//------------------------------// // A few words with... Mom. // Story: Woundsalt, Mother Bucker. // by OneUppington //------------------------------// Well, it’s been a fun time with myself the last few hours. Panicking the fuck out, crying on the floor, banging my head onto the walls, shouting “WOUNDSALT FUCKING SPARLKE!?!” as loud as possible, and then ending up in the fetal position on the bed. Good times. I hear a knocking on the door. I’m willing to assume its ‘Momma Sparkle.’ “Wound, it’s me. Just checking in on you before the girls and I go to the chariot to see me off.” Yeah, of course you are Twilight. Tell you what, why don’t you take my silence as ‘I’m fine’ and just go back to Canterlot? You’ve done enough damage to me today. “Am I allowed to come in? I want to tell you a few things. Important things. Important things that you need to know.” I’m certain those important things that I need to know would be better expressed by letter from your mansion. No wait even better, tell one of your friends. I’m certain Pinkie Pie would love to tell me more important things I should know. Maybe she’ll design some cakes for them. “Can I at least come in to do the DNA test?” … Well, she knows how to cut a deal. That’ll help her when she runs something. So I open the door to see my mother levitating a swab and a tube. “Say Aaah.” I open my mouth, not saying anything. She quickly rubs the swab around and then puts it in the tube. … “Pinkie says she’s sorry. It wasn’t her domain to tell you before I do.” My new mother states. “In hindsight, maybe I should’ve told you before the party instead of afterwards as I planned.” “… So you were planning to tell me this?” “Oh yeah, definitely.” She nods. “I couldn’t leave you without telling you about this fantastic predicament Saint Diamond Heart’s put us in.” Fantastic Predicament? Oh… “So all this wasn’t your intention?” “Of course it wasn’t. You’re five years older than me for crying out loud. Have you heard anyone who was adopted by someone younger than them?” Well, I think I read somewhere that some colt in Flotrotta adopted his cougar fillyfriend as some kind of fe- YOU KNOW WHAT? THAT’S NOT A GOOD PATH TO TAKE THE CONVERSATION DOWN! MAYBE ASKING HER HOW THIS ADOPTION THING CAME TO BE, BRAIN? “Good point…” I reply to Twilight’s question, hoping nothing will remind me of that story my perverted subconscious almost dug up ever again. “Question: What happened?” “Well, the receptionist was pretty nervous when she saw it was me; not everyday that a princess goes in saying they want to take somepony away, after all.” Twilight explains. “So she accidently printed the adoption form for me to sign instead of one to just release you… and then accidently printed the said form in a small, illegible font so no naked eye can read it to tell the difference between the adoption form from any other form… and then accidently spilt coffee on the form so I definitely can’t read it… You know something? I’m starting to think she did all that on purpose to make sure she’ll never see you there again.” “Yeah, that sounds like Type Face. That bitch always resented me ever since I caught her with Morning Glory in Dusty Brush’s closet.” I think she owes me a few rounds at the bar too. Luna damn it, I need a drink. It’s been a rough day, and the only cure I know is some Captain Swash Buckler on the rocks. “Uh, Wound? Sorry to say my telepathy just kicked in again, but about your new, sober life you completely forgot about...” Fuck! “The girls and I were talking about it. With all the changes in your life in the last twenty-four hours, we decided that quitting cold turkey would probably be a bad idea. So for here on in, you’ll be cutting your intake by a routine.” A routine? Brainstorm tried to do that to me once. That was not a good experience for anyone involved. “So what, one night of booze a week?” “Actually, since you used to drink every night, I’m thinking every second night. That would mean we cut your drinking by fifty percent. Then, when I think you can do it, we’ll take it to a week. Deal?” Every second night? FUCK YEAH! Even if it includes heavy monitoring it beats the shit out of Brainstorm’s ex-routine! Finally, something coming up Woundsalt! “Sounds good to me. You don’t mind if tonight’s a Drinks night?” “No, you go on ahead.” Twilight smiles. “I got a small bottle of sake from Emperor Dive Kick of Neighpon. The Emperor’s own brew to celebrate my coronation. Probably not enough to make you pass out in front of a statue, but you do have a busy day tomorrow. Better not to have a hangover for your first morning in Ponyville!” Her horn illuminates as I hear from downstairs an opening and closing of the fridge. Then suddenly a bottle is floating in the doorway with two small bowls. “You joining me?” “Just the one.” Twilight insisted. “I wouldn’t want to disgrace the emperor by not having a sip, should I?” The bottle pours itself into the two bowls, which levitated to us to be grabbed out of the air afterwards. Twilight sips from her glass first, quickly followed by some wincing. “Bleh! How can you drink stuff like this on a daily basis? It’s terrible!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow Twilight, you make an excellent impression of a five year old taking a sip of wine from her parents.” She pouts at me. Nice to know my mother can be childish. Then I sip the sake. Then I wince. “Fucking Tartarus! You know what? I’m taking that back; this is some terrible sake!” “Oh, so it wasn’t just my lack of expertise in drinking.” Twilight smiled slyly. “Oh no, it wasn’t. No sake should taste like a katana through the throat.” I see the alicorn look uneasy… “Please… please don’t talk about murder… Rainbow Dash’s Chariotora story is not going well with my stomach right now.” She carefully puts the sake bottle down from midair. You know, even though I said previously I had enough of this Chariotora bullshit, I can’t help but wonder how the two featherbrains know about it. “So, how exactly did Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy know about Chariotora?” “Well, it turns out, Celestia wasn’t the only one trying to keep Chariotora a secret. Millions of pegasi, learning from word of mouth, have been hiding its existence from the other breeds for many centuries out of straight-up fear of Ironsight. In fact, he creates so much fear in them they make ghost stories about him; usually about some young adult ponies having… well, you know… ‘Relations’ in a very clouded area being interrupted by a dark figure bleeding from his neck and sides of the flank attacking them with an already bloodied dagger. Presumably the one that killed him and removed his cutie mark.” “Wow, how very cliché.” I reply. “Surely the true ghost that haunts that tale is the ‘Pre-Marital Sex Equals Horrible Gruesome Death’ Trope. Why does an Emperor have a problem with a couple getting freaky behind the nimbuses, anyway?” “That’s the problem with learning from word of mouth.” Twilight sighs. “The more the pegasi talk of Ironsight, the more his tale gets twisted and turned, slowly turning him from feared dictator to haunted ghost with tight morals. Some survey Rainbow Dash’s father created for a thesis found that only forty-five percent of pegasi know about Ironsight’s back-story correctly, and out of them seventy percent don’t believe in it. One of which, is Fluttershy’s mother, who is an ‘Ironsightian horror’ novelist who wrote another entirely different origin story, believing the one we know that is real as just as false.” Hurk… “When making a remake, you don’t fuck with the original work…” “Wound, are you okay?” The princess was asking me this because I had just received a stabbing pain in my chest and then talked like I was a noble from Trottingham. “I… don’t know. That just sort of happened.” I say, still holding my chest with my left hoof. “Was there something in that sake?” “No, I would have felt something before you if that’s the case.” Twilight said puzzlingly, levitating the bottle to take a peek in. “Maybe it’s… Wound, I’m going to say something that may hurt you.” “What’s that?” “Poetry is a art.” "Harr… That is improper grammar. If the following word starts with a vowel, then instead of a, use an. Okay, what the fuck is going on?” “I think I know, but I need to make sure. Let me try it again.” “Oh hell n-” “THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS TO I BEFORE E EXCEPT AFTER C!” "Ack! That is incredibly incorrect. There are so many exceptions to this rule that they don’t even teach it in schools anymore. Please stop this!” “One more. Sparkly…” “No. No! Twilight please, this is straight up tort-” “…Vampires!” “AAAAAAARRRRGGGH! Look, if I tell you how stupid that is, this pony that I have been trapped in since our birth would die from the pain before I even get half way. Just trust me when I say it’s a sin to the written word, okay?” “Okay.” “Good.” … As my pain disappears and I regain control of my mouth, I look towards the purple princess with great distaste. “You better give me a good reason why you did that so many times or I swear to Cadence, I’ll show you what the word regicide means.” She’s smiling a grin so large its almost as if she ignored my threat. “Do you know what happened here?” “D… Did I get possessed by something as we flew over Tartarus?” “No. What happened here was a possession, though.” “Oh, goody.” I say to her, wondering why she didn’t bring an old priest and a new priest with her up here. “So if not a being from the land of the damned, who or what possessed me?” “Your magic, Woundsalt!” she shouts as she jumps up and down with glee. “The girls and I read the biography book downstairs, and there’s no doubt you have hereditary magic flowing through you! The blackouts are from magical overflows, the quotes from literature you never seen before is obviously omnipresence and now we found out it can possess you if triggered, which usually happens to unicorns who have not been taught how to use their magic properly! It’s definite! It can’t be anything else! It’s magic! You are the second known pony in the world to have the CMC!” I can’t help but to stare at the excited princess, with a great smile. I have to deal with this magical possession shit now, sure, but now I have an explanation of what I had to live with from the day I got my cutie mark. That’s just… great. I thought I’d never get one, but here it is. No, wait! Not just an explanation. A name. A name! What I’m suffering from has a name! Well, initials really, but still a Name! I can actually tell people what’s my problem and call it something too! My name is Woundsalt. I am an earth pony with magic through my veins. What I have is the CMC. … “You know, Twilight. It would be helpful if you gave me the full name of this mother fucking disorder rather than its initials. It’s almost as if I’ve got diagnosed some little kiddie group.” She’s trying to hold in some laughter and just barely succeeding. She did say the name of it makes her laugh. “Yeah, w-we’d better give you the full name. Just in case we c-confuse it with a-anything else.” My guardian says during her just strong enough resistance to roll on the floor with laughter. “The full name of it is the Confused Magic Condition.” “Right, okay.” Not sure why she thinks it’s funny. Maybe I am missing some context. Anyway, let’s try this again… My name is Woundsalt. I am an earth pony with magic through my veins. What I have is the Confused Magic Condition. … Much better. “Well, Wound I’ll leave you to that happy thought you got there and be on my way.” Says my guardian as she walks out the door. “If you ever need to tell me something, write me a letter and have my owl send it to me. Don’t bother feeding him though; Owlowiscious will hunt for himself. Oh, and Wound?” She looks directly into my eyes. “Welcome to your new life.” As she closes the door behind her, I lay in the bed thinking about the day that had gone. I moved to a new neighbourhood, talked with ponies that saved all Equinity on multiple occasions, discovered I got adopted into royalty out of a receptionist’s spite, tasted the most disgusting sake in the world and found out what the hell is wrong is me. Not bad for the first day. Personally, I’m just happy to be out of that orphanage. No more Brainstorm, no more little snot-nosed brats, and last but definitely not least no more living in the shittiest side of Canterlot. I swear, if I dare step into Western Canterlot ever again, it would be too fucking soon. You know… this is probably the first night in a long time that didn’t end up sleeping at the base of the Saint Diamond Heart statue. Kind of weird how out of everything I hate about the place, that’s the only thing I’d miss. I yell abuse at it, sure; but only because she became the symbol of whom I was angry at the most. She… She was there for me… Crap… Please don’t tell me I’m missing my Not-Mommy on my first night away from home. Seriously Woundsalt, find a pair, quit thinking about that Saint Diamond Heart and just go to sleep. DIAMOND HEART To whomever found this room underneath my bed, I don’t know how long this secret’s been kept deep within my orphanage, but I do know you have a lot of questions about what you see in here. However, just in case you are one of my children when you read this, please for your sake hand this letter to a reasonable adult, tell them where you found this, show them the trap door and leave it to them. Immediately. Right now. Trust me, it’s not what a child your age should know. Look, I know. It bites, but just trust me when I say you are better off not knowing, Okay sweetie? Okay. Now do as I wrote now. Atta Boy/Girl. Not-Mommy loves you. Diamond Heart. Xoxoxox Right, now that that’s out of the way. Now it is time to confess my secret sex life in great detail. [FOR THE SAKE OF COMIC EFFECT, AND OF COURSE THE SAKE OF THE TEEN RATING, THE REMAINDER OF THIS DREAM WILL BE CENSORED. KEEP IN MIND; WOUNDSALT WILL BE SEEING WHAT VILE INFORMATION THIS CENSOR HAS HIDDEN FROM YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE. I THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING. – WELSHY.]