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// At Least I Have the Muffin 
// Story: Double Sun Daze 
// by Albi 
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Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

No, hate was too good for her. But loathing seemed weaker than hate. Repugnance? Despise? Ugghh, there wasn’t a word strong enough in the Equine dictionary to even come close to the amount of disdain I felt for that disgusting, pathetic, impotent, flowery abomination that unfortunately shared my face!

Sweet Celestia and Nightmare Moon above, I wanted to hit something so badly at that moment.

I contemplated blasting the closet door down, but that would raise Shine Sliders’ suspicion. So, I quietly opened it, then levitated my pillow toward me and tore into it with gusto. Fluff and cloth flew everywhere, drifting about the room, sinking gently to the floor.

My anger was not quelled. But since that feather brained idiot did the unthinkable and went out with the pink horror from Tartarus, I was stuck in my room with little release for my frustration.

… No, I’m not going to do that. Perverts.

I settled for pacing. Well, more like stomping across the floor back and forth. It did nothing to shorten my fuse, so I conjured a paper bag, went back to the closet, and screamed as loud as I could into the bag.

… Nope, still royally pissed!

I marched out and set the bag on fire, watching the paper curl in on itself before turning to ash and fading from existence. Looking about my room, I was faced with the reality that I could only seethe in silence. 

“Oh, she’s so going to get it when she gets back.”

My stomach growled in vicious agreement. Oh no, it wanted food. I looked to my dresser and found the little pastry still sitting there, a large bite taken out of it. I picked it up and held it to my mouth. “Well, at least I still have the muffin.” I finished it in one bite.

It tasted like disappointment.

With that finished, I hopped onto my bed and settled down to translate the spell. Might as well do something productive while I wait. Part of me wanted to spend time conjuring ways of torturing and/or killing the replica. But I knew I couldn’t bring most of them to reality without causing myself extreme physical discomfort. 

Still, it was fun to think about. Should I burn her, or asphyxiate her? Cut off her legs and watch her flail around until she bleeds to death! Rip out her intestines and use it as a noose! “Ha! Hahahahahaha!” I cleared my throat and focused on my book. Laughing maniacally was for cheesy fiction villains. 

I stuck to giggling quietly to myself.

As the hour passed, whatever modicum of euphoria I had died as I labored over the ancient runes and came to a horrid conclusion.

“This isn’t the right spell.” I looked to my translated notes, cross checking them with the translation book. Whatever spell I was studying wasn’t a reverse spell. I flipped the page back, my heart beginning to race. Did I accidentally skip a page? No, sadly not. I recognized the runes and knew this had been the balancing spell.

My blood boiled, and the urge to burn down everything around me returned with a vengeance. I curbed my anger by reassuring myself that the table of contents could direct me to the spell I needed. I flipped to the front of the book, to a page that resembled a list of names and began my work again.

By the end of the next hour, screams were clawing at my throat. I had almost finished the page, and I saw nothing that sounded like a way to put myself back together. I couldn’t tell if I was panicking or infuriated. Probably both. I slammed the book shut, and buried my face in the pillow I hadn’t destroyed. 

“Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Aaaaaaggggggggghhhhhh!” I couldn’t kill her. And the way things were going, I couldn’t put us back together. It was only a matter of time until Celestia found out what I did.

That idea to ship Shimmer to Saddle Arabia was looking pretty good right about now.