A Heartfelt Frickin' Apology
Chapter eight; the Art of the Sapphire Soufflé! Spike had only just opened his new favorite cookbook to the page that was marked by a prominent corner fold, and already his mouth had begun to moisten. He squirmed giddily in his bed as images of crystal-embezzled food floated before his eyes. Oh boy!
He had decided to end the day with a bit of light reading on his favorite subject; cooking. The day had been rather uneventful for Spike; he woke up, ate a breakfast consisting of an assortment of topaz and amethyst fragments, and spent the majority of his time maintaining the library while Twilight was out doing…
“Hmph.” He lowered his book so that he stared over at the bedroom door. What is Twilight up to? Probably hanging out with the alien, he concluded with a shrug, resuming his recreational reading. He had never met the alien face-to-face as of yet -during his interrogation within the confines of this very treehouse, Spike had taken refuge in the master bedroom- and quite frankly, he didn’t want to; from what he’s heard so far, he sounds like quite the frightening and temperamental character, and Spike wanted nothing to do with him.
Now, where were we? he thought, before realizing that he had started on a fresh chapter, and therefore simply had to begin from the top. Oh yeah! “The Soufflé in itself is infamous for being one of the most tedious and difficult culinary crafts to make, on account of the fact that the air bubble that expands inside can easily create holes in the dish, and therefore deflate it. One must have great patience when preparing this dish, and must be sure as to not disturb the inflation process.
“However, when you add sapphire gems to the mix-”
It was at this point that Spike heard the front door downstairs open. He yawned, closing the book and setting it next to his bed. That’s probably Twilight, he concluded. He climbed out of his bed, and with a light stretch of his limbs, he made his way across the bedroom and opened the door. “Twilight? Is that you?” he called, before feeling a sudden wave of anxiety. What if she’s with the alien? ...What if Twilight isn’t there at all, and it’s only the alien?!
“Yeah!” Twilight called back from downstairs, setting his mind partially at ease.
“...Is he with you?” he called back after a moment of silence. Oh, look at me; just a big scaredy-cat, he silently berated himself. I’m a dragon! He should be scared of me! ...Right?
“No, Spike,” she called back. “Do you mind coming down here? I need you to write a letter.”
The dragon let free his pent-up breath, feeling his anxiety flow away. “Sure thing!” Spike then shut the door behind him, and hopped down the flight of steps to find Twilight at the bottom, prepping a piece of paper, a quill and a jar of ink for him on a nearby table. He approached the scribe’s accessories, grabbing the quill and dipping it into the inkwell. “Alright, I’m ready,” he said to her. Twilight cleared her throat, before beginning her statement.
“Dear Princess Celestia,” she began, pacing back and forth. “As per your own request, I am sending the first of many letters regarding the extraterrestrial and his endeavours. I hope that after absorbing the information that this letter contains, you will rethink your previous decision to allow him free roam under the supervision of my friend, Fluttershy.”
“My… friend… Flutter… shy,” he vocalized as he finished writing the paragraph. Upon his completion, he nodded to Twilight, imploring her to continue.
“Firstly, we know that the alien exhibits several antisocial and sociopathic tendencies -i.e. threatening death and suffering for seemingly everyone around him, passive-aggressive tendencies, et cetera- and this leads me to believe that back on his own planet, he may not be quite socially adept even with his own species. He had mentioned previously that he was the head of an organization -the practices of which one can only assume are not the least bit legal- and even today, he had attempted to convert one of our younglings -a filly by the name of Applebloom, and sibling to my friend, Applejack- to follow his leadership as an apprentice. What he had intended to teach -or what he had already taught- has yet to be known, but it is believed that that particular incident-”
“So, write down ‘that’ twice?” Spike interjected, raising an eyebrow. Twilight nodded -agitatedly, he noticed- and he continued to write.
“...that that particular incident,” she continued, “is now under control.
“So in conclusion,” she said with finality, “I implore you to reconsider your ruling on his residency and freedom. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.” She looked back at Spike, ceasing her monotonous pacing and asking him, “Did you get all of that?”
Spike nodded proudly, setting the quill back on the table. Twilight smiled back at him, and after a second of rolling up the parchment, Spike inhaled deeply, and with minimal effort, engulfed the paper with an inferno of green fire. In an instant, the paper had become a simple wisp trail that flowed through the cracks of a nearby window, Canterlot-bound.
“Thank you, Spike,” Twilight said appreciatively, walking towards the steps. “So, how was your day?”
“Oh, the usual,” Spike said, following close behind her as they trailed up the steps. “I cleaned up a bit after he left, took inventory of our collection -there’s a book missing, by the way- and I was just-”
“Wait, what?!” Twilight flipped around, jumping over Spike -who flinched as she flew over top of him- and scanning the shelves frantically. “Are you sure you didn’t just miss one?”
“I checked twice,” Spike said, his heart pounding after his near-trampling experience. “I also looked at the check-out records; no one checked the book out either.”
“Well what book-” Twilight suddenly froze, twisting her head back to look at him with a glazed-over expression of surprise. “Wait, you did a double-check without me reminding you to?” Spike nodded in affirmative, and she smiled warmly. “That’s very responsible of you, Spike.”
Spike couldn’t help but strike a confident pose as his ego was inflated. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he replied nonchalantly, though he fought the urge to giggle with pride.
Twilight suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be upset, and she continued scanning the shelves in a fervor. “What book is missing?”
“A Hundred and One Things in the Forest you Didn’t Know were Edible,” he replied, and she stopped her constant darting around the shelves. Instead, she raced across the room to another shelf, knowing instantly where that book would be stored. “...It’s not there!” she cried, scanning the rest of the shelf in case of misplacement. “You don’t think someone stole it, do you?”
“Oh please,” Spike said, dismissing her worries. “Not while Spike the Dragon is on guard! And besides, who would want to steal a book like that? Why wouldn’t they just check it out for free?”
“I’m not sure, Spike…” Twilight told him. Suddenly, she turned away from the shelves and stared at him with rage-filled eyes. “You don’t think it’s him, do you?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “I think I would’ve noticed if a giant alien tried to steal one of your books.”
“No, I mean you don’t think he converted any other ponies, do you?” she asked him. “Ponyville’s never had a problem with thieves before. But suddenly the Doctor-Frickin’-Evil starts walking around, and I’m missing a book? What if he’s convincing other ponies to commit crimes for him? What if-”
She was silenced when Spike placed his hand on her mouth. “Calm down, Twilight. It’s probably just misplaced. Why would he try and convince somepony to steal a book about eating twigs and pinecones in the first place?”
Twilight gently moved his hand away from her mouth, and she released a fatigued sigh, her eyelids drooping as though they were being pulled down by heavy weights. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But there are two things I know for certain; one is that the alien cannot stay here for much longer.”
“What’s the other one?” Spike inquired.
Twilight’s eyelids opened wide, only to fall down even further than before. “What now?”
“What’s the other thing you know for certain?” Spike asked again, crossing his arms.
“Oh; tomorrow, we’re turning this tree upside-down until we find that book.” Then, Twilight once more made her way towards the stairs, and Spike followed close behind unhappily.
But I just cleaned this place up!
-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-
The sky was a deep violet and dotted by a myriad of stars when Doctor Evil made it back to the cottage. Not a single light shown through the windows, and the lack of light had diminished his depth perception to the point where he walked face-first into the door, sending him reeling backwards and gripping his nose.
“Damnit!” he seethed quietly as a dull throbbing pain erupted in his right septum. Is it bleeding? A warm dampness dripping down his front lip elicited a groan of exhaustion and anger. Of course it’s frickin’ bleeding, he thought bitterly. Why the hell wouldn’t it be bleeding? He held his coat arm up to his nose to staunch the torrent of ichor as his hand fumbled for the doorknob. When he finally found it in the darkness, he swung it open, and he took a step inside. His hand felt the wall for a light switch, though when he found none, he held his hand out in front of him as he clumsily made his way into the kitchen.
He took a single step through the doorway when he heard something upstairs. The ceiling creaked as something made their way towards the stairwell. Ignoring the sound, he used the ever-so-faint moonlight from the window to find the sink. Here, he felt for a faucet, and once greeted by the familiar sound of running water splashing against the floor of a clay basin, he brought his hand down under the stream of warming liquid to wash away the blood that even now had begun to dry on his skin. His nose bled freely now, cascading into the sink only to be washed away by the water. The pain had begun to deteriorate, but it still caused him much discomfort. His temper, on the other hand, seemed to only grow worse.
A light flickered to life behind him, and he instinctively took a startled breath… causing him to inhale a fair amount of blood, and sending him into a fit of ferocious coughing. Gah! he thought, the sudden fit of asphyxiation rendering him unable to form coherent thoughts.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you,” came the familiar voice. “I heard you come in, but I thought you were staying at...” Her words trailed off as his coughing turned into gagging. “Are you alright?”
The doctor lurched forward, trying to cough up as much blood as he could from the back of his throat. “I’m frickin’ peachy!” he shouted loudly without breathing through his nose. With the newfound light -most likely from a candle, as shadows danced about- he saw a great blood stain on the sleeve of his right arm, and he groaned -nay, growled- in frustration, kicking the door of the cupboard under the sink. The blow resulted in a resounding bang! that hurt his ears, which only made him angrier. “This was my favorite coat!” he shouted, holding his sleeve under the rushing water in a feeble attempt to diminish the stain. His rage intensified, and yet he did not understand why now of all times his temper decided to flair.
“What’s the matter?” Fluttershy asked, stepping around to his right side. As soon as she beheld the never-ending fountain of blood pouring from the doctor’s nose, she gasped. “You’re hurt! How did this happen?”
“Get me a tissue,” he commanded, not even bothering to look at her. His clean hand grabbed a bottle of what he could only assume was dish soap, and he began dousing his sleeve with it. Upon seeing only the great red splotch that it created, he snapped.
“Oh, don’t worry about your jacket,” Fluttershy said reassuringly. “I think Twilight knows a spell to-”
“Are you deaf?!” he shouted, turning towards the mare with a ferocious scowl and allowing his nose to pour onto the tiled floor. All of his frustration that had built up over the past twenty four hours suddenly burst forth, and he bellowed, “I said get me a goddamn tissue!”
Something happened then that Doctor Evil couldn’t have -though he should have- expected; the mare’s face scrunched up, and a single tear dripped down her cheek. Even in his fit of rage induced by a full twenty-four hours of hell seemed to die down a notch. Before he could even contemplate his own actions, the pony turned around and bolted through the door arch, releasing small gasping noises -sobs, as the doctor had deduced- and dashed up the flight of steps. Upstairs, he heard a door slam.
He stood there, unmoving from his position of facing the wall. Both cascades of blood and water continued to pour; though they were of no concern to the evil genius. Rather, his mind was currently fixated on the events that had unfolded only moments ago, and the possible ramifications of his actions.
...Shit. In my moment of unadulterated fury, I may have just jeopardized my current living arrangements... I need to fix this, he thought, before cupping his hand under his nose. Okay, I need to fix this first; I’m starting to get light-headed.
-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-
Fluttershy buried her face in her pillow, allowing her choked sobs to escape into the soft and plush material. She lay there on her bed, releasing her emotional state in a controlled environment. Her crying came from several sources, with fear and uncertainty playing the largest role. In that instant in the kitchen, Fluttershy had for the first time feared for her life. His seemingly-unprovoked outburst had rattled her very core; she hadn’t experienced such primal fear since her encounter with the dragon atop the unnamed mountain that hovered over Ponyville.
Why did he scream at me? she wondered, her crying having died down -though not completely. Did I do something to upset him? How did he get hurt in the first place? ...Maybe I deserved it. I mean, he did ask for a tissue first, and I just kind of brushed it off. I just wish I knew what made him so upset… in the… first...
She was about to drift off into a restless sleep -as she was both physically and emotionally drained- when suddenly the door was opened without any prior warning. She tensed her body in fear as the doctor blatantly stepped inside, easing only slightly as he took a seat on a stool that sat against the wall. The seat in question was far too small for him -his knees almost reached up to his shoulders- and several fracture lines in the teal coat of paint were evidence that he greatly exceeded its weight capacity.
“We need to talk,” he said after a moment. His voice had lost any previous malice, and Fluttershy quickly realized that he had never spoken this softly in his entire time of being here; completely devoid of aggression, command or dominance. Also, Fluttershy took notice of the fact that the doctor had a wad of toilet paper stuck in his right nostril. “I… Hmm… How do I put this..?” The doctor tapped the tips of his fingers together, deep in thought.
She donned an expression of poorly-hidden glee. Is he going to apologize? I knew there was good in him somewhere!
Doctor Evil quickly took notice of her newfound demeanor. “What the hell are you so happy about? Weren’t you bawling your eyes out just five seconds ago?”
Fluttershy needed no further exchange of words, and in an instant, she had climbed over the foot of the bed and engulfed the extraterrestrial in a massive hug, with her forelegs wrapped around his shoulders.
He was not pleased. “What the- get off!” He wedged his arms in front of his torso and pried you off of him, holding you at bay by your shoulders. “What the hell is with you and frickin’ hugs?”
Fluttershy beamed sheepishly, slightly embarrassed. “Oh, well, I know what you were going to say, and I forgive you.” She lowered her head, and allowed her mane to obscure her face.
The doctor gave her a blank stare. “You forgive me? Why? It was your fault.”
Fluttershy looked back up at him as though he had spoken another language. “Wait, my fault?”
The doctor removed his hands from her shoulders, preferring to place them on his hips, and took on a reprimanding tone to his voice. “You see that clearly I’m wounded, but what do you do? You start talking to me about my frickin’ coat. How the hell was that your first priority?”
Fluttershy was at a loss for words. “I-I uh, well-” she stammered, feeling slightly foolish.
“I will cede to you,” he began once more, “that my coat is quite luxurious; feel how the exterior is made of velvet.” He extended his arm in front of her, staring at her expectantly. “Go on ahead, feel it.”
Slowly, she brought a hoof up to run along the fabric. Oh, that is nice, Fluttershy thought.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” he said after a few seconds, pulling his coat sleeve away. “But when someone -especially me- is bleeding out, then clothes no longer matter, and you do whatever I say. I mean I’m not called Doctor Evil just for shits and giggles.”
Fluttershy didn’t know what to feel at that point; disappointed that he hadn’t apologized like she had hoped? Flabbergasted that he had turned the situation around on her? Overall, however, there was one feeling that she could not shake; shame. Shame that she had not tended to his injury. He was entirely right, and she should have focused more on his wound than the stain that was now a great red smear on his sleeve.
“...You’re right,” she finally gave in, the weight of both exhaustion and regret adding a fatigued edge to her voice. “I should have had my priorities in order, and I apologize.”
“Your apology is accepted,” the doctor said, standing up off of the stool -while using her head as support, to her chagrin- and placing an arm behind his back. “Just make sure that when next an incident should rear its ugly head, you are better prepared for it.”
Fluttershy nodded, before asking, “How is your nose?”
“Still bleeding,” he replied exasperatedly, before heading towards the door. He stopped, however, before turning back towards her and adding, “Oh, and I am going to take an early-morning stroll tomorrow.”
Fluttershy smiled -though her exhaustion made the action a test of her facial endurance- and responded with, “Mind if I join you?”
“Yes I do.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving Fluttershy alone to her thoughts.
-Insert Austin Powers Wipe Here-
The doctor took his hand off of the doorknob, and released a sigh of relief. Well that takes care of that problem, he thought to himself as he descended the flight of stairs to the living room. So long as she believes she is the cause of my outburst, I doubt she will so readily evict me from her home.
He made it to the bottom floor, only to find an annoyingly-familiar mammal scolding him from the floor. The doctor rolled his eyes. Not this little shit.
“What the hell do you want?” he questioned in a harsh tone, before squeezing his eyes shut for a moment; his eyelids were becoming progressively heavier every minute he spent not trying to go to sleep.
The mute rabbit waved a paw towards the archway leading to the kitchen, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you’d probably get pissed off too if you had to spend a day in Hell,” the doctor countered, shrugging. The rabbit shot him an unimpressed stare. “Well it’s Hell to me,” he replied. “I can’t stand the happy-go-frickin’-lucky attitudes of everyone here. Everyone’s too goddamn nice to each other.”
Much to the doctor’s surprise, the rabbit shrugged, nodding in what he could only imagine was agreement. “See? Even you get it!” he exclaimed. “No one ever holds a frickin’ grudge! I don’t know how many death threats I’ve made in the past twenty-four hours, but there doesn’t seem to be a single goddamn person here who gives a shit!”
Angel shrugged once more, before unexpectedly darting back into the kitchen, disappearing. The doctor -too tired to care- sauntered over to the couch to find that the blanket and pillow still sat folded and stacked neatly on the bed. In only a few seconds, this was no longer the case, as the doctor quickly laid down onto the couch with the pillow under his head, and -not even bothering to take his coat off- covered himself with the blanket. Through the archway, he could see that the kitchen still spilled the flickering light of a candle into the otherwise-dark living room, and he groaned. Goddamnit.
Before he could get up, however, the light was suddenly extinguished. His eyebrows crawled about halfway up his forehead in surprise. What the hell..? After a moment, the sound of scurrying across the floor put his mind at ease; if only slightly. That rabbit can put out a candle? ...Why the hell didn’t I already expect that? If the little bastard can carry on a conversation, then he can probably do something as simple as putting out a candle.
The train of thought led him to another surprising realization; one that forced him to release a sigh of disappointment. I just spent the last three minutes conversing with a rabbit.
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Yeah, cut yourself some slack. Hell, give yourself NINE days.
4317507
*ten days later*
Eight is okay for me, can't rush a good funny story.
Looks like Doctor Evil and Angel has come to an understanding.
dont restrict yourself to a weekly date
I hope the doctor tries to access magic by robbing the grave of a unicorn and surgically grafting a horn to his head, seems like the sort of thing he'd do.
When's the next chapter coming out?
4432840 I wrote a blog post about that particular situation.
I didn't know I was in this story!