1.
By the time Mayor Mayor got back from Manehattan she was desperate enough to see Madam Pie. There seemed to be ever growing chasm between Mayor Mayor and her dream, and she needed some bad advice. The list of large city libraries that had kicked her out was growing at an alarming rate, and Ponyville's library had crumbled into rubble during the protest against her.
Madam Pie's tent was large, squat, and gloomy. It dominated a corner of the town square with its absurd, gaudy decorations. Gilded chains draped down the tent flaps, and standards with the ever-watchful eye of the mare on the moon atop them marked the path that lead to the tent's entrance. Everyone who had problems in Ponyville inevitably went to Madam Pie, excluding Granny Smith, Madam Pie's best friend who hated her. Granny Smith hated Madam Pie because she was a lunatic, and also because she worshiped the ancient moon goddess Luna, of whom nobody in Ponyville had ever heard.
Ponies went to Madam Pie because she gave the best worst advice in all of Equestria. Behind her mumbo-jumbo she was actually a very shrewd and wise woman with a good business sense, or so everybody assumed. When faced with impossible problems, ponies inevitably had to go through the dreaded necessity of getting advice. If a pony got advice from someone reliable, they might find that they were the cause of their own problems. Since nobody wanted to believe they were the cause of their own problems, it was much easier to get advice from Madam Pie. A potion or a charm would never bruise the ego, and when Madam Pie's advice failed like all advice does, all anyone lost out on was a few bits. Nobody actually believed in Madam Pie's mumbo-jumbo except for Quill Filing and Mayor Mayor.
Mayor Mayor told herself that she was also a very shrewd and wise woman. She was a mare of science, and didn't believe in moon goddesses or nightmares or even that Celestia was anything more than an old and powerful wizard. All the same, she believed in Madam Pie, because the old woman scared her half to death.
"Boo!" Madam Pie had said.
Mayor Mayor, still a filly, had wandered home late from the library one evening. She jumped a mile and whirled around to see Madam Pie's ancient and folded face glowing in the moonlight. Her features had the texture of rumpled paper as her mouth turned into a demented grin. Madam Pie loved to laugh.
Mayor Mayor had run away before the old woman could utter another word. She'd cowered in her room that night, her mind filled with the notion that the old mare had afflicted her with some secret and terrible curse. Time washed away the terror, but the fear of Madam Pie remained, a deep stripe of strong, pulsating fear and superstition beneath Mayor Mayor's rational exterior.
As such it was with some trepidation that Mayor Mayor entered Madam Pie's tent. The tent was musty and warm, the firefly lamps gave off a dim, finicky light, causing shadows to flicker and move. Odd art pieces littered the entrance, and the many eyes of the mare on the moon stared at her, painted on more than one surface. Mayor Mayor walked as though she were entering a sleeping manticore's den. In fact, her hoofsteps went unheard, it was her breathing, loud and sharp, that gave her away.
"Come in, come in," said the voice of the medium, "come in and let Madam Pie cure what ails you."
Mayor Mayor steeled herself and forced her way into the main body of the tent. There was nothing that could have prepared her for the truly bizarre sight that she was about to experience, but she did her best.
Madam Pie smiled up at Mayor Mayor from the table. The room was cluttered with lit candles and other gaudy decorations. On the table sat a pot of tea and two cups, one already filled.
"Would you like some tea?" Madam Pie asked. She was old. Her hooves quaked a little with age and arthritis. Her smile was pleasant and without malice. The turban that sat atop her dainty head failed to hide the bushels of curly white hair beneath. She was pleasantly ridiculous, and Mayor Mayor stared and wondered if this might all be a trick.
"Sit down, dearie, something's troubling you. Well, let old Madam Pinkie sort it out, come, come."
Mayor Mayor cleared her throat and tried to force her rapid heartbeat to calm itself. "Yes, um, I'd like some tea. Thanks."
She sat as the old woman poured tea in the other cup. It occurred to her that it might be the same cup that everyone else who came to see her drank out of, but it was too late now. It would be impolite to refuse a drink after she asked for it. No matter how much Mayor Mayor squirmed, there was no escaping this any longer. The only person who could help her was Madam Pie, of that she was certain. The tea was tepid and bitter. Mayor Mayor took a polite sip and then put it back down, keeping herself from making a face.
"So, dearie, what seems to be the trouble?" Madam Pie asked.
"Well." Now that she was actually here, it was hard to put in a way that didn't sound ridiculous. The trouble at the moment seemed to be that the tip of her tongue was busy trying tie itself into a loopty-loop.
"Come now dearie, you can trust old Madam Pie."
"I-"
"Well, if you're going to be that way, let me consult the spirits and see if I can divine your trouble," Madam Pie raised her front hooves to her head, closed her eyes, and began to hum. She continued for several moments, muttering to herself before she came to a conclusion. "Yes, yes, no. Ah, I see. Your grandchildren. You're frightened for your-"
"I'm not old!" Mayor Mayor snapped.
Madam Pie opened a single eye, her wrinkled eyelids giving the impression of some ancient mausoleum opening. "None of us are, dearie, we're all young in spirit."
"No! I mean my hair, it's just bleached! I'm middle aged. I'm not old." Mayor Mayor explained.
"Oh," Madam Pie said, as her other eye opened and her hooves lowered back to the floor, "What is it then? Marriage troubles?"
"I need-"
"Yes?"
"I need to-"
"Yes?"
"I need to be someone else. Anyone else."
Madam Pie broke into a grin. "Oh, well that's easy."
"What? Really?"
"Yes," Madam Pie said, "here, you can be me."
In one swift and well practiced motion, Madam Pie pulled off her turban and slammed it down on Mayor Mayor's head. Mayor Mayor jumped back, afraid that this was part of some bizarre body-stealing ritual of magic and that Madam Pie was about to possess her. She was ready to bolt when she noticed there was no ritualistic chanting, just Madam Pie looking up at her with expectant eyes. Mayor Mayor waited, just in case it wasn't a trap.
"Oh, wait, I made a mistake, silly old me." Madam Pie said, "I forgot, if you're me, who will I be? There can't be two of me, that would be silly. I guess this means I'll have to be you. Hold on a moment."
She straightened herself up and placed her front hooves together, giving her best attempt at looking pathetic and bedraggled. "Madam Pie! I need to be someone else! Anyone else. Please, help me!"
Mayor Mayor stared at the madwoman, her jaw worked at words but nothing came out, just empty vowels of shock, like spittle.
"Please, I need to be someone else, Madam Pie!" Madam Pie said, as she tried her best to be Mayor Mayor.
"I can't be you!" Mayor Mayor snapped. "I don't know anything about being a medium!"
"You mean you can't help me?"
Mayor Mayor slammed her hooves on the table. "Of course I can't!"
"Oh, I guess I'll just be going then." Madam Pie began to slink out of the hut, defeated.
"Wait! No!" Mayor Mayor chased her down, " I don't want to be you! Here, take yourself back!"
The motion Mayor Mayor used was less practiced, and the turban got a little unwound when she slammed it on Madam Pie's head. They made their way back to the table and took up their respective positions again. There was quiet as Mayor Mayor sulked over nearly losing her identity to an old lunatic.
"So, you do want to be someone specific," Madam Pie said.
Mayor Mayor glared at her. "I want to be Scroll Binding, Librarian."
"Okay, dearie," Madam Pie was smiling again, "you're Scroll Binding, Librarian."
"That's not how it works!"
Madam Pie was the picture of innocence. "Why not?"
Mayor Mayor lapsed into frustrated silence. This wasn't how she imagined this going at all. Then again, she'd imagined it involving curses and monsters, so this was still better than that. It was just frustrating to be so close and yet so far from her goal. "It just doesn't, okay? I tried it. It didn't work."
"Why not?" Madam Pie asked. "You're the librarian, aren't you?"
"I want to be someone else somewhere else, and I need to be someone else first in order to get away. Me, I just keep screwing up being someone else and end up right back here."
Madam Pie's ears perked up, a sign that she was finally becoming interested. "Who would you like to be like? Do you have someone you admire?"
"The old librarian."
"Oh, I remember her. We knew each other when the town was still young. Her, me and the Apple girl." For a moment, Madam Pie's gaze turned inward and she seemed to be revelling in the memory. Then she paused as something occurred to her. "But girl, how can you be her and not be here? She loved this town. Let's see, she loved the library, the way it was like it was always raining inside. She loved the dusty old roads and the old oak tree. I remember when she wouldn't let Pilgrim Heart tear it down. Nobody ever stood up to Pilgrim Heart but her and the Apple girl."
There was an awkward silence, and Mayor Mayor looked away from Madam Pie. Her eyes locked on the floor as she thought about what to say next.
"I don't have to have everything of hers do I? Just the good parts," Mayor Mayor said.
It was at this point that Madam Pie realized there was nothing she could do to actually help Mayor Mayor. It was disappointing, because Madam Pie couldn't actually help most of her clientele, even the ones she wanted to help. She thought there was a ray of hope here, but Mayor Mayor clearly wasn't interested in rays of hope, she probably pulled the curtains closed whenever they dared to shine in.
"Very well, I have just the thing for you," Madam Pie lied. She turned and rummaged through the many piles of junk in the room. She produced a small flask filled with a transparent liquid, "Drink it the whole thing before bedtime and you will wake up as the very paragon of library matrons. They'll practically beg you to run any library you like."
"Really?" Mayor Mayor asked, wide-eyed and wary.
"Really."
Mayor Mayor left satisfied. Madam Pie was dissatisfied but had a fresh set of bits to soothe her conscience. The flask, like all of Madam Pie's potions, magic, and mumbo-jumbo, wouldn't work. It was actually just water from one of Ponyville's numerous fountains, but Mayor Mayor hadn't asked, and Madam Pie didn't tell.
2.
After Madam Pie's potion failed to work, there was only one recourse left for Mayor Mayor. She needed to see the mayor about getting the library rebuilt and getting herself removed from the ballot in the upcoming election. Nobody had seen Strawpony (except for his assistants) in a long time, but nobody really paid it much heed. After all, what did a mayor do but cut ribbons and make speeches? As it turned out, just about anyone could cut ribbons, and speeches really weren't that important to country folk like the ones who resided in Ponyville.
The summer was rolling in, and the heat of the day pounded down on Mayor Mayor. The gazebo was little shelter, and she knew she'd be run off by the Apples land once they figured out she was sleeping there and stealing their apples. She was too proud to go home to her father, and more than a little wary of having to go back to work on the farm. It hadn't occurred to her yet that she was still drawing pay for her library work, despite the fact that there wasn't a library anymore.
Town hall was beginning to crumble. Flitters of paint chips fell like leaves in an autumn breeze. Support columns were snapped and others were buckling. The door had CONTEMNED written on it, then marked out, and then CONDEMNED written below it. The local drunk, Solid Wall, was collapsed outside the door. He'd decided to make sure nobody entered the disintegrating building but the mayor's assistant, who he hated and in his weakest moments wanted dead. The only problem was that he spent almost all his time drinking, and heavily, so that he was unconscious and unable to stop her when Mayor Mayor went inside to confront Strawpony.
Inside, the configuration of the office that separated the doors from the rest of town hall reminded Mayor Mayor of Madam Pie's tent. Instead of eyes and candles it was socks and bowls of sweets. A twinge of something horrible ran up Mayor Mayor's spine, a cold sensation of creeping realization. She'd seen something like this before.
Sitting behind the desk that barred the rest of Ponyville from town hall was a mint green colored earth pony with purple hair, who didn't even bother to look at Mayor Mayor when she entered.
"The mayor will be available in a couple hours," the assistant said, in an automatic drone.
"You!" Mayor Mayor cried.