//------------------------------// // Questionable Term of Pleasantries // Story: Woundsalt, Mother Bucker. // by OneUppington //------------------------------// “… but she did! She crashed at the library last night!” “Oh, that’s where she’s been last night, has she? In the library? Like everypony else knows where he’s living for the time being? Look sir, I tell you what: I can tell that me seeing through your illusion has displeased you, so here’s what we’ll do to stop bickering about who you are. We’ll be ourselves, but I’ll continue calling you Woundsalt until I get your real name from Vinyl Scratch. Will that be fine?” “… All right, fine. If that’s an agreement to disagree.” I can’t believe this: our first actual meeting in the flesh, and she thinks I’m a look-alike her roommate and possible girlfriend of a DJ managed to pay to go out with her like some kind of Call-colt! And apparently, that’s a fucking thing! Bunch of white coated earth ponies painting their cutie marks over with my salt shaker and quill, conning others for free drinks and party invitations! I’m… I’m… I’m a thing. I’m actually a thing. Printed Page told me I was a thing, but this… this is… This is Icon Status. World Wide Icon Status. … What the fuck did I do to deserve World Wide Icon Status? What, just from one fucking book? … ... ... You know what? Screw it. I’m here for a good time with this cellist, at the bar my childhood bully and his hermaphrodite runs. I’ve got time to ponder my fame later. Right now, I’m going to do what she says. Be myself. … Without alcohol. Be myself without alcohol. Hmm… maybe I should ask her about… anything. I know! “So besides from the cello, do you play any other instruments?” Oh, how she smiled when I asked that question. “Well, I just bought myself a double bass. So I’m hoping to do some blues and jazz songs, maybe cover some other genres. How about yourself? Do you play any instruments?” I shake my head. “Sorry. Just an appreciator. Closest thing I got to a guitar was somepony trying to put my head through it.” She looks at me in shock. “What caused that to happen?” “I just said the Griffons are overrated.” “And they attacked you because you’re right?” “In his defense, it was the lead guitar- You don’t like the Griffons too?” She shakes her head. “OH THANK CADENCE! So it ISN'T just me!” “I know! Vinyl thinks there’s something wrong with me! They’re just… bad!” “Damn straight! Did you ever get thrown out of a taxi because you asked the driver to change the channel because the Griffons were playing?” “Twice!” We both laugh in the streets of Ponyville. Even though she doesn’t believe I am who I say I am, I am so happy I’m beside Octavia right now. I hate to say it was a dream come true, knowing my last dream that came true involves the founder of an orphanage being a nymphomaniac, but it is. To meet the one responsible for my start in the Canterlot Horn. Did I hate working there? Oh, incredibly. However, like I told Vinyl this morning, it was a soapbox for me to get on and speak my mind. She gave me that soapbox. ... Huh. The streets seemed to have changed. Probably because of these seemingly familiar lampposts. Wait… aren’t those Canterlot lampposts? And practically every building is a bar or night club of some degree. Did we seriously walk to West…? No, come on now, Woundsalt. No way in hell are you back in West Canterlot. This place is too clean. Maybe East side? No, they don’t have this large amounts of places to go East side. What is this? And how come my name is on almost every sign? Woundsalt Wednesday: Buy One Beer Get One Free, Woundsalt Wednesday: Tonight’s special guest reader Clever Clip, Woundsalt Wednesday: Impersonators Welcome… “I take it that this is your first time in the Renter side of town?” asks the grey mare. I guess she can tell on my face. “Well, I am new in town altogether, so…” “Ah, I see.” Exclaims Octavia as she starts to explain. “Well, it’s kind of the Canterlot out of Canterlot… the West side atmosphere with east side cleanliness. Somepony even found some spare lampposts to put in just for Canterlotians that are feeling homesick.” “And can’t return because financial reasons.” “Sad, but true to most. I’m only down here because I’d prefer to be with these artists than the sell-outs up there.” She sighs with her hoof pointing towards what could be Canterlot in the distance, but the clouds are making it hard to view. A mare that doesn't want to be part of the rich pony orchestra. I like that. “How about you?” She asks, looking at me. “Well, I just got paid for a book I co-written. Besides from that, no other income.” “Would that book perhaps be The Boys From the Corner by any chance?” “Hey, I don’t want to be the guy to lie on the first date.” She laughs like… wow, I can’t even describe her laugh. What is going on with me? “Well, Mister Salt, I think you’re going to like it h- Oh but of course! How stupid of me! I went to Manehattan U and it took me til NOW to get it!” I can only look at her with curiosity until she explains what she’s suddenly realised. “The bar we’re going to; The SorriNa. The stallion who runs the place told me he named it after Woundsa- I mean, ‘you’. Only just realised what he meant. Na. On the table of Elements, as in Scientific not Friendship, it means Sodium.” “Sodium as in that shit in... Salt?” She points her hoof in my direction. “Precisely! But what’s the rest? Sulfur, Oxygen… No wait, there isn’t an element that’s just R…” Hmm… What would the rest…? ... Oh, Blue Curaçao… You shouldn’t have. After what I said to you two back then… “Maybe it’s supposed to be as it sounds… Sorry. Like he’s apologizing.” Her ears prick up. “What would he apologise for?” … I know she doesn’t believe I am me, but… I have to tell her. Maybe in a way that doesn’t break the agreement. All I have to do is put in one word… “Maybe he’s an old bully of mine. I find it a little excessive that he made a bar in apology for me, but… Hey, I'll be touched.” And I am, really. It's just that... I don't deserve it. Brainstorm told me what I said, I should be apologizing to him. And his brother... wherever he is. She is silent for a few moments. “Blue? A bully? You clearly don’t know the stallion.” ...Huh. That’s twice now that I say that this pegasus used to be a dick, and it’s twice now that the ponies I told couldn’t believe it. Either this town is an open air lunatic asylum in disguise or… He’s actually changed. Well, there’s only one way to prove that. “Well, let’s go and have a look at him.” “… Well, it’s better than Filliways. I can tell just by looking at it.” “Yes, much more to our liking. Couldn't agree more.” I nod as we look at the charming little black cube. Not the kind of establishment I thought Blue Curaçao would have, but at least it’s not like most bars on this strip that’s just somepony’s thatched roof cottage with a sign out front. That just lacks originality. Better the signage on this one, too, even though this one’s on the side of the building.. The made up word of SorriNa in bold letters, the Sorri part light up in red, the Na part with white, and… Is the hole in the ‘A’...? “Is that a tear?” Octavia looks at the letter. “Ah… I should’ve warned you of this. Anypony can tell you that Woundsalt puts emotions on a page, right? Well, Blue Curaçao takes it a step further and claims he actually cries the ink. I find it hard to believe, but it’s a lovely thought.” “Heh heh… Yeah… lovely.” Of course he knows that. He’s made me cry for years. “I’m guessing that’s metaphorical, right?” “Well, that’s the thing! Any impersonator coming in claiming to be Woundsalt, he pulls out an onion telling them to cut it, making them cry.” “He… tests to see if they can cry ink?” “I know. Strange, isn’t it? And if they get caught, they pay double for the first drink. … You do realise, I might volunteer you for this. Unless of course, you want to confess now…” Oh, ho? So much for the agreement to disagree. However, I know the joke's on her. I open the door. Ladies first and all that jazz. “Just make sure I don’t get any ink on the floor, okay?” “Oh, ha ha.” And with that sarcastic laughter, we step inside. … Wow. This place has everything! A pool table, a few pinball machines, a stage for performances of many different kinds… there’s only one problem. It’s full to the brim. All these ponies, of many shape, size, colour, and, thanks to the recently inducted crystal ponies, shine. All laughing. Some singing. Some… clearly had too much already. Admittedly, it’s good to know it’s not just Octavia that loves this place, but this is crazy compared to the dives in West Canterlot. Oh goddess, I just realised I just volunteered to cry in front of all these ponies. Ah well, new one to the list: openly cried in a public establishment. I look towards the bar for the Curaçao Brother. No such luck. What is there though, I am willing to bet, must be this Parfait D’Armour I have been hearing about. A lavender pony with a dark purple mane and a few piercings on that questionably gendered face. Fluttershy wasn’t kidding when she said it’s hard to tell what gender she is by looking at her face. But then again, I don’t think she would ever thought of hermaphrodite as an option. As we walk closer to her/him, I catch the eyes on four ponies by the bar. One Beanie wearing pegasus, one balding unicorn with a very fiery beard, one zebra with extremely messed up dread locks, and a crystal pony who looks too young to be here. Those big, blue eyes, I imagine. “Uh… Musclebound? Is that…?” Says the zebra as he almost chokes on a pie. “It…” says the stunned Pegasus, who doesn’t look very muscle bound to me. “It… could be?” “No… No way… Wullay, it’s just no way that’s it’s him!” The bearded unicorn says as he shakes his head. “Why would he even be here?” “Well, it’s a bar, Lava Beard. The pony drinks, doesn’t he?” Asked the crystal pony. “Shut the fuck up, Doki Stick, there’s just no fucking way!” Lava Beard snaps at his shiny, young friend. “It’s probably one of those Woundsalt impersonators we heard about! Or he’s cosplaying for the Canterlot Comic Con!” So-called Musclebound looks at his unicorn friend. “Seriously? Who the buck would cosplay as a poet for the Canterlot Comic Con?” “I don’t fucking know! I only went to the Montrail one once! Besides, if that’s actually him, that means Woundsalt and Printed Page are in the same building!” “OH FUCK, YOU’RE RIGHT!” Says Wullay as he finally finishes off his pie. “No way in hell would that happen ever again! The real 'Salt would rather be at the other side of the world than here right now!” Doki Stick giggles. “Yelling at statues of Emperor Divekick.” They all laugh. “Hey! Emperor Divekick! Your hic shake fucking shucksh!” Mocks Musclebound in a terrible impression of I guess was a drunken me. The all laugh even harder. Oh, super. We got a few comedians. Nice to know Page followed my advice though… ... Where is he? “Hey Tavi.” Greets the pony I believe to be Parfait as we finally got to the bar. “Who’s your friend?” “His name is Woundsalt… Apparently. Get an onion ready, Parfait.” The… Cilly? Folt? Whatever. Parfait nods and picks up a phone. “Hey, sweetie? You better come down here with an onion.... Yeah, we got one…” Hmm… I wonder… “Hey, can you also ask him how his brother Orange is doing?” … "The buck did you just say?" "Uh, I mean, I didn't want to intrude. It's just that I wanted to know if both of them are here." Parfait looks at me like she seen a ghost. “Oh, holy crap… Blue, get down here now. It's him... FUCK THE ONION Get your ass down here now!” She slams the phone down and reaches for one of my hooves. “It’s such an honour, sir!” Wo-o-oo-ah! That’s a hoofshake! She clearly excersizes! "I'mohsosorryaboutthewholeonionthingsirit'sjustthatmypartnersaidaboutyourtearswhenwewerekidsandwewerealllikewoahthat'sfreakynowaycanthatbetruebutBlueandOrangekeepswearingtoitand-" “WOAH WOAH WOAH! Orange? Who the hell…” Octavia stands there stuck for words. “Parfait, what just happened?” “What happened was that you..." The herm extends her hoof to the cellist. "YOU are now officially the luckiest filly in Equestria! He’s him! He’s the 'Salt!” ...And with that silence fell upon the bar. I look at her stunned face. And then to the four beside us, just as stunned as her. “And for the record, gentlecolts? His sake does suck.”