Diary of an Aspiring Tyrant

by SugarPesticide

Entry Nine

June 29, 1000 ANM

Today I was inspired to create a plethora of miniature device which I have dubbed Rubbercutes. Formed entirely out of an odd bouncing substance called rubber, these yellow waterfowl-shaped objects are small enough to rest comfortably in one's hoof in most cases, yet have potentially unlimited practical applications. They are light enough to float on water, create a shrill shrieking noise when squeezed, and are odd-looking enough that nopony can suspect their more sinister purpose of magically spying on their owners for me.

Upon putting the finishing touches on my little toys, it occurred to me that I should provide it with a trademark, a wondrous invention that has revolutionized the concept of identity in non-sentient objects. To trademark the word of Rubbercute would truly make it my own, preventing its majesty from being stolen by those who would seek to defile its status. With this in mind I stepped out for just a few minutes, seeking texts on the minutiae of how to seek trademarking and why one should seek it.

I returned with an impressive stack of books, which I promptly dropped upon noticing that none other than Mi Amore Cadenza had broken into my chamber again. She was staring at the Rubbercutes with a startled expression, which I imagine was similar to my own upon discovering the identity of her father.

"Did you just reinvent the rubber duck?" she finally asked, poking at one of them with a perfect pink hoof.

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by a 'rubber duck'?"

One of them squeaked at her touch, and she grimaced. "I mean these. Well, I guess rubber ducks don't have a sinister blue aura coming from their eyes, but otherwise they're exactly the same."

I blinked at her, crestfallen. "You mean that somepony has already created objects of this nature?"

"Basically."

My ears drooped. It was fortunate that I had been reading on the nature of trademarking, or else I might have inadvertently stolen this concept from someone else without even realizing it! Such thievery is a low to which not even I shall stoop.

Mi Amore Cadenza patted my shoulder. "But if it helps, I would have stopped your evil plan in its tracks even if the rubber duck didn't already exist."

I smiled sardonically. "Thank you ... I suppose."

She beamed and took her leave. I was left alone with a hundred Rubbercutes scattered across the floor. With a wink of my horn they vanished, turning up who knew where. They were useless now, I knew. Let somepony else try to benefit from them.

I spoke with Blueblood on this later, and he seemed astonished. "But Mother, I don't think anypony would actually care that you plagiarized the rubber duck! It's not as if everypony is well aware of who designed them. Nopony would know."

"'Tis not true," I corrected him. "I would know. You may not realize this, looking at tonight's sky the way you have for the last millennium, but I am something of an artist. And as an artist, I understand the necessity of a work belonging to its creator alone. The creator may share her work, certainly, yet the question of ownership does not change. I would vastly prefer conquering Canterlot with my own ideas, even if only to ensure that the ponies understand that I, not Sister Dearest, am the one in control."

"Fair enough." He looked disgruntled. "It's just that I thought we were going to work rather unscrupulously to achieve this goal."

"And we shall. Yet I shall not descend to the level of the petty thief for the sake of eternal glory and tyranny. We are quite superior to that sort of behavior, as you should be well aware. But enough of my loathsome bouts of righteousness and self-pity. May I ask what happened to the bandages on your ears?"

"Well, my ears got better, so off the bandages went," he said, in a manner expressing that such a fact should have been obvious. "And the same goes for my rump, if you were about to ask."

"I was not, but you bring up a fair point. How dare your aunt make a mockery of your shame? This is not something with which I shall tolerate for much longer. That I have completely forgotten about it over the past two days is irrelevant, of course."

"Thank you, Mother. It would also please me if certain ponies refrained from screaming in my face to prevent such things from happening again."

I grimaced. "I did misuse my Royal Canterlot Voice in such a way, did I not? My apologies, Blueblood. I have been under considerable stress lately, and additionally have been freed from the grasp of a parasitic monster, so I fear that ... I love that I have had some difficulties."

"And I will help you," he said after only a moment's uncertainty, nuzzling me. "Your aims are mine. But please take more caution. Be patient, and the answers will probably come. In any case, you should really get some rest; you look less than perfect today."

I swatted at his nose. "Say not such a thing, silly boy."

At times I wonder if I have raised my son to be too honest. Of course, what other way could I have done so? Once I was the Bearer of Honesty, one of three of my finest traits. But what of the deception, the reader asks? The sneaking and scheming right under Sister Dearest's nose? It is not exactly honest in itself. To which I reply, what of it? What honesty is greater than being true to oneself, one's hopes and dreams and ambitions? There is good, and then there is the greater good. I simply choose to adhere to the latter, not breaking the law but rather circumventing it. It is the spirit, not the letter, which I support, and that is what it truly means to be honest.

Am I really philosophizing again? I must learn to keep my babbling to myself, not spew it across the page like a foalish youngster. This is a tome of triumph, and I must keep it that way if I wish to stay on course.

Comments

[Psykosis]

I wonder if those ducks are gonna be important later...

[werewolf435]

It occurs to me that , despite not having a 'tragedy' or 'dark' tag, the subtext of this story would easily support both.

There are constant allusions to a clinging madness that has overtaken the pony Luna once was; a pony, it seems, that would very much be considered a hero should the need for one ever arise. I can't help but wonder if Celestia is actually aware of her schemes and simply can not bring herself to punish her sister for them in the hopes that she can some day cure her of her insanity.

I am reminded of poor Simon Petrikov

25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyuavfYPWS1qfiq2zo1_500.jpg

Or I s'pose I could just be over thinking things... Still, her constant substitution of 'fear' for 'love' sais otherwise.

[Ms_Fruit_Bat]

2877995 Dude, that picture, just...
There is a list of things not okay, and this is really not okay.

[werewolf435]

2878189 I felt it rather appropriate myself.

[Kwakerjak]

I like this story, particularly its take on Blueblood's relationship to the Royal Family.

[Mystic Deadman]

...and now the door's been opened for Pinkie and the Brain level shenanigans.

2877853
Probably not. Seems more like a brick joke setup.

[Apocalyptic Fries]

V/A for Blueblood in this version of the show = Rupert Everett

[Paleobrony]

Aaanndd... I will never be able to think of them as 'rubber duckies' again. Rubbercutes is now head cannon. Such is my life