//------------------------------// // Check Out the Size of My Diction // Story: Woundsalt, Mother Bucker. // by OneUppington //------------------------------// To say the mood has turned from calming to tense as fuck, is an understatement. I stand at the laundry door, as the three females stand around the entrance of the apartment so silent you can hear a pin drop. No, even worse; you can hear a tick whisper. There is no need of words between them: The eyes of all three talk plenty. Especially the way their gazes switch from one to the other. “Oh goddess, please tell me you’re okay.” The indescribable pupils of Octavia say as she looks at her roommate. Then they say constant swears in the direction of the griffon. Same goes for Vinyl Scratch’s magenta eyes when she looks at the clearly uninvited guest behind her cracked shades, but they say to the cellist “I am fine. Don’t worry. I got this under control.” A lie, of course, what with her head being held by the claw of the last female. And that last female’s gaze from her eyes say the same thing, whether they are pointed at the DJ or the cellist. And even though the beanie she is wearing appears to be hiding them, it only amplifies the message. This is because the message in her eyes by what is crudely written onto the woollen head accessory. HATER D. She looks pretty intimidating. I couldn’t tell that much from last night because all I got was a silhouette. Now as she stands before us, holding her competition’s head like a Viking pony’s skull goblet… I’d pee my pants if this wasn’t my only pair. “Well, would you look at that? Turns out you weren’t lying about a roommate. Good little filly.” The griffon says as she breaks the silence. “Isn’t it nice to tell the truth, PON-3?” Scratch winces. “Just as nice as winning something fairly.” Heh… Wait, why the hell did I laugh at that? That sounds like something I would say… Something like I would say is the last she needs to say right now! The griffon throws Vinyl Scratch onto the neon pink couch. Octavia quickly runs to her friend’s aid. I… could too… In fact, I wished I could. But I’m too busy getting stared at by the griffon. Oh fuck, she’s going to eat me. I know it’s a myth and probably rac… wait, wrong word… spec-ist, but the way D is towering over me, the way her eyes are staring to my soul… She is going to eat me. Send help. “And who, pray tell…” Hater says as sinister as possible. “…is this? I hope this is not that oh, so special rapper you have to replace Slim-shake, PON-3?” I look at Vinyl Scratch, as she looks at me and mouths six words I didn’t want to see come from her mouth. ‘Oh shit, Wound, I’m so sorry.’ “You must be really desperate to have a loser like this as your rapper.” Hater continues as she still glares at me. “You might as well just show up with no rapper at all; yet alone some spazzoid in a turtleneck.” … Spazzoid? Out of all the words to call me, she went with spazzoid? ‘Alcoholic’, ‘Loner’, ‘Bucker’; Fuck! Even a good ol’ ‘Mother Bucker’ is suffice; but no! This Hater D went with spazzoid, which is second only to calling someone a doo-doo head in levels in maturity! Oh my goddess, and this is what Ponyville calls a finalist in a rap competition? I don’t know whether to be embarrassed by the fact I was intimidated by her before or insulted by the lack of ingenuity in wordplay! This travesty will not stand for! Oh, and hurting Vinyl too… Even so! This griffon has overstayed her welcome both in this apartment and in my face! Now is the time for action! No… … Now is the time for verbal vitriol. And something in the way my blood is boiling tells me… Well, we all can’t pretend we didn’t predict it coming. Shame I won’t be consciously around to see her face through it. “Umm, Hi. Miss D is it? Pleased to meet you, I am THE MOTHER BUCKING…” “… NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, BEFORE I CALL COLONEL SAND-DIRT!” I don’t know how I got her out the door, but it didn’t stop me slamming it into her face. And it felt good. Oh fuck me, did it feel good. As much as I usually hate surging, when it’s in the right situation… Oh, it’s fantastic. If there is a better feeling than what I have right now, it better be sex. I better check on the two girls to make sure I didn’t say anything towards them during such a moment. “You girls alri…?” “LOCK THE DOOR!” Oh shit, that’s probably a good idea. Uh… “Where?” “TWISTY THING!” I see the twisty thing and twist it. There! Door locked. We all sigh in relief, knowing that the mysterious griffon known as Hater D is gone. “Ssss-Aaaah!” Squeals the DJ as the cellist applies the ice-pack to her new shiner. I hand her a bottle of Thunderburg rum that they had in the fridge. “Thanks.” She says before she takes a swig of the contents. “… So, how much of this shit did I sleep-talk to you?” This made Octavia smile. “Pretty much the gist. For Celestia’s sake, Vinyl. Why do you always get into trouble?” “I know.” Vinyl sighs. “I’m… I’m sorry that I wrecked the date.” “I wouldn’t call it wrecked exactly.” I say to her. “If anything it was an… interesting turn for an already magnificent evening.” She smiles. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it… Thanks for standing up for me...” I smile back. “… And for replacing Slim in the tournament.” My smile is gone. “I’m sorry, what?” “Oh, um…” Octavia stutters. “You said that you’ll be replacing Slim for this thing.” “Did I now?” They both nod their head. “I’m guessing all of it was a surge?” Octavia asks. I nod. … “Wait… What?” Vinyl asks us both. “Oh, didn’t he tell you?” Octavia quizzes. “He’s got the thing your aunt has.” “Ah, okay.” “Wait… What?” I ask the two. “Uh, yeah…” Vinyl smirks. “I have an aunt in Oatstralia with CMC.” … Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about, here? Better say her name in a questioning tone to confirm it’s her. “Rain Coat?” “Yeah!” She says pointing at me. “You know her?” Oh, wow! Small Equestria! “Found out about her yesterday. Since she was… you know… the only other pony to ever have it.” Vinyl stares blankly. “Shit, dad told me it’s a rare condition, but… Hang on, did you say… Was?” Hmm? Apparently, she doesn’t know. I better give her the news. “Twilight was trying to make contact with her. Apparently, she’s dead.” … Huh, seems like there’s a leak in the ice pack. Some water is dripping from her black eye. Oh, look! It’s coming from the other one too! … Oh. “Ex… excuse me.” Vinyl whimpers as she stands up and goes to one of the rooms and slams the door behind her. All I can do is stare at Octavia in a very embarrassed way. She isn’t pleased. “Woundsalt,” Octavia says with some contained anger. “Have you heard of the word ‘sympathetic’?” … “I was supposed to be that word, wasn’t I?” I say. “Yes you were.” She says. “But I wasn’t.” I say. “But you weren’t.” She says. … Fuck. I point at the room Vinyl Scratch is in. “Should I go in and…?” She puts up a hoof. “Maybe it’s best to not apologize right now. Just… give her some space and if and when she thinks she’s ready for an apology, she’ll get back to you. Give her at least until the morning.” Silence fell in the apartment. I feel the need to ask a request from the cellist. “Um… Can you… Can you take me home? I sort of don’t know the way and I have the feeling if I go alone, that griffon would find me in the streets and kill me.” The silence falls again, until the cellist sighs. “Alright.” “… So I told him to go fuck himself.” Oh thank Cadence, she’s laughing! “Is there any story from the Canterot Horn that doesn’t end with you telling Printed Page to go fuck himself?” she asks me, breaking the silent treatment she has been giving me almost all the journey back to the library. “Well, there was the interview I did with Satchel Mouth, but the entire story is pretty much telling Printed Page to go fuck yourself, admittedly.” We both laugh. It took me a few stories from the old days, but I finally broke her. She still seems a bit mad about what happened at her place. I feel like Vinyl Scratch isn’t the only one I need to say sorry to. “I… I suppose it’s my turn to apologise to you, now. I can tell how close you two are and the last thing I want is to make her cry like th-” I stopped because she gave me a hug. The best hug I ever had. And it kicks the shit out of the one I gave. If there was anything I would want right now, it would be a way to stop time. “Woundsalt, can I ask you a question?” She asks softly. I nod. “There is nothing between you and Twilight, is there? Romance-wise?” I look into her indescribable eyes and answer the question. “Tartarus, no! Why would you think that?” She shrugs. “Just some rumours going around. First ponies saw you two walking around yesterday, then the reveal that she adopted somepony; It sort of looks like she’s trying to start a life with you!” … Shit, it does look like that. Better sarcastically prove a valid point. “Oh yes, and that would be real clever of her, wouldn’t it? Starting a life with the only pony in Canterlot that puts Princess Celestia on blast every new magazine day!” She laughs again, as she lets go. “Very true.” We arrive at the library. “Well, I can’t pretend it hasn’t been a roller-coaster… but it was a fun roller-coaster.” Octavia says, a little deflated. I couldn’t put it any better myself, so I just nod as I open the door. … Oh, right! “Hey, Octavia? Would it be wrong to organize another date already?” She smirks. “If this is about that Re-Cute Mitzvah, I’m already invited.” “… Pinkie Pie?” “Who else?” Well, I’ll be damned. Good going, you crazy, unbelievable, filly. “Well, I’ll see you then, I guess.” … Oh, that’s also right! “Since we were just recently on the topic of relationships, do you mind if I squash a rumour about you and Vinyl?” A spark of curiosity ignites in the cellist. “There’s a rumour?” I nod. “Look, the only reason I know of it was because I asked Rainbow Dash about you… and according to her, you two are lesbians… Who’re into threesomes… She said that.” Yeah, I’m not surprised this raised her eyebrows. “Wow… She’s one to talk about sexuality, isn’t she? The pegasus that looks like the mascot to the Rio De Poneiro Winter Wrap-up After-Party?” “I know, right?” “I mean, why would she even bring up a rumour like that?” “Yeah!” “Does she want to join in?” “Yeah, yeah, ye…” I froze because I just realised what the cellist has said. She pecks me on the cheek. “After the third date, okay Woundsalt?” She runs into the darkness.