Chapter 1 Less than Perfect
It all started when Spike went to ask Rarity out on a date. He was walking through Ponyville, his scaly palms sweaty and his tail twitching. He was finally going to do it. Tell her how he felt. Show his cards. Rip his mask of chumminess off and start what he hoped would be the rest of his life. He had rehearsed in front of the mirror all morning, his fangs were brushed and his claws were polished, and he was as ready as he would ever be.
Walking through town, he notices a new sign on a previously uninhabited house. It said “Dr Flimp. Personality tests and treatment for all sorts of quirks of the mind. Reasonable prices.” Curiosity halted his steps, and he looked through the window. A thick curtain made it impossible to look inside, but there was a notice taped to the window glass. It said: “Are you socially awkward? Shy? Insensitive of overly sensitive? Hyperactive or short of initiative? Dr Flimp will help you adjust to current cultural expectations and become more successful. Remember: no pony is perfect. Every pony can become more perfect.”
Spike shrugged. He didn´t need some shrink to take on the challenges of life. Did he? But before he went on, he read the last line on the notice: “Flimp & Flamp enterprises, commissioner of psychiatric treatments and therapies of the royal court.” Celestia´s cutiemark coat of arms was drawn in the bottom corner of the notice. The royal court! Well, Princess Luna had had her fair share of hard times. She had changed a lot, going from bad to good. Maybe she had needed professional help to do it? But still, who would need a doctor like that here in Ponyville? There were plenty of quirky ponies all right, but they had always managed anyway, hadn´t they? Then again, if it was good enough for princess Celestia and her court…
Thinking of princess Celestia made Spike realize how high the sun was in the sky. He should hurry before Rarity left home in the morning! So he went on, still determined but slightly less sure of himself.
His paw shook a little as he knocked on Rarity´s door.
“Just a minute!” her voice rang from inside. “I´m not decent yet!”
Not decent! Spike drew a deep breath. Images of black lace went through his mind and out to the tip of his tail. Rarity´s milky hide, pink in less visible areas, peeking through a minute nightgown...
“Oh, hello Spike! What can I do for you this sunny day?”
Spike was speechless. Rarity was wearing an itsy bitsy sequin covered costume that barely covered the most desirable parts of her body. On her head was an enormous decoration made of peacock feathers and glittering gems in blue and gold.
“I´m making costumes for the Brazilian Samba Fillies.” Rarity explained. “Had to try one on. The Samba Fillies are performing in Ponyville on the 30th. What do you think?”
She made a turn, and some sequins glued to her cutiemark caught the morning sun and made her flank sparkle. She looked at Spike, waiting for him to say something. He opened his mouth. It was dry as a cactus flower pot. Not a word came out. The word “socially awkward” flew through Spikes mind.
“So how are you today?” Rarity tried. “Would you like to come in?”
She opened the door a little wider. Spike could not move. He wanted to come inside, lick those rhinestones off her hide and hand her his heart on a silver plate, but instead he just stood there, jaws working in vain to say something. It lasted an eternal ten seconds. Then he turned around and ran.
It was worse than trying to sing the Cloudsdale anthem at the Equestria games. Even worse than failing to light the torch of the games. His face was hot and his stomach cold as ice, and he had the word FAILURE rolling through his mind. After a while he stopped, panting. How could he have wasted such a chance? He would never be able to look Rarity in the eye, or any other part of her body, after this. Why did he have to be so shy, so useless! His eyes watered with resentment at his own inaptitude and he looked up. He was right under the sign that said “Dr Flimp. Personality tests and treatment for all sorts of quirks of the mind. ”. Now he knew who would hire a doctor like that: useless people, people who sucked, people like him. Things could not get worse. He opened the door and went in.
Inside was a room with a couch, a desk chair and a cash register.
“You have come to the right place” a voice said.
A latte stallion in a corduroy jacket and thick, round glasses appeared.
“I´m doctor Flimp. Please, make yourself comfortable, and let´s see how we can help you!”
He pointed at the couch, and Spike tentatively got on it. The stallion sat down in the chair, crossed his hind legs and put his front hoofs together in a pondering pose.
“Now” he said, looking at Spike over his glasses. “You look depressed.”
Spike nodded.
“Not living the life you want to live? Not reaching your goals?”
Spike nodded more vigorously.
“Well, I can help you. Start by telling me about your childhood!”