulnerable to me. Nicely done, Booky!
Like Blossom, Octavia will be another that’s easy to analyze. Her voice alone could serve as my foreplay and her body is definitely no slouch in the beauty department. Shapely, firm, and crafted with prepared diets, that would be a body that I’d gladly be all over. To make matters even betterer, her being a musician would lead to her having a practiced pragmatic grace with which to please me with. Yeah, that sounds really good!
Unfortunately, I haven’t spoken with her since she came out as a lesbian and thus unburning that bridge will be difficult. I suppose I could open up with an apology, maybe some flowers. There’s also the possibility that I could simply invite her out to dinner in order to discuss what happened between us civilly while at the same time flirting with her, very easy to do. I’m pretty sure that the pony that she’s currently a lesbian with is the one that I caught her in that alley with, which means that blackmailing her is not an option this time. Those prior options should do me good, though.
SB, whoever that is, is a bit of a mystery as I don’t know who that is. As stated previously, she’s very meticulous in the writing of her note and thus considered it greatly. This tells me that she’s either quite nervous about this or is simply that way towards everything. It also tells me that she’s probably a little bit younger than me in that her use of language in the note was well done and nicely flowing, the words used were rather simplistic, although that could easily be attributable to her wanting to be as clear as possible.
Wooing her will be quite easy, especially given that she came to me. So, I’ll just run by Rarity’s during the mevening -which I was gonna do anyfray- in order to get her opinion on what I should wear to seduce this foal machine the easiest way I can. I’ll also ask her if she knows anypony named SB that has a sister.
Perhaps most interesting is Rose. I’ve never really considered her in detail. She’s got the stout body of an Earth pony and also clearly watches her weight and exercises due to the toned nature of her body and flanks. I can only assume that means she is well built for a thirteen round cage match with the Mighty Wriggler. Also of note is her cutie mark being of a floral variety and thus, with the added input of her occupation and name, I surmise that she is of the romantic type. That means I’ve gotta go with the classics if I were to start from the ground up with her. However, given our history together, I can start from there and simply add the classical romantic tones to it as I go
In terms of classic romanticizing, flowers, poetry, injury, and the like are the usual go to, but I’m gonna take a slightly different route given her job with flowers. Utilizing her alliance with me, I could very easily weasel my way into a position to give a gift of some sort in order woo her. My guess is that some simple jewelry would just about do it. What’s really fun is that I could probably find her something really nice in the street. I just gotta see something really nice and knock it into the bushes and hope that it’ll be there during my shift.
Oooh that is a fun game! We should add it to our repertoire!
Anyray, those are all viable options. The real question is to whom do I lean towards? I’m rather partial to Blossom’s physical form; though Octavia’s voice clearly has them all beat, with Rose’s cleverness being her superior trait, while the ease with which I can seduce SB would be hers.
The really real question comes into how much would each affect my situation? Seeking Blossom would require some time and a good sob story, going after Octavia has obvious difficulties with how I wish to have V back in my life, I have no clue who SB is, and if I were to pursue Rose I could lose her as an ally. Hm, quite the dilemma. I suppose that the way to think of it is that SB should come first -given the ease with which I can achieve her and the her readily available status-, which, should it fail, would be followed by Blossom as there is no detriment to the action of wooing her, but should that fault as well then I’d turn to Rose as I have to rebuild my relationship with Octavia back from the ground up. See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?
Now, to plan my day.
As stated, I will be heading out extremely early in order to have enough time to do stuff and thus I will be taking you with me in order to do my entry as I go. Or I won’t take you, really, it’s up to how I feel. I’ll go to Rarity’s first, try to find the lesbian -maximum of thirty minutes searching-, I’ll make a stop by Rose’s stand, probably buy a few apples, and then see Twilight before coming home.
Why do I want to go to these places? Well, my bookish friend, you know what that means. It’s time to ABP -I’m already in love with it-!
The stop at Rarity’s should make plenty of sense, especially given how I’ve already gone over it. I would like her opinion regarding what I should do to prepare for my date with SB. I’ll also ask if she knows who that is. Lastly, I want to talk to her about possibly having some form of friendship with her. I may even have to tell her about my mother in order to gain her favor, but, if that’s what it takes, then I’m still game.
Trying to find the lesbian should have equally obvious reasons. I want to talk to him in regards to my newly analyzed feelings for him and thus officially strike up our kinda-friendship. I honestly don’t think that one will be very difficult for me to get through as I’ve already had to endure a train ride to Canterlot with her. The hard part -hehe, I wrote hard- will be finding her. I have no clue where she lives and I don’t know where she frequents. So yeah, there’s that.
I’ll probably buy a few roses off of Rose when I get to her stand. I’ll even be good and tip her in order to show her that I’m more than ready to be her ally. Hay, I could probably even see how she thinks I should handle the Octavia situation. No clue if she would know anything about getting V back into my life, but that’s neither here nor there. However, I do intend to firmly let her know that our alliance is official -under the table of course, wouldn’t want the conspirators killing her-. Either way, I’ll try to flirt a little bit with her. Maybe even give her one of those roses -hehe, ain’t I a stinker-?
I want some apples because I haven’t really eaten or ingested food since the day before last and I’m feeling a tad bit neglected, so I’ll help myself to some apples. It’s possible I can also use that chance to speak with whatever Apple is in charge of the stand, whether that be Macintosh or Applejack. What to talk about, however, is the question. I don’t really have anything to say to Applejack and I’m supposing that she doesn’t have much to say to me. Macintosh, on the other hoof, and I have a bit of a something to discuss; namely the fact that I kissed him. I wanna clear the air out between him and me so that we’re both quite aware that I am NOT gay. That’s something very important to me to prove.
The one I am most looking forward to, however, is the stop by the library. It is here that I will get my money for all of my finds. I simply cannot wait to have money for food, which will be very exciting. Once I leave I can head directly home and then go shopping, which will be quite the thing. Twilight, however, might be a bit of an issue. I haven’t really spoken with her in a while and I doubt she’ll have nothing to say about some of my recent actions. I mean, I know I’m pretty much a background figure here in Ponyville -being the cutie markless street cleaner who only comes out at night helps with that-, but she tends to keep tabs on everypony and that, along with my required interactions with her, puts me right into her path.
Hmph, oh well, if that bitch has anything to say, I’ll just kinda ignore her, as usual. Either way, those are all things that should prove to be interesting in some fashion. However, far more disturbing is that it is now eleven o’clock and that means noon is an hour away.
Fuck that time of day, I mean that.