//------------------------------// // Hey There, Good Looking // Story: Woundsalt, Mother Bucker. // by OneUppington //------------------------------// … I'm... I'm in a void... A white void... White to the left of me, white to the right... Everywhere... White... ... OH COME THE FUCK ON! Really? Fucking really? Just a white void? This is my inner self? I know I don't think highly of myself, but this? This is insulting! Why? Why is there nothing but white? Is it because I'm all white? Is this astral plane taking the piss out of me for dyeing my mane black? Well, fuck you too, astral plane! I can think up better inner selves than you any day of the week. Like say, some kind of utopia where miniature versions of myself swimming in a synchronized fashion in different kinds of booze and liquors. Or, some kind of starry plain where some freakish spirit-creature speaks in riddles. Hell, I'm a wordy type of guy, I could've had a city where everything is made out of words! Skyscrapers made out of the word 'skyscraper', Giant bold yellow word to signify a Taxi... No wait, that's a terrible inner self. I don't really want to step into a puddle of puddles. And I bet its one with a bad type face, so I'll get Comic Sans on my hooves. Blech. Hold up. I've spotted something. Something besides from me is in the void. A couple of pages of paper is blowing in the... lack of wind. Wow, talk about minimalism. Nothing inside me but some floating document. Let's see if I can get- Yep. It moved away. Hmm, interesting direction it's going in. Clearly what it wants me to do is to follow it. Can't pretend I can go anywhere else, so... lead on mystical documents! Deliver me to somewhere less tedious than this! As the papers and I head towards the destination unknown to me, I get a few glimpses of it's contents. Really hard to make it out completely, what with it flapping away, but I saw my signature on it, and some other signature. Judging by the humongous two Ps towering over the rest of the squiggles, it's Printed Page's. I only know of one document that would dare have our names attached to them in such a manner. The ownership of my poetry. Well, not really. I know for a fact that is safe in a mattress in the Ponyville Library. In this reality it must be a symbol of some kind. My soul, perhaps? Or lack of one? Maybe it's just a piece of recent memory leading me to... Oh my goddess, is that... IT IS! It maybe a speck in the distance right now, but I know what exactly the copyright is taking me! To my old office; Green, move-able walls and all! Even from here I can tell it's just as small and oppressive as it was back then! Ah, nostalgia... I just call my old torturous working space nostalgic. Wow, Vinyl was right, I am suffering from work-equivalent Stockholm Syndrome. The document flies above a wall and goes into the then-called 'Box of Salt.' I enter through the gap that resembles a doorway to see my old desk, chair and file cabinet. Exactly where I left it. Everything is... here, even the ink pot I never used. I believed you shouldn't use some other pony's ink when the it's your emotions you're writing down... From the time I still believed everypony cried ink, of course. Wait... there's still one thing left unaccounted for. My silent rebellion against the no decoration rule of Printed Mint. I stashed it in the bottom drawer of the f- IT'S HERE! THE BIRD THAT DIPS ITS HEAD REPEATEDLY! GODDESS, I LOVE THIS THING! Wait... this is my subconscious... nopony around can stop me putting Mr. Bobby-bird where he belongs. On. The. Desk. And with one quick motion, it was so. … It's... beautiful. I finally have put to rest that dream I always had. It maybe be one of the smaller ones, but if I can do that, what can't I do? … huh. I just realised something. Mr. Bobby-bird is not complete unless he's drinking something. Maybe the water cooler's around here, too. I'll just grab a plastic cup and... Oh... but of course she's here. Same smile and pose as always. 'Mother.' Trust her to be in my mind-land. Even when the being this statue is dedicated to is some other naughty mare, she will always be my symbolic equivalent of my real mother. That is as much written in stone as the one's underneath her back hooves... LOOK BEHIND YOU Huh... I swear it was 'To All Who Need it Most.' Shows how much I used to drink, I guess. Or... Maybe this void actually wants me to look behind me. But what's behind me? I just came from behind me! Only thing that is behind me is my office and a birdy that wants some drinky-poo; nothing else! … Fine! If Statue-Mom wills it, then it must b-WHAT IN THE ROYAL FUCK? It's me. Another me. Well, Not exactly like me, some things are different. For instance, this me didn't dye his mane black. I always was a pure white pony. White coat and white mane; you can lose me out in a snowstorm back before my cutie mark. Kinda hard to see my other self, actually, minus our red eyes and of course our mark. No wonder the folks at Diamond Heart's forced me to dye my mane. At least I got to choose the colour. The other difference between me and me is that... he's a unicorn. There is a horn on his head, and the horn is huge... goddess I hope that's not compensating for something. “Oh, don't worry, it's not. It's kind of representing the power you have inside you. Pretty powerful magic; being linked to every written word in history and all.” … “Did you just-” “-Read your mind? No.” The unicorn self shakes his head. “We sort of share the same one, so everything you think, I think of too. A real freak-fest I know, but... well, you sort of get freak-fests when you take some hallucinogenic powder.” “Ah... Okay.” I say as I try to understand what the fuck I just said. “So... What exactly are you?” “Short answer? You.” The twin states. “Long Answer: All of you. The Ego, the Alter-Ego, the Id, Your inner-most self, your outermost self, the drives and ambitions you know you have, the drives and ambitions you don't know you have, your opinions from sexual equality, your opinions on those birds that dip their heads repeatedly, ALL of you... Excluding...” He points to his humongous horn. “... Your magic. As you are aware, it sort of does its own thing, don't you?” “In my defence,” A Trottingham noble's voice echoes as the unicorn's forehead-centred appendage flickers a red aura. “I've only been doing as I truly wished when we moved to Ponyville.” Huh. A talking horn. Can't say that's normal, but I can't pretend that's the oddest thing happening right now. “So if you're all of me...” I point towards the void. “... then what is all of this?” “All of you also, Master Salt.” The horn flashes. “ You see, the powder made you enter your inner self. But the inner self is in you, therefore what we are experiencing now is an infinite loop of you meeting infinite selves while inside infinite selves and we will be doing so until the powder wears off. That's Onderlandwah for you. It may be legal, but the way it makes ponies metaphorically blow their minds it shouldn't be.” “Right... I think I got it.” I give the horn a poke. “Let's start talking to you then about how you ruined my life, then. Since we got until the powder wears off.” “Yes...” The horn glows. “Before you give me the stern speech which I probably made up for you, I must tell you that I have very little control over the surges. In fact, I've been trying to stop them happening.” “Have you now?” “With terrible results, admittedly, but yes. In fact, I only managed to stop it once. Remember in Fluttershy's abode this morning when you felt like your head started spinning?” “That was you stopping yourself from letting loose?” “Indeed. How I managed it, I still don't know.” Huh. Okay, at least I know my magic isn't deliberately messing with my life. “Oh, but he has been deliberately messing with our lives!” The Uni-Salt shouts in a bitter tone. “The surges may not be intentional, but the possessions and the dreams sure as fuck are!” Oh, are they now? Why am I not surprised? Well, probably because it was me who told me, but that's not the point. “He- he doesn't need to know th-” “Oh, yes WE do!” The other self interrupts his own horn. “Have you ever wondered why you never had a possession until yesterday? It's because he didn't want Brainstorm to know we had CMC! Just imagine how better it would be if both him and in turn you knew what you had from the get-go!” “Oh, no! There's no need for imagining!” The horn furiously blinked. “History already proven what could happen if Brainstorm knew! I have reports of him socialising, when he was a young up-and-comer, with the very same ponies who made Doctor Lab Coat's career a living hell because he didn't want his daughter to be a lab rat! And that oaf would sell you both to those assholes faster than you can down a cocktail shot, that's a fucking guarantee from me!” “I hate to say I'm wrong, but the horn is right.” I say, trying to get my two bits into this conversation. “We are talking about the same pony that would rather see me get a cutie mark change without pondering whether or not the alicorn who done it accidentally before can do that on purpose!” Salty-corn froze for a moment. “Huh. Didn't think of it like that until now.” “That said, however, what the buck is up with you speaking Neightalian to Vinyl Scratch, even though you know we can't speak a lick of it at all?” The other self smiles. “Yeah. What the buck was that?” “W-well...” The horn splutters. “It... it was for the Common Goal.” “Ooooooh, right I got you.” The Woundsalt attached to the horn says. “I... don't. What do you mean by common goal?” “It is what most ponies, deep down, know what they must do. A goal which few should dare refuse to strive for.” Says the magic. “Especially us.” Agrees the Salty-corn, as he puts a hoof on my shoulder. “Woundsalt... ...You need to get yourself laid.” … “Wow. Fucking charming.” “But it's true!” My inner self proclaims “Most ponies want, nay, need to find somepony to have it with; whether filly or colt!” “Professor Strudel Thinker.” The horn interrupts. “Right!” The albino unicorn continues. “And the fact is we always had no-one to be with on Hearts and Hooves day every year! We need to find somepony! It's in our very being; In everypony's very being!” “So my magic possessed me because inside I'm subconsciously wanting sex THAT badly?” “Yes!” Both my albino self and his horn yell. I sigh. “Fine. So, how are we going to learn Neightalian in such short amount of time?” “Well you don't need to.” The horn flashes “I have to possess your body for the entire d-” “BUCK NO!” Both I and I scream in unison. “No way in Tartarus are you taking over my body for that fucking long! We all know how painful that is to me!” I roar in anger. “Besides, I recall you telling Twilight you possessing me for so long can fucking kill me and I would like an option that doesn't do that if you don't mind!” “And also,” Other me states. “We actually want to meet Octavia...” “Yeah!” “...be friends with her...” “Yeah!” “...and possibly have a threesome with her and the DJ!” “...Possibly!” “Yeah!” Gee, my inner self is horny. “Fine!” The horn grumblingly dims. “So how are you two going to speak Neightalian, hmm?” “Well, the way I see it,” The albino self speaks. “You make us say things we don't mean to say outside of possessions nor surges. Say that monkey centaur thing for instance, or... what was that one one about selling souls?” “Faust!” the horn glitters with glee. “Of course! Referencing! I'll look up some translation booklets and multi-language dictionaries and translate what you hear and say! Genius!” I sigh in relief. That's one problem out of the way. “Hey, why stop at Neightalian? If we speak Zebrafrikaan, we don't need to hear Zecora rhyme in Equestrian!” “I couldn't agree more! YOLO... ick! Curse it and all like it!” The horn flickers. “But our time is almost up. I'll get the source material, you try and get some of that powder off her for later use. Don't pretend like we can't afford it!” I smile. “Take care, magic... and you, me.” “Right back at you, me. Oh and one more thing: You have a-” I wake up.