> Woundsalt, Mother Bucker.
>  by OneUppington
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Torment and Tiaras
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You can tell that she hasn't been a princess for long.
Just by she’s walking down her own halls, you can tell. Her eyes are looking around her own castle as if she doesn’t own the place. It’s actually quite embarrassing that it has to be the rookie princess that has to help me; granted, Celestia and Luna may be too busy holding up the sky, Cadence is probably too busy organizing the Equestrian games, but c’mon. Princess Twilight Sparkle? What the fuck can she do? Read me into a better life?
“So, what are you thinking right now?” says the fat, balding old unicorn next to me with a raised brow and a concerned look. The usual look of the great psychologist, Dr Brainstorm, especially when it’s at me, his life-long project.
“I think she looks lost,” I reply. Probably not the best answer to that question; but as you can tell from the mini-rant I had above, I was holding back. Hell, my mini-rant was even more held back compared to what I was really thinking.
Judging by the smile my psychologist gave me after I said it, he could see that I was trying to.
My name is Woundsalt. Apparently, it’s the mother’s instinct after the birth of her child that names the kid. Probably the same instinct that knew I was going to be a bitter, angry, foul-mouthed little bastard, and proceeded to drop me at Saint Diamond Heart’s.  I like to believe she looks like the statue of Diamond Heart, standing right in the middle of the courtyard with her fronts hooves open wide and a caring smile. That way, every time I end up drunk and vomiting on it I can look up to her and say “Well, if you put your son in an orphanage with a name like fucking Woundsalt, it doesn’t take your instinct to tell you he’ll grow up like this.”
I hear a smashing of a vase and quickly turn to our hostess. Our latest of royal highnesses just destroyed an incredibly priceless heirloom.
“Sorry,” she says to one of her servants. “Still not used to the wings. Hang on, I got it.”
A flash from her horn later, the vase pieces are put together as good as new.
Brainstorm looks at me again. He’s been with me since I was of very young age, so he knows of all the many things I can say just about this incident, especially the one I have in mind. The look in his eye, though still keeping that smile, gives away exactly what he knows about me. “Don’t you dare say it. I know you think it’s funny, and you find it hard to resist, but for the love of Celestia don't you dare!"
He knows me too well, but he still doesn’t know how to stop me.
“A very nice spell, princess. Does it work on broken ponies like myself, as well as vases?”
Brainstorm’s smile has stayed. His eyes, however, have calmed down. They don’t seem to be depressed. Strange. Usually, they are quite sad after I cross the line like this. Brainstorm knows something I don’t. His face can try to hold it, but his pupils can’t.
My comment made the alicorn look in our direction. Her giant purple eyes looked directly at me. “Doctor Brainstorm and Mister Woundsalt, I assume,”  She says, in a manner as polite as possible.
The Doctor bows, and I follow seconds later. Best to follow Brainstorm’s example as close as possible for now.
She may know of my condition, but I do not wish to anger the new princess, who knows what she can do to me: send me to the moon, cast me into a stone statue, catapult me out of Canterlot with the power of love or who knows what! A princess always knows how to punish her enemies.
“My princess,” Says Brainstorm, “I apologise for the—”
“No need.” Says Sparkle. “It’s his cutie mark after all. How did you get it?”
My cutie mark is a saltshaker hovering upside down above a curvy line of red ink, being drawn by a black quill.  I remember the day I got it. Holy shit, that was a life-changing day.
“I was only five, getting bullied by orphans two times older than me. I blacked out for a moment and when I came to I was standing exactly where I was, and the bullies were in separate corners of the courtyard, crying as if their parents came back for them only to be struck by lightning right in front of their eyes. Doctor Brainstorm was the first to get to me before anyone of the caretakers could even reach for paddles. He told me that I just snapped and shouted words that were… ‘Outside my reading level’ as he called it.
He told me only a little bit of what I said, in the hopes that I could remember where I’d heard them and give the responsible either a paddling or have them fired. I had no idea where I heard those words, but hearing him say those words.... Those words turned bullies from threats to cowards? I knew they were my destiny. I knew down in my heart, even in its young naivety, it was the pony I was meant to be; A silver-tongued devil. A pony whose vocabulary so prof…
…Don't like it then take my dictionary-like mind and shove it where the white Alicorn's balls don't shine, bitch!”
Oh shit. It happened again.
Twilight Sparkle’s face is stunned. The guards and servants are looking at me with the same expression. The only face that wasn’t was the one owned by Doctor Brainstorm, who can only sigh. “Admittedly, he has been improving his self control.” He explains. “He ‘bursts’ now and then, as we’ve all just experienced.”
I can’t help but feel embarrassed. I stay perfectly still hoping that what I just said doesn’t give me a trip to that glue factory those conspiracy nut jobs on Mane Street keep talking about.
“Huh… Okay,” Says the princess, hesitantly. “Spike, don’t write that all down, now. J-just to ‘silver-tongued devil.’ That would do it.”
I only just noticed the famous note-taker, surprisingly still scribbling away even though he’s looking at me just as stunned as everyone else in the hall. “Huh? Oh right,” The purple dragon says while snapping out of the gaze and looking at its work. “Uh… yeah, done.”
I look back at the princess. She now looks like she’s thinking… and concerned.
“Actually Spike, Could you escort everyone out of here? I need to talk with Woundsalt alone.”
“With him, your majesty? Alone?”
Of course, this is a surprise to Doctor Brainstorm. His face and pupils both are in shock. Fair enough. He of all ponies in Equestria knows that no one ever wants to talk with me; only at me.
“Yes,” confirms the princess, “I’ll fill him in on what’s happening.”
As the reptile shoos everyone out of the hall, especially the still-shocked Brainstorm, he nods to his mistress and shuts the door behind him.
I admit, I’m nervous. Is this the part where she punishes me? Shit, it could be. That little… outbreak… before could be grounds enough for banishment to the moon. No wait, she doesn’t have that sort of power. Not yet. Most likely, all she can do in banish me to a cup closet in this castle. I lived in smaller places than that, I assure you.
You know, I just realised something. I shouldn’t fear this princess. At least, not yet. When she actually runs something, maybe I would be in deep trouble but now, I can’t fear this princess. Why, in my given situation that just a few seconds ago I was MOCKING how lost she is in her own new world, should I fear Princess Twilight Sparkle?
“Well, technically, you should never fear a princess. You should respect a princess.”
…
“Can I at least fear a princess that can read my mother clopping mind?!”
“Sorry. Since I became an alicorn, my telepathy has gone a tad out of control.”
She’s shyly smiling. I can tell she didn’t mean to telepathically intervene in the privacy of my own thoughts. Plus, I’m certain she has read books about how dystopian dictatorship-style spying is a very stupid idea.
“I also got into your psychologist’s head, too. Do you know what he’s thinking?”
As hypocritical as it seems, I do not care for Doctor Brainstorm’s privacy. I read his eyes all the time, though all I know right now is that he’s hiding something. The old unicorn always wants to know what I’m thinking, anyway.
“What horrible dark secrets could Twilight Sparkle possibly find in the mind on the great Doctor Brainstorm?” I say, probably a tad too quizzically.
“He believes he is the closest thing you have for a friend.”
What? A f-friend? I-is she bullshitting? Shouldn’t she wait until she gains leadership of something before she does that?
“No. That can’t be right. Closest thing he ever was to me was a father figure, and he knows he’s a terrible one at that. Which is why he keeps telling me that he’s my mentor; he’s not a good one of them either. Never, ever has he been a f—”
“Well, how many friends do you have, Woundsalt?”
“… None.”
That could explain it, actually. There’s only one pony that survives my drinking, my view of the world, and … my language. Doctor Brainstorm. The closest thing I’ll ever have as a friend; my psychologist.
…
Well, that is very depressing… Maybe I should have a drink.
“Is there a bar near here?”
“There’s something else, but I didn’t need telepathy to find out.”
“Can it wait until after I get a whiskey in me?”
“Definitely not.” Said Princess Sparkle, who gotten a lot more serious.
“Doctor Brainstorm didn’t tell you all the details of this visit, did he?”
Okay… for someone who this princess just told me is the closest thing I ever have to a friend, I get the feeling she’s about to say he’s a total dick. Which is not exactly new to me, but it’s got me concerned nonetheless.
“Wasn’t the idea is that you magic me up something to control my power?”
“No. Is that what he told you?”
“All he said is that you do spells that can he- Wait. You managed to switch the cutie marks of five ponies.”
That was a fortnight ago. It was rather entertaining day too, sitting there as I saw a bunch of drunken pegasi try to play checkers on top of Ponyville.
She nodded slowly. “A little accident, which got sorted out. He, however, believes I can do this on purpose to anyone. That’s why he believes I can rid you of yours.”
Ah, of course. This was why Princess Twilight. Who else but the only pony in recorded history to change the destiny of others to ‘help’ me? Fucking Brainstorm.
“I’m guessing you don’t want this.”
“No fucking shi…
… And that is it!… I did it again, didn’t I?”
I asked because all I hear from the speech I gave was the beginning and the end, but the hallmarks of a Woundsalt-blackout-rant aftermath were nowhere to be seen. No crying. No terror. No uneasy silence. No pony asking for my head on a pike.  All I see is Twilight Sparkle, standing fairly shaky, but still tall.  She’s not stunned this time, but puzzled.
“You did. How do you know about Ironsight?”
“Who?”
“Ironsight, the last ruler of Chariotora. You know, ‘Getting rid of it like I’m Ironsight of Chariotora?’ There is only one document left about him and that is freshly preserved in Princess Celestia’s own private library. You referenced him just now!”
“Did I? I blacked out.”
“You blacked out?”
“Yeah, one of the effects of an ‘outburst.’”
“Right…” Said Twilight Sparkle.
She’s clearly thinking. Now she’s clearly smiling. Now I’m clearly scared. I know I should respect her as she said, but I’m clearly scared.
“Do you want to be yourself and be accepted, Woundsalt?”
“Uh... yeah, but I know that I can’t have both.”
“Well, maybe you can... How badly do you want to leave that orphanage?”
Wow… I don’t think I’m scared anymore. Now I’m more interested. “Very. What are you planning?”
“Tomorrow, I’m going to visit Ponyville. Only for the day, to see how my friends are doing. You can stay at my library for as long as you like, writing to me about your progress.”
If I’m not mistaken, I could have sworn she just gave me her old job that she used to do for Celestia. Ah well, either this or get my cutie mark changed.
“Okay…”
“My friends will teach you how to make friends, while notifying me as well on what you’ll have learned.” Twilight Sparkle continues.
Shit, she’s outsourcing her job to everyone now. Why does she want her friends to write tedious letters about friendship to her on my behalf? What does she want with me? Whatever. This plan is still better than Brainstorm’s drastic action.
She still wasn’t finished.
“Also, I’ll tell them about your ‘outbursts’ and ask them to write them down. I have a weird feeling that your gift has more to it than rudeness and curse words, and I want to know how you just unwillingly bring up a ruler of an extinct civilization. Any questions?”
Ah. I bet that’s why she’s interested in me. She doesn’t care about me. All she cares about is that Ironsight and his Chariotora. It all makes sense. Blasted bookworm wants more information. Fine. A fair exchange, I’ll give her that. I get a course in Friendship 101 and she gets her information. I can only think of one question:
“Am I allowed to bring any drinks?”
	
> Last Night of my Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I figured she’d say no to my question.
Wouldn’t stop me drinking tonight, anyway.
I stumble around the orphanage courtyard singing, with a smile on my face and a bottle that used to contain the last of my booze behind me. I look like a mess, smell like a swamp hydra’s curry night and stumbling around like a puppet on strings. This, of course, is my usual state when I’m off to visit my 'mother.'
Two fat balding unicorns with light blue coats, both looking as angry as each other, come storming toward me. Even in the manner that I am right now, I can clearly see both of them are the visage of my ‘best friend’, Doctor Brainstorm. Goody.
“How in the name of Celestia did you do it?” he whispers quietly. “I leave you with a chance to change yourself for the better, and you refuse it for some stupid scheme that’s BOUND not to work.”
“Stupid scheme?” I reply, probably a bit too loud. “At least her idea didn’t involve an experimental spell which could endanger my life AND anyone else around me. Isn’t that kind of shit against the Hippocratic Oath?”
Both Brainstorms are silent. Usually, when he’s silent like this is either because he thinks I have a point or too pissed off to continue the conversation. Both are possible in this case. He points at the bottle behind me, obviously changing the subject.
“Seriously?”
I look at the bottle. “The last of my stash. Can’t take it where I’m going. Princess’ orders.”
“Ah, so she’s tackling your alcoholism as well.” He says with a smile as we walk to Saint Diamond Heart. He’s starting to enjoy this now. “What did you say to her to make her take such drastic actions?”
Should I tell him about that ancient civilisation? Not as if he knows it. I don’t know it either and I’m the one who brought it up. Maybe I mentioned this Chariotora place to him before…
“I mentioned something that interested her in another outburst.”
“Another?” He whispers with a hint of surprise in his tone. “Two outbursts in that short amount of time. Not a record, but wow.”
“I was pissed because of your plan, okay?! Anyway, apparently I mentioned some document that only she and the Royal Sisters know about. Some city called Chariotora getting destroyed, and the citizens had their ruler killed because of it. It was so long ago, the document is the only thing left that proves its existence.”
Both of his faces look puzzled. “How did you know about it?”
“That’s what she’d like to know. Did I say something like this in our sessions?”
“Not really.” Brainstorm says “However, most of your rants reference books. That is, in between the cheap shots about my weight and hairline.”
I can clearly see he’s fishing for an apology for wasting his life and probably his career. I don’t want to, but I have to give him something. Closest pony I had as a friend here…
“For what it’s worth, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there, from the very beginning.”
He’s happy. Finally, the hatchet has been buried.
“Just promise me one thing. This… scheme Princess Twilight made. Don’t mess it up.”
I’m little bit surprised by this. “I thought you hate the scheme.”
"I do, but… My idea was a last resort. She, from the kindness that came from her heart, gave you a second chance. If you goof it up, she will probably have no choice but my option. I… know you don’t want that, and I know she doesn’t want that. I definitely know I don’t want that. I hope this works. I think it won’t, but I hope.”
When he said that, we reached the statue of Diamond Heart. He turned back to look at me. He knows I’ve got to say goodbye to her. “Just talk to her quickly before waking everyone up again.”
As he walked away, I looked at the mare. I always wondered why the birds never want to poop on her. Every other statue, they do it freely, but not her. Even the animals think she’s pure. I don’t see the purity.
“Hello, mother.”
…
“I met a princess today. Never thought I was able to do that, did you?”
…
“Not only that, but she’s going to move me out of here. Ponyville. I hear it’s a lot quieter than Canterlot. Not as quiet as you though.”
…
“You know, since this is the last of our little talks, I have to say it. You are not as bad a mother as I say you are.
…
“Okay, yeah, I’m lying through my teeth. I blame you for everything wrong with me, but I don’t think it was entirely your fault. I’m certain that mother’s instinct could have said I’d be the next Discord and you’d still keep me, it’s just that you had a reason. I know you had some reason; you were too young, you couldn’t afford to keep me, I was a lovechild from your affair with some rich celebrity and you wished to keep it a secret from the paparazzi; anything!”
…
“I tell you what, I’m certain Princess Sparkle can look in the Canterlot records to find you. All I have to do is ask her. Then, maybe we’ll organise a meet or something. Then you can tell me your reason. I know you will have a reason.”
I know.
I Hope.

FEATHERLIGHT
I hope this letter, unlike the others, prevail long enough for any pony to heed its warning.
I am currently writing this in the remains of the city I had lived in for all of my life. It’s houses were always built tall, little knowing it would be easier for it to be pulled down. It was so, for Chariotora.
We were told that Ironsight saw everything, but he was blind to how crippled his city was. All he saw was the wars with the outsiders; never the one that brewed within. It was this war that defeated him: not the one against dogs, not the one against walking blasphemers, not the one against horned warlocks and witches. His own pegasi, the ones he had downtrodden, starved and even punished so that he shall remain king.
Because of this lie, a group within the rebellion against this dictator decided to do what has never been done before. As soon as his palace was invaded, they had cut off Ironsight’s mark. No longer is there a symbol of axes and bows creating an eye on the flank of our leader.
Now he has no mark. Now we have no ruler.
For anypony willing to rule us former Chariotorians, heed this warning. We Pegasi know how to fight. Understand.


> Fly Low, Sweet Chariot.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Morning in Equestria shimmers
Morning in Equestria shines
The sun is burning brightly
Oh boy, how it's hurting my eyes..."
Twilight sighs. "Couldn't resist hitting the bottle last night, could you?"
Even though the question sounds rhetorical, my mouth can't resist giving her a reply.
"Well after you meet a newly made goddess who can change your life with a wave of her hoof, you’d be drinking too."
She’s silent. I get the feeling this won’t continue during the chariot trip to Ponyville. I find it quite weird that even though she has wings to fly, she still has to be escorted like she was before, on a chariot pulled by burly white pegasi in golden armour. Really you’d think they’re here for my benefit, being an earth pony and all, but they made it abundantly clear that they are not, due to them flying above the clouds, where the sun is at it’s brightest. Assholes.
“Woundsalt, could I ask you something?”
See? Told you the silence wouldn’t last.
“As long as we keep away from my drinking habits at the moment, sure,” I say as I fumble for a pair of sunglasses.
“Okay,” Twilight says, looking away. “Is it true that you want me to find your mother?”
I almost forgot about that. I would have asked her immediately I met her that morning bu-HEY WAIT A MINUTE!
“HOW IN LUNA’S NAME DID YOU KNOW THAT?”
She seems slightly embarrassed. “Well, I told Princess Celestia about you and she… MIGHT have suspected that you broke into her private library.”
“So…?"
“So… she sent out a spy to find information. He heard you talking to Doctor Brainstorm and what you said to the statue and then reported back.”
…
“Princesses aren’t meant to be feared, huh?”
“Woundsalt, I know it sounds wrong bu-“
“Sounds wrong? There’s a reason why it sounds wrong. IT IS WRONG. What right does she have to spy on me like I’m a fucking terrorist threat?”
“BECAUSE WHEN SOMEPONY MENTIONS A DOCUMENT FROM A SECRET LIBRARY THAT ONLY SHE KNOWS THE LOCATION OF, THEY BECOME A TERRORIST THREAT!”
I stay silent and in shock as I see the Princess’ temper fade away.
“Sorry… She takes what’s in there very seriously. A lot of stuff in there is incredibly dangerous. The time she wanted to show me the Chariotorian Document, she had to knock me out with drugs. Twice. And put a bag on my head just in case if in between knockouts I see something. So when she heard that I found somepony that referenced something that is only found and known about in there, She got a little... nervous."
Nervous. I made the Sun Goddess nervous.
Fuck.
“So am I cleared from being a terrorist threat now?”
“Not really.” The young Alicorn sighs. “She dismissed the spy, but unless you can prove you heard it from anywhere else but her library, I will have to keep reporting to her about you.”
Oh, that’s just peachy. It’s bad enough that Sparkle and her friends will be watching my every move; now I got to be careful about the high ruler of Equestria as well? This is the greatest amount of trouble my mouthpiece ever gave to me. Wait… I have an idea. I think it’s stupid, but hopefully it might clear my name a little.
“What if I told you last night I had a dream about Chariotora?”
She looks at me, confused. “What?”
“Twilight, listen…”

After I yelled at the statue, I fell to the floor, passed out. Nothing new. What was new, however, was the dream.
A pegasus who looked incredibly obese appeared just to the right of my view, standing on a pedestal labelled “FEATHERLIGHT.” He was talking straight at me, but he seems to be saying it in front of an audience. As he spoke his words morphed and ran and made patterns to the left of him, describing what he is talking about with action. He talked about tall buildings that are easy to fall down. He talked about how racist these guys can get. He talked about how blinded Ironsight was to the poverty of his people, which led to his downfall. He talked about a bunch of guys being very poetic and cut the cutie mark off their tyrant. He finally ended his speech with one word.
Understand.
She is surprised by this dream. “Wow… That’s everything the document said. Straight down to the last word. There was one thing you added on which the document didn’t say, however…”
“What’s that?”
“The author didn’t write down his name. It was anonymously written. In fact, Featherlight was the documenter for…”
Her pupils grow to an abnormal size as if the mind behind it has been blown.
“… The documenter for Commander Hurricane and the pegasi founders of Equestria, who were known for their fighting! OH SWEET CELESTIA, THEY WERE FORMER CHARIOTORIANS! THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!”
For someone who lived in a library she shouts a lot.
“Can you be excited about it a bit more quietly, please? Got a bit of a headache here.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She said incredibly calmer. “It’s just… what you just dreamt might have solved an ancient mystery. There is not a single clue where the Chariotorians went after their revolution, which Celestia was trying to find out for herself. If we can confirm that the document has the same hoof writing as Featherlight’s other works, she would be thrilled!”
I breathed out with relief. It might not exactly be an alibi, but if Twilight thinks Celestia will be happy, then I’m back on the Sun Goddess’ good side.
“So will she be off my back, when you tell her this?”
She’s fidgeting a little. I have the feeling the answer is…
“Uh… Not really.”
Called it!
“Even though she highly doubts you broke into her library, she still wants to know how you know the document. There was another theory that was discussed last night. It’s a long shot but makes more sense than you breaching national security. Also, if it's right, then it means at least one of your parents is a unicorn."
"Hmm... okay, what is it and why could it mean one or both of my parents are horn-heads?"
“That you could be magically connected to all literature ever written. Meaning you, as an Earth pony, have magic.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You have magic.”
“I… have magic? I have no horn, but I have magic?”
“Which you got genetically.”
“Which I got genetically.”
"Yep."
…
“Which one of us was drinking last night?”
“Yeah, I know.” Twilight sighs.
“It's extremely rare, but it does happen. I remember reading something in Doctor House Call’s Big Book of Genetics… He called it something… the name made me giggle a little bit… it’s on the tip of my tongue…”
It made her giggle? I don’t see what’s so funny about my Magical Tourette Syndrome.
“I’ll find that book in the library you’re sending me to, right?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I got it there. Ooh! I got a DNA kit there too! We'll organise that before I leave and then I’ll take your DNA sample to a laboratory who could find a match on their database on who your parents are.”
That sounds like a plan. Finally, a proper fucking plan. Not like her 'Let's move the cynical asshole out of his natural habitat' plan, or her 'let's just stop giving booze to the alcoholic' plan. A plan that ACTUALLY is a plan, and not some “experiment in disguise” phoney plan.
"Pardon me, Your highness and sir." interrupts one of the pegasi guards.
"We shall now descend underneath the clouds as requested."
"Oh, hey!" I say in surprise.
"And here I thought you two were ignoring me."
"Apologies." the other replies with a heavy voice.
"It would have not been possible before-hand due to the Gate to Tartarus."
...
"Say that again?"


> Say hello to My Little Friends!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“… Well, am I wrong?”
“No, no. You are completely correct. They should have done that.” She says with a small laugh. “That’s the first time I saw someone from the Royal Guard tremble in fear!”
I think it’s safe to say after I’ve been told that I just flew over the gates of hell, another outburst erupted from me. I knew that Tartarus had an entrance near Ponyville, mind you. It’s a common phrase every Canterlotian knows…

‘To live in Ponyville you have to be either crazy enough to live by the Gates to Tartarus or unable to afford Canterlotian rent.’

I lost it because of the fact that we flew over it and not AROUND it like anyone with a brain would have done. Granted, being above the clouds so the beings of the damned can’t see us was not a bad idea, but I would have preferred an extra 15-minute journey to avoid the fiery hell pit as my rant explained to the bumbling idiots known as guards in a more aggressive tone.

So anyway, we’re here. Ponyville; Homeplace of the Elements of Harmony and their Bearers; Land of the very generic thatched roof cottages; Town with the worst name in the universe. No wait, told a lie. Appleoosa takes that title, but Ponyville’s a very close second.
My new neighbours are staring at me for some reason. I’m willing to assume it’s because I’m a new face in town following their Royal Princess. I see a few of them whispering to each other, noticing I’m watching them, smile nervously and bow, wait till they think the coast is clear and start whispering again.
“Looks like our visit is turning a few heads.” I say to my… well, I think I should call her my teacher by now. She is, after all, teaching me this friendship malarkey.
“Figures,” My teacher smiles. “Usually, Pinkie Pie organizes a public party for practically anything, especially new faces coming into town. However, I made her promise to make your welcome a private affair, only you and the six of us. Maybe she forgot to notify the townsfolk.”
Ah, so the staring and whispering are not really about me, but the confusion on the lack of party. I’ve got to be friends with these assholes.

“Hang on. The six of you? You mean… THE six?”
“Well, yeah.” Twilight says, turning back at me.
“Who else but the Elements of Harmony to teach you how to get friends?”
“Well, yeah I can see that. But… I’ll be the only colt there.”
She looks back at me a tad quizzical. “So? You can have ponies of opposite gender as friends, Wound.”
“I only know one female that I can hold conversations with. That’s a statue… Also, I only do that drunk.”
“Oh… well, you seem to be fine with me.”
Huh. She got me there. I will not let her have the last word, however.
“Maybe it’s out of fear - sorry, ‘respect’.”
She couldn’t help but laugh again, a tad larger than last time, but not by much. She is getting used to me at an unusually quick rate.
“So, this is your new place.” The alicorn points towards a giant tree, decorated with windows, balconies and a red door. It doesn’t look like a library, but it does stick out compared to the other houses.

“All righty, then. Let’s go in and pack before the party ge-”
“SURPRISE!”
“OH FU…


…If you ever do that again!”
As I snap back to reality, there were four ponies in the library. The one closest to me, who appears to be covered in cotton candy, is standing blissfully unaware and for the moment surprisingly still. Unlike the light blue Pegasus, who is shaking in her seat in rage by the table. Contrasting her, in an orange coat, is an earth mare who is frozen in between two sips of her juice box. Finally, I see a couch with a fainted unicorn on top of it.

I have a feeling I did not make a decent first impression. The look on Teacher Twilight agrees.
“Are these things usually twice in one day?”
“Not usually, no.” Nice to see she can now tell the difference between usual me and 'Black-out' me.
“Oh! He’s already here!”
This exclamation came from a yellow mare carrying a bowl of salad out of the kitchen. She slowly puts the bowl down onto the table and flies towards me.
“Hello. My name is Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness…” She looks around towards the other ponies, still unmoved.
“Did I miss anything?”
“Yes.”
“Am I better off not knowing?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Twilight gave a heavy step in the hopes of snapping her friends out of their shell shock.
“Okay girls, let’s introduce ourselves!”
It didn’t work.
“No need. I can take a guess. The one who almost gave me a heart attack when I came in is Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter…”
“Hi!”
“The one looking like she’s about to kick my teeth in is Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty…”
“… Yeah, it is.”
“The one frozen with a juice box in her mouth is Applejack, the Element of Honesty…”
“Howdy”
“Which leaves the one passed out on the sofa to be Rarity, the Element of Generosity.”
Her head rises up.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Woundsalt.”
“Likewise.”

As I sit myself down at the table, I figure I should stay quiet unless spoken to from now on. A fairly good strategy, as the friends talk to Twilight on what she missed during her week of absence. Idle chitchat should calm them down before any of them dare attempt to talk to me again.
As I look around, I discover that this library is humongous compared to how it looked outside. All I see so far is this round room with books on shelves and floral patterns on every surface, and it makes me wonder if the princess has some dimension altering spell on this place. I can’t help but notice three large boxes hidden under red cloth on the other side of the room, one of which is on it’s side as the other two stand by the sides of it. A bit large for housewarming party gifts perhaps, but hey what do I know. They are the friend professionals here, not me.

“So Woundsalt,” Rarity says with a relaxed tone as she pours the content of an apple juice box into a cocktail glass.
“Are you by any chance the same Woundsalt of The Canterlot Horn Poetry Corner?”
Fuck. I got found out.
“The one and the same.”
“The Canterlot Horn?” Twilight asks. “What is that, some magazine?”
Huh. The bookworm doesn’t read magazines. Who knew?
“It… was. I’ll tell you the full story.
When I was eight, The Canterlot Horn was just a monthly magazine for musicians. Then some genius from up top thought it was best to expand towards other art forms. To celebrate this change, they organized a child prodigy competition. The winner gets to have the front cover and a deal to excel their career. Brainstorm, without my permission, entered some poems I written during time out sessions. I didn’t win, but the girl who did felt sorry for me or some shit like that. She told the magazine she just wanted to be on the front cover and persuaded the producers to make a deal with me instead. This deal became the Poetry Corner, which I was a permanent writer for until the magazine got bankrupt and got cancelled; On my twenty-first birthday too. That was a fun night at the bar.”

I look around and see exactly what I expected. All six mares looking incredibly bummed by my sad story. Maybe I should start a new topic before they start hugging me.
“So… Rarity, how did you know about the Horn? I don’t exactly remember it being distributed outside of Canterlot.”
“Hmm? Oh just socialising with new residents. A lot of Canterlot artists live in Ponyville, Darling. They call themselves ‘Canterlot Renters’ after ‘The Common Phrase.’” Rarity explains.
“Do you have any idea what that means? Every time I ask them they just giggle.”
I giggle and look towards her alicorn friend.
“Do you want to tell them? I feel like you’d do a better job explaining this.”
“Yeah…” Twilight starts uneasy.
“Well, Canterlotians have a saying that there are only two reasons to live Ponyville. You are crazy enough to live by The Gates of Tartarus or you can’t afford Cantelrot rent.”
“Crazy? Aw now c’mon!” Applejack exclaims,
“Nothing comes out of that thing!”
“What about that time Cerberus, the dog of Hades came into town?” Rarity asks her country bumpkin of a friend.
“Okay, sure. But he didn’t even injure anybody and was taken care of pretty easily!”
“Some ponies are just afraid of a giant fiery hole in the ground, Applejack.” Fluttershy says in her whimpy manner.
“Quite personally, I’m surprised they don’t talk about what comes out of Everfree Forest...”

I fade out of the conversation to examine the library surrounding me a bit more. Hopefully, I can find that book Twilight was talking about, and mark it in my mind to find it later. Ah, there it is, last book on the shelf by the power cord! Wait… that power cord’s coming out of the boxes. In fact, a lot of wires and chords are around those boxes. I have a feeling they’re not presents for me anymore.
“Hey, Woundsalt.” Says a now calm Rainbow Dash.
“What did you say to Twilight to make her think you have a magical connection to books?”
I look at teacher Sparkle.
“Am I allowed to tell them this? The fact I somehow know about was enough to make Celestia go MI6 on my ass.”
“Uh… Sure! Celestia can trust us to keep this a secret, right girls?”
“Right!” the girls shout in unison.
“Okay… Apparently, I seemed to mention a scroll that stated the fall of some old Pegasi civilisation, which Celestia kept secret from everyone but Twilight and other princesses for… some reason.”
“Wait… Old Pegasi civilisation? That sounds familiar…” Dash ponders. “Hey Flutteshy, wasn’t there a… Fluttershy?”
The one known as Fluttershy is currently hyperventilating on the floor in a fetal position.
“No. No. It can’t be. It’s not true. Impossible. Ironsight isn’t real. Ironsight isn’t real.” She says during deep breaths.
Twilight can only stare at her friend freak the fuck out for a few seconds, before she asks,
“Wait a minute. Fluttershy, how did you know about Ironsight?”
“Oh… THAT Old Pegasi civilisation.” Rainbow Dash says unhappily. “Twilight, you better stay in your seat. We got some mind blowing stuff to tell you.”
Ugh. I really don’t want to get hear anymore about this Chariotoran bullshit right now. Perhaps the Non-flying ponies might give me a conversation. Pinkie Pie seems to be not involved with what Rainbow Dash is talking about. Maybe I should ask her about the boxes, see if she knows what they are. She’s the one who organized this thing, after all.

“Hey, Pinkie? What’s with those boxes over there?”
“Hmm?” Pinkie asks she snaps back to reality from the blank oblivion she was staring into.
“Oh those! They’re the DJ’s equipment from when I was organising your ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party! But then Twilight told me to cancel her for a more quiet party… It’s … fine. I guess.”
Ah, so it’s a couple of speakers and a turntable that some disc jockey left behind by mistake. Okay, I can see that.
“Yeah… I know it was for my benefit why she wanted it like this, but I wouldn’t mind a DJ.”
“Right?” Pinkie squealed in a very highly-strung manner that makes me question the sugar content in the juice. “And with all the changes in your life in the last twenty-four hours you deserve more than one party! At least four! At once!”
“Four at once? No way is that physically poss-”
“WITH A CAKE FOR EACH PARTY!” She shouts as she takes drawings from… actually I don’t know where. Nor do I care; because these pictures showed the most extravagant cakes I’ve ever fucking seen. It’s almost as if they’re trying to out-fantastic each other to earn a place in my heart. All decorated with different designs and lettering.

The first is in the shape of a bunch of suitcases and bags with ‘WELCOME TO PONYVILLE!’ written on the top one in large friendly letters. The second cake looks like a large broken whiskey bottle made out of broken glass with ‘WELCOME TO REALITY!’ written around it. That's rich coming from what I heard about Pinkie Pie. The third cake was a standard cake decorated with candy moulded in the shape of magnifying glasses, deerstalkers and pipes. Judging by the inscription of ‘THE HUNT IS ON!’ on top of it, I can safely say this was to be used to celebrate the beginning the search of my parents. How did she know th…

Hold the fucking phone. What the fuck is this?
The last cake is a Sky blue 3-foot tall tower with two words I thought I never see in my entire life in this combination.
YOU’RE ADOPTED!
“Uh… Pinkie? Sorry to critique your fine work and all, but I’m not adopted.”
“Yeah, you are, silly! Twilight adopted you!”
“Ah no see, I understand the confusion but Twilight just sent me here. There is no need to adopt me. Why should she adopt me?”
“I don’t know but I have the certificate right here, see?” Pinkie smiles as she grabs another sheet of paper from… fucked if I know. Or again, care. For what that she had is a legitimate adoption certificate from Saint Diamond Heart’s.




This Certificate is to signify that I,
TWILIGHT SPARKLE
am now the legal guardian of
WOUNDSALT SPARKLE
Under the eyes of Princess Celestia and Saint Diamond Heart Orphanage.
“…TO ALL WHO NEED IT MOST”





“Spa… Spaahaha… Woun… Woundsalt… Sparkle?”
“Wound?” Twilight asks quietly, even though she’s at the other end of the table.
“Do you need some time to yourself?”
“Yes Please.”
“Bedroom’s upstairs to the right.”
“Thank you.”


> A few words with... Mom.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, it’s been a fun time with myself the last few hours.

Panicking the fuck out, crying on the floor, banging my head onto the walls, shouting “WOUNDSALT FUCKING SPARLKE!?!” as loud as possible,  and then ending up in the fetal position on the bed.

Good times.

I hear a knocking on the door. I’m willing to assume its ‘Momma Sparkle.’

“Wound, it’s me. Just checking in on you before the girls and I go to the chariot to see me off.”

Yeah, of course you are Twilight. Tell you what, why don’t you take my silence as ‘I’m fine’ and just go back to Canterlot? You’ve done enough damage to me today.

“Am I allowed to come in? I want to tell you a few things. Important things. Important things that you need to know.”

I’m certain those important things that I need to know would be better expressed by letter from your mansion. No wait even better, tell one of your friends. I’m certain Pinkie Pie would love to tell me more important things I should know. Maybe she’ll design some cakes for them.

“Can I at least come in to do the DNA test?”

…

Well, she knows how to cut a deal. That’ll help her when she runs something.

So I open the door to see my mother levitating a swab and a tube. “Say Aaah.”

I open my mouth, not saying anything. She quickly rubs the swab around and then puts it in the tube.

…

“Pinkie says she’s sorry. It wasn’t her domain to tell you before I do.” My new mother states. “In hindsight, maybe I should’ve told you before the party instead of afterwards as I planned.”

“… So you were planning to tell me this?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” She nods. “I couldn’t leave you without telling you about this fantastic predicament Saint Diamond Heart’s put us in.”

Fantastic Predicament? Oh…

“So all this wasn’t your intention?”

“Of course it wasn’t. You’re five years older than me for crying out loud. Have you heard anyone who was adopted by someone younger than them?”

Well, I think I read somewhere that some colt in Flotrotta adopted his cougar fillyfriend as some kind of fe- YOU KNOW WHAT? THAT’S NOT A GOOD PATH TO TAKE THE CONVERSATION DOWN! MAYBE ASKING HER HOW THIS ADOPTION THING CAME TO BE, BRAIN? 

“Good point…” I reply to Twilight’s question, hoping nothing will remind me of that story my perverted subconscious almost dug up ever again. “Question: What happened?”

“Well, the receptionist was pretty nervous when she saw it was me; not everyday that a princess goes in saying they want to take somepony away, after all.” Twilight explains. “So she accidently printed the adoption form for me to sign instead of one to just release you…  and then accidently printed the said form in a small, illegible font so no naked eye can read it to tell the difference between the adoption form from any other form… and then accidently spilt coffee on the form so I definitely can’t read it… You know something? I’m starting to think she did all that on purpose to make sure she’ll never see you there again.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Type Face. That bitch always resented me ever since I caught her with Morning Glory in Dusty Brush’s closet.” I think she owes me a few rounds at the bar too. Luna damn it, I need a drink. It’s been a rough day, and the only cure I know is some Captain Swash Buckler on the rocks.

“Uh, Wound? Sorry to say my telepathy just kicked in again, but about your new, sober life you completely forgot about...”

Fuck!

“The girls and I were talking about it. With all the changes in your life in the last twenty-four hours, we decided that quitting cold turkey would probably be a bad idea. So for here on in, you’ll be cutting your intake by a routine.”

A routine? Brainstorm tried to do that to me once. That was not a good experience for anyone involved. “So what, one night of booze a week?”

“Actually, since you used to drink every night, I’m thinking every second night. That would mean we cut your drinking by fifty percent. Then, when I think you can do it, we’ll take it to a week. Deal?”

Every second night? FUCK YEAH! Even if it includes heavy monitoring it beats the shit out of Brainstorm’s ex-routine! Finally, something coming up Woundsalt! “Sounds good to me. You don’t mind if tonight’s a Drinks night?”

“No, you go on ahead.” Twilight smiles. “I got a small bottle of sake from Emperor Dive Kick of Neighpon. The Emperor’s own brew to celebrate my coronation. Probably not enough to make you pass out in front of a statue, but you do have a busy day tomorrow. Better not to have a hangover for your first morning in Ponyville!”

Her horn illuminates as I hear from downstairs an opening and closing of the fridge. Then suddenly a bottle is floating in the doorway with two small bowls.

“You joining me?”

“Just the one.” Twilight insisted. “I wouldn’t want to disgrace the emperor by not having a sip, should I?”

The bottle pours itself into the two bowls, which levitated to us to be grabbed out of the air afterwards. Twilight sips from her glass first, quickly followed by some wincing.
“Bleh! How can you drink stuff like this on a daily basis? It’s terrible!”
I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wow Twilight, you make an excellent impression of a five year old taking a sip of wine from her parents.”

She pouts at me. Nice to know my mother can be childish.

Then I sip the sake. Then I wince.

“Fucking Tartarus! You know what? I’m taking that back; this is some terrible sake!”

“Oh, so it wasn’t just my lack of expertise in drinking.” Twilight smiled slyly. 

“Oh no, it wasn’t. No sake should taste like a katana through the throat.”

I see the alicorn look uneasy… “Please… please don’t talk about murder… Rainbow Dash’s Chariotora story is not going well with my stomach right now.”

She carefully puts the sake bottle down from midair. You know, even though I said previously I had enough of this Chariotora bullshit, I can’t help but wonder how the two featherbrains know about it.

“So, how exactly did Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy know about Chariotora?”

“Well, it turns out, Celestia wasn’t the only one trying to keep Chariotora a secret. Millions of pegasi, learning from word of mouth, have been hiding its existence from the other breeds for many centuries out of straight-up fear of Ironsight. In fact, he creates so much fear in them they make ghost stories about him; usually about some young adult ponies having… well, you know… ‘Relations’ in a very clouded area being interrupted by a dark figure bleeding from his neck and sides of the flank attacking them with an already bloodied dagger. Presumably the one that killed him and removed his cutie mark.”

“Wow, how very cliché.” I reply. “Surely the true ghost that haunts that tale is the ‘Pre-Marital Sex Equals Horrible Gruesome Death’ Trope. Why does an Emperor have a problem with a couple getting freaky behind the nimbuses, anyway?”

“That’s the problem with learning from word of mouth.” Twilight sighs. “The more the pegasi talk of Ironsight, the more his tale gets twisted and turned, slowly turning him from feared dictator to haunted ghost with tight morals. Some survey Rainbow Dash’s father created for a thesis found that only forty-five percent of pegasi know about Ironsight’s back-story correctly, and out of them seventy percent don’t believe in it. One of which, is Fluttershy’s mother, who is an ‘Ironsightian horror’ novelist who wrote another entirely different origin story, believing the one we know that is real as just as false.”

Hurk… “When making a remake, you don’t fuck with the original work…”

“Wound, are you okay?”

The princess was asking me this because I had just received a stabbing pain in my chest and then talked like I was a noble from Trottingham.

“I… don’t know. That just sort of happened.” I say, still holding my chest with my left hoof. “Was there something in that sake?”

“No, I would have felt something before you if that’s the case.” Twilight said puzzlingly, levitating the bottle to take a peek in. “Maybe it’s… Wound, I’m going to say something that may hurt you.”

“What’s that?”

“Poetry is a art.”

"Harr… That is improper grammar. If the following word starts with a vowel, then instead of a, use an. Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“I think I know, but I need to make sure. Let me try it again.”

“Oh hell n-”

“THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS TO I BEFORE E EXCEPT AFTER C!”

"Ack! That is incredibly incorrect. There are so many exceptions to this rule that they don’t even teach it in schools anymore. Please stop this!”

“One more. Sparkly…” 

“No. No! Twilight please, this is straight up tort-”

“…Vampires!”

“AAAAAAARRRRGGGH! Look, if I tell you how stupid that is, this pony that I have been trapped in since our birth would die from the pain before I even get half way. Just trust me when I say it’s a sin to the written word, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

…

As my pain disappears and I regain control of my mouth, I look towards the purple princess with great distaste.

“You better give me a good reason why you did that so many times or I swear to Cadence, I’ll show you what the word regicide means.”

She’s smiling a grin so large its almost as if she ignored my threat.

“Do you know what happened here?”

“D… Did I get possessed by something as we flew over Tartarus?”

“No. What happened here was a possession, though.”

“Oh, goody.” I say to her, wondering why she didn’t bring an old priest and a new priest with her up here. “So if not a being from the land of the damned, who or what possessed me?”

“Your magic, Woundsalt!” she shouts as she jumps up and down with glee. “The girls and I read the biography book downstairs, and there’s no doubt you have hereditary magic flowing through you! The blackouts are from magical overflows, the quotes from literature you never seen before is obviously omnipresence and now we found out it can possess you if triggered, which usually happens to unicorns who have not been taught how to use their magic properly! It’s definite! It can’t be anything else! It’s magic! You are the second known pony in the world to have the CMC!”

I can’t help but to stare at the excited princess, with a great smile. I have to deal with this magical possession shit now, sure, but now I have an explanation of what I had to live with from the day I got my cutie mark. That’s just… great. I thought I’d never get one, but here it is. No, wait! Not just an explanation. A name. A name! What I’m suffering from has a name! Well, initials really, but still a Name! I can actually tell people what’s my problem and call it something too! My name is Woundsalt. I am an earth pony with magic through my veins. What I have is the CMC.

… 

“You know, Twilight. It would be helpful if you gave me the full name of this mother fucking disorder rather than its initials. It’s almost as if I’ve got diagnosed some little kiddie group.”

She’s trying to hold in some laughter and just barely succeeding. She did say the name of it makes her laugh.

“Yeah, w-we’d better give you the full name. Just in case we c-confuse it with a-anything else.” My guardian says during her just strong enough resistance to roll on the floor with laughter. “The full name of it is the Confused Magic Condition.”

“Right, okay.” Not sure why she thinks it’s funny. Maybe I am missing some context.

Anyway, let’s try this again… My name is Woundsalt. I am an earth pony with magic through my veins. What I have is the Confused Magic Condition.

… Much better.

“Well, Wound I’ll leave you to that happy thought you got there and be on my way.” Says my guardian as she walks out the door. “If you ever need to tell me something, write me a letter and have my owl send it to me. Don’t bother feeding him though; Owlowiscious will hunt for himself. Oh, and Wound?”

She looks directly into my eyes.

“Welcome to your new life.”

As she closes the door behind her, I lay in the bed thinking about the day that had gone. I moved to a new neighbourhood, talked with ponies that saved all Equinity on multiple occasions, discovered I got adopted into royalty out of a receptionist’s spite, tasted the most disgusting sake in the world and found out what the hell is wrong is me.

Not bad for the first day. 

Personally, I’m just happy to be out of that orphanage. No more Brainstorm, no more little snot-nosed brats, and last but definitely not least no more living in the shittiest side of Canterlot. I swear, if I dare step into Western Canterlot ever again, it would be too fucking soon. 

You know… this is probably the first night in a long time that didn’t end up sleeping at the base of the Saint Diamond Heart statue. Kind of weird how out of everything I hate about the place, that’s the only thing I’d miss. I yell abuse at it, sure; but only because she became the symbol of whom I was angry at the most. 
She… She was there for me…
Crap… Please don’t tell me I’m missing my Not-Mommy on my first night away from home. Seriously Woundsalt, find a pair, quit thinking about that Saint Diamond Heart and just go to sleep.

DIAMOND HEART

To whomever found this room underneath my bed,

I don’t know how long this secret’s been kept deep within my orphanage, but I do know you have a lot of questions about what you see in here. However, just in case you are one of my children when you read this, please for your sake hand this letter to a reasonable adult, tell them where you found this, show them the trap door and leave it to them. Immediately. Right now. Trust me, it’s not what a child your age should know. Look, I know. It bites, but just trust me when I say you are better off not knowing, Okay sweetie? Okay. Now do as I wrote now. Atta Boy/Girl.

Not-Mommy loves you.
Diamond Heart. Xoxoxox


Right, now that that’s out of the way. Now it is time to confess my secret sex life in great detail.

[FOR THE SAKE OF COMIC EFFECT, AND OF COURSE THE SAKE OF THE TEEN RATING, THE REMAINDER OF THIS DREAM WILL BE CENSORED. KEEP IN MIND; WOUNDSALT WILL BE SEEING WHAT VILE INFORMATION THIS CENSOR HAS HIDDEN FROM YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE. I THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING. – WELSHY.]

 

> A Hard Day's Surprisingly Harder Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing to learn, as an orphan, is not to judge by sexuality. A vast majority of couples looking for someone to adopt are homosexual, after all. Yet here I am, standing out of the bedroom afraid of going in, while holding a sake bottle, which is now empty because I wanted to forget the horrors of what Saint Diamond Heart said in my dream.

Such… horrors…

She was saying… Eurgh! And the words were… Euuurgh! And the Trombone Guy… Euuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrgggggghhhhh!

The sake would leave a bad taste in my mouth sure, but what the symbolic equivalent of my birth mother said to me will leave a bad taste in my everywhere.

I need to get my mind off this…

Maybe I should read something. I’m in a library after all. Maybe that biology book; I feel like I still don’t know what I have. I know the name, which I am totally happy with, but besides from that? Nothing. Does the CMC have any other symptoms? Can the CMC be controlled? Am I to be tortured by the CMC for all of my mortality? What is so funny about the CMC that Twilight can barely contain her laughter when hearing its name? I don’t know!

Well, I’m going to find out. Where’s that Biology book? I’ll just go back to where the party was and-
Ah! Here it is. Doctor House Call’s Big Book of Biology. Looks like my new guardian had the courtesy to put it back where she found it. Still a librarian at heart.

Right, let’s see. Contents… Confused Magic Condition… Page 72. Okay, let’s do some self-discovery.


Confused Magic Condition
(Other Known Alias: CMC)
Discovered by Lab Coat, MD.


Wait, I know that name. Where did I…

Oh Luna.

It’s the Trombone Guy! Euuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrgggggghhhhh!

He’s the mother bucker Diamond Heart had ‘relations’ with the most! Thanks to this pervert, I can never look at any brass instrument the same way ever again!

Okay Woundsalt, give this guy the benefit of the doubt. There’s no proof of Diamond Heart having a secret room; yet alone any of… that. Good chance, he is a normal pony, who lives a normal life, with his normal family that has nothing to do with neither Diamond Heart nor trombones. It’s just a dream. There is no chance my dreams are prophetic with a one hundred percent accuracy.

Oh hey, they listed the symptoms here.

SYMPTOMS

Prophetic Dreams with 100% accuracy


Fuck!
Never mind; I’ll just try to ignore the dream and just continue.


Magical possessions when triggered


Sounds like what Twilight fucked around with before she left, so that’s check. 


Random Magical Surges that causes patient to black out


Magical surges sound so much better than what I usually call it. Got to start calling them that. Check.


Great intelligence in what their cutie mark represents in an omnipresent level


Offending ponies with ancient scrolls I’ve never seen. Check.


Can cry a liquid relevant to their expertise


… Okay? Obviously they got to believe this is a symptom from studying the first pony that was diagnosed with this condition, but I think that could be something else. I cry ink like everypony else.

At least I think everypony else cries ink.

Don’t they? Every time someone looks like they were going to cry in front of me they sort of hide away before ink comes out.

I’ll write to Twilight about it in the morning. Right now, I think I’ll keep on going.

Huh. Not much here. The rest of it is pretty much the life story of this Pegasus called Rain Coat, the first pony who had this CMC.

Wait. Rain Coat… Lab Coat… they wouldn’t be related, would they?
Oh snap, they are! Rain is Lab’s daughter! I remember her from the dream! He moved her and her brother to Diamond Heart’s Orphanage to hide them from his peers because he didn’t want Rain to become a lab rat! He was protecting her from a life of tests and MRI scans!

… Sort of easy to forget he’s a stand up guy who will put everything on the line for his children after you know what he did in the bedroom. Maybe I shouldn’t judge him for the trombone thing. Hell, without his sacrifice, I would never know what I have. I should be shaking this guy’s hoof… if he was still alive.

Wait… Raincoat would be still living. Where does she live now?
According to this book… Darwhinny, Oatstralia. Shit. That’s miles away. Here I was, hoping for a meet-up. 

Hang on… Maybe my new royal privileges could make that happen. I know I’m asking a lot from my guardian as is, but knowing her, Twilight would have read this and thought of organizing a get-together too. 
I bet she’s up right now, having a message chat to Prime Minister Beer Broth for his help finding Rain.

… Maybe I should write her a letter now. No doubt Twilight should know that I had another dream. No, wait. Terrible idea. I don’t think I can tell her about… all that.

… But I could at least tell her I had the dream. Just don’t tell her what it was about, that’s all. No, that wouldn’t work either. She will try to bleed the information out of me. Also, since this is a friend of Celestia’s, the sun goddess will not like the fact I was keeping this a secret from her too.

…

I might need to tell her what was in the dream. Not Twilight, but her royal highness of the most high herself. I’ll have Twilight to forward the message to Celestia, but say she can’t read it.

Got some Paper. Got a Quill. Now all I have to do is think about how I live a very lonely existence and… Ink. Right, let’s write this. 

Dear Twilight,

Good start.

Sorry if this wakes you up. It’s just that I had a nightmare. However, I don’t think I can tell you what’s in it. I think it’s up to Celestia to know what to do with this one. So, the following scroll is for her eyes only. Sorry.

That’ll do it. Maybe ask her about the ink. 

I read the book. Well, not really read; more of a skim. I have read the symptoms, though. That unnatural tears thing is slightly confusing. Doesn’t everypony cry ink? If not, I’m using my ink right now to write this; just take this to your lab; see what they make of it.

That’s… slightly disgusting upon reflection. Ah well. I’m certain that she’ll find it fascinating. Provided of course, it is just me who cries ink. 
Okay, now to hint in my interest in Rain Coat.

About this Rain Coat… are you planning for us to meet? I know she lives in Oatstralia, but someone with that kind of knowledge could help me out. Maybe she’s got a detachable horn or something.

A DETACHABLE HORN? WHERE THE HELL DID I GET THAT FROM? THAT’S… actually a nice idea. Unicorns use their magic through their horn, right? So if I could get one for me, I could use my magic. Genius. I bet she never thought of that. I’ll just sign it off.

Your faithful student, I guess…
Woundsalt

Right. Now then, to Princess Celestia…

To Princess Celestia,

Before I tell you what I saw, I want to say I am sorry. I know for a fact what I’m going to tell you will definitely not improve your opinion of me, but I have to tell someone, and it can’t be Twilight.

As Twilight should have told you by now, I had a dream that depicted the Chariotoran document being read by Featherlight. I had a new dream. This new dream was roughly the same, only two differences.

It was Diamond Heart instead of Featherweight and She wasn’t talking about Chariotora either…

She was confessing to being a nymphomaniac. Confessing it in great detail, too. Forgive me if I don’t share you some of her amazing misadventures with her sexuality. Let’s just say there are some things that are NOT to be repeated.

According to the letter itself, she had a hidden room located under a trap door in her bedchambers. The letter is inside that room, if you want to see it for yourself.

Boy, I hope this one isn’t true. 

Your… I don’t know what to put down here… Concerned Citizen? 
Woundsalt.

… You know what? I’m tired. Sure, it’s for her who rules us all, but it’ll have to do.

Now where the hell is that owl Twilight was talking abou – GAH!

That night-dwelling bastard just flew past inches from my face! That mother bucker! Where did he get to now?

Ah okay, he’s on his perch… not looking at me. Okay, clearly this feeble attempt of a first impression is a sign of a beautiful friendship.

“Hey buddy! A little eye to eye conversation here?”

It’s doing that head turn thing owls do, which is always creepy. Its face doesn’t look like he appreciates me being here, either.

Maybe it’s Brainstorm rubbing off on me, but I think I know what’s happening here. Clearly this owl has taken care of itself since Twilight’s ascension from unicorn to alicorn. For a whole fortnight, he was by himself, waiting, wanting to see his mistress again. But instead, he got me. A male creature who he never seen before, and is most definitely not who he wanted to see. So naturally, this is the owl equivalent of ‘fuck you, I don’t know you. Where’s my pony?’

Yep. He’s biting his wing now. Like he’s in a Star Crosser play, but for winged animals.

“Do you bite your wing at me, sir?”

“Who?”

“Do you bite your wing at me, sir?”

“…Who?”

“Do you quarrel, sir?”

“Who?”

“If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a… oh buck this. Just send these letters to Twilight up in Canterlot, okay?”

“Who?”

“Okay, dude, I know it’s been a long time bu-”

“Who?”

“Do you mind if I finish that sent-”

“Who?”

“If you dare interrupt me with this ‘who’ shit one more t-”

“Who?”

“OH OKAY THEN…



…AND IF YOU DARE DO THAT TO ME AGAIN I WILL FIND A BOOK ON NOCTURNAL WILDLIFE AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR CELESTIA-DAMN BEAK! CAPICHE?”

…

The owl nods frantically, or at least the owl equivalent of nodding.

“Go.”

He grabs the papers and flies into the night. Kind of feel bad for yelling at the guy. I’ll apologise to it when it comes back. 

…

Shoot, you’d think verbal animal abuse would make me more tired; but now I feel even more awake.

Maybe I should unpack a bit. There isn’t much there, but it’ll pass the time. Where’s my bag? Oh that’s right, I left them at the door when Pinkie Pie almost gave me a cardiac…

Uh…

… I don’t particularly remember that window being open. Don’t particularly remember the covered DJ things having a pony shaped figure accompanying them, neither.

I-Is the library being fucking robbed? Is someone robbing Princess Twilight’s library? Clearly, whoever this pony is, they got either a very strong nerve, or a deathwish. Either way, I don’t think I should try and get involved here…

…

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? That DJ’s going to come and discover their shit’s been stolen; they’re going to be on my dick about it and it’s going to be one more fucking problem to deal with. If I learned anything from The Canterlot Horn writers that I had to work with, is that an angry disc jockey is one thing you want to avoid. The last thing I want to do tomorrow morning is to try and calm down some dubstepping douche nozzle with a lopsided mane fringe! I have to stop this thief! 

Okay, game plan: I close the window, grab a letter opener, wait till the thief tries to open the window, jump out, tell them to drop the stuff or they’ll get more holes than a Daring Do plot line, then show them the door. The best-case scenario, the thief doesn’t believe I’m bluffing and complies my orders. The worst-case… the fucker beats me up so I get some bruises, proving I actually tried to stop them. At least then the DJ would give me some respect.

… Oh, how much I don’t want to do this… Let me count the ways…

… Fuck it. Let’s get this terrible plan over with.

“Hey… Woundsalt, right?”

Shit! They caught me! What the hell am I going to do? I didn’t plan for h…

Her. The thief is a mare. A mare from Manehattan, if I’m not mistaken from all the Neightalian-Equestrian gangster films I’ve seen. According to their voice at least. Let me just turn around to check…

Yep. Mare. No doubt about it.

Hm…White fur, clearly dyed blue mane cut in a ridiculous manner, Pair of sunglasses though it’s clearly too dark for them… If she just came up to the door at a reasonable hour saying she was the DJ, I would’ve probably believed her. Her appearance is stupid enough. Also she seemed to know my name. Is it too soon to put two and two togeth-

“Look, I’m sorry for coming in here like this, but there’s a griffon wanting to break my legs out there. Can you please check if she’s gone?”

Huh… She seems to be stressed. Like, genuinely stressed; not fake stressed to make me turn around so she can snap my neck. Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick here…

“Uh… I see her. Looks like she’s going too. She doesn’t seem happy.”

“Yeah, I kinda guess she wouldn’t be.” Says the mare. “Fucking bitch.”

Okay. Clearly I just got involuntarily roped into something that I don’t know about.

“Mind if I ask a question?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF PRINCESS H. TAP-DANCING CADENCE IS GOING ON HERE?!!!”

“Oh. Right, right, right!” The mare says as she raised her hooves up in defence of my rage. “I’ll tell ya. Just keep ya voice down, okay?”





“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this shit happen all the time around here?”
“It’s a first. But knowing some egos in this tournament so far, I don’t know how it didn’t happened sooner.”

The Manehatten mare, which after a brief introduction is called Vinyl Scratch, actually was a DJ. The DJ Pinkie cancelled on, in fact. She wasn’t here to get her stuff back, though. She’s here because she needed a place to hide; and knowing that the being you’re hiding from isn’t a fan of the Elements, the library belonging to the head honcho of the Elements seems like a very good idea.

Both Vinyl and the griffon she knows as M.C. Hater-D are against each other in the final of some tournament. By the sound of things, some kind of rap battle where the rappers bring their own DJ to accompany their beat to their lyrics. Vinyl Scratch’s rapper, Slimshake, apparently fell off a skateboard recently and will have to pull out the tournament due to the injuries sustained from the accident. Vinyl called bullshit on his story and got the truth; rival rapper Hater-D came at him with a bat. However they don’t have any proof, so… Our DJ here couldn’t do anything but to look around for a new rapper. Vinyl was, what she thought, about to meet a possible replacement, only to find Hater-D at the rendezvous wearing a baseball bat, and armed with a dangerous smile. What I helped avert from happening tonight was the griffin eliminating the competition entirely.

“Buck me…”

“Right?”

“Is it worth the prize money to put up with a bitch like her?”

“Screw the prize money!” The uninvited guest yells, probably too loud for library standards. “I got my pride on my line here! Hater-D attacked Slimshake! I ain’t gonna fucking forfeit to her!”

Her shades almost slip off her face, revealing two magenta eyes for a couple of milliseconds and then she slid them back on. And on this action, silence fell upon the library. 

…

She breaks the silence after a few seconds with a question. “Ya don’t mind if I crash here? I have a feeling she’ll try to follow me home, and I don’t want to get my roommate involved in this.”

Well, it’s not a motel, but… why not? Could be fun.

“Knock yourself out. There’s a couch here somewhere.”

“Thanks.” Says the DJ with a smile. “Welcome to Ponyville, by the way.”

Hm? Oh yeah that’s right, she knows who I am. “Thanks. I’m guessing Pinkie told you everything about me.”

“Well, not everything. I know your name’s Woundsalt, you moved here to learn friendship from the elements, adopted by Her Royal Highness; why did she do that by the way?”

Not sure if I can tell the truth right now… Eh, buck it. All the gossip magazines would have got the story already.

“Not her decision. Receptionist fucked up.”

“Wait, so you’re accidently a prince?”

“Maybe. Whether or not she fucked up on purpose is still to be seen.”

“And there’s a No Backsies Policy on that shit?”

“Apparently.”

She laughs hysterically. I have a feeling this is going to be the usual reaction to hearing this story. 

“Oh… That’s fucking rich. Reminds me of the time when Octavia and I went to this noodle restaurant and-”

“Hold the fuck up. Who?”

“Oh. Uh… My roommate. Anyway, she and-”

“Grey coat?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Black mane?”

“Yeah.”

“Cellist?”

The DJ takes her shades off, and examines me closely. After a few seconds, her magenta eyes widen with great surprise.

“Oh holy buck. Are… Are you the guy she gave that magazine contract to?”

> Bitchin' in the Kitchen
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what was it like, working with The Horn?”

“Okay, look; if we’re seriously going to talk about The Canterlot Horn, we’ll have to keep refraining from calling it that. I know ponies call it that, but it’s making me sound like a gay prostitute.”

The DJ laughs as she pours herself more apple juice. “Consider it noted.” She holds up the carton close to my muzzle. “Want some more, there?”

“Please.” I hold out my glass as she pours some of the Apple Family's finest into it. 
I find it quite fascinating that the best thing that happened during my twenty-four hours here in Ponyville is somepony breaking and entering my new digs. We're just talking about each other for now; she shares stories about the craziest shit she saw during her gigs at clubs around Canterlot, while I try to whittle out another story about Octavia out of her. That noodle restaurant one was a doozy.

“Tell you what though; a gay prostitute would have better work conditions.”

“Really? How bad could the work conditions of an art magazine be?” Vinyl Scratch asks before taking a look at The back of a Wheat-Os box.

“I, from the very beginning to the bitter end, was writing poetry in a stuffy, small office farthest away from any bathroom or window. The same one from when I was Eight years old. I wasn't allowed to decorate it, neither.”

“Whoa, that's... cruel.” Vinyl says as she puts down the cereal box. “But you had something to keep you going, right? Some fan mail?”

“I never got any fan mail. Only the Printed Page Pack wrote in, so naturally it all went to him… buck that spoilt brat and his dad.”
Printed Page was the other employed poet in my Poetry Corner. Bucking unfair how he got all the glory and left me in the dust. Granted, inevitable, but still unfair.

“Oh, so Printed Page is Printed Mint's son? I knew there was a relation, but those two look nothing alike.”

“He definitely got his looks from his mother's side. Might be the only thing going for him besides that silver spoon up his tail-hole. I swear, if I had to count the times that buck-wit got something out of his dad, I would need an abacus big enough to squash Fillydelphia. You know what I got from Mint?

Nothing.

Well, not really, nothing. Every month he hands me a small plastic container consisted of complaints from pompous bores who give me life is beautiful lectures and how ponies like happy poetry about puppies, rainbows and things that don’t remind them of the reality of an hierarchic order where the more bits in your wallet the more up the social ladder you are and the more up the social ladder you are the more likely you can get off scot free for any crimes you committed!”

“So they want you to change your writing because you were... making them unhappy?”

“Eeee-Yup.”

“Which was what you intended to do?”

“Eeee-Yup.”

“... So you just flipped the hoof at them and continued writing what you feel?”

“Of course I fucking did. I only got on my soapbox once a month and talk whatever I want to talk about in the most creative ways I can imagine. Only I had that soapbox. If those buckers want happy poetry which convey little to no message and isn't meant to alter the way they think, then they should just read Page's shit again.”

Vinyl smirks as she pours the cereal box contents into the bowl with her magic. “Or get their own Celestia-damn soapbox!”
“Or get their own Celestia-damn soapbox; that's right!” 

We both laugh in unison. 

“You know what the oddest thing is? I'm still sad it shut down and can't imagine why.”

“Well, you’ve being stuck in that office for... what, thirteen years? That's definitely long enough to grow an attachment to the place. Maybe what you got there is the workplace equivalent of Stockholm syndrome.”

…

“I had a psychologist hanging around me all my life, and yet you sounded more professional right now than he ever did.”

She smiles cheekily, taking her shades back to the cereal box. “And my Parents thought getting a degree from Manehattan U was pointless.”

I chuckle and then started to drink more apple juice. You know, Vinyl Scratch is probably the greatest pony I ever met in my life. Sounds like an overstatement, I know; but… She doesn't bullshit me, knows what to say at the right time and she listens to my opinion without having the urge to stab me.

Is this... Friendship? Does that mean I can skip a few friendship lessons? If I just rock up to Pinkie Pie's place and wave Vinyl in her face, I get a few days off writing some letters? That feels like a good trade to me.

“Oh crap, is that the time?” Vinyl Scratch said as she looks towards the clock by the fridge. “I need to get back before Tavi starts to get worried.” 

Wait, she's going? Bu- but I want to know more about her! And Octavia! And...

“Some guys will be coming in to move my stuff out of here. Just keep the door unlocked for them; closest thing Ponyville ever got to a crime was somepony trying to steal a book from a hospital because she was too embarrassed to go to the library to get it.”

Wait, wasn’t she here for the night to avoid a battering by that grif- Ah, never mind. If she needs to go, she needs to go. Not like I'm never running into her again in a small town like this.

“All right. Hey, maybe next time you can get Octavia over here and we can finally meet face to face.”

The DJ looks at me like I'm a tough trigonometry question at the end of a test. “You mean you never met her face to face when during the competition? I thought she would at least tell you the contract is yours!”

I shake my head. “The only contact I got was the magazine representatives. In fact, I never met any of the entrants, even Octavia. Damn shame really. I always wanted to meet her. Say thanks for giving me eleven years of something… semi-wonderful.”

“... I think I know how I can repay you for letting me stay for the night.”

Oh dear goddess, the smile on Vinyl's face right now. That is most definitely the smile of a mare with a plan. A terrifying plan. Why is it I always seem to have the smiles associated with terrible plans?

“H-how?”

“I was organizing a blind date between Octavia and Slim shake. He's sure as hell won't be out of the hospital in time for it, but since I haven't even told her his name, yet alone anything about him... How's about you meet her tonight, instead? That way we can call it even.”

Sounds to me another favour she owes me rather than calling it even... Wait, did she just say...

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, a little short notice, I know... but I already shifted the date around enough already. Hell, this was supposed to be my birthday present for her six months ago, for buck sake!”

Again, sounds like another favour she owes me. Maybe I should turn her down; The CMC could make a terrible scene like it always did, and I don't want to risk it with ponies that I could actually like and respect. It is bad enough I trusted it to stay down while Vinyl's been here. However, if I blow this off, this little relationship we built overnight will sour and I might never meet Octavia. That's two things I don't want to happen. Hmm... Maybe I should leave it to the Elements of Harmony to say no for me. I'm quite certain they know how to make a kind refusal.

“Well, I might need to run this pass to my new mom's friends. But good chance they're going to be strict and say...” 

“Oh but of course he could, darling!”

“GAH! FU...



… SO PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF LUNA, NEVER EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”

…

I see a very flustered white mare with a swirly purple mane. Rarity is in the library. Or was, I might have killed her. No, wait, she's breathing. Good. That would've been a tough letter to send to Twilight.

“T-That was...” 

Oh shit. How am I going to explain what happened just now to V-

“...SO SWEET! You totally destroyed her! The swipes about her coming in rudely, the attacks about her sister’s latest report card, the part about her inner shame about her parents- Holy shit! Tavi told me that you are one silver-tongued son of a Diamond Dog, but... Damn!”

Huh... Well okay then. Maybe I shouldn't explain it, and totally pretend I did all that on purpose… whatever that was. The CMC is hard to understand, anyway; let alone explain.

“But anyway; Good morning, Rarity. How are you?”

“Hmm?” The intruding unicorn mumbled out of her broken state. “Ah! Good Morning! I mean, I'm fine! I mean... I'm Sorry, Darling. I knocked on the front door, and it just opened by itself. Then I heard you two in here and... I am quite surprised at you Woundsalt. I expected you to get a friend quickly, but not THIS quickly.”

“HE'S GOT A WHAT?”

“Sounds like Rainbow Dash is right outside the door.” The now (seemingly) recovered unicorn states. “Come on in, dear and see for yourself!”

Well, at least I got a warning before the sky-blue blur enters the library kitchen as quickly as she possibly can.

KOFF! HACK! KHEEEEEEEEEE... Could at least be warned me about the dust cloud that would accompany her. Might need to find a broom sometime between lessons; clean this library up a bit.

“Oh!” The pegasus exclaimed when the dust clears, discovering herself to be less than an inch away from the DJ’s face. “Hey, PON-3! It's been a while, huh? How long ago was it, Cadence's wedding?”

“Just about.” She smirks back. She does a lot of smirking. Then again, if you can smirk that good, I guess you can flaunt it to the world.

Wait, what did she call her?

“Pawn… Three?”

“My stage name… Made back when E meaning three was socially acceptable spelling in the DJ scene. I’d change it to something else but… I can’t think of anything.”

“Ah, okay.”

Funny, I thought that my magic will possess me and say how stupid that is. Why did that not happen?

“So, like I was saying… I should get going. Just get to the front of Filliways by Eight-thirty and she’ll meet you there. I suggest not to wear anything too fancy, though. Something low-key.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Scratch.” Rarity assures the DJ by putting a hoof around my shoulders. “I’ll make sure that Woundsalt will be dressed to kill.”

The DJ hops out of her chair and walks towards the door. Before she even left the kitchen, she turns around.

“Oh, and one more thing: How good is your Neightalian?”

Huh... Kind of a left field question there.

“Why the hell do I-ACK! Signora, vi accorgerete che le lingue del mondo sono le mie ostriche.”

Did my magic just…

“Great! I have no idea what you just said, but I’m quite certain that meant pretty good.” Vinyl grins. “She’ll explain why you need to use it when you get here. See ya around, buddy!”

And before I can explain that what I said was not my doing, she’s gone.

The remaining two ponies look at me for a while.

…

“I must say,” Rarity says. “I never would have guessed you knowing the language of love, Woundsalt.”

“Honestly?


… Neither did I.”

> A Dash of Conversation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It'll be fine, dude.” Rainbow Dash quips as she flaps around me. “Just explain what happened to this Octavia chick. I'm certain she can speak Equestrian.”

“Oh yes, good idea. I'll just rock up to the restaurant and say 'Hey! Look, I'm sorry but I don't actually speak Neightalian; I'm just a freak of nature who has some special genetic disorder which makes me shout out random words in a different fucking language!' Does that sound believable to you, Dash?”

“... I hate to say that's good point...”

I roll my eyes at the stupidity of the Wonderbolt wannabe. I would believe that miss Rarity would be better discussing this particular predicament. She, however, ran off back to her place to work on my suit for tonight. So all I got to solve my problems with at the moment now is the jock of the group.

“... But you can't lie to her! Do you want to be the colt who lies on the first date?”

Huh. The jock has a point.

“And besides, you have to tell her sometime. Why not as soon as possible? Sure, this Cutie Ma- I mean, Confused Magic Condition might not be a decent dinner conversation but she might need to know a little bit about it before you have a surge in Ponyville's most highly awarded restaurant.”

I can't help but sigh at how right she is. And they say Twilight's the bucking egghead.

“... okay.”

“Now c'mon. Fluttershy wants you over at her house this morning. Says she's found something.”

I start heading for the door. “It better be something that makes the day nice and slow-paced. I don't think I can take another day like yesterday. Moved to a new place, got adopted by royalty, Found out what I was suffering with all my life along with a couple of more symptoms to worry about...”

… And let's not forget that dream which I will take to my grave before I tell anypony.

“Yesterday was definitely not a good day to give up drinking, huh?” Rainbow Dash quips. “You can thank Applejack for the routine idea.”

Speaking of the routine, I wonder if they knew I drank the sake last night. 

“Really? Well it looks like Apple family cider will be the first drink tonight.”

There are two looks I fear; one is when somepony has a plan, the other is the one Rainbow Dash is aiming into my left eye right now. The 'good luck eating those words without teeth' look. “So Twilight giving you some of Emperor Divekick's sake last night doesn't count, does it?”

...Well, it was worth a shot. Quick, Woundsalt, say something funny before she breaks your face.

“Oh, that was sake? I thought it was liquid propane! Seriously, does the great emperor of Neighpon smoke forty cigarettes a day?”

“Pretty much.” Rainbow whispers with her teeth still clasped together. “I know he went through five during Twilight's coronation and that's just the ones I saw him have.”

Well, that explains a lot.

“Either way though, do NOT lie to me or anypony about your drinking.” The Dash states. “Especially me. I volunteered to be the one to make sure the routine's on track. Twilight has given me some things to test your alcohol...ness. And if the tests say you've been against the routine...”

She put her hooves together with a horrible smack.

“Understand, Salty?”

Brutality. And here I thought the pegasi want to keep their Chariotoran roots a secret. Didn't particularly help she said the word 'understand', neither.

Still, if I did start shit with the Elements they can do some terrible things to me. I bet all of them can kick my flank; even Fluttershy. You'd think all the shit I cause in the Western Canterlot bars would make me a good fighter, but if anything it made me a terrible lover.

“I got you.” I might need to change the subject to something she can't hit me for. “So, what is the plan for these lessons? Kindess in the morning, followed by some Honesty after lunch, and since I got to be at the Carousel Boutique this evening Generosity to finish up?”

The pegasus' face turns from threatening to embarrassed. “Well... kinda. You will be heading to Shy, AJ and Rarity's today; but not for lessons. The plan is you're gonna be learning about friendship the same way we did.”

“So I'm stuck here waiting for an incident to happen and after a decent time of fucking around I solve it with a new thing I've learned and then write about it to Twilight?”

“... Yeah.”

“Well, okay then.” I got to say, things are being more laid-back than I thought it would be. Not that I'm complaining, of course.

“So, today is what exactly?”

“Today is just us getting to know you. Same goes for Tomorrow, too. But after that...”
The cyan filly looks around and then whispers into my ear.

“Me and the girls are planning to surprise Twilight by being at the Princess Summit in The Crystal Empire. So you're going to be by yourself for a few days.”

Oh sweet Celestia...

“Y-you mean you're going to leave me here unattended?”

She smiles. “only for a few days. Besides, if you did do something terrible while we're gone, somepony is going to tell us about it. Small Neighbourhood, y'know?”

So they are going to use town gossip as some kind of surveillance system?

“I can see that failing in a whole lot of ways. For starters, how are you going to separate what happened from the rumours of what didn't happen? Secondly, What if nopony saw me do anything nefarious? Thirdly, what if they all went up and killed me and just told you I ran off into the forest? Fourthly...”

“While we're gone, you're allowed to go against the routine.”

“I think the plan is perfect.”

The Dash can't help but to giggle. “You're a funny guy, Wound. That Octavia is gonna love ya, Neightalian or no Neightalian.”

“I hope so” I sigh. “Do you know anything about her?”

“Myeh.” she shrugs. “Just a rumour.”

“What kind of rumour?”

“Well... there's some I overheard at the Canterlot Renter side of town is she and PON3 are... more... than roommates... if you know what I mean.”

Clearly, she means lesbians. Funny how the pony most likely to be a float in a gay pride parade is afraid of the word lesbians.

“Well, the fact her roommate planned this thing, it's safe to say that's bunked.”

“True... but according to Rarity the Renter side of town things are more... open... than they should be.”

I'm guessing she is talking about threesomes. I think she's trying to gross me out, but clearly she doesn't know what Saint Diamond Heart has done.

I don't think it's going to happen anyway. This is Octavia Philharmonica were talking about here. I find it odd that she's even as close as roommates with Vinyl Scratch, yet alone what Rainbow's suggesting.

“I'll try and keep that in mind.” Hmm... this might be a good time to ask a question I always had about Rainbow Dash. “Since we're on the subject of Sexual orientation; you don't mind me asking if-”

“It's the hair, isn't it?”

“Well, that and your sporty, tomboy attitu-”

“I swear to Celestia, you have no idea how many times I have to answer this!” Rainbow cringed with nostrils flaring. “I was just born with a rainbow mane, that is all, but everywhere I go I have to be asked if I'm making some kind of statement about myself!”

“Well, letting it be cut that short doesn't particularly help, nei-”

“I haven't even bothered to ask that question to myself, yet all these poines coming up to me like 'Yo, I like your mane. Wanna go out with my sister? She's been through a hard break-up and is little curious right now.' WELL GUESS WHAT, BUDDY? I'M NOT CURIOUS AT ALL!”

“Okay, Dash I got it. You're being a bit too loud right now. Ponies are starting to-”

“I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT CURIOUS EVEN MEANS!”

“RAINBOW DASH!...



… Now would you please calm the fuck down?”

Well,That was my first magical surge in the public eye of Ponyville.

A lot of eyes are onto the both of us. A sea of open mouths surrounds us. A great silence falls on all.

Rainbow dash has a small smile, as if in thought.

“... Okay. Thanks, Wound. you opened my eyes a little, there.”

Huh... I was kind of expecting my muzzle to be inverted because she punched me so hard, but instead she's thanking me?

“Uh... you're welcome?”

…

“You surged that entire speech you gave me, didn't you?”

“I did, yes.”

“Oh. Ah well, never mind. Not exactly one to repeat in public, to be honest.”
Everypony snaps out of their state and continues on their merry way.

“We better get going. It's just down this path to Shy's house.” The pegasus says as she starts to move. “Race ya!”

"I'm not entirely sure that's a g-HEY WAIT UP!"





“Huff, Haff, hee, hee, hee...”

“What, are you a smoker as well as a drinker?”

If I can get the energy to flip her the hoof I could, but I fear if I do any sudden movements my lungs are going to fall over the side of this bridge.

I got to say, I like the look of Fluttershy's cottage. Well, I prefer any cottage over all the generic thatched-roof-cottages in town. No originality in those ones. This one has a grass roof, a nice little bridge out front and most importantly, far away from the other cottages.

“Well, since we stopped here,” Rainbow says in a more serious matter. “I might need you to do something for me.”

“W... Hee ... What?”

“Don't bring up Chariotora while you're with Fluttershy, okay? She's sort of just found out that the most horrible highlight in the history of all pegasi actually exists.”

Fair enough. Wasn't planning to, anyway.

“Fine by me. One question though. How bad is Ironsight exactly? I mean, are we talking Sombre evil?”

“Kinda worse, actually. Especially the Ironsightian horror stories Fluttershy's mom writes and what Fluttershy grew up on. Wordshy's books states that his heart somehow got away from the rest of the body and became the mother of the first changelings. Really horrific stuff.”

Sounds like the latest album cover for the Germane metal band, HÜF.

“What about the real Ironsight? I highly doubt he's evil enough for his blood-pumping organ to become mother to parasitic beasts.”

“No... but when you have an entire wall built out of the heads of unicorns just so you can scratch an itch you can't reach; it doesn't take much imagination to make ponies think you are a pretty bad dude.”

A wall of unicorn heads... Again, I swear that's a  HÜF album if I ever saw one. Emperor Ironsight must've been the first metal head.

“Anyway, I gotta go.” Rainbow says “I see some clouds off their schedule.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me what I need to know”

She smiles at me. “Right back at ya, champ.”

“... And what the buck is that suppose to- KOFF! HACK! KHEEEEEEEEEE...”

Fucking Dustclouds.
> All Migraines Great and Small
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I notice some really odd things sometimes.

For instance; I realised right now this will be the first time I ever knocked on a door.

Sounds strange, doesn't it? Never before, until now. There's no door I didn't really want to knock back at Saint Diamond Heart's. There were times I could've knocked, like the time I caught Type Face and Morning Glory in Dusty Brush's closet for instance, but I didn't. There weren't many doors in The Canterlot Horn, and even if there were doors, I never knocked them. I seemed to catch ponies I needed to see on the way to their fancy-pants offices and talked to them all the way into the office. And you definitely don't need to knock on the door to enter a bar.

So... this is a first for me.

Not the first first of the day too, if I think about it. Not the last first neither. I found my first friend earlier this morning, who's organizing my first blind date tonight, which Rarity will be making my first suit to wear, so I for the first time would look dapper for the first time I meet Octavia Philharmonica. Although, this maybe the first first that I am in complete control of. That's a first.

...Thinking about firsts sure is thirsty work. I hope Fluttershy has coffee. And Kahlúa. No! No Kahlúa! Stay sober, Woundsalt! A sober Woundsalt is better than a Woundsalt with his face inside of him courtesy of Rainbow Dash!

Let's just get this over with. Left hoof or... Yes, let's go with the left hoof.

*knock knock knock*

...Was that good enough? Was it too loud? Too Quiet? Was three knocks enough? Should I have went with four? Is there a preference to this? Oooh, I hope I did it right! I bet it is terrible when you fuck up a knock-up!
The door opens revealing the head of the pink-maned pegasis. She seems pleased. Maybe I knocked right? Yeah... Woundsalt, the master of all knockers!

“Oh! Good morning, Woundsalt! Just a reminder for next time, can you use the doorbell? I got a squirrel in here who has a fear of woodpeckers, so when ponies knock he gets into a bit of a panic attack.”

“Oh. Well, sorry to hear that.”

Fuck!

“That's okay.” Fluttershy opens the door completely.”Please come in! Sorry I didn't pick you up myself, I had to get some cleaning done. I found a baby turtle a few days ago that needed some TLC and... well, little Machiavelli hasn't learnt how to control his cloaca just yet.”

Urgh. The worse thing about having a dictionary like mind like mine is that you instantly know what a cloaca is the moment an amateur zoologist says the word.

“Right. It is all clean now, right?”

“Oh, yes. I just finished up before you got here.”

And with that, I step in.

Shit, this is a lot amount of animals for a place like this.

One big Bear in the corner, whole bunch of critters on one couch trying to calm down the pre-mentioned squirrel, Aquarium filled with rocks, water, the turtle and a heat lamp...

… holy shit, is that an indoor pond in the next room?

It is. I can hear the waterfall from here.

And I bet its full of fish of different shape and sizes.

I am getting a 'crazy cat lady' vibe right now. Funny though, I don't see any cats. It's like poor Shy got dumped and instead of filling the void with cats, she decided to have some variety and have every type of creature BUT cat.

Better not say anything of the sort out loud, though. She HAS got a bear.

Just sit down somewhere and admire the picture of her and Discord by the Eifilly Tower.

Wait a fucking minute!

“Why does the Eifilly Tower looks like it's just outside your house?”

Fluttershy looks at the picture on the coffee table. “Well, there's no way I could afford a trip to Prance, so Discord thought it would be a good birthday present to move a bit of Prance to me. Don't worry, he put it back after the photo got taken.”

Oh sweet Cadence.

“Look, I know everypony says he is a good guy now, but when he does things like moving iconic buildings...”

“I know, I know!” Fluttershy interrupts. “But it was for good intentions! Besides, he did say he asked for permission.”

…

“You don't think he's still planning anything, do you?”

“Oh, no! He wouldn't dare! Besides, he knows where he'll end up if he did.”

Ah yes, back in Canterlot Gardens having birds crap all over him.

“Well, fine. But if he betrays you all to some monkey centaur from Tartarus and the Elements are not around to save you, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Oh now you're just being-” She pauses and looks at me confused. “Monkey centaur? Why monkey centaur?”

“... I don't know. I think the condition just picked up some ancient mumbo jumbo. Probably not important.”

The yellow pegasus shakes her head off the thought of what a monkey centaur might even look like. And the her eyes widen. “Oh! Silly me, I haven't offered you a drink yet! Would you like a drink?”

“Coffee, if you have it.”

“Milk?”

“Please. And two sugars.”

She smiles and... Ah fuck it... flutters to her kitchen, leaving me alone with the wild, surprisingly well tamed beasts. With their beady little eyes, and their...


Huh.

Twilight's owl is here.

Well, I figure it should be back from Canterlot by now. Don't know why it's here and not back at the library.

“Hey.”

The owl looks at my direction for a brief second, then looks passively away.

“Look, I'm sorry if I was harsh last night. I'm not entirely sure what I said, but from the parts I remember, I know I clearly crossed the line. Are we cool?”

I don't know what is owl for 'Yeah, we cool', but I'm going to assume it's a bow like the one it made.

“Good. Now if you don't mind me asking, do you have anything for me?”

It lifts up his left foot, revealing a ribbon attached to a scroll. Looks like I got mail.

“Thanks.”

I take it off him. I only got the one. You'd think that if I wrote to both princesses, both would give me a reply.

I'm guessing Celestia didn't want to reply to what I sent her. Fair enough, given the material.

To my faithful student Woundsalt,

Feels weird putting those words on top of the letter than the bottom...

It's kind of weird to read too.

You may be wondering why the owl is at Fluttershy's where you should be by now instead of back in the library. Fluttershy told me she wanted you to be to her house first thing last night, so naturally it would be better to send Owlowiscious here instead. He can use some care too after you surged at it.

How did she...

And before you ask how I know you snapped at my owl is because I PURPOUSELY used telepathy on him.

Oh. Wait, does that mean...

 I finally gotten my alicorn magic under control! Now I will never be accidentally telepathic ever again... And no, I'm not going to use it on purpose now either! I don't even know why alicorns gained that ability to begin with.

Well, good for her... and anyone willing to hang around her while thinking of their bank details.

But enough about me, let's talk about your tears. No, ponies don't cry ink. How you managed to go through all your life not knowing that is beyond me, but I can assure you now, that's just you. It's more like water than anything else.

So that clear stuff was- OOOOOOH okay. That's good to know.

Anyway, I sent your letter to the lab when I was finished with it and they confirmed it. 100% ink. No traces of normal pony tears found. I just realised something; How come Doctor Brainstorm didn't notice such an obvious symptom as ink tears? Princess Luna might have to ask him that when he comes to the castle today.

Princess Luna? Well, if Princess Celestia is on to me, I guess she would get her sister involved too. And since my case involves prophetic dreams, she'll be perfect to have for some fact finding. Usually, I'd be against blatant invasions of my privacy but after Saint Diamond Heart, somepony there to hold my hoof would not go amiss.

But I can't pretend that a pony that can cry ink is the weirdest thing I read today. Celestia showed me what you wrote to her... Wow.

Yeah. Wow is definitely a word to say given the situation.

I think it's safe to say she's not happy about this. After all, you did just accuse an old friend of hers, one who is called the VIRGIN Mother of Plenty, for being a lover of plenty. She'll be checking that trap door out, and if this turns out be false... Well, if you weren't fearing princesses before, you're really going to soon enough.

… eep.

Please tell me there's good news for me in this letter.

I hate to bring more bad news, but about Rain Coat...

Fuck!

I was up sending and receiving a few messages from Prime Minister Beer Broth of Oatstralia when Owlowliscious came in. When I asked to check for Rain, it turns out he already knew her.

Oh! Well that's convenient! Wait, why is it bad news?

She died right in front of him on his last trip in Darwhinny.

Oh.

However, the police checked her place and it turns out she was making blue-prints for something. Her writing pretty smudgy but the title is clear: DETACHABLE HORN.

… Oh my fucking goddess. I didn't even know where I got the idea for a detachable horn when I wrote my letter, and now she's telling me such a thing has a blueprint. Either great minds think alike or... My CMC...

… This is making my head spin.

“Hey Fluttershy, can you get me an aspirin while you're in there?”

“I'm sorry, but I don't have any. Not since a curious seagull got into my medicine cabinet. She didn't eat anything, thankfully, but after a close call like that I just had to make my first aid kit critter friendly.”

“Ah, never mind then. I'll just take a detour to the nearest pharmacist on my way to Apple Jack's.” Like I'd want an any pill that is stored here in my mouth anyway. Especially with little Machiavelli having a cloaca mishap.

They'll send this blueprint up to me to see if I can make anything from it. I'm not suggesting to get excited yet, but we could have just found a way to control the CMC.

Hope you're having a good first day in Ponyville. If not, don't worry. Mine almost ended in an age of darkness.

Sincerely,
Princess Twilight Sparkle

PS: Luna just came in to tell me that PMZ managed to get snaps with me and you on the way to the library and P! Found out I adopted somepony, BUT they didn't make the connection yet. All they've speculated so far is what we want them to see this is; an innocent student-teacher relationship. If you want tell them what the truth is, you can. Quite personally, I would keep it quiet until they guessed it right.

Huh... I thought the chariot-chasers would have gotten the full scoop by now.

I turn to Owlowliscious. “Okay buddy, here's the rub. You can stay here as long as you like today, but I want you home by the morning so I can send a letter for Twilight. If you get in before I do, don't be alarmed or anything. It probably means Rainbow Dash was right and I somehow got myself into a threesome.”

The owl looks at me, confused.

“... Long story. Now go do that hoo-hoo that you do so well.”

The owl flaps to the top of the mantlepiece, probably to continue his conversation with the bald eagle I might have rudely inter...

Wait... is that... mine?



THE DOVE MIGHT BE DEAD by WOUNDSALT

I'm going to have to tell you something that you might dread
I'm going to have to tell you that the dove might be dead.
I know the thought of seeing it again just makes you smile
But it hasn't returned yet, and it's been gone for a while.

The fact that you still love the dove makes this very hard
For me to tell you that dove's return is not exactly in the cards.
But let me tell you something before a tear dares hit the floor
If you look beyond this point right now, there will be birds galore.

You may find a wise old owl willing to share its mind
An eagle, although regal, can be proven to be kind.
A penguin will defend you as if you really are its egg
And a pigeon will always feed you even if it is just bread.

I never met a kookaburra that doesn't love a good time
Nor a pelican that doesn't have a place for one to hide.
You can marvel at all the things that a finch has went and founded
And you can be honest with an ostrich because the ostrich is well grounded.

And I can continue like a parrot telling more
but I'm not here to discuss pigs, so I'll stop being a bore
So get it in your head, the dove might be dead
But it's not the only bird out there, kid
and any bird can give you the wings
of freedom... which that dove never did.




I see Fluttershy at the corner of my eye, holding a tray with two cups of coffee.
“Funny story about how I got that, actually. I had an actual dove that flew off one day. I beat myself up about it, worried about it; It was the first animal that ran away like that, I didn't know what to do. Then I wandered down the Renter side one day and an extraordinary gentlecolt who ran a bar there had this hanging up close to the stage there. The title caught my eye and... I just had to have it.”

I turn back to the frame with my work embroided onto it. Then back to her. I just can't believe this. I have a fan. A fan with a bar. A fan who had this hanging in his establishment. Who made a fan out of Fluttershy.

“Wh... Who gave you this?”

Her smile doubled in size.

“That's another funny thing about this. He said his brother wrote it.”
> Barking Up the Wrong Tree.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... You... you...”

Fluttershy stares right into my eyes, waiting for me to speak a full sentence.

“You... You fucking fell for that old gambit, huh?”

This makes Shy blink for a few seconds until she speaks.

“Wh-what do you mean by that old gambit?”

I laugh at the silly pony and point at my poem. “This is a commission I did for the orphanage! They make copies of the poem like this and give them to orphans who still hold on to the hope their parents are coming back! And it's a tradition that's pretty much dead these days but back when I was young, fellow orphans call each other brother or sister. Because if you are under the care of the Virgin Mother of Plenty, then everyone who is also under her care is...?”

I open it up for Flutters to finish.

“Your brother or sister...”

I point towards her to say she's got it.

“Shoot!”

She sits on one of the couches.

“Shoot, shoot and double shoot! I'm sorry, Woundsalt, but I thought I had something! I really thought I had something!”

Daaaawww, ain't that adorable? She looks so cute when she's defeated.

“Oh now, Flutters... Don't you see? You found something that still warms me up, and even more rarer...”

The yellow mare looks towards me with a shocked look on her face. 

“... Someone who actually likes my poetry.”

She giggles. Knew that'll cheer her up. I'm finding ponies down here laughing particularly easy.

“Oh, He'll be so happy to see you!” she perks up from her slouch in the couch. “He is so sweet! Him and his... I'm going to say partner, because I genuinely not sure whether they were filly or colt. Still, very nice ponies!”

Wow... well how about that? Looks like I found some more friends. Some really fascinating friends, too by the sounds of things. Plus, they got a bar!

“So, where can I find Mr...?” I say as I sit down right next down to her.

“Blue Curaçao, and the bar's name is-”

“NOPE!” I say as I stand right the fuck up again.

Her ears prick up in shock. “Nope? What do you mean, nope?”

“Not going.”

“Not going?” She jumps off the couch.“Why?”

“Changed my mind. Not going.”

“That doesn't really answer my-”

“Nope. Not going.” 

“Woundsalt, wh-”

“Can't make me. Not going.” 

“No one is f-”

“Nu-uh. Not going.” 

…

“Wou-”

“No way. Not g-”

Fluttershy put her hoof to my mouth.

“I got it. Not going. Fine. But can you please tell me why you don't want to go?”

I gently took my mouth away from her hoof. “Did Twilight tell you how I got my cutie mark, Fluttershy?”

She gently puts down her hoof. “She did. You surged in front of some mean bull-”
Her eyes open to full capacity. She cracked it. “Oh my goodness. Blue? Blue was one of those bullies?”

I nod. “Him and his brother, Orange. Actual brothers, by the way. Same basket.” Added in that part because I knew she'd be confused if I didn't.

She is stunned beyond belief. “Oh my... I... I can't believe it! Blue Curaçao is a honest to Luna gentlecolt, There is just no way! ... When did you see him or his brother last?”

Hmm... how long ago was it now? I know Saint Diamond Heart's started handing the poem about a year afterwards... and they were there for a while but kept away from me after that...
“I estimate One and a half years after me letting loose they got adopted and moved to the Ohana Islands.”

“Well, that was a long time ago! Clearly Blue has definitely changed since then! He GAVE me the poem! For free! And I can tell he cherished it oh so much!”

She's giving me puppy dog eyes. Well, I think their puppy dog eyes. Could be that stare thing I heard about. 

Sigh...

“You want me to drop by and bury the hatchet, don't you?”

Shy smiles. “Well, I'm not going to force you to. But by the sounds of things... You at least need to go there to see the difference.” She looks towards the floor.“You of all ponies should know that everyone deserves a second chance...”

...

Oh, Princess H. tap-dancing Cadence...

“Fine. But in my own time, okay? I got to find the right words.”

Bleurgh! She's hugging me! “Oh, wondeful! The bar is called the SorriNa. It's lighted up on the side of the building, You can't miss it!

“Uh, Shy?”

“And they got some live band in on most nights!”

“Shy...”

“ And such an amazing atmosphere!”

“SHY!” She looks at me. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, you don't like to...? Sorry.”

As she let's me go, one question pops in my head. “So, uh... Have you... Have you read others besides from this one?” I ask as I point at the Dove Might Be Dead.

Fluttershy looks back at the frame. “Well, I borrowed Rarity's copy of The Boys From the Corner...”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“...The book.”

“I got a book?”

“Well, half of a book really. Some of yours, some of Page's, some interviews. They even had that two-way interview of you and Satchel Mouth... You didn't know about this? It's been in bookstores for about three years now.”

No one told me this. Why didn't any one tell me this?
Oh, wait, I remember, They don't need to.

“No. Probably because all my work is copyrighted and owned by Printed Mint. I haven't gotten a single bit out of my work since the Cantelot Horn got axed.”

Fluttershy is totally agasp. “That's terrible!”

“That's business." I say as I drink up the coffee. "Contract made it clear.”

Wow, she is even adorable when she's disgusted.“So everypony who bought that book just for you... just made Mint even richer?”

I shrug sit down on a sofa. “Good thing it's only about two ponies who bought the book just for me, huh?”

She softly scoffs. “Do you seriously think that's-”

The door bell rings.

“Oh no... Surely it can't be...” Fluttershy whispers as she looks at the clock. “He's not supposed to be here by now! Oh no! Oh no! But I told him to come round this afternoon!”

“Who's not supposed to be here?”

“I didn't want you to know he's in town! I mean, not like this! I wanted you to be prepared.”

“Be prep- What he fuck are you talking about?”

“Okay Woundsault, here's the plan. Go into the kitchen, grab one of the straws by the milkshake machine and get into the koi pond!”

“Fluttershy, I want an answer to that question before I even do any-”

Her eyes flickered for a brief moment to a corner of the room. I turn to this corner and see a little doggy bed, and in it, a very senile...

Pomeranian...





“A pomeranian?”

“Isn't he adorable? My dad just got him for me. Say hi, Satchmo!”

“Arf! Arf!”

“Oh big surprise; Your dad got you a dog. I'll go alert the media.”

“Too late. I already told everyone in the office.”

“Of course you did. Now if you excuse me, I got a box of complaints to ignore.”

“Hey Wound? Do you have any pets in the orphanage?”

“No. Why would there be?”

“Well, wouldn't that be cool? Having a pet for all your brothers and sisters? Wouldn't that be fun, Woundsalt?”

“... Go fuck yourself, Page.”





...

“Satchmo?”

The old dog looks up at me for a few seconds, only to yawn and fall asleep.

I turn to Fluttershy. She knows now that me seeing the guest is now unavoidable. She moves out of the way as I go to open the door.

Yep. It's him. He may have slicked the black and white mane back a bit more, put on some sunglasses and an unbottoned shirt, but you can tell it's him. I may not tell by the fit shape of his red body. Nor may I tell by his complex cutie mark representing a printing press. However, I can definitely tell by his goddess damn shit eating grin...

That what stands before me is the unicorn known as Printed Page.

“Hello Woundsalt. How've you been?”

...

“Go fuck yourself, Page.”

“Woundsalt!” Fluttershy screams.

“Oh no it's quite alright, Miss Shy.” Printed says. “It's some kind of defense mechanism he has. Whenever I say or do something that makes him a bit angry he says that. For instance, me being here. Ain't that right, Woundsalt?”

“Go fuck yourself, Page.”

He turns to the pegasis. “See? Look, I'm sorry I'm here right now, it's just that I need to talk to him urgently.”

“H-how did you even know he was here?”

He takes off his sunglasses to reveal his bright blue eyes. “You tell me that you need to reschedule a new pick up time for Satchmo, then I see Twilight and him on the cover of PMZ walking to her library... I'm not exactly Sherclop, but I can do some good deducing.”

He turns back at me. “We need to talk.”

"Go fuck yourself, Page."

"No, seriously. We really need to talk. No amount of me fucking myself will stop us having a conversation."

“I've got nothing to say to you.”

“Fine then. I talk, you pretend to listen.”

I smile. “Just like old times, then.”
> A Page Well Turned Over
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I'm sor-”

“Fluttershy, stop. It's not your doing, it's his. You don't need to apologize.”

I look through the door to Fluttershy's kitchen, seeing Printed Page in the front room trying to wake up old Satchmo to get out of here. We agreed (Well, more like he stated, I disagreed, Fluttershy gives me a look, then I agreed.) to take a walk to Applejack's farm, but it has to be us alone; No Fluttershy, No bear, not even a little Machiavelli to piss on him at some infrequent time. Just Page, an old pomeranian and I.

De-fucking-lightful...

“Okay... Woundsalt, I feel like it's been a while since you and Page saw each other. Am I right?”

I nod. 

“How long?”

“Since the magazine went bust five years ago.”

Hell, I never kept tabs with anypony from back then. Well, they can't pretend they didn't know where I was.

“Oh... okay. Well, try to bring up some good memory from back then...”

“Of which there is none.”

Fluttershy looks at me like I just spat on one of her budgies. “Seriously?”

“... Well, there was that interview with Satchel Mouth, but that's because I know that's his favourite musician. Oh Celestia, how much he wanted to do that interview. I bring that one up to piss him off.”

“Oh... Well then, scratch that. Just don't bring up any touchy subjects” Fluttershy looks out to Page in the other room. “But by the looks of things, he might bring up one.”

I look out as well. “Such as?”

Fluttershy's pupils meet mine. “Printed Mint.”

“... What about Printed Mint?”

“He's... not with us.”

“Well clearly. What, did you mistake him for Page? Don't know why you can, they look nothing alike.”

“No, no! He's... gone to a better place.”

“Ohana Islands?”

“No! Upstairs!”

“This place has an upstairs?”

“No! He's kicked the bucket!”

“Don't worry, he's got maids to clean up after him.”

“He's passed on!”

“Passed on what? It better not be my fucking po-”

“HE'S DEAD, WOUNDSALT! Oh my goodness!”

We both look back at Page, who clearly heard us. We both nervously giggle and wave at him until he looks some other way.

“Sorry.” I whisper to the pegasus through my teeth. “So... when did that happen?”

“Last week, on the day of Twilight's coronation. It was in the paper somewhere but the report sort of got drowned out by erm... 'Sparklemania.'”

I smile for two reasons. One, it is very hard to keep a straight face when the word Sparklemania is announced. And two, a pony who manipulated media for a living dies and gets the back pages.

Poetic justice is the best justice.

“Right, so try and avoid that, unless he brings it up. Anything else?”

“One more thing.”
she gets closer to my hear.
“Be gentle. You know how Doctor Brainstorm was the closest thing you have for a friend?”

I nod.

“You're his Doctor Brainstorm right now.”

Oh goody.





“Say, that poem Fluttershy has in her house; It's very... Lovely.” He says as he yanks old Satchmo from a tree. “I thought you hated lovely.”

“Yeah, It's kinda meant for foals so...”

“Ah, fair enough. An audience like that probably doesn't deserve the usual Salt treatment.”

I wait until we hit the bridge before I give him back my reply.

“... Is there anypony out there who DOES deserve the usual Salt treatment?”

He laughs. That's one thing I found annoying about Page. He laughs too easily. And not a pretty nice laugh, like the fillies, but a sinister laugh. It's a laugh that could sneak up behind Fluttershy's giggle and stab it through the chest.

“Hoooo...” He gasps as he winds down his evil, nefarious laughter. “Oh my goddess, did I need a laugh. So I figured the fact that Fluttershy shouted out the words 'He's dead' as loud as she possibly can means that you just found out about dad.”

Well, so much for trying to avoid the touchy subject.

“Yeah... Is that why you're here?”

“He put in his will that he wants his ashes on a mantlepiece at some restaurant here. He used to love the place. The salad there is fantastic.” He says as old Satchmo found another tree to sniff around.

“What, no burial?”

“Well, if there was a burial there'll be a long queue before you can dance on his grave.” he smiles as he magically picks up his dog and levitates him away from the tree.

I can't help but to snicker. I now I shouldn't, but that one just got out of nowhere.
Page has never said anything bad about Mint before. 

Now that I think about it, he seems... different. Whether I like this difference or not, I am unsure. I know I can't stand him before; So maybe, JUST maybe I can survive five minutes with him before imagining to punch him.

“Forgive me for the lack of experience on losing a loved one , but... You seem very chilled given the situation.”

“Well, I was planning to just lie there and mentally break down like anypony else,” he states as he turns to me. “But then some kind of epiphany came to me, you know? Like, some sudden realisation that I have...

Choice.

I could choose to take this as the average sucker or I can make it an opportunity to do things I was afraid of doing because every time I even think of doing it, I get the image of my dad shaking his head. Do you get that with Brainstorm?”

“No. But admittedly, that's probably because I never listened to him anyway.”

He points at me in an ecstatic manner. “Ah! See? But I can't, I mean, couldn't do that with Dad. I always listened to him, followed him blindly. I was a sheep! I was just following a leader; My leader, my Dad! Now I AM that leader!”

“...Yeah!”

“ I can do things!” 

“Yeah!”

“I CAN NOW FIND OUT FOR MYSELF WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO!”

“YEAH!”

“I CAN SAY WHAT I CAN SAY WITHOUT LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER FEARING HIM TO BE THERE!”

“YEAH! YEAH! BUCK YEAH!” Oh sweet Luna! It's like he's radiating excitement through his body and into me! I can't remember me feeling this alive... ever! Go, new Page, go!

He calms down and does a deep breath. “...And that leads me into something I always wanted to say to you.”

Uh... New Page? What are you doing?

He takes of his shades and looks directly at me.“Look, I feel like I've been holding my feelings back for... well... always.”

I-is he... doing what I think he's doing?

“And ever since the Poetry Corner started, I wanted to say something to you...”

No. No, he isn't...

“And even after the magazine got canned, I had the urge to head to that statue at night and just... tell you how I feel. What I really feel.”

Oh holy fuck, he is... Don't panic, Woundsalt. It's just your rival confessing that he's gay and in love with you, no big deal. Just say that you respect him telling me this but you aren't sure if the relationship will w- FUCK HE'S GETTING CLOSER! PANICPANICPANICPANIC

He holds my head in place and get closer and closer and as soon as his mouth reached my ear, he whispers.

“You're right. My dad is an asshole.”

…

I laugh.

He laughs.

We laugh.

We laugh louder.

We eventually calmed down.

“Oh my goddess, do you have any idea how good that felt!” he shouts.

“Oh I can only imagine.” I say, still a little short of breath. “You know, for a moment there, I thought you were coming on to me.”

“What? Oh no no no no no!” he says. “No way in Tartarus! It's bad enough I had to look at the fan fiction we have in my fan mail sack!”

My ears prick up. “Fan fiction? You mean ponies were writing about us being...?”

“Still are!”

“Oh no...”

“Don't get me wrong, there are some out there that are awesome. Like there's this one called Magazine Days, in which it's more about me discovering myself and then breaking the bonds of my dad's control over me and you doing everything you can to make it work; Really touching stuff. But most of them?”

He shivers.

“Just be thankful what my dad does to your fan mail bag, Wound.”

My ears prick up again. “What fan mail bag?”

“Well... You know that humongous sack that post-pony lugged into my dad's office you keep asking about?”

“Yeah. The one that always come out empty aft- That thing was my fan mail bag?”

“Yep.”

“Th-that was three times the size of your bag!”

“Yep.”

“... And that mother bucker just gave me-”

“The hooful of complaints in that tupperware box, which he had to scrounge for in that pile of letters. He then burns the rest. Thus was his routine every mail day.” he said sitting by the side of the road. The best thing about him knowing me for so long is that he knows when it is coming.

“... THAT MOTHER BUCKING-



-AND HE WILL KNOW MY NAME IS WOUNDSALT WHEN I HAVE MY VENGEANCE UPON HIM!” 

…

“I know it sounds weird, but I kind of missed those black outs.” He says calmly as he pets the dog to attempt it to relax. “I don't know for the life of me why.”

“D-did I say anything out of line there, or...?”

“Not really. Well, there was that one about finding his urn and peeing in it, but... hey, if there was anypony who deserves to do that, it's you.”

I smile. “So... I have fans.”

“You have fans.”

“More fans than you.”

he nods.

“Why did Mint not want me to know that?”

“Why did he keep you in the same stuffy office? Why did he tell you you're not allowed to decorate that office? Why did he give you the dead eye every time he walked past? He wanted you to gone, man! He wanted you to quit!”

“Then why did he not fire me?” 

Page looks at me as he stands up again. “Because you aren't the reason he hates you, contrary to belief... he hates you because of that cellist.”

“... You know, speaking sense would really help me the fuck out, Page. What does Octavia got to do with this?”

We start to walk again.

“Octavia, according to Dad, is the reason the Canterlot Horn doesn't exist anymore...

It was pretty clear it was either you or her who'd win the competition. No other foal would get close to you two. However, the way Dad decided who the winner was down to one thing: who would bring in what type of audience? Your poetry, as it has proven throughout the years, brought in the Renters. A bigger audience, sure, but a cheap audience. Throughout the years, they complained about the prices and how you can't get the magazine down here in Ponyville. Maybe it would've been a good idea to expand the circulation and lower the price a little, but it wasn't a good idea to my dad. He would rather watch this company burn... as it did.

Octavia and her talent, on the other hoof, didn't bring in the Renters. She brings in the high class, the 'sophisticated', the ponies who would STAY in Canterlot and wouldn't complain about price! Hell, he could raise the price and they wouldn't mind; what's two more bits for somepony who has a billion? And, ever since she got that cover shoot she wanted she was performing at the Grand Galloping Gala, only refusing a few times for her University Degree! Imagine the advertising for the Canterlot Horn if one of their contracted artists were in the Gala! Your poetry isn't worth that! Your poetry isn't even worth the doughnut shop next door!

So naturally, he went with the better choice; Octavia Philharmonica. But she turned him down, telling him she only wanted the front cover and to give the contract to the pony who came second... you.”

“... He decided a fucking children competition by what they represent on the social ladder?”

Printed nods.

"and decided to let the magazine die instead of listening to the Renters?"

Printed nods again.

“Your dad's an asshole.”

Printed smiles. “My dad's an asshole.”

His eyes wander over to something behind me. “Hey, can you wait here with Satchmo for a sec? I need to do something here.”

I turn around and notice a bank behind me. “Waiting for the will money to come in, huh?”

“Something a little more important than that.” he giggles.

As I wait, I ponder about Octavia. Even though Page doesn't know about the date, he said some things that makes me worry about it. I mean, he's right; Octavia is the high class, the financially insured; And I, whether I have these fans or not, am the low class, a 'commoner.' A nopony.

… Why is she even here? I know for a fact they pay Gala musicians insane amounts of money! She could have a penthouse in the best side of the city, but instead she's slumming it down here beside Tartarus with a DJ for a room mate?

And while we're on the subject, why do I need to know Neightalian?

Page walks back out with a couple of pieces of paper, an inkwell with a quill in it, and and envelope. 

“What's all this?”

“Well, when I was at the door, I overheard you and Fluttershy talk about the book and how you didn't get anything for it.” He floats the papers closer towards me. “These are the rights to your poetry which my dad gave to me after his passing. I figured that I am the last pony on this earth to deserve these, so just sign the bottom of the back page here.” He floated the envelope towards me. "And in here, is a debit card and the details of an account which has half of my share from the book. All yours.”

My jaw drops. “Oh sweet Celestia. Page you don't need to-”

“Of course I fucking need to, you idiot. Sign the paper.”

I pick up the qu-

“One condition, however!”

OH BUT OF COURSE THERE IS!

He looks me dead in the eye. “You have to tell me a place where I can get my first drink. I figure a booze hound like you already knows a place?”

I smile. “Well, I haven't been there yet, but I know a pegasus who runs a bar called SorriNa..."
> Beneath a Radiant Southern, Cross
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So... how much did he give ya?”

I embarrassingly whisper into the orange pony's ear the amount. Her jaw races towards the floor.

“Oh Sweet Celestia... that's a lot of bits.”

“Yeah! Obviously a lot of bits!”

Page got me to Sweet Apple Acres after a quick detour to the library to keep my copyright to my poems secure in a mattress. Only on the way from the library did  he have the decency to tell me how much is on the card.

The number's big.

Really big.

Ludicrously big.

Oil Company big.

Apparently, although Printed Mint preferred to kill off The Canterlot Horn rather than to expand the magazine outside the city, he released The Boys From the Corner to the entire world in a heart beat. That's Rich Pony Logic for you. Rich Pony Logic that worked, however. Everypony ate it up, especially in counties which Equestrian isn't a first language which is very surprising. In it for the swears, I assume.

The Element of Honesty shakes her head in amazement. “Hoo-hoo-hoooooo Dawgy! Talk about a change of fortune! What the hay are you going to do with that kind of money?”

“I-I don't know. I don't even think I should even have this kind of money. I wrote proses against ponies with this kind of money! I've now got the bit-count similar to those bunch of pompous buck-wits who wouldn't know their tail-hole for their mouths!”

“Well, you ain't gonna turn into those ponies. You're smart enough to know where your mouth is.” She says with a smile that looks like it's about to say something witty.“You keep usin' it enough.”

I turn to look towards the trees. “Maybe you're right, AJ. It's just that... I feel like I sold my soul to the Hasbro unknowingly.”

“...Has-what now?”

“Hasbro. You know, the Tale of Faust? Selling her soul for wealth, fame, and power?”

Apple Jack seems curious. “Is this you right now or the magic?”

“... You know what? It could be the magic. I've been referencing a lot of things recently; I was quoting Star Crosser to Twilight's Owl late last night, wrote something about a detachable horn and it turns out there is a blueprint, then I said something about a monkey centaur to Fluttershy which I have NO idea where that's from; probably not important anyway... It's kind of scaring me how much of I'm saying I don't know of, actually.”

“What, you mean you didn't quote literature before you knew about the Crus- I mean, the condition?” 

“Oh I have, it's just that before I thought it's just me being an intelligent bastard. Now that I know it's because I'm unintentionally pulling it out of my magical ass, I feel like my intelligence is a lie.”

Apple Jack giggles silently. Not a bad giggle. It's definitely better than Printed Page's.
“You seem like a smart fella to me, magic or no ma...” she pauses as if she has seen something behind me. “Oh, for the the love of... Pinkie's behind you and planning on surprising you again.”

I turn around quickly to see the pink pony armed with a balloon and a pin. “Awww, Applejack! Why'd you ruin it?”

“Because he's not here for surprisin'! He's here for some friends!” The orange Apple (...heh.) grunts as she turns to me. “Sorry Salt, it's just that since that outburst yesterday she got some idea into her head that you don't know how to... 'be surprised'... So she got her mind set on teachin' ya.”

“...Seriously?”

“Yeah. Don't worry, something will distract her from it eventually.”

Eventually? BUCK THAT. Try right now.

“Hey Pinks. I'm guessing you have your own special time for me, is that right?”

“Yep! Yep! Yepperoonie! Tomorrow Afternoon, you are all mine! I'm going to show you the Sugarcube Corner, the Cakes, the BABY Cakes! Ooooooh they are so-”

“Right okay. Well, you know what will be nice tomorrow afternoon?”

Her blue eyes stare at me blankly. “What?”

“A party.”

The blue eyes widen. “A party? Y-you want a party?”

“Well, I figure that a party is a good place to find friends. That is what I'm here for, right? Making friends?”

Wow, the look on the pink pony's face right now. It is as if I had shown her the universe. I turn to see Apple Jack as she gives me a look I can clearly read. It says, “You are one clever son of a bitch, and I love what your devious mind had created.”

I wish I could get that look more often.

“OH MY GOSH, YES! IT WOULD BE PERFECT! IT'LL HAVE YOU THERE AND SOME PONIES YOU MIGHT ALREADY KNOW THERE SOME PONIES YOU DON'T KNOW BUT CAN BE GREAT TO KNOW THERE AND wait...” Pinkie ponders. “What would the party be for? Birthday? Anniversary?”

“Um... It's for... It's for...” Shit, Pinkie's got me there... uh... AH I KNOW! PINK! “A Cute Mitzvah redo!”

Both ponies look at me like I said something stupid. Well, admittedly I did say something stupid, but it's stupidity I can explain.

“Beg ya pard'n?”

“Well, you know how it's a Cute-ceañera for fillies but a Cute Mitzvah for colts?”

“Of course, silly!” Pinkie squales as she pats my head. “I've organised both plenty of times!”

“Yeah, well, the person organising my Cute Mitzvah clearly didn't. Every decoration, every bit of food, even the Luna-damn cake, PINK for a Cute-ceañera! No offence, Pinkie Pie, but for a colt entering into stallionhood, there is one colour you don't want to see in the celebration of that and that colour is-”

“PINK!” Well, I wasn't opening the sentence for someone to finish, but at least Pinkie gets my point. “Oh my gosh, you are super duper right! That kind of Cute Mitzvah will just not do at all! I promise you, Woundy, tomorrow afternoon you will have the Cute Mitzvah with not a single pink thing to see! I'll even paint myself blue!”

“You'd do that to yourself for me?”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!”She states as she waves her hooves around to the... Interesting... ditty. “Ooh! I got to go and get the R.S.V.P. done A.S.A.P! T.T.F.N!”

Before I can reply she runs away... knocking a tree up into the air. The tree then falls back onto it's roots like nothing has happened to it at all.

“I hate it when she does that.” Apple Jack says as she shakes her head. “That Cute Mitzvah story; is it even true?”

“Oh yeah. In Dusty Brush's defence it would be very hard to tell the gender of somepony after you've lit up a 'green and purple dragon.' The only thing that was falsified is me caring about the colour.”

AJ looks at me. “So the fact that you're redoing your Cute Mitzvah is just to get Pinkie out of your mane?”

I smile. “Kind of... Now that I think about it, it would be pretty sweet. Since this is my new life, I figure ending my childhood as quick as possible will be not a bad idea.”

She laughs. “Dash is right. You are a funny guy. Ooh! Speaking of which... About that surge you had in town this mornin'...”

Oh Cadence.

“Now AJ, you know that it's completely out of my control. I take no respons-”

“Oh now, don't you worry yourself none! You didn't say anything wrong! Well, maybe a few more cuss words than there should be, but that's not what I need to talk to you about.”

I turn to the cowgirl. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, Mister Salt, according to Rainbow you were quite a spokespony on sexual equality this morning.”

“Was I?”

“Yessiree! Telling her not to be afraid of what she is or will be no matter what the world thinks!”

“... I didn't offend her?”

Apple Jack shakes her head.

Huh. That's new. I figure I should call it a blessing; the first surge I had in Ponyville and the only complaint is that I should wash my mouth out with soap a little bit.

“Well anyways, if you believe in anything you were preaching, I'm hoping you can help me out in somethin'.”

“Sure, okay. Why not? What's the situation?”

“Well, there's this bar at the Renter side of town. The name ain't comin' to mind right now, but they've been contacting me recently wantin' to serve some of the Apple Family's cider.”

“What's stopping them?”

“Well, usually we take the cider to a company to sell, but that company's has a bit of a strong stance on couples that are a bit 'unusual'... their words, not mine. So they ain't selling unless one of the ponies who runs the place, who is... Well, let's say she's got the best of both fillies and colts, gets some corrective surgery. Preferably, to become all-filly.”

I wince like I had sculled a cart full of Emperor Divekick's sake. I don't know what irks me more, the fact I have a feeling that the bar in question is the SorriNa and the pony in question is Blue Curaçao's squeeze or the company not minding their own business on how she is.

Probably the latter. Fuck, I hate big business.

“So you want me to yell at these mother buckers until they submit, or...?”

“Oh trust me, I'll handle 'em.” The apple bucker said through closed teeth. “In fact, I'm gonna sell the cider to the bar directly from the barn. An' cheaper too, just to get Filthy Rich's pants in a bunch.”

I smile. I would prefer to hand it out for free, but hey. Any protest to stick it to the stallion is good enough for me.

“Your job, however... is explaining it to Granny Smith. She's a bit ol' fashioned, but I can't do somethin' like this without her go-ahead. I don't think I can tell 'er what's what, but I'm as sure as the the sun comes from the east you can. Will ya do it? Please?”

Oh my goddess, I'm going to give an old mare a heart attack.

“If you want me to, Apple Jack, I'll do it. Just make sure you shove a hoof in my mouth if I cross a line, okay?”

“You got it.”

As we reach the wooden shack which the Apples call home, I ready myself for a debate that will not be written in history. I ready myself for a debate that will not be told for generations to come. I ready myself for a debate...

...with some elderly lady for the right for a tranny who is in a relationship with my childhood bully to sell booze.

Something tells me this is going to be a slobber knocker.

...

I'm ready.
> So She Hired a Striper
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fine by me, sugarplum.”

Oh.

Well, so much for me being ready for a slobber knocker. All AJ did was say what she wants to do.

“... It is?”

“Sure it is. The only thing ah find a bit wrong is selling to them for that cheap! Ah figure it'll be kinda wrong givin' 'em th' full price a thirty, but fifteen bits a barrel? No barrel should be that cheap! How's about twenty?”

Applejack leans back. “Well, we would be gettin' a profit then...” She looks to me. “And it'll be nice for Applebloom to have somethin' in her lunchbox that has no relation to apples.”

I sigh. “Fine. If you are that in need of the bits, I'm certain they'll be happy with twenty bits. Quite personally, I'd say for free but I'm clearly not a pony who's got mouths to feed.”

Could use those bits for a renovation, too. Or at least a new coat of varnish to... everything. The house is entirely made of wood. It's like they grabbed a few trees from outside and- oh wait, that's exactly what they did.

Apple Jack hugs the old green mare. “Thanks, granny. I know how you are like with things a little... out of the ordinary.”

“Horse-feathers!” Granny Smith exclaimed.

“I'm bein' serious! Remember that nice couple from Sasquatchewan?”

I'm not exactly sure, but I think I hear Granny Smith mumble a racial slur about sasquatches. Maybe something about a war too. She then spoke up saying “Well, okay. Maybe I am a bit of a...”

She's paused to think up what to describe herself. Looks like it's up to the poet to help out here. “Backwards-Thinker?”

“Was hopin' for somethin' nicer than that, but fine. The fact of the matter is, mah opinion about this pony shouldn't matter. The pony wants cider, we gots cider, we give 'em cider for bits. Nothin' in that plan about who or what they are! And I don't see why Filthy's got his muzzle into the poor thing's business, either! Ain't that right, Big Mac?”

“Yeee-up!” Said a big burly guy behind me. Thank Celestia he said something, for a moment there I thought he was dead.

Apple Jack pats her grandmother on the back gently. “Dang right, Granny! Thanks for understandin'. You can go back to your needlework now.”

The old mare reaches for her needle and thread and starts to rock back and forth in her chair. Apple Jack smiles me. “Well, looks like I didn't need your fancy words after all.”

I shrug. “Suits me fine. Me not talking to her minimises the risk of me giving her a cardiac arrest.”

She gives me a look of sincerity. “Oh now c'mon, don't beat yourself up so much. You ain't a punching bag, Salty.”

“I'm not? It definitely feels that way. I mean, I'm an orphan, I'm unemployed, I'm a verbal time bomb that'll go off any second without warning...





… AND TO TOP IT OFF, DO YOU SEE THE BLACK SHIT COMING FROM MY EYES? THOSE ARE MY TEARS!”

… Oh shit, am I actually crying?

Yes, yes I am, the black blob on the floor confirms it.

I look around the room, to see how the Apple Family are reacting to my surge. Granny Smith is looking with her mouth open widely. Probably in shock of seeing me crying ink than anything else... Because apparently I'm the only pony who does that. I look towards Big Mac, who is crying what Twilight assures me is actual tears. 

And Apple Jack is... Hugging me. Okay, if this is going to be a common thing with these ponies, I need to make a NO HUGGING sign. Oh... Oh goddess, she stroking my mane too! Quick, Woundsalt, shout STRANGER DANGER! No, wait. Who will hear me if I say that? The two closest to me are the assailant's family. I think that only works if your assailant is older than you anyway.

She seems to be whispering something in my ear...

“There, there. Is alright, now. Just let it all out...”

…

“Um... Applejack? What the hell did I say when I surged just now?”

“Hmm?” The mare said raising her voice a few notches, but still sounding sincere. “You mean all that was...?” She realises she is still hugging me and then lets go. “All that was your magic right now?”

I nod.


“All... righty then.” She replies in a manner that would be called concerned. “Big Mac, get the mop and clean up the ink, will ya? Me and Woundsalt'll be cleanin' ourselves up in the kitchen.”

The big red stallion nods and starts walking to the direction to the closet. 

“I... I suggest some baking powder and some water. Make a... make a paste out of it.”

He turns his head to his side to look at me, smiles and bows in recognition. A man with few words.

I can only dream to be like that.

So his sister and I head to the kitch- Oh, look! Things that are not made out of wood! Okay, granted, I didn't expect to see an oven made of wood, but the way everything was back in the living room, I wouldn't put it pass them to try and make that work. Hell, I'd watch them try to make that work; that sounds like a fun watch.

I see a pelican on the open kitchen window frame. No way in hell is that sanitary. Nor common. “What's with the bird? You girls got Fluttershy's birdies sending things to each other?”

“Yep!” She nods. “We gotta send letters to Twilight somehow, and setting up magical fire to teleport to Spike takes a lotta time. Heck, makin' sure the birds ain't going to get stopped by her new security was a hassle and a half already.” There was a tiny bit of silence as she fills up the sink with some water and dish soap. “Y'know, I gotta tell her about what you said in there, surge or not. So if you ain't gonna correct yourself and say it was all you-”

“I'm telling the truth, I swear!” I say, picking up a sponge. “Granted, crying while I did it was different but it was a surge! What the buck did I say that made you think I wasn't?”

“Well... It kinda... It kinda sounded like you were having a emotional breakdown, just then. I mean, fair enuff if you were, with all that happened since ya got here and we're restrictin' the only crutch you got. Whatchya think about the routine, by the way?”

“Pretty good, considering that the alternative is not at all.”

“Yeah...” AJ sighs as she wipes her shoulder with her sponge. “I personally think we should delay tackling your drinkin' problem for some other time when thing's ain't so busy, but... well, it's a good compromise I suppose.”

We smile as we both look beyond the pelican at the orchard behind the big-billed bird.

“… Now pardner, I know it's been a bit too hectic ever since you got here, what with all the life-changin' stuff that's happened just today alone; But if you need a shoulder to cry on, me an' the girls are here for you, m'kay? Don't you worry about givin' our coats ink stains, now!”

I think I should take offence to that last sentence. Ah well, I can't pretend it's not comforting.

“I am fine, but thanks all the -” I hear a knock from the kitchen door. “Are we expecting guests?”

She looks at the door. “Oh ain't that nice, Zecora decided to come 'ere instead! Saves us headin' up through th' forest. She's a zebra friend of ours who does some potions and stuff. I know it could be a long shot, but I figure that she'd might have some clue to how to control the CMC. We've encountered some stuff we didn't even know of but she always seems to know what it is and how t' fix it!”

A zebra, down here? Interesting. I met a fair few in West Cantrlot. Pretty shady folks admittedly, but hey, like I know anyone from West Canterlot that isn't. Not like they did anything illegal either, all of them just sat around listening to Half-Buck and calling themselves certain words which if I say it to them they'd knock my lights out. 

Well, I say if. More when. Fucking CMC, I hope this Zecora does have something that can cure it.

Apple Jack opens the door to reveal the striped pony. Hmm... Mohawk, hooped ear piercings, neck bling; clearly not a zebra from the west side. Looks like one directly from the home country of Zebrafrica, or at least one wanting to keep her roots. 

Maybe I should greet her in the language. That'll be kind, right? Good thing I learnt some Zebrafrikaan from the West Canterlot Z-crew before I unintentionally called one of them a Dolichohippus.

“Ek buig vir jou, dame. Ek is geroep Woundsalt.” I bow to you lady, My name is Woundsalt.

“Ek buig in ruil, Woundsalt.” Zecora replied... along with some other words that went over my head.

“Um, that was practically all that I know, sorry. All I got was you bowing back .” 

The zebra nods in understanding.

“It's is fine, O poet of white,
What I said was I smile.
For hearing my native tongue talked
it has certainly been a while.”

… I'm going to pretend she didn't rhyme on purpose there. I'll just smile and nod as she puts her bag down.

“Forgive me for saying, but you look
Quite different than your picture in your book.”

… she's totally doing that on purpose. That's... kind of weird.

“Could be a pretty old photo. Y'know, ageing...”

“That and the life you did choose.
You clearly look like you hit the booze.”

Okay, I got to address this. It's getting too much.

“Hey, can you stop doing the rhyming? I mean, I get that you want to be all mystical and shit, but come on; some dignity for bu-”

The cowfilly's hoof goes into my word-hole at a speed I am surprised didn't knock out some teeth.

“Yeah, sorry Zecora. I didn't tell 'im about it yet.” She takes her leg out of my mouth. “She ain't doin' it to act mystical. She's still learnin' the language, Y'see. So she challenges her Equestrian by rhymin'!”

“Sure, the rhyming can be annoying,
but no expensive tutor I'll be employing!”
The zebra states with a hoof up in the air, and then moves herself and her bag to the kitchen table to starts set up whatever we have in store with her.

“Oh... Okay, then. If it's for educational purposes and not some tacky stereotypical witch doctor B.S., then I am fine with it...”

Now I'm kind of tempted to... No, I shouldn't. Come on, Woundsalt; some restraint.

… Ah, fuck restraint. I'm going to break the rhyme game!

“… Pop quiz: Something that rhymes with orange!”
“My kind of work sometimes require sporange.”

“Very good. Next up; the word purple.”
“The saddle strap is called a curple.”

“How about month?”
“A rhyme I know a bunch.”

“How about the toilet?”
“Smells as bad as a cigarette.
Woundsalt, is this going to be all day?
We've got some magic we have to tame.”

“Okay, last one. And it's a doozy... Silver!”

It's taking her a few moments. But she gets the answer.
“A female lamb is called a... chilver.”

I applaud. Clearly, she taught herself well.

The zebra bows.

“I thank you for the surprise test...”
She points towards the table.
“But now this powder you must digest.”

I look towards the non-varnished table to find what... looks like cocaine. West Canterlot is not exactly the capital of the Straight-Edge Movement, so I know what cocaine looks like, though I never taken any. I also know that you don't lick cocaine, at least not in a powder form, so clearly looks can be deceiving.

I turn towards the Zecora and Apple Jack.

“This is safe, right?”

The cowgirl turns towards her mohawk-ed friend.
“That's a good point actually. What will happen when he licks the stuff?”

“YOU DON'T KNOW EITHER? WHY DID YOU PLAN THIS?”

“Hey, She said it'll help you out! It will help him out, right? And it's a legal way to help him? Because Twi's trying to cut down his drinkin' and the last thing she wants to hear is me giving him some illegal substance...”

Zecora nods.

“It's completely safe; and legal too. No need to call the Po-po.
It's a hallucinogenic to set you on a journey solo
to go inside yourself, so clearly we can not follow.
If you don't want it, that is fine. But remember: YOLO.”

Urk! “Okay, I figured you needed the rhyme but can you refrain from using the imbecilic version of carpe diem in future?”

I regain control. “Sorry. It does that... infrequently.”

Apple Jack looks at me as if I bucked a tree right out of the roots. “Sounds like another reason to lick the powder t'me.”

I concur.

I licked it up in one quick motion. “So when is this going to kick-”

the word 'in' never exited my mouth. Probably just as well. Most of that sentence was aimed at the floor, anyway.
> Hey There, Good Looking
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

…

I'm... I'm in a void... A white void... White to the left of me, white to the right... Everywhere... White...

...

OH

COME

THE

FUCK

ON!

Really? Fucking really? Just a white void? This is my inner self? I know I don't think highly of myself, but this? This is insulting!

Why? Why is there nothing but white? Is it because I'm all white? Is this astral plane taking the piss out of me for dyeing my mane black? Well, fuck you too, astral plane!

I can think up better inner selves than you any day of the week.

Like say, some kind of utopia where miniature versions of myself swimming in a  synchronized fashion in different kinds of booze and liquors. Or, some kind of starry plain where some freakish spirit-creature speaks in riddles. Hell, I'm a wordy type of guy, I could've had a city where everything is made out of words! Skyscrapers made out of the word 'skyscraper', Giant bold yellow word to signify a Taxi...

No wait, that's a terrible inner self. I don't really want to step into a puddle of puddles.
And I bet its one with a bad type face, so I'll get Comic Sans on my hooves.

Blech.

Hold up. I've spotted something. Something besides from me is in the void. A couple of pages of paper is blowing in the... lack of wind.  Wow, talk about minimalism. Nothing inside me but some floating document. Let's see if I can get-

Yep. It moved away. Hmm, interesting direction it's going in. Clearly what it wants me to do is to follow it. Can't pretend I can go anywhere else, so... lead on mystical documents! Deliver me to somewhere less tedious than this!


As the papers and I head towards the destination unknown to me, I get a few glimpses of it's contents. Really hard to make it out completely, what with it flapping away, but I saw my signature on it, and some other signature. Judging by the humongous two Ps towering over the rest of the squiggles, it's Printed Page's. I only know of one document that would dare have our names attached to them in such a manner.

The ownership of my poetry.

Well, not really. I know for a fact that is safe in a mattress in the Ponyville Library. In this reality it must be a symbol of some kind. My soul, perhaps? Or lack of one? Maybe it's just a piece of recent memory leading me to... Oh my goddess, is that... IT IS! It maybe a speck in the distance right now, but I know what exactly the copyright is taking me!

To my old office; Green, move-able walls and all! Even from here I can tell it's just as small and oppressive as it was back then! Ah, nostalgia...

I just call my old torturous working space nostalgic. Wow, Vinyl was right, I am suffering from work-equivalent Stockholm Syndrome.

The document flies above a wall and goes into the then-called 'Box of Salt.' I enter through the gap that resembles a doorway to see my old desk, chair and file cabinet. Exactly where I left it. Everything is... here, even the ink pot I never used. I believed you shouldn't use some other pony's ink when the it's your emotions you're writing down... From the time I still believed everypony cried ink, of course.

Wait... there's still one thing left unaccounted for. My silent rebellion against the no decoration rule of Printed Mint. I stashed it in the bottom drawer of the f- IT'S HERE! 

THE BIRD THAT DIPS ITS HEAD REPEATEDLY! GODDESS, I LOVE THIS THING! Wait... this is my subconscious... nopony around can stop me putting Mr. Bobby-bird where he belongs.

On.
The.
Desk.

And with one quick motion, it was so.

…

It's... beautiful. I finally have put to rest that dream I always had. It maybe be one of the smaller ones, but if I can do that, what can't I do?

… huh. I just realised something. Mr. Bobby-bird is not complete unless he's drinking something. Maybe the water cooler's around here, too. I'll just grab a plastic cup and...

Oh... but of course she's here. Same smile and pose as always.

'Mother.' 

Trust her to be in my mind-land. Even when the being this statue is dedicated to is some other naughty mare, she will always be my symbolic equivalent of my real mother. That is as much written in stone as the one's underneath her back hooves...


LOOK BEHIND YOU


Huh... I swear it was 'To All Who Need it Most.' Shows how much I used to drink, I guess.

Or... Maybe this void actually wants me to look behind me. But what's behind me? I just came from behind me! Only thing that is behind me is my office and a birdy that wants some drinky-poo; nothing else!

… Fine! If Statue-Mom wills it, then it must b-WHAT IN THE ROYAL FUCK?

It's me. Another me. Well, Not exactly like me, some things are different. For instance, this me didn't dye his mane black. I always was a pure white pony. White coat and white mane; you can lose me out in a snowstorm back before my cutie mark. Kinda hard to see my other self, actually, minus our red eyes and of course our mark. No wonder the folks at Diamond Heart's forced me to dye my mane. At least I got to choose the colour. 

The other difference between me and me is that... he's a unicorn. There is a horn on his head, and the horn is huge... goddess I hope that's not compensating for something.

“Oh, don't worry, it's not. It's kind of representing the power you have inside you. Pretty powerful magic; being linked to every written word in history and all.”

…

“Did you just-”

“-Read your mind? No.” The unicorn self shakes his head. “We sort of share the same one, so everything you think, I think of too. A real freak-fest I know, but... well, you sort of get freak-fests when you take some hallucinogenic powder.”

“Ah... Okay.” I say as I try to understand what the fuck I just said. “So... What exactly are you?”

“Short answer? You.” The twin states. “Long Answer: All of you. The Ego, the Alter-Ego, the Id, Your inner-most self, your outermost self, the drives and ambitions you know you have, the drives and ambitions you don't know you have, your opinions from sexual equality, your opinions on those birds that dip their heads repeatedly, ALL of you... Excluding...” He points to his humongous horn.

“... Your magic.
As you are aware, it sort of does its own thing, don't you?”

“In my defence,” A Trottingham noble's voice echoes as the unicorn's forehead-centred appendage flickers a red aura. “I've only been doing as I truly wished when we moved to Ponyville.”

Huh. A talking horn. Can't say that's normal, but I can't pretend that's the oddest thing happening right now. “So if you're all of me...” I point towards the void. “... then what is all of this?”

“All of you also, Master Salt.” The horn flashes. “ You see, the powder made you enter your inner self. But the inner self is in you, therefore what we are experiencing now is an infinite loop of you meeting infinite selves while inside infinite selves and we will be doing so until the powder wears off. That's Onderlandwah for you. It may be legal, but the way it makes ponies metaphorically blow their minds it shouldn't be.”

“Right... I think I got it.” I give the horn a poke. “Let's start talking to you then about how you ruined my life, then. Since we got until the powder wears off.”

“Yes...” The horn glows. “Before you give me the stern speech which I probably made up for you, I must tell you that I have very little control over the surges. In fact, I've been trying to stop them happening.”

“Have you now?”

“With terrible results, admittedly, but yes. In fact, I only managed to stop it once. Remember in Fluttershy's abode this morning when you felt like your head started spinning?”

“That was you stopping yourself from letting loose?”

“Indeed. How I managed it, I still don't know.”

Huh. Okay, at least I know my magic isn't deliberately messing with my life.

“Oh, but he has been deliberately messing with our lives!” The Uni-Salt shouts in a bitter tone. “The surges may not be intentional, but the possessions and the dreams sure as fuck are!”

Oh, are they now? Why am I not surprised? Well, probably because it was me who told me, but that's not the point.

“He- he doesn't need to know th-”

“Oh, yes WE do!” The other self interrupts his own horn. “Have you ever wondered why you never had a possession until yesterday? It's because he didn't want Brainstorm to know we had CMC! Just imagine how better it would be if both him and in turn you knew what you had from the get-go!”

“Oh, no! There's no need for imagining!” The horn furiously blinked. “History already proven what could happen if Brainstorm knew! I have reports of him socialising, when he was a young up-and-comer, with the very same ponies who made Doctor Lab Coat's career a living hell because he didn't want his daughter to be a lab rat! And that oaf would sell you both to those assholes faster than you can down a cocktail shot, that's a fucking guarantee from me!”

“I hate to say I'm wrong, but the horn is right.” I say, trying to get my two bits into this conversation. “We are talking about the same pony that would rather see me get a cutie mark change without pondering whether or not the alicorn who done it accidentally before can do that on purpose!”

Salty-corn froze for a moment. “Huh. Didn't think of it like that until now.”

“That said, however, what the buck is up with you speaking Neightalian to Vinyl Scratch, even though you know we can't speak a lick of it at all?”

The other self smiles. “Yeah. What the buck was that?”

“W-well...” The horn splutters. “It... it was for the Common Goal.”

“Ooooooh, right I got you.” The Woundsalt attached to the horn says.

“I... don't. What do you mean by common goal?”

“It is what most ponies, deep down, know what they must do. A goal which few should dare refuse to strive for.” Says the magic.

“Especially us.” Agrees the Salty-corn, as he puts a hoof on my shoulder. “Woundsalt...

...You need to get yourself laid.”

…

“Wow. Fucking charming.”

“But it's true!” My inner self proclaims “Most ponies want, nay, need to find somepony to have it with; whether filly or colt!”

“Professor Strudel Thinker.” The horn interrupts.

“Right!” The albino unicorn continues. “And the fact is we always had no-one to be with on Hearts and Hooves day every year! We need to find somepony! It's in our very being; In everypony's very being!”

“So my magic possessed me because inside I'm subconsciously wanting sex THAT badly?”

“Yes!” Both my albino self and his horn yell.

I sigh. “Fine. So, how are we going to learn Neightalian in such short amount of time?”

“Well you don't need to.” The horn flashes “I have to possess your body for the entire d-”

“BUCK NO!” Both I and I scream in unison.

“No way in Tartarus are you taking over my body for that fucking long! We all know how painful that is to me!” I roar in anger. “Besides, I recall you telling Twilight you possessing me for so long can fucking kill me and I would like an option that doesn't do that if you don't mind!”

“And also,” Other me states. “We actually want to meet Octavia...”

“Yeah!”

“...be friends with her...”

“Yeah!”

“...and possibly have a threesome with her and the DJ!”

“...Possibly!”

“Yeah!”

Gee, my inner self is horny.

“Fine!” The horn grumblingly dims. “So how are you two going to speak Neightalian, hmm?”

“Well, the way I see it,” The albino self speaks. “You make us say things we don't mean to say outside of possessions nor surges. Say that monkey centaur thing for instance, or... what was that one one about selling souls?”

“Faust!” the horn glitters with glee. “Of course! Referencing! I'll look up some translation booklets and multi-language dictionaries and translate what you hear and say! Genius!”

I sigh in relief. That's one problem out of the way. “Hey, why stop at Neightalian? If we speak Zebrafrikaan, we don't need to hear Zecora rhyme in Equestrian!”

“I couldn't agree more! YOLO... ick! Curse it and all like it!” The horn flickers. “But our time is almost up. I'll get the source material, you try and get some of that powder off her for later use. Don't pretend like we can't afford it!”

I smile. “Take care, magic... and you, me.”

“Right back at you, me. Oh and one more thing: You have a-”

I wake up.
> A Cartful of Bad Planning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Big Macintosh, easy when you brake.
It looks like the poet's now awake.”

“Eee-yup!” I hear as the cart slows down.

I shake my head a few times to try to get my sight straight. Safe to say even in my blurred vision, however, I am on a cart through the town of Ponyville, which is getting pushed by the big brother of the Element of Honesty. And to confirm this notion, the orange blur which I believe could be her is in the back of the cart with a greyish blob I suspect is Zecora. “So how was it, Wound? What did ya see in this inner journey?”

“Well, it wasn’t really much of a journey, more like a conversation with myself and the magic horn on his head in a realm of white. Kind of disappointing really; I was hoping for something more creative.”

“A realm of white? Talking to yourself?
Did I take the wrong powder from the shelf?”
A greyish blob moves around as my sight slowly gets its shit together. It looks like she is getting the remainder of the powder out of her bag.
“No, Onderlandwah I did use.
So what explains this peculiar view?”

“What, are you saying that WASN’T supposed to be what I was seeing?”

“Yeah, she told me before that you would be coming out of it saying you had a strange journey of some kind to discover somethin’ about yourself. Buncha weird characters, musical numbers, that sorta thing. Zecora had some of it one time, an’ went on some journey on some yella road with Moonwalker in a scarecrow outfit.”

My sight returns to normal as the zebra smiles.
“And from that journey I had that day,
I did not fear moving away.”

I try standing up in the cart. “You mean…” I fell face first thanks to my still asleep legs. Better try again later. “You mean I could have danced down a yellow road with Moonwalker but instead I had some multiple personality B.S. in some boring void?”

The now non-blurry fillies shrug.

“Goddess damn it!” I shout as I stand up again, this time staying upright, only to realise I’m in a cart and sit down again for my own safety. “Trust me to not hallucinate correctly! And I bet all that we’ve planned won’t happen either.”

They now both look perplexed, at each other, and back at me.

“What did you plan with yourself, exactly?” Apple Jack quizzes.

“Well, I made a plan with the unicorn me and his horn to translate Neightalian and Zebrafrikaan for me to speak and understand, but good chance it's just bull-”
Zecora grabs me and reaches her mouth to my ear in an enthusiastic manner.

“[This is a test to see if it’s working: reply by saying a sentence in Zebrafrikaan if it worked.]”

Oh Celestia… I understood that. It’s working! Yes! The uninteresting hallucination was useful! Let’s see… What to say… What to say… Ah! I know!

“Die appel kar is vol van palings.” 

The zebra moves back in reply, just as perplexed as before. The cow-filly is stunned.

“Did… did he just say somethin’ in Zebrafrikaan?”

“He did, but he said something surreal.
He claims the apple cart is full of eels.”

I laugh, only to realise I was the only one laughing.

“Seriously? No-pony here know that skit? Silly-Gallop and Fish Finder? The Bad Translator Book Sketch? Come on, Zecora, you are learning Equestrian and you don’t know about Python Mount’s Flying Circus?”

Clearly not. Okay.

“So it was intentional randomness?
I would never would have guessed.
Maybe say something that makes some sense
And will not make me feel like I’m dense.”

I nod. Something that’ll make more sense… I know! I’ll ask her where the train station is!

“[Do you mind telling me where I can find the railway station?]”

The zebra is excited. “[Yes! Yes! Very good! And very fluent! I can’t believe how well your pronunciation is!]”

I smile. Nice to know I can work with my magic. I can’t call it controlled yet, but fuck I love it when I’m using it to my advantage instead of it unintentionally trying to get me killed. Maybe I should ask Zecora about the powder.

“[Is it okay if I can get more powder? I have a feeling I’m going to have to talk to my magic again.]”

“[If it’s the reason how this conversation is happening right now, I agree.]” Zecora says as looks at Apple Jack. “[But there’s a good chance she’ll say no. I have an idea.]”

“What? What are you two talkin’ ‘bout? Woundsalt, did you ask her somethin’, there?”

“Yeah, I asked whether or not I can get some powder for some other time.”

“Oh gee, buddy, I don’t know. I bet Twi’ll be already mad at me handin’ you a drug…”

“The drug’s not addictive, it’ll be fine.
In fact I think everypony should give it a try!
I bet if you give some to Applebloom,
She will find her cutie mark very soon!”

Is she seriously pushing the drug to Apple Jack’s sis- Wait. I think I know what she’s planning to do.

She’s planning for Apple Jack to take Onderlandwah and get her unconcious.

“Woah, now!” the filly shouts. “No offence, Zecora, but there is no way I am givin’ her anything that’ll knock ‘er out!”

“Well, you could try it out yourself… I mean, if it’s good for you, it’s good for your sister, right?” I mumble.

“… Beg your Pard’n?”

“Well, Apple Jack, you can’t tell me you don’t have questions to ask yourself! Did kids used to pick on you for your name? “

AJ’s hesitates before nodding. “A very stallion name more than a mare’s, huh? Made my poor classmates think I was easy pickings. The biggest mistake was fighting back, I’m sad to say. But what does that got to do w-?”

I put my hoof onto her mouth gently.

“They tell me back in the orphanage, a mother’s instinct during foalbirth names the foal. So with that in mind, why did your dear mother give you something that sounds like a colt’s name? Implying something, perhaps?”

“Wuh… Whut you mean?”

“I’m saying, according to your mother, you might be a colt stuck in a filly’s body.”

…

Wow, I am quite surprised I don’t have my face kicked off my head.

I bet the thought to do so crossed her mind before she started to think about it.

I turn around to see our driver looking behind him at his sister before returning to look at the road. I may not know much of a brother-sister relationship, but I think he gave out a look of ‘well, if you want to do it, do it.’

“All right, fine. Gimme some.”

Zecora pulls out the bag of powder and pours a smidgen of it onto the cart floor. The cowgirl hands me her hat.

“If this stuff kills me, I’m haunting you til’ your grave. You hear me?”

“Noted.” I say as I put her hat on my head.

She turns to the powder, and licks up the Onderlandwah. “Huh. It don’t taste like it l…”

If she was about to say looks, I would agree. But I would never know until she wakes up.

Zecora takes the unconscious filly’s hat from my head and puts the bag of powder in my hoof. “[Well done. I could never have sold her the idea that way. Maybe you learnt something from Doctor Brainstorm after all.]”

“[Don’t count on it.]” I reply. “[I’ll pay you the moment I find an ATM in this town.]”

“[Oh, no need. Consider it a present of thanks for giving me someone to talk to without having to think up some rhyme.]”

I nod as I turn to the driver. Clearly this gift needs to be in the mattress with my deed to my poems. “Hey, Big Mac! Think you can drop me off at the library? I figure Rarity’s boutique will be easy for me to find by myself.”

“Eeee-yup.” The big red machine says as he stops to point at an extravagant building decorated to the brim.

And I thought Twilight was the fucking princess.
> The Madness of the Material Mare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“[Hello, my name is Woundsalt.]”

…

“[Hello, my name is Woundsalt.]”

…

“[Hello, my name is Wound] - Urk! Oh, will you stop that and get to Rarity’s already?”

“Right! Right! Sorry!”

I’m in the library looking in a mirror and was practising my Neightalian, before my magic took himself to end the session. I better get going, anyway. 

As I open the door, I feel even more nervous about the date. Granted, the major problem’s out of the way, but I can’t help but to feel nervous. That’s natural though, right? Nervous for a date? I never done anything like it before; what with the fact that I am pretty much a biological freak of nature. Don’t think fillies want to go to your place if your place was in a fucking orphanage too, I bet. 

Oh Goddess, I can see the boutique from here. I’m surprised it didn’t catch my eye when I walked from the chariot yesterday. It’s huge! It’s exquisite! It’s… making me depressed for equinity, actually. Some unicorn selling clothing to a very nudist civilisation having such a magnificent shop and home, and yet the earth pony that sells fruit to vegetarians has to make her house out of her own trees. If I didn’t have the threat of my face having a hoof-sized hole if I even dare to touch a bottle, I would say it’s enough to make you drink.

What makes me less depressed and more stunned, however, is the realisation that we have such a very decorated and lavish place in Ponyville, and yet Twilight Sparkle was living in a tree.

Granted, that time was back when she was just a student. Celestia’s personal student, however. You’d think having your title have ‘Celestia’s personal’ in front of it gets you the fanciest house in town and NOT a tree. I hope she doesn’t move back in that tree now that she’s an alicorn. That’ll just be silly. She would at least have something beautiful… Like the same tree, but made out of crystals! 

… Nah, that’ll look ridiculous.

Ah to hell with it, now is not the time to discuss living conditions of a pony who isn’t even here. My new tux awaits! 

…

Where the fuck is the door to this place? I seriously can’t find it! There is just too much going on visually that I can’t even comprehend an entrance into the place! Wait, wait, I see some purple rectangle… I think that could be a door, but it could be just a heavily decorated piece wood with diamond shaped windows just added here for the mise en scene or some shit.

Only one way to find out. Knocking.

Okay, Woundsalt. We didn’t get much of a good reception on your first door knock, but this time there isn’t a squirrel with a phobia of woodpeckers on the other side. Prove it to yourself that you can do this. Deep breaths.

*Knock…*
The purple rectangle moves open.

…

Oh right, it’s a shop. Doors in shops are usually unlocked and easily operable for the public.

Fuck!

I open the incredibly fancy door into the incredibly fancy boutique to ring the incredibly fancy bell that tells the incredibly fancy unicorn, who was giving an incredibly fancy letter to an incredibly fancy swan, that something not incredibly fancy has arrived.

“Ah, Woundsalt. Darling!” Rarity says. “Do you mind keeping the door open? Odette here is just leaving.”

I stand aside as the swan walks outside, turns around to bow at a waving Rarity, spreads its wings and makes a beeline for Canterlot.

“Such a fantastic creature…” The unicorn sighs as the bird flies away. “Anyway darling, is everything alright? I thought Apple Jack would be accompanying you on the way here.”

“She’s… on a bit of a self-discovery mission right now…”

“Her too? My word, first Rainbow Dash and now dear Apple Jack. Whoever next? I don’t think Pinkie Pie gave any attention to-”

“Well, AJ’s not in the same way as Rainbow Dash.”

“Oh? So what is she exploring?”

“Well…”

Should I tell her that right now as we speak her friend is on a drug-induced journey to discover she’s a stallion stuck in a mare’s body?

… Nah. That sounds like a red flag to me. Plus, I don’t want to freak her out. It’s kind of bad enough I had to witness some Diva freakouts during my time at The Canterlot Horn. Hoo boy! Let me tell you, Hell hath no fury than a Neighponese artist getting accused of getting her success from her dead husband. That being said though, Peace Lover is a magnificent mare who didn’t need that abuse from Printed Mint.

“… You know what? I hate to clam up about it, but I’ll leave it to her to say. It’s pretty life changing.”

“Ah, yes of course. How gentlemanly of you, Mister Salt.” Rarity smiles. “Now darling, I know you can’t really control the condition, but my sister and her friends are upstairs. I know it’s a promise you aren’t likely to keep, but please try and censor yourself, okay?”

I nod and close the door behind me. “Got it. I’ll try to keep the CMC in order.”

“Are you guys talking about us down there?” I hear echoing from the stairs.

“No, Sweetie Belle! You girls go back to whatever you three are doing up there!”

“Okay! Okay girls. Let’s put on those headphones!”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Coltrean Pop enthusiasts! Yay!” I hear two other fillies shout from inside some room up above us.

Heh. What kind of name is Cutie Mark Crusaders?

…

Cutie Mark Crusaders…

…

“Sure, this Cutie Ma- I mean, Confused Magic Condition might not be a decent dinner conversation…”

…

Confused Magic Condition…

…

“What, you mean you didn't quote literature before you knew about the Crus- I mean, the condition?”

…

CMC…

…

“Yeah, w-we’d better give you the full name. Just in case we c-confuse it with a-anything else.”

…
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF MOTHER FU-”





“I’m sorry.”

“Oh no darling, it’s fine! They already had their headsets in listening to that Psychic Blast single, so they didn’t hear anything! If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I thought someone already filled you in on the coincidence by now.”

I smile knowing my surge hasn’t poisoned some youths’ mind… In Ponyville. What I made my younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ at Saint Diamond Heart’s learn I shall never know.

“So anyway, let’s get started preparing you for your date.” Rarity says as she takes her last hoof from the steps. “Starting with your Neightalian dilemma…”

“Oh! Um… [I’m afraid that’s not much of a dilemma anymore.]”

She froze. “Was that… I thought you said you didn’t know any!”

“I didn’t. But AJ called round Zecora, she told me to lick some powder and after one hallucinogenic trip later, I became a walking talking translator guide.”

“… So you can control your magic now that you’ve taken Onderlandwah?”

“Well, not exactly control. The surges still happen, as you seen bef-” Hang on. Did she just…? “And how do you know about Onderlandwah, miss Rarity?”

She nervously giggles and looks to her right for a few seconds before shooting me a serious look.

“This stays in the boutique.”

I nod in fright as her horn glows to open a drawer from one of the many cabinets to quickly lift up a similar bag to the one Zecora gave to me, only to drop it back into the drawer and close it again.

“I only took it once, and it was just after Twilight’s Ascension.” She says in a very unhappy tone. “I was stuck on a design for a wedding dress for the entire month, so when I told Zecora about it, she gave me some to get rid of the Artist’s Block. Quite a journey. How was yours?”

“Nothing much. Just a white void with a few objects that reflected my past.”

“Pity.” She says looking upstairs, with a look that tells me that she clearly didn’t tell her sister yet, nor plan to. “Anyway, I found the design, made the dress and sent it to the bride-to-be in Cumreign. The big day’s today. I bought the bag off Zecora, in case of there being more times I’m stuck.”

…

“Okay.”

She looks at me. 

“Okay? That's all?”

“Well, according to Zecora the powder’s not addictive. And from one artist to another, Miss Rarity, I know of many a pony in our field that used more dangerous stuff for inspiration. Satchel Mouth, Grungy Spirit, Bat Bite, Pearl Earing…”

Ack! Again with the hugging!
“Oh, Woundsalt! Thank you! It feels good to get it off my chest!” She, seeing that I'm grinding my teeth at the moment, lets go. “Maybe I can talk to my friends about it after all!”

Wow, how come I feel like these girls are learning from me, besides from the vice versa like I am supposed to be doing?

“No problem. Can we go back on topic?”

“Oh yes! But of course!” She leaps in front of an obscenely purple curtain “Now, about your suit…”

She flings open the curtains with a flash of her horn. What was behind the curtain was an army of mannequins of roughly my shape and size, sporting multiple pieces of clothing and accessories of many different colours.

The unicorns smiles slyly.
“You don’t mind if we mix and match, do you?”

> Fitted for Disaster
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I make a wincing face.

“Not liking the colours, darling?”

“That and I can feel a pin that isn’t poking me, but very close my junk.”

The unicorn giggles. “I’m sorry darling, I swear I took them all out; must have hidden from me. Right, how about the number 42 jacket with the number 6 sweater, the fedora on 7 and… maybe forget about the trousers for now?”

I nod as I carefully remove the jacket, shirt and the almost hazardous pants and put them back onto the mannequins where I got them from. Besides from the close shave, it’s been a good hour like this; Rarity saying the numbers of the mannequins to acquire items of clothing from and then wear said clothes only for one of us to say they don’t like this combination, so I have to put the clothes back. Rinse and repeat. I’m virtually surprised I’m not bored out of my senses. Then again, it is a fairly new experience for me. I don’t go out clothes shopping very often, what with society being okay with you wearing nothing in most establishments.

I’m finding it amazing that all these suits were made so fast. Rarity did admit she found some that were supposed to be for other clients but changed their minds, but that was just clothing only for a quarter of the mannequins here! Multi-tasking with her magic, apparently. That’s what she said when I brought this matter to question before, anyway. Personally, I believe there’s a sweatshop full of old Moscolt ladies in the basement, getting paid in the excess fabric so they can make blankets to survive the cold. That, or vodka… I could go with some vodka right n-NO! Stick with the routine, Woundsalt! The Dash will know and the Dash can hurt!

Let’s see… Mannequin number 6’s turtle neck looks nice. And I’m liking the stripe on the number 7 fedora. The number 42 mannequin is more to the back.

…

OH TARTARUS NO!

“HOW ABOUT NO ON THAT JACKET?” I yell to the mare at the front the horde of faceless dolls.

“TOO FLASHY, DARLING?” I hear her yell back.

I look back at it. It’s covered to the brim with rubies cut into five point stars. Hunka-Hunka would be proud to wear this. Not me. 

“YES!” I reply as I run back to the front. “I mean seriously, I thought Vinyl Scratch said nothing too fancy.”

“I know she did. I know she did! It’s just that… this restaurant you’re going to is the fanciest in town! We are talking stringed quartets and champagne, Woundsalt! Salad with truffles in it! I’m surprised that Miss Scratch even got a reservation at Filliways!”

“Did she?”

“I… I think she did, why else did she say to meet at the front of Filliways? From what I overheard this morning she was planning this for six months, correct? Clearly she’s got this booked!”

I look back to the general direction of the jacket. “True… but nothing fancy. Maybe something like it but without the ruby stars?”

The purple-maned mare puts her hoof up to her chin to think “I think number 27, but that’s one of the rejected ones from other clients so I can’t speak on how well it fits.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” 

I drop the sweater and hat neatly on the seat and return to the mannequin jungle.

You know, these things look a lot like me. Maybe just remove the mane, paint over my mark…

... Oh buck me...





…

“Woundsalt, are you all right in the… Oh, sweetie…”

Well, she caught me crying. Kind of easy to from a distance I imagine, what with all the black on white. Probably looked like some kind of minimalist painting. What I’m crying about is… Number 27. 

A mannequin, which like the others, looks like me. But this one even more so than the rest. Whoever it was who made this thing put hair on the dummy. Synthetic, Black hair. For its mane and its tail. Why would they do that? To make it more realistic, I assume. Oh Cadence, and black wasn’t the original hair colour. It’s black paint poorly covering white hair! The only difference is this dummy didn’t get his hair done by somepony who knew what they were doing!

… Well, that and… the horn.

It’s a unicorn mannequin. A unicorn mannequin look alike of myself. As if my inner self dunked his head and tail into a paint bucket! And it’s safe to say he’s looking happier than I do right now.

She sits right next to me as she hovers a box of tissues over.

“This mannequin used to be at the front window. Since it looks more realistic than most of the others, you see. But ponies were put off by the terrible dye job he had!”

Clearly she tried to make that sound like it was funny. And now, realising that her attempt of humour had failed, she sighs.

“I’m guessing you’re wondering how it could’ve been, aren’t you? If you had controlled it from the beginning? If you were a unicorn?”

“… Yeah…”

She turns to the statue.

“… For one thing,” I start, “I could’ve been adopted in no time.”

“Oh now, Woundsalt, really…”

“No, no. I’m serious. Unicorn colt orphans have the second highest adoption rate. Right after Unicorn girls. They don’t even bother creating a file in the database for them at Saint Diamond Heart’s, they get adopted that fast.”

She looks at me, eyes widened. “They don’t even name them?”

“No need... Abandoners always write the foal’s name down on the basket.”

“Ah yes, of course. Mother’s Sense.” She says while nodding. A calming silence falls.

“So who would unicorn Woundsalt get adopted by?” Rarity asks, perhaps killing the silence, but nod the mood.

“Well, knowing that he would have the same luck I have, he’d- Wait…

…

We’re making a large assumption here.

We are assuming my mother, whoever she may be, would have left me there no matter who I was. What if… What if the CMC was the reason she left me there? Mother’s Sense, right? She’d know! If I was a unicorn, I won’t have the CMC and...”

“The CMC is not the reason she left you, Woundsalt.”

“Well, how do you know that’s not the reason?”

She grabs my ears and making my head turn to meet hers.

“Because no mother should abandon a child just because they are different! If this was the case, that MONSTER doesn’t deserve any child at all!”

…

She lets go of my ears. “Sorry, darling. That was a little heartless of me to say that.”

“Oh no, there’s no need. Trust me, I called her worse things than monster.” I reply as I rub my ears.

…

“You know something, darling?” Rarity says, clearly trying to change the subject. “These trousers on number 27 do look lovely, especially with that belt.”
I look at the dummy. “Yeah. That is a very nice belt. Maybe we shouldn’t forget the pants.”

“I couldn’t agree more!” She says as she undresses the mannequin with her telekinesis. I can’t help but smile as we walk all the way back to the front.





“… So, what do you think?”

She looks at me and smiles. “Magnifique!”

I look into the mirror. I wouldn’t say magnifique myself, but if she’s going to act Prench, I’m not going to stop her.

Because I look fabulous.

White suit with a black lining with pants to match, red turtleneck that isn’t itchy as Tartarus, and a fedora with a diagonal stripe design to complete this masterpiece. Almost makes me forget it’s… me!

I bow to my suitor, making her blush.

“Oh Mister Salt, you charmer! That cellist is lucky I have a strong stance against older stallions, otherwise you’d never get to that date!”

I smile. “Well, thank you for the suit. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh please! Consider it my present from last night!”

Sigh… another opportunity to get rid of some of those bits dashed against the wall again. Ah well, I’ll just buy some other pointless shit and I’ll be dirt cheap poor in… Well, I was about to say no time, but that is a serious amount of money.

“So, do you know what’ll be a good thing to order at this Filliways?”

“They have a magnificent salad.”

“Do they?”

“Oh yes. Well, at least Printed Mint told me so when he needed a suit repair a few months back. Is it true that he passed away this week?”

“Yeah, I got the news from Page today! They put his urn in some restaurant. Apparently they have a magnificent sa-BUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

> The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You can see it from here.

You can see it from here, outside the window.

They even got his picture right next to him. 

Printed Mint and his urn. His small, metallic, top of the line urn.

…

Fuck!

Out of all the restaurants in this goddess damn town, it just had to be this one he just had to put his cremated remains in!

Why would he even do that? Why would they even allow to have him in there? I don’t know about anypony else, but the last thing I want in the same room I’m eating in is the remains of some dead pony; yet alone, in my case, the remains of my dead previous employer!

…

Is it wrong to say, however, that I kind of… want to have my boss’ ashes?

Can I buy it off the restaurant? I mean, I have the money and willing to spend it. Why not spend it on a little revenge? Why, I can imagine it now! Replacing a pin from a bowling alley with him, buy a nodding bird like the one from my experience with Onderlandwah and have it dip into his ashes (I know how he doesn’t like office decorations of that nature), mix it with my own ink restart my poetry career and use the mix to write free verse poetry criticizing the bourgeoisie and rousing the proletariat to seize the means of production! Well, either that or draw a giant penis. More likely, the giant penis.

Or… just have it on a fireplace just like Filliways’ has him. Where I can look at him, wine glass in hoof whether full of booze or not, and whisper to him with a sinister smile…

“You had my whole life in your hooves, my good stallion. And now I have your death in mine. Don’t worry, Mister Printed. I’ll give you the same care you gave to me.”

… Okay, why is there a niggling feeling at the back of my mind that’s telling me not to do that?

Oh, crap… Am I… Am I seriously willing to put my totally justifiable revenge aside because… I’m wondering what Page would think?

…

Goddess damn it.

Okay then. I tell you what, Mister Mint, if my newfound respect for your son prevents me from having you, I’ll do the next worst thing.

Criticize the FUCK out of this establishment you loved so dearly!

Right, let’s see… It’s so…

You.

Yeah. It’s definitely you. I can see a pony like you eating here whenever they’re in town. It’s so fucking high end it’s not even funny. Besides from food, everything has a diamond on it.

Silverware? Got diamonds on them.
The plates? Got diamonds on them.
The chandelier? Well, it isn’t made out of fucking glass.
The patrons? Wearing diamonds.
The waiters? Crystal ponies… also wearing diamonds. Okay, now that’s just overkill.

Oop! Hold up, I found the exceptions! The instruments the band of violinists are playing! Not a bit of diamond on them! Good job you…

Three?

I thought Rarity said they had a quartet, A quartet doesn’t mean three. It means four. Where’s the fourth?

“…AND YOU CAN TAKE RINGING BELL’S CANON IN D AND STICK IT UP YOUR FLANK-HOLE, YOU FUCKING INGRATES!”

… Oh.

I think I just heard the fourth from the alley-way. Sounds like somepony decided to not work here anymore. Can’t blame them. I don’t even want to step in there now, I can’t even imagine stepping in there to work every day. In fact, good for…

Her.

A mare. That was a mare’s voice. Why is it I got the feeling…

… I’d better check.

…

Wow. She’s... Wow.




Wow.











… I’m at a loss of words. Why am I at a loss of words? Is it… No.  Come on now, Woundsalt. You know there’s no such thing as love at first sight. That’s bullshit reserved for child films and Printed Page’s repertoire. But what’s causing this rare occurrence that I, the pony that’s magically connected to practically ALL of literature, to have been stuck with nothing to say?

…

Maybe because she’s cute? No, wrong word. Makes me sound creepy. Pretty? Won’t work either; makes me sound like I’m five years old. Gorgeous? No, too frontal. Perfect? No, not even that’ll do. 

Indescribable?

You know what? Yeah. She’s indescribable.

The way she holds that dark grey mane, the way she wears that collar, the way she’s looking at the side door with great distaste until realizing I am here and then look at me, smiling… completely indescribable.

Wait… She’s looking at me. And Smiling.

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, BUCK! Say something, you idiot!

“Par-” Say something in NEIGHTALIAN, you idiot! “[Pardon me, are you by any chance Octavia Philharmonica?]”

She’s laughing! I don’t know what I said that’ll make her laugh, but I kind of like it that’s she’s laughing!

“Oh, Vinyl, you… Yes! Yes, I am! I’m guessing you’re the date! There’s no need for the Neightalian, anymore.”

Mother fuck - I was worried about that for the whole day! Took drugs for it, for buck’s sake! Ah well.

I make a small nod and then look at the door she clearly exited from. “Is this a bad time, or…?”

“Hmm? Oh no, no.” she says, sitting down. “Just some idiots who don’t realize that when I say I have a date tonight, it means I won’t be working late. I was planning to quit soon anyway; there is only so many times I can play the same song every mother fucking night!”

“I bet the salad isn’t even that good.”

“No, it isn’t! It’s just the same salad from down the street with fucking truffles in it! These stupid buck-wits are paying three times as much for that shit!”

Ha ha haa! Oh, thank Luna there’s a wall to lean on, otherwise I’ll be rolling on the floor! Printed Mint put his ashes into this place, and it turns out they’ve been conning him? Oh fuck, yes!

“And you know what else? They only hire ponies if they either from the Crystal Empire or claim to be Europonean! That’s discrimination if I ever heard it! The manager doesn’t even SPEAK any Europonean language whatsoever!”

“So that’s…” Woo-boy! Still tired from laughing. “So that’s why the Neightalian? So you can keep lying to these suckers?”

The grey mare shrugs unapologetically. 

“Is getting a gig that bad in this town?”

“For a cellist, definitely. It’s the only one. Not like I need it really, it was just something to keep my hooves busy until the next Gala...” 

I smile. I feel like something is in order, here.

“Well, let’s show them that, shall we?”

She looks up. “What do you mean? You heard me back there, didn't you?”

“My dear, we may have met for about five minutes, but I can tell there’s still something you need to get off your chest. Trust me, I got something too. Come with me.”

We motion her to the front window.

“Now, I want you to look at someone here; someone who made your time here pretty much Tartarus.”

She nods as we look through the window. I don’t know who she’s looking at, but don’t worry Minty, old buddy, old pal, I know my eyes are on you.

“I see her.” I hear my date say beside me.

“Do you have eye contact?”

“Yes… Everypony in there is looking at us.”
I look around. She’s right.

“That’s fine. You’re a performer, after all. Keep her eye contact.” Better keep mine with the picture of Mint.

“… Now, do you want to give her one hoof or two?”

“One.”

“All right. Left on three. One, Two…

THREE!”

I hear gasps coming from inside by the onlookers. There you go, Minty. Consider this my vengeance.

“And… release.”

Our hooves go down.

“So, are you feeling be-”

Um… she’s got her hooves on my shoulders.

She’s moving closer. She’s going to whisper something in my ear.

“Sorry, if it’s a bit frontal, but the bitch is a huge Page Packer. All hail the ‘Salt.”

What the fuck was that last p-ulp!

…

She kissed me!

… She fucking kissed me!

And that wasn’t a peck, neither. Like, ending of a rom-com kiss.

I look into the restaurant. They are all frozen right now, minus one crystal pony. She’s shouting something, probably of the offensive nature, but it’s hard to tell.

I turn to the crazy mare. Her eyes are…

Well…

… Indescribable.

“Why don’t we go somewhere a little less flashy?”

Hey, if it’s anywhere but here, I am absolutely fine with.
“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, have you heard of a bar called the SorriNA?”

“Oh, uh… I’m on a bit of a routine, so…”

“That’s fine. Parfait D’Amour makes a fantastic mocktail. Besides…

… It’s Woundsalt Wednesday tonight."

… I have a day at this place? The place, run by my old bully, has a DAY named after me. Fuck, Fluttershy’s right. He must have changed.

“All right, you’ve got my curiosity now. What’s a Woundsalt Wednesday?”

“Y-You never been to one?”

“I’m new in town.”

Wow, she smirks just as well as Vinyl Scratch. They must be sharing notes.

“Oh really? So where out of town doesn’t have a night where ponies dedicate the Great Un-alicorn Woundsalt by reading his words to all who dare to listen?”

… That is the most fucked up sentence I ever heard.

I have no clue what she fucking said! I’m guessing she meant ‘Where you from, stranger?’, but I heard the word ‘Un-alicorn’ before my name.

What in the royal fuck is in the water supply in this town?

I’ll just answer the question.

“West Canterlot.”

She’s laughing again. It’s still nice, but again; what’s so fucking funny?

She looks at me, and says the second most fucked up sentence I ever heard.

“You know he comes from there, and yet you don’t know who he is; what kind of impersonator are you?"
> Questionable Term of Pleasantries
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“… but she did! She crashed at the library last night!”

“Oh, that’s where she’s been last night, has she? In the library? Like everypony else knows where he’s living for the time being? Look sir, I tell you what: I can tell that me seeing through your illusion has displeased you, so here’s what we’ll do to stop bickering about who you are. We’ll be ourselves, but I’ll continue calling you Woundsalt until I get your real name from Vinyl Scratch. Will that be fine?”

“… All right, fine. If that’s an agreement to disagree.”

I can’t believe this: our first actual meeting in the flesh, and she thinks I’m a look-alike her roommate and possible girlfriend of a DJ managed to pay to go out with her like some kind of Call-colt!

And apparently, that’s a fucking thing! Bunch of white coated earth ponies painting their cutie marks over with my salt shaker and quill, conning others for free drinks and party invitations! I’m…

I’m…

I’m a thing. I’m actually a thing. Printed Page told me I was a thing, but this… this is…

This is Icon Status. World Wide Icon Status.

…

What the fuck did I do to deserve World Wide Icon Status? What, just from one fucking book?

…

...

...

You know what? Screw it. I’m here for a good time with this cellist, at the bar my childhood bully and his hermaphrodite runs. I’ve got time to ponder my fame later. Right now, I’m going to do what she says.

Be myself.

…

Without alcohol. Be myself without alcohol.

Hmm… maybe I should ask her about… anything. I know!

“So besides from the cello, do you play any other instruments?”

Oh, how she smiled when I asked that question. “Well, I just bought myself a double bass. So I’m hoping to do some blues and jazz songs, maybe cover some other genres. How about yourself? Do you play any instruments?”

I shake my head. “Sorry. Just an appreciator. Closest thing I got to a guitar was somepony trying to put my head through it.”

She looks at me in shock. “What caused that to happen?”

“I just said the Griffons are overrated.”

“And they attacked you because you’re right?”

“In his defense, it was the lead guitar- You don’t like the Griffons too?”

She shakes her head.

“OH THANK CADENCE! So it ISN'T just me!”

“I know! Vinyl thinks there’s something wrong with me! They’re just… bad!”

“Damn straight! Did you ever get thrown out of a taxi because you asked the driver to change the channel because the Griffons were playing?”

“Twice!”

We both laugh in the streets of Ponyville. Even though she doesn’t believe I am who I say I am, I am so happy I’m beside Octavia right now. I hate to say it was a dream come true, knowing my last dream that came true involves the founder of an orphanage being a nymphomaniac, but it is. To meet the one responsible for my start in the Canterlot Horn. Did I hate working there? Oh, incredibly. However, like I told Vinyl this morning, it was a soapbox for me to get on and speak my mind.

She gave me that soapbox.

... Huh. The streets seemed to have changed. Probably because of these seemingly familiar lampposts. Wait… aren’t those Canterlot lampposts? And practically every building is a bar or night club of some degree. Did we seriously walk to West…? No, come on now, Woundsalt. No way in hell are you back in West Canterlot. This place is too clean. Maybe East side? No, they don’t have this large amounts of places to go East side. What is this? And how come my name is on almost every sign? Woundsalt Wednesday: Buy One Beer Get One Free, Woundsalt Wednesday: Tonight’s special guest reader Clever Clip, Woundsalt Wednesday: Impersonators Welcome…

“I take it that this is your first time in the Renter side of town?” asks the grey mare. I guess she can tell on my face.

“Well, I am new in town altogether, so…”

“Ah, I see.” Exclaims Octavia as she starts to explain. “Well, it’s kind of the Canterlot out of Canterlot… the West side atmosphere with east side cleanliness. Somepony even found some spare lampposts to put in just for Canterlotians that are feeling homesick.”

“And can’t return because financial reasons.”

“Sad, but true to most. I’m only down here because I’d prefer to be with these artists than the sell-outs up there.” She sighs with her hoof pointing towards what could be Canterlot in the distance, but the clouds are making it hard to view.

A mare that doesn't want to be part of the rich pony orchestra. I like that.

“How about you?” She asks, looking at me.

“Well, I just got paid for a book I co-written. Besides from that, no other income.” 

“Would that book perhaps be The Boys From the Corner by any chance?”

“Hey, I don’t want to be the guy to lie on the first date.”

She laughs like… wow, I can’t even describe her laugh. What is going on with me?

“Well, Mister Salt, I think you’re going to like it h- Oh but of course! How stupid of me! I went to Manehattan U and it took me til NOW to get it!”

I can only look at her with curiosity until she explains what she’s suddenly realised.

“The bar we’re going to; The SorriNa. The stallion who runs the place told me he named it after Woundsa- I mean, ‘you’. Only just realised what he meant. Na. On the table of Elements, as in Scientific not Friendship, it means Sodium.”

“Sodium as in that shit in... Salt?”

She points her hoof in my direction. “Precisely! But what’s the rest? Sulfur, Oxygen… No wait, there isn’t an element that’s just R…”

Hmm… What would the rest…?

...

Oh, Blue Curaçao… 

You shouldn’t have. After what I said to you two back then…

“Maybe it’s supposed to be as it sounds… Sorry. Like he’s apologizing.”

Her ears prick up. “What would he apologise for?”

… I know she doesn’t believe I am me, but… I have to tell her. Maybe in a way that doesn’t break the agreement. All I have to do is put in one word…

“Maybe he’s an old bully of mine. I find it a little excessive that he made a bar in apology for me, but… Hey, I'll be touched.”

And I am, really. It's just that... I don't deserve it. Brainstorm told me what I said, I should be apologizing to him. And his brother... wherever he is.

She is silent for a few moments. “Blue? A bully? You clearly don’t know the stallion.”

...Huh. That’s twice now that I say that this pegasus used to be a dick, and it’s twice now that the ponies I told couldn’t believe it. Either this town is an open air lunatic asylum in disguise or… He’s actually changed.

Well, there’s only one way to prove that.

“Well, let’s go and have a look at him.”





“… Well, it’s better than Filliways. I can tell just by looking at it.”

“Yes, much more to our liking. Couldn't agree more.”

I nod as we look at the charming little black cube. Not the kind of establishment I thought Blue Curaçao would have, but at least it’s not like most bars on this strip that’s just somepony’s thatched roof cottage with a sign out front. That just lacks originality.

Better the signage on this one, too, even though this one’s on the side of the building.. The made up word of SorriNa in bold letters, the Sorri part light up in red, the Na part with white, and… Is the hole in the ‘A’...?

“Is that a tear?”

Octavia looks at the letter. “Ah… I should’ve warned you of this. Anypony can tell you that Woundsalt puts emotions on a page, right? Well, Blue Curaçao takes it a step further and claims he actually cries the ink. I find it hard to believe, but it’s a lovely thought.”

“Heh heh… Yeah… lovely.” Of course he knows that. He’s made me cry for years. “I’m guessing that’s metaphorical, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing! Any impersonator coming in claiming to be Woundsalt, he pulls out an onion telling them to cut it, making them cry.”

“He… tests to see if they can cry ink?”

“I know. Strange, isn’t it? And if they get caught, they pay double for the first drink.

…

You do realise, I might volunteer you for this. Unless of course, you want to confess now…”

Oh, ho?
So much for the agreement to disagree. However, I know the joke's on her.

I open the door. Ladies first and all that jazz. “Just make sure I don’t get any ink on the floor, okay?”

“Oh, ha ha.”

And with that sarcastic laughter, we step inside.

…

Wow. This place has everything! A pool table, a few pinball machines, a stage for performances of many different kinds… there’s only one problem.

It’s full to the brim.

All these ponies, of many shape, size, colour, and, thanks to the recently inducted crystal ponies, shine. All laughing. Some singing. Some… clearly had too much already. Admittedly, it’s good to know it’s not just Octavia that loves this place, but this is crazy compared to the dives in West Canterlot.

Oh goddess, I just realised I just volunteered to cry in front of all these ponies. Ah well, new one to the list: openly cried in a public establishment.

I look towards the bar for the Curaçao Brother. No such luck. What is there though, I am willing to bet, must be this Parfait D’Armour I have been hearing about. A lavender pony with a dark purple mane and a few piercings on that questionably gendered face.

Fluttershy wasn’t kidding when she said it’s hard to tell what gender she is by looking at her face. But then again, I don’t think she would ever thought of hermaphrodite as an option.

As we walk closer to her/him, I catch the eyes on four ponies by the bar. One Beanie wearing pegasus, one balding unicorn with a very fiery beard, one zebra with extremely messed up dread locks, and a crystal pony who looks too young to be here. Those big, blue eyes, I imagine.

“Uh… Musclebound? Is that…?” Says the zebra as he almost chokes on a pie.

“It…” says the stunned Pegasus, who doesn’t look very muscle bound to me. “It… could be?”

“No… No way… Wullay, it’s just no way that’s it’s him!” The bearded unicorn says as he shakes his head. “Why would he even be here?”

“Well, it’s a bar, Lava Beard. The pony drinks, doesn’t he?” Asked the crystal pony.

“Shut the fuck up, Doki Stick, there’s just no fucking way!” Lava Beard snaps at his shiny, young friend. “It’s probably one of those Woundsalt impersonators we heard about! Or he’s cosplaying for the Canterlot Comic Con!”

So-called Musclebound looks at his unicorn friend. “Seriously? Who the buck would cosplay as a poet for the Canterlot Comic Con?”

“I don’t fucking know! I only went to the Montrail one once! Besides, if that’s actually him, that means Woundsalt and Printed Page are in the same building!”

“OH FUCK, YOU’RE RIGHT!” Says Wullay as he finally finishes off his pie. “No way in hell would that happen ever again! The real 'Salt would rather be at the other side of the world than here right now!”

Doki Stick giggles. “Yelling at statues of Emperor Divekick.”

They all laugh.

“Hey! Emperor Divekick! Your hic shake fucking shucksh!” Mocks Musclebound in a terrible impression of I guess was a drunken me.

The all laugh even harder.

Oh, super. We got a few comedians. Nice to know Page followed my advice though…

... Where is he?

“Hey Tavi.” Greets the pony I believe to be Parfait as we finally got to the bar. “Who’s your friend?”

“His name is Woundsalt… Apparently. Get an onion ready, Parfait.”

The… Cilly? Folt? Whatever. Parfait nods and picks up a phone. “Hey, sweetie? You better come down here with an onion.... Yeah, we got one…”

Hmm… I wonder…

“Hey, can you also ask him how his brother Orange is doing?”

…

"The buck did you just say?"

"Uh, I mean, I didn't want to intrude. It's just that I wanted to know if both of them are here."

Parfait looks at me like she seen a ghost. “Oh, holy crap… Blue, get down here now. It's him... FUCK THE ONION Get your ass down here now!” She slams the phone down and reaches for one of my hooves. “It’s such an honour, sir!”

Wo-o-oo-ah! That’s a hoofshake! She clearly excersizes!

"I'mohsosorryaboutthewholeonionthingsirit'sjustthatmypartnersaidaboutyourtearswhenwewerekidsandwewerealllikewoahthat'sfreakynowaycanthatbetruebutBlueandOrangekeepswearingtoitand-"

“WOAH WOAH WOAH! Orange? Who the hell…” Octavia stands there stuck for words. “Parfait, what just happened?”

“What happened was that you..." The herm extends her hoof to the cellist. "YOU are now officially the luckiest filly in Equestria! He’s him!

He’s the 'Salt!”

...And with that silence fell upon the bar.

I look at her stunned face. And then to the four beside us, just as stunned as her.

“And for the record, gentlecolts? His sake does suck.”

> Where Everypony Knows Your Name
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




WHEN TALKING OF OR ABOUT PARFAIT D’ARMOUR, IT IS FINE TO USE ANY PRONOUN:
HIM, HER, THEM, ETC.

HOWEVER, YOU SHOULD NEVER CALL HER:
IT
FUTA
FUTANARI
FREAK
ABOMINATION
BITCH
… MORE MIGHT BE COMING ONTO THIS LIST SOON. DEPENDS ON YOU.

ANYPONY REFUSING TO UNDERSTAND THIS ACT OF COURTESY WILL HAVE NO SERVICE AT THE SORRINA. THANK YOU.




“Well, it’s a good replacement.”

“You think so? I kind of prefer the poem Bluey gave to Fluttershy. This just makes me feel like being me is a problem, you know?”

I nod in understanding… because I feel like being me right now is a problem, too.

I’m in a bar drinking a soda while everyone around me is getting drunk thanks to my new routine, which is fucking disturbing already, but then they had to stare at me. Talk about me. I can hear my name in the many conversations around the SorriNa… Woundsalt… The ‘Salt… I heard somepony say Un-Alicorn over by the pool table, I still have no bucking clue what that means.

I think they are pondering if they should come up and speak to me or not and take the risk of me surging in front of them. They’d probably know I do that. One thing Printed Page told me is that a fanatic of you knows more about you than you do.

It definitely feels that way, right now.

Speaking of fanatic, Octavia excused herself to the bathroom before she, and I’m quoting one of the four fellas by the bar here, ‘fan-girls the fuck out.’ Parfait told me while she left that…

I’m a role model to her.

Me. A role model.

That’s just thirty-one flavours of wrong. It’s like saying Ironsight’s a fucking racial equality activist.

… I need a distraction from this insanity.

Asking my new bartending friend what possessed him to date my old childhood bully would do the trick.

“So… How did you come to meet Blue?”

The lavender pony smiles. “I was an orphan at Laughing Matter’s in Cloudsdale. Then I got adopted by Hawthorn Strainer, who adopted Bluey and Orange when he was in Canterlot about a few months after that. We didn’t like each other at first, but as time went on we decided to be more than brother and sister. Boy, telling the rest of the family was awkward. Well, I say family; really it’s just one stallion with an army of orphans with the passion for hospitality of the alcoholic nature.”

“Is that legal? It sounds like your dad adopted kids for financial gain.” I ask as I finish the soda.

“Yeah it does, doesn’t it? Not really the case, though. Every drink an orphan sold in the family bar, the cash went to them when they decide to move and start their own place.” She says, rubbing her bar tenderly. “The boys and I decided to put our bits together and start early. It was called Triple Sec back then… Then when Orange left, Blue came up with the name SorriNa. Did you get it, by the way?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sodium. Salt. Sorry Salt. Real nice.” Orange Curaçao left? That’s odd. Only time I saw the brothers apart was on that day I verbally forced them to go to separate corners of the courtyard and cry like the ten year olds they were. “So, what happened to Orange?”

She scratches her left ear. “Well… Look, I hate to say that he doesn’t like you…”

(Even though I know he does and that hatred is justified. I know what I said that day, I am virtually surprised those two didn't kill me.)

“… But we kept having demands to have a Woundsalt Wednesday. Kind of an unwritten rule on the Renter strip: Either they have a Woundsalt Wednesday or be empty on a Wednesday. Blue and I liked the idea; we went on a few in other bars around here, always had a wonderful time. Orange… Well, the guy just doesn’t want anything to do with you. So he just walked out the door with some bits saying he’s going to find a place where he won’t see you and you will never be mentioned… The day before the book became a worldwide hit. Got to love the irony the-”

She pauses. “Oop! Here's my darling! Took him long enough!” She stretches her hooves to point at me in a very enthusiastic manner, smiling like a maniac. I think that means Blue Curaçao’s here.

Time to face my bully after all these ye-

… 

HOOOOOOOLY CRAP!

Someone call the museum, we found the missing link between us and hippopotamuses!

I mean… what the hell happened? Back in the day, Blue was the fittest kid on the block; his brother a close second. When hiding from them back then, I had to make sure the walls were sturdy, in case they decide to walk through them to get me. Now… Now he’s a ball! His stomach is millimetres from the ground, it’s a miracle that the t-shirt he’s wearing with the bar’s name on it doesn’t explode under the pressure he’s putting it in, his wings which were the largest part of him back in the day now look so small he clearly can’t fly with them and if it turns out there is a small creature living in the apartment that is his second chin it will be no surprise to me!

He is fat! He’s obese! Impossibly obese! How the hell did he manage to get here? How did he manage to get in here? HOW IS HE EVEN STANDING RIGHT NOW?

That’s not even the weird part. The weird part is he’s smiling. Smiling! And not a threatening smile either, it’s a happy smile. A smile you get when you see a kitten ride a small turtle!

“WOUNDSALT! MI HERMANO!”

My brother. He called me his brother… I thought he didn’t like that old traditi- Ooof!

He’s… Hugging me! It’s… it’s like I’m being assaulted by a water bed mattress filled with lard! Oh goddess, what is it with ponies here and hugging?

“Look at you! Just look at you!” Says the large pony as he lets go… Oh sweet Celestia, I think he’s going to cry with joy.  “Santa Celestia, bruddah! Ain’t you Mister Big Shot, eh?”

“ME Mister Big Shot? Look at you! What the hell did they feed you in the Ohana Islands? Other ponies?”

“Nah, amigo. Didn’t you hear? I decided to become one of the islands!” the big blue pegasus replies, and then jiggles by the power of his laughter.

I caught myself laughing too. I laughed along with my old bully. This is a very strange experience.

“And besides, the husband really likes it. Don’t you, my little garnish?”

“Damn straight, you big sexy thing.” Says the lavender pegasus as she jumps over the bar to kiss her butter... ball...

He just called her his husband. Implying…

A. The two are married. And…

B. That he sees Parfait more in a masculine light. Meaning he thinks this more as a homosexual relationship than a heterosexual one.

Wow, that is interesting.

The Curaçaos back then were the only orphans I knew to be homophobic. The moment the brothers saw two ponies of the same gender walk through the courtyard looking at all the foals, they are the only ones who walk away instead of towards. So, seeing one of them not only married to a hermaphrodite, but call her husband instead of wife or even a mix of the two… Wow. I don’t know how or why you changed Blue, but… you seem to have changed for the better.

Huh… Change… Change seems to be the order of the day, today. First Printed Page, now Blue… Looks like I’m on the verge of my first lesson here. Maybe I can find out what it could be... Change is good? Hmm… No. Change can be bad too, I know that much. Might need to work on it when I head back to the library.

“So, What’ll it be, bruddah? Baltimare Zoo? Long-Face Island Ice Tea? Don’t worry yourself with paying, for you it’s on the house!”

“Sorry, Blue, just a soda for me. I’m on a routine. I got a date though…” Maybe getting Octavia her usual would be a good idea. “What does Octavia have?”

“I’ll…”

I see a speck of grey from the corner of my eye. Looks like Octavia’s back. Something feels different about her, though… she’s…

Well, she’s still indescribable, but there’s something there that wasn’t there before.

She’s blushing.

“I’ll have the Long-Face Island Ice Tea, Blue. And keep them coming. I feel like I might need them.”

The married couple look at her with a smile. “You got it, sweetie.” says the lavender Pegasus. “We’ll sort them, you two head to a table.”

And now Octavia’s looking at me. “So, Vinyl did go to the library last night?”

I nod.

Wow, her smile… 

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It’s just that… this is a bit of a dream come true right now, one I never thought would happen. Vinyl knows I love you- YOUR WORK! Well, you as well, in a way… I’m sorry, I thought I got it all out of my system but…” She puts her hoof up to her mouth.

"… Oh goddess, I actually kissed you! In front of all those ponies!”

I walk up to her, hold her hoof and say… fuck, what’ll be good to say? I know!

“Happy belated Birthday, Miss Philharmonica.”

That… sounded less sappy in my head.

Didn’t help that there was a chorus of ‘Awww’ coming from the audience, like we’re in some romantic sit-com.

…

“Let’s get to our table before I start crying on you.” Says the grey mare.

“Or worse, vice versa.” I reply.

I heard Blue erupt from laughter as we walk over through the locals. All of them were bowing their heads towards us, like we were royalty.

“I guess you have this all the time?” Octavia asks.

“Actually? No! closest thing I got to a salute in Canterlot was the kind of salute we did at Fillyways.”

“Hmmph. Ungrateful pigs. No respect for the greatest poet of our age.”

“No respect for me, neither.”

She giggles as we pass a few impersonators, holding up their glasses.

“Woundsalt, do you mind if I ask the question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you really cry ink?”

…

“Yeah, I have a condition…”
> Nothing Can Stop the Booze!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He wanted to have your cutie mark changed?”
I nod.
“Closest thing you have as a friend, indeed!” she grunts. “Why would this psychologist even think of doing such a thing?”
“He thought that would stop the surges happening.”
“Would it?”
“I guess not. Magic’s got nothing to do with cutie marks, do they?”
“Well… there is a theory a pony told me about back in my university days.” Octavia says as she leans forward.  “He believed that there is magic in everypony, but earth and pegasi ponies don’t have the same levels as unicorns. Just enough for a cutie mark to appear and stay there. What did he call it again, now…?”
Urk! "Would that be Mumble Bee’s Cutie Mark theory by any chance?”
“Gaah!” Octavia squeals as the sudden change makes her jump back into her seat. She giggles her way back to comfort. 
“Oh Cadence, I’m sorry!” Goddess damn it, Magic! I thought you want me to be with this mare, not scare her to death! “That was those possessions I talked about.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… Goddess damn that scared the crap out of me! The voice, the red glowing eyes, the… everything! Does it hurt?”
“Like nothing fucking else.” I say before swigging the last of my soda. “Wait, my eyes glow?”
My date nods as she slurps up the last of her cocktail.
“Nopony said my eyes glow when that happened!”
“Not even her royal highness?”
“No! And she was the first to see it happen to me!”
She smiles. 
“Trust a princess to not tell you the full story.”
As we both laugh at this, I look around to find who else saw this little trick. A lot of eyes are aimed our way. Everypony has eyes on us.
Well, I say us… more me.

Quite honestly, it is not rubbing me the right way. What doesn’t help either, is the fact Octavia lead us directly to the secluded VIP table. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice table, good view of the stage. The problem I have is that even though everypony is saying I am a VIP, every fibre of my being says I’m not.
At least I’m here with a VIP. At least, one in my eye.
Octavia Phiharmonica is…

Damn it, I thought I had it that time.
All the time that I have been explaining the CMC to her, in the back of my mind I was thinking of a word to describe her with. Nothing wrong with indescribable, sure, but I’m a bucking poet. I have to describe, it’s what I do! Besides, the fact that I’m constantly failing to is pleasing me.
Actually, that raises a question: Why is it pleasing me? Am I that much of a glutton for failure? Is there something in the soda that’s making me feel this way? Some side effect of the Ondelandwah Zecora doesn’t know of? The fact that the one thing that I know never fails, my dictionary mind, has actually failed and because of this failure I feel normal?

… You know what? Buck it. I’m happy. Why am I even asking why I am happy and not just enjoying the rare chance of being happy?
Hmm, Looks like I don’t have time to dwell on this new question, as Parfait walks to us with two new drinks.
“Thought you guys needed some more.” He says hoofing the cellist another Long Face Island Ice Tea and me another soda. She’s looking at me like she wants to ask something. 
“So, I uh... I heard from Printed Page that this is would actually be your first Woundsalt Wednesday… You don’t have those up in Canterlot?”
Oh, so he is here? He probably told her that I 
“Didn’t even know that I have a fan base until this morning.”

Crap! I said that last part out loud!
Now everypony has gone quiet. Oh by all the goddesses, they heard that for most of my life I believed they don’t exist! How would that make them feel? Pretty fucking terrible, I imagine…

I feel someone’s hoof in mine… Octavia’s.
“So, the rumour is true. Printed Mint did burn our letters.”
I can only nod.
“Found that out this morning, too.”
I see her look down, then around to all of the ponies, and then finally, back to me.
“We knew. Deep down, we always knew. But… do you know why we kept writing in?”
Hmm, that’s actually a good point. You’d think after me not replying for all those years, they would stop.
“Why?”
She leans towards me…
“Because fuck him.”
“FUCK HIM!” Came the reply from the audience around us.
“Fuck him, the pony who dares incinerate our words about how we love your words!”
“FUCK HIM!”
“Fuck him, the pony who ignores the many because he wants to appeal to the pathetic few!”
“FUCK HIM!”
“Fuck him, the pony who did not see who you are, and what you mean to us!”
“FUCK HIM!”
Octavia stands on her hind legs on the chair. 
“We… are the Canterlot Renters! Whether we are forced down here because of our financial status, or here for any other reason, we know one truth that is always true. Woundsalt’s truth. The Unalicorn’s truth. The truth that states that the land shouldn’t belong to the one holding the sun, nor the moon, but we, the ponies! All hail the ‘Salt!”
Everyone is cheering. 
“ALL HAIL THE ‘SALT!” They cry. 
“ALL HAIL THE ‘SALT!”
I look at the cellist as she sits right down. 
“Just, wanted to let you know… what you mean to us. To me.”

…
“Di-did you write in?”
“Every day.”
…

The lavender pony grabs a serviette. “Quick, before you cry on your suit.”
“Thank you.” I say as I quickly dab the ink away, not looking away from the indescribable mare. Better put in a witty line, so I don’t look like a total wuss. 
“And here I thought the performance was supposed to be on stage.”
Everypony laughs.
She laughs.
What a laugh…

“Speaking of the performance…” The lavender pony said as she raises his voice.
“Attention everypony, if you please! Due to an unfortunate accident, I am afraid that our guest speaker for the night, Slimshake, isn’t here tonight.”
This causes quite a stir with the folks.
“Oh, an accident, was it?” Octavia whispers quietly. “It wasn’t an accident. It’s that griffon from Vinyl’s tournament. What’s her name? Hater D?”
“Oh, so she told you that, did she? I thought she was keeping that a secret from you.”
“She’s trying to. Besides from this date, she is terrible at keeping secrets from me. She talks in her sleep.”

…
Ohgoddessohgoddessohgoddessohgoddessohgoddess-
NO! Get a hold of yourself, Woundsalt! Of course Octavia would hear Vinyl talking in her sleep. They are roommates. They must sleep in separate rooms with a paper-thin wall in between. Inner me, get your fucking mind out of the gutter!

“However,” The hermaphrodite continues,
“Tonight, we are lucky to have two poets here tonight! Now we know that the ‘Salt has a date and… well, I guess you haven’t read out your own poetry before, have you, Woundsalt?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll leave it to the other poet… Who I am willing to guess is… him.”
“You bet, and thanks for telling him to come here! Fillies and Gentlecolts, put your hooves together as loud as you can because he saved our flanks tonight! The Other Boy from the Corner… Printed Page!”

It… wasn’t much of a big applause, to be honest. Not compared to how wild it was moments ago. I’m willing to guess it’s because someponies still want me up there. 
I sort of do. But, I kind of want to hear what Printed Page has got in store.
He… slinks his way to centre stage. His shades are askew on his face, his shirt collar is messed up and the drink in he is levitating beside him, though almost empty, is definitely a big one.

Oh Luna, are we in for a night?

“Hey, Parfait. How much has he had tonight? He looks like he’s off his tits!”
She sighs. 
“Yeah, he’s had five Sombreracs since he got here. About five minutes before you two did. Skulled the previous four like they were nothing. I think it’s safe to say that one’ll be his last tonight.”
Five? Holy fuck! Sombrerac is a very heavy cocktail, and he’s put five down? And he’s chugging them?
Forget Blue, how the royal fuck is Page standing right now?

“Heeeey Ev’rypooooony! How you all doin’ tonight?” He bellows out to the audience.
Please don’t look this way. Please don’t look this way. Please don’t look this w-
“Oh! I shee that the guy ish heare! Heey, new besht fr… friend.”
Oh buck me… 
“Hey, Page. You enjoying yourself, there?”
“You bet your ASH!” He shouted. I have a feeling he doesn’t know about the microphone in front of him. “Ev’rypony’s been sooooo nice since I got here, like they knew… news… gnu… Hee hee, gnu… KNEW that I had a fucked up day.”
I turn to my date. Her hoof is up to her mouth. She looks at me with a concerned look. I have a feeling I know what he’s on about.
“Sorry to hear that, buddy. Your mom found out you talked to me?”
If there is any that Printed Mint shared with his wife Ink Print, besides from a metric fuck-ton of money, is their bitter contempt for me.
“Oh, that’s not even halfa it! You know what she told me when I told her ab… about me comin’ here tonight?”
Oh no. What did she say?
“She said I… was adopted.”

…
“What?”
“Wut, is the mic not working? Helloooo?” He said, beating the poor inanimate object with his left hoof. 
“One, two, one, two, three…”
“No, no, no Page? I heard you fine, it’s just that you said your mom said you’re adopted?”
“Oh… Okee. Yeah, she said that. Fuggin’ bullshit, right? I mean, I look like her, I got the Printed name… Why would she say that? Why should she lie like that?”
Everypony is look at me. I am looking at my date. She knows I don’t have the answer. So she says hers.

“She was trying to stop you, Printed. She thought it would stop you coming here tonight. She is a manipulator. My mother’s a bit of a manipulator too. I had to do a lot to break from her control.”
He raises his hoof in a general direction to the table. “You know somethin’, lady? You could be right. So… Wh-what’ll I do? How can I break from her control?”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s a good start.”
He laughs… his laugh sounds more evil while he’s drunk off his flank.
“I like your girlfriend, Wound. She’s a great gal.”
I should correct Page by saying this is only our first date, but something about the way she’s blushing tells me not to.
“Anywaysh… Here’s a poem written by that mother bucker over there, very special to me. Pers… Personal Favourite. It’s called…”



Words.

Words carry emotion.
Enough to cause a commotion,
If read aloud to the right crowd.
Happy or sad, true or false, words carry emotion.
Words carry power.
To heights of joy or depths of despair,
words convey how much you care.
Words they say how's it going there?
Short or long, complex or simple, words carry power.
Words carry hope.
Even though you can't be there,
A letter can share, the pain anguish of one lost.
No matter the postage cost.
Words carry comfort, love and a message of hope. 



Really? That’s his favourite? I made that one up on the fly. Wasn’t even one from the magazine; it’s one I made when I was seven.
Printed Page lifts up his drink and finishes in a single, large gulp.
“All… Hail… The…”
He falls down, asleep, as the curtains close.
I look towards the cellist.
“So… how did you meet Vinyl?”

> Parental Guidance is (Un)Advised
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“So even though you are living in her library, you say Twilight might not be the princess of the ponies like they try to spin it in the news?” The cellist asks. 
“I doubt it. We are talking about a pony that lives in a very high society which is a student of Celestia… If anything, she’s the closest thing we’ll have to a princess of the ponies.”
“What about Cadence?”
“…Who?”
We both laugh as we pass another Canterlotian lamppost. It is so nice to find somepony with the same opinion of royalty as me and asks about what I think.
As we walk back to her place, all I can think of is how nice this night has been. Besides from the pretty piss-weak show from Page, which is not his fault admittedly but somepony has to teach him how to fucking drink, I got to say this is the best night I had in a long time. Granted, not much competition knowing that the last five years my nights were all spent floating in my own vomit in West Canterlot spare the debacle that was last night… but still, I can’t believe something so nice like this date would ever happen to me.
I need to thank Vinyl Scratch for this. … Ooh! Speaking of…
“Hey um… Octavia. I um… got something to say to you.”
She turns to me, her eyes being... Fuck, you know…
“I…I’ve got something to say to you, too.”
Oh, wow. Okay. Well, I better make her go first.
She comes closer to me with her mouth quavering as it waits to reveal whatever in Tartarus this is about.
“I’m sorry.”
… Okay?
“For what?”
“For leaving you with that contract.” She says, looking away. “It was a terrible deal.”
“Was it?”
She looks back in a perplexing manner. “Are you kidding me? You got little to no pay, no dental plan, all of your intellectual property was owned by Mint; that contract was one word away from being illegal! And he had the audacity to make it a prize in a children’s competition!”
…
“Is that the reason why you didn’t take it?”
She looks down. 
“No… That’s my mother’s reason. My reason is that… I felt like I cheated. Woundsalt, one thing you must know from back then was my mother is a force that I thought was futile to stand against. She did everything and then some to let me win.” 
“Like everyone else’s moms, I imagine.” I say, nodding.
She’s shaking her head. “Not like mine. The strings she pulled were unbelievable and quite frankly disgusting. She bribed Mint’s caddy to drop my name if the subject of the competition ever came up when he went golfing, she found out what time Ink had an appointment for a manicure at some spa she paid twice the amount to have an appointment at the same time, broke that poor Heartstring filly’s harp ‘accidently’, organized play dates between Page and I… I’m actually quite surprised he didn’t recognise me back there.”
I shrug. “He was off his tits to be fair.”
“True, true, very true.” The cellist nods before continuing. “Then one play date, it turns out he got his cutie mark. I asked him about it, and he said he wrote a poem after reading one from the competition. The one he read out tonight, actually. Some ponies were saying he’s doing a bit of soul searching at the moment, so I’m not surprised he decided to pull that one out.”

“… He got his cutie mark because of me?”
She nods again. Wow, I never knew that. I mean, I remember him saying that he got his cutiemark later than I did but… Why didn’t he tell me that I was he got it because of m-Oh wait, that’s right. If he ever dared to give me credit for anything when Mint was alive he would be punished for it.
Page said it best, his dad’s an asshole.

“Anyway,” the mare continues, “He told me about you. Some eight-year-old colt in West Canterlot, living in an orphanage, suffering from some unknown condition that makes him unconsciously curse anything and anyone… I kind of felt bad that my mother would let us do all of this just so I can win and those who deserve it, and I mean it when I say you deserved it… lose.
I wasn’t happy with me winning the competition, but I was happy when my mother said we don’t need the contract. So I told mother I wanted you to win, she had a heated discussion with Mint, made him sign you up instead and my conscience clear… until I realize why my mother didn’t want me to have that contract. I mean, sure, I was a young foal, how would I known and…?”

Uh oh, she’s tearing up… what do ponies do when one of them is crying? Um, uh… Okay, when I was crying in the Apple home, AJ… Oh no. Don’t tell me I have to… No, I have to. Here goes nothing.

I hug her.

Okay you guys would have guessed by now, I’m not a fan of hugs. Or at least, receiving hugs. I never really gave a hug before. I’m not sure I’m doing it right. Is it supposed to be above the shoulders like this or underneath? Am I holding her too soft? Too strong? I’m hoping I got it just right, because I kind of like this.
Maybe I’m a hug giver and not a hug receiver. Is that a thing, or did I just thought up some stupid crap that even a mare magazine wouldn’t want to publish? Probably the latter…
Maybe it’s who I’m hugging with? I mean, let’s list all the ponies who I have been in hugs with so far; Fluttershy, Apple Jack, Rarity, Blue Curaçao and now Octavia Philharmonica. As much as I admit I kind of appreciate her kindness she is renowned for, I find Fluttershy to be secretly insane. Like my mother would have probably told me before she dumped me in an orphanage, never trust anypony with too many pets. AJ’s got a few issues, too. She’s very… butch. I mean, fair enough if you’re into that sort of thing, but all I know is I’m not into butch fillies. But I don’t like overly feminine fillies neither, like Rarity. Also, you can tell by the décor of her shop, she’s trying to be a Canterlotian… The wrong kind of Canterlotian. And Blue… Celestia bless him for being the chirpy butterball who couldn’t hurt a fly now, but the multiple trips my face took to a toilet’s U-bend courtesy of him and his brother still haunt me. So, out of all the ponies I had been in hugs with so far, I found things to be afraid of them, dislike them or even hate them.
Octavia on the other hoof… I can’t find anything wrong with.
Is it too early to say I love her? I feel like it is, but… everything about tonight makes me want to… 
“Um, Woundsalt? You have a bit of bird shit on your back, there.”
“Hmm? Oh son of a bitch!” 





“Your sink’s… blue.”
“Vinyl.” The cellist says in a disappointed tone. “She keeps using the hair dye that stains the sink. How it doesn’t get on anything else is beyond me. If you don’t want to risk it, we can try the one in the kitchen.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” I say as I start flushing away the poop stain. “Thanks for letting me come up here, by the way.”
She smiles shyly. “Thanks for accepting.”

Vinyl and Octavia’s apartment definitely looks like two fillies live here. For one, it’s clean. Also, it feels like the two had a debate on what the style is going to be and eventually compromised by having half of each. I’m willing to bet which furnishing was whose idea. A neon pink sofa with neon blue lightning-shaped cushions does sound like something a night life library crasher like Vinyl Scratch would want in her apartment. Same goes for the cabinet of sunglasses and the painted portraits on the wall connected to the open kitchen of those robotic ponies who do those annoying repetitive techno songs. What are they called? I don’t know. Something daft, I imagine.
Octavia’s decisions has got to be the sleek, modern things like the coffee table, the kitchen appliances and definitely the top of the line washing machine in the laundry here. Pretty expensive stuff. Trying to get rid of the Gala paycheck with the top brands, I imagine.

“So…” the cellist says hesitantly. “What were you about to tell me?”
“Hmm? Oh, right.” Gee, how am I going to say thank you, now? She thought she put me through hell! I DID go through hell, and I’m going to thank her for it? You know what? I’ll just stop wasting time and say it. What is the worst that could happen? “Well, I was going to say...”

I hear a knock on the door. “Uh, Tavi? If you’re in there, can you open up? I think I left my keys in the bowl again.”
Looks like Vinyl Scratch the match maker interrupted our little moment.
She looks towards the door and back. “Sorry, you don’t mind if I…?”
I’m guessing the rest of the sentence is ‘let her in’. 
“Sure.”
She smiles as she leaves me in the laundry to fetch the door. I kind of understand the relationship between the two. I’m not sure whether or not they are lesbians but they are close. Damn close. So close that I am not surprised ponies like Rainbow Dash think these two are an item. For me on the other hoof? I don’t know. Maybe if I see them in the same room… as they are right now… and being suspiciously quiet. Okay, something is up.
I better put this jacket down and go into the lounge room.

Oh, hey! Vinyl brought a friend!

A griffon friend.

A griffon friend with her claw on Vinyl’s head.

… Oh fuck.

> Check Out the Size of My Diction
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.
	
> Original Sin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stop thinking about it, brain.
…
Seriously, stop. We both know she’s just messing with us. She has to be messing with us. Just… just try and focus reading this ‘Rap Battling for Bucking Morons’ book.
…
Okay, fine. Fuck the book. I’m certain my magic already found a way to make me a fucking rap god. Just think about anything else than a threesome with Octavia and Vinyl Scratch. Please!
…
Shit, inner-me is right. I need to get laid.

Alright; while I go to the bathroom to give myself a cold shower, I might as well discuss it. Octavia’s… fuck, you know what Octavia is. I have never used the word indescribable before tonight, yet alone this frequently. I just… can’t find anything. I am magically attached to practically every written word in the history of words and I can’t find anything that describes her!
Vinyl Scratch, on the other hoof, I can. Cheeky, loud, silly mane style…
…friend.
That last one is a bit of a problem in this threesome debacle. I think that’s all she can be to me; a friend. Shit, she’s better than that! She’s my best friend! How can I screw my best friend? Especially after…
…
I hope she forgives me for my lack of sympathy back there. I don’t want to have sex with her, sure, but the last thing I want is to upset her like I did.
I hope she’s ok… Aaaaaaaaah! Fuck! Fuck me! Cold, cold, cold!
I turn off the cold tap, making the falling water disappear from the showerhead. I think that’s done it. Let’s think about other things since that one is gone. Like… well, where can I begin? I can think of three things, right now.
Okay, latest incident first: This rap tournament I somehow volunteered myself in… and could be out of now. Ah, who the buck am I kidding? I’m pretty much Vinyl’s last hope here; I doubt an improper way to say that someone’s aunt is dead is going to get in the way of performing and winning this thing. And I mean winning. I may have no experience nor respect of the field of rapping, but if my opponent’s worst word to fly around is spazzoid, I think I’ll be fine. Spazzoid… huh! What the hell makes that Hater-D so… I just remembered that she beaten a pony to an inch of his life for this thing. Okay, now I remember what the hell makes Hater-D so scary. Maybe a different subject now… One that’ll sound less like a death warrant.
The new life of Blue Curaçao might be one. Fuck me, what a change! From fit, homophobic, bully to a goody-four-shoes that’s married to a hermaphrodite who is seemingly more masculine than he is and enough fat on him that can make two ponies morbidly obese! Cadence almighty, I hope Parfait’s on top when they’re … I’m back to thinking about sex, again. Cold water, on!
Nyaaaaaaaaaaaaahh! Cold… Water… OFF! Hoo… hoo… I bet this is how windigos are made; ponies frozen to death from cold showers.
Anyway, I’m happy for him. Nice to know that Fluttershy’s right about how much of a changed stallion he is. I wonder what made him change, though. Better ask him that next time I’m in there. And I’ll come on a drinks night too, drink the fucking place dry! Don’t act like I don’t deserve to, what with all that I’ve discovered about the world around me the last couple of days.

You know, about that. Does this feel quick to you? I mean, I sort of knew it wasn’t going to be a rolling start back to life after five years of doing nothing, but I didn’t expect everything coming up at once! I mean sure, discovering Twilight unknowingly adopted me would be good to know as soon as possible, but could it kill the universe to just put some things for next week? I wouldn’t mind having to find the Renter Side and the SorriNa when I’m walking around when the girls have gone to this Princess Summit in the Crystal Empire, popping in to discover those two… okay, maybe I would freak the fuck out in front of Blue like I did in front of Fluttershy which would be a little worse, but still. Nor would I mind discovering my new fame later...

Speaking of which… I still can’t believe the crowd of the bar, tonight. All those ponies there to hear my poems. By the sound of things they do it every week, too. And the copy-cats! Holy fucking shit, it’s uncanny seeing all these replicas of me sitting around a table talking about me! It’s a little fucked up, especially the filly one. Yes, there was a filly one. Celestia bless her for trying, but why? Isn’t the main idea was to act like me to get drinks? Did she just dress up like that just for the fun of it?
Is… is all the world outside Canterlot like that? Printed Page did say that Outside of Canterlot I’m a pretty big deal, but… I feel like this is too big. Fuck, I’m so happy it isn’t revealed that I’m now adopted into royalty. It’ll make it a new level of awkward around that bar, tonight. Probably awkward already since ponies saw me walking with Twilight… My poetry has been very… anti-alicorn. Guess that’s how the whole Unalicorn nickname came to be. It’s not like I hate Celestia… It’s just that I believe giving a seemingly immortal being that already has a lot of power even more power by making her the ruler of all Equestria seems like a stupid idea to me. Clearly, some thousand-year-old thinking right there.
…
Fact is, I need to make sure they don’t find out about this adoption. They seem to understand that I agreed to do this just to get out of West Canterlot, which is true, but if they found out that Twilight’s my new mom… It’ll kill them! Shit, it almost killed me!
…
You know what this reminds me of? Bad Fan-fiction.
Oh, I don’t need to read the shit Page says he gets to know what bad fan-fiction is. Trust me, there is enough going around Canterlot about royalty. When Princess Cadence’s wedding came round, there was no exception. Everywhere I turned, I see some royalist nut job writing about her. The sewage of shit that comes out of those ponies is disgusting. Especially when they put in their OC, which is pretty much them but cooler. Fucking Original Characters, they are the worst! Little to no character to them, got themselves some relation to the royalty in question, somehow liked by everypony, overpowered to the extreme, red and black colour scheme and if they think that’s too unoriginal they add in… some…

White.

… 

Oh buck me, I am having the worst realization right now. I am living the life of a bad OC. That’s… that’s not a fun thought. But it’s true, isn’t it? I got the colour scheme, I’m adopted by the newest princess in Equestria, I am magically attached to everything that has been written down, a lot of folks think I am the greatest thing to exist right next to alcohol; I…
… I am a bad OC.

… I b-better wait until I’m done crying before I go to bed. Don’t… don’t want to stain the pillows.

I hear a flapping nearby. Sounds like Owlowiscious is back from Fluttershy’s. I better go downstairs and meet him. Maybe… Maybe I should to write a letter. Yeah… that sounds like a good idea.

He sees me coming from his perch. He raises a wing in recognition.
“Hey… I take it you had a good time?”
The owl tilts his head. I think he’s asking me what’s wrong.
“I’m fine. Just… Think you can go take a letter to Twilight, tonight?”
The owl bows. I think that’s owl for ‘okay.’

I sit down on the desk and pull out the quill. I think it’s safe to say I already got the ink.



Dear Princess Twilight,



… huh. I feel warm all of a sudden. Like… like there is a fire in the library.
…
Oh, Luna. I think there is a fire in the library! Shit! Shit! Shit! The prophecy of the monkey centaur is true! Repent, non-believers! Rep- Oh wait, just a phoenix. Never mind. It seems to be holding a letter… I’m guessing some magic is involved to prevent it burning. The fiery creature drops the letter and flies off immediately. I turn to the owl.
“I’m guessing he doesn't do letter deliveries very often?”
The owl nods as I pick up the letter. Well, it says it’s for me on the front… with the royal seal. I get the feeling it’s Princess Celestia, finally going to write to me about what I said to her. She does have a pheonix, right? Maybe that one was it? I open up and check the name on the bottom to confirm my guess.



Princess Luna



Well, I was close. Probably the same phoenix, anyway. Ah well, Let’s see what the Princess of the night has got to write about.



To the great poet Woundsalt,



Great? She called me a great poet? What kind of poets did they have a thousand years ago which would make her believe that I am great?



Before we I begin, I would like to say how lovely it is to write to you. When Twilight mentioned that you have a book, I decided to get myself a copy of it. A very rare book to find in Canterlot, but a fantastic read. Especially when it comes to the poems that ponder a non-alicorn run society. A philosophy I know I shouldn’t find entertaining, but the imagery you create of this concept makes it very… intriguing. 



Wow… first compliment by royalty. I… guess I should be happy? I don’t know, I’m still bummed about my new life as some douchebag’s shitty OC.



I am writing to you instead of Twilight to tell you first hoof that I will be walking in the dream you have tonight… provided of course, you have one. Judging on your poems, I feel like you will find this notion as an invasion of privacy. Therefore, this is an early apology. My sister has made it extremely clear that she wants me to observe this phenomenon that is these prophetic dreams, as it turns out you were correct with your accusation of one poorly dubbed ‘Saint’ Diamond Heart.



Fuck. And here I was hoping that I was wrong about that.



Hopefully this time, it is something that my sister would not find as distressing… It was quite a horrific sight in that room. The devices in there… we wouldn’t even use such torture devices a thousand years ago, yet she had them for pleasure? And why was there a trombone in there? I just… I should drop such disturbing thoughts. The fact is, after this discovery of your orphanage founder’s secret life, my sister went immediately to her room. As of writing, she is still crying.



... She’s crying? I… I made Princess Celestia cry? This… isn’t making me feel happy, right now. I was kind of hoping this letter was suddenly dropped here to make me happy.



Do not despair, however. Because both Twilight and Doctor Brainstorm have gave me some good news to give you. First, from Twilight about your horn; she has received the blueprints from the Oatstralian Prime Minister, Beer Broth. She says she will start to analyse Rain Coat’s plans after the Princess Summit. Along with finding a way to annul the adoption without causing a media backlash... Speaking as somepony who today still gets called Nightmare Moon by bigots, I can say backlash is something to avoid.



Yeah, good call, your highness. What about Doctor Brainstorm? What good news has he got for me?



Your psychologist, during his meeting with me today, has revealed some information about your arrival at the orphanage. He has found contacts that have been working there that night who have seen a filly figure drop off a basket...



Someone saw my mom leave me there? Did they give a description? Caught her cutie-mark? Anything?



… a basket with two foals in it.



I don’t give a shit about the basket! Did they see my m…
Two foals? Does… Does that mean I have…?



You have a sibling. Now there is little to no record on this other foal; not even the gender was written down. This, according to Brainstorm, indicates that they have been adopted quite quickly and in turn, knowing that lack of documentation is natural for adoptions for unicorns, they could be the link that confirms your paternal lineage to magic.
I hope this news makes you have a great dream… I can say with great confidence you deserve one.
Signed, Princess Luna. (Please don’t call me your grandmother, you’ll make me feel old.)



… Sorry, do you mind if I read a certain sentence again?



You have a sibling.



One more time?



You have a sibling.



Is that phoenix back again, or is this sentence making me feel warm? Just those four words, saying I am a brother of somepony! This is… This is…
This is too good to have ink on my face for. I am washing this shit off!
“Hey, Owlo?” I ask the feathered being beside me. “You don’t mind if I call you that, right?”
He bows. I think that means he’s cool with it.
“Why don’t we leave that letter to Twilight ‘til the morning? I feel like I’m too happy to write about sudden things right now.”
He nods in understanding as he heads to the window. Off to get a snack before sleeping, I assume.
“Good night!”
“Hoo!” he replies as he flaps into the night.
I run upstairs and wash my face and jump into bed. Nothing is going to stop me having a good night’s rest after that. Nothing. NOTHING!





DRYCOAT

Hey My Little Angel,

I know this is quicker than the usual reply, but we got a letter from Princess Celestia requesting we go to Canterlot. Some predicament in Saint Diamond Heart’s… I hope it’s not what I’m think it’s about. You know… trombones.
Anyway, we’re taking the cart to the city, so we might drop into Ponyville in a few days.

So about Auntie Rain… I got the news this morning. I’m sorry that you had to find out the way you did. It was a little mean for this new friend of yours to be blunt about it. He’s not the same Woundsalt I think it is, is it? That one from the art magazine Tavi likes? I heard he doesn’t talk to other ponies very often, and… Well, he lived in an orphanage for most of his life. I don’t think he understands how truly valuable family bonds can be, even if said family member is all the way in Darwhinny. I think you should forgive him, anyway. I know for a fact that he’s suffering about it too. He’s the only pony alive diagnosed with CMC now… I can’t imagine how it felt for Aunty Rain, and I definitely can’t imagine how it feels for him.

Besides… He didn’t really tell you how she died, did he? If anything… I think that’s his way of sympathy. Or that he has no idea, which is bad for him. He should know.

Now sweetie, you know how she predicted the Canterlot Flash Storm of ’83? I know you love that story… besides from the ending. She kept beating herself up over it. She knew everything before it hit: The wind speed, the amount of rain, the casualties… The one casualty. She tried to save Grandpa Lab, she really did! But… the dreams have a hundred percent accuracy. No exceptions.

She wasn’t really the same afterwards. At least, not mentally. Do you remember me telling you off for laughing at her when she wrote us asking for a cup of penguin for her detachable horn project? Yeah, she wasn’t well, sweetie…

So she decided to go.

She went out the ‘Pegasi Way.’ I hate having to call it that, but it’s true; it’s the most common way for a pegasus to commit suicide. Fly up and then… stop flapping. I don’t know why she did in front of the Prime Minister of Oatstralia of all ponies, but I’m glad he sent his condolences. 

Vinyl, promise me you’ll help Woundsalt whatever way you can, okay? Sure, he’s got the Elements of Harmony, but you are the only one there in all of Ponyville who has experience with CMC. If there is anyone he needs right now, it’s you.

We’ll see you the day after tomorrow. Good luck with your tournament, and remember sweetie… we love you, Rain loves you and KICK THAT GRIFFON’S ASS!

Dry Coat and Blank Canvas.xxx
> Ruffled Pegasi and Ripped Pages
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Dear Twilight,

I got to admit, I thought my first day was going to be difficult. In a way, it was in how I had to face things I never faced before, do things I never did before, even feel things I never felt before. And it’s… nice? I guess? I don’t know. Every good point I find in something, I find something wrong with it. Maybe it’s just my cynicism, or some paranoia on things that are new and different to me.

For instance, as the girls would have told you by now, I already found a few friends, got myself on a date, got a metric fuck-ton of money, found a way to talk to my magic (with the use of a drug, admittedly, but it works.)… And then there’s the stuff I’ve discovered on the date! Octavia is too good for words, and I have a fanbase out there! A bucking huge one too, apparently!

I think I might have a lesson to learn soon. Something on the line of change: Whether it is to yourself or the world around you. I’m doing a lot of it right now, after all. I don’t know how it’s about friendship, but I think I can find how it could be related to it somewhere. Just let me keep working on it a bit more.

So happy to hear I got a sibling. I’d ask you to expand your search to try and look for them, but I feel like you already on it. Let me know if you need another swab of spit.
Keep up the good work on your end!
From A Happy Brother of Someone,
Woundsalt

P.S.



I see Owlo fly away from the tree, with the letter in his talons. I couldn’t tell her that I know what happened to Rain Coat. Luna’s bound to tell her, anyway.
…
You know, I was bummed yesterday when she wrote to me saying that Rain was dead. I wouldn’t call it soul-crushing like that moment last night when I discovered that my life right now would be a horn and a pair of wings away from me being the worst OC imaginable, but still. Last pony alive with CMC. Not a great feeling. But you know what’s worse? Knowing how the last one went out.
But Dry Coat’s right. I should’ve been told this. This is a perfect example of the mental stress of knowing things you shouldn’t, something that could happen to me. What if I knew that somepony was going to die? What if I wanted to stop it? Is it really impossible for me to stop, or was there something Rain missed?
…
Why didn’t Twilight tell me this?

I mean sure, she told me she was dead. But that’s all she did. She didn’t tell me how she died nor that she went cuckoo. She just told me she’s dead. Why? Why would she hold back information like…?
…
Heh. Trust a princess to not tell you the full story, I guess.

I hear a knock on the door. “Hey, Woundsalt! You up?” yells the pony on the other side. Sounds like Rainbow Dash. She sounds a little… grumpy.
“Yeah, come on in.”
She does so. Very loudly. I turn to look at her. She’s angry.
“No… Hangover this morning?” She says with clenched teeth. Oh, I see what this is. She’s getting prepared to slap my muzzle off my face if I say I’ve been drinking. Good thing the truth is different to what she believes.
“Well, it’s kind of hard to get one if I haven’t touched a drop.” I reply. Hopefully some sarcastic humour will break her stern look.
“Oh, really?” She replies. Clearly my humour didn’t do much. “Not confessing that you were in a bar last night?”
… Now how the buck did she…? You know what? Never mind how she knows. I’m still innocent, Celestia damn it!
“Octavia wanted to go there, okay? Besides, I still didn’t drink.”
She’s staring into my soul in silence.
“I swear! All I had was cola the entire night! Bucking hell, Rainbow, I know Twilight wants you to be strict on me with this, but I didn’t expect the Esponial Inquisition!”
The sky-blue pegasus just continues to stare at me until she pulled out a device. “Keep blowing into the tube until it chimes.”
I look at this device. Seems fairly simple, a wooden tube with a green emerald and a red ruby attached. Don’t know where it’s going to chime, but alright. If this thing can prove my innocence…
I blow into the-*ching!* Wow, that was quick.
As I look toward the device, the emerald glows brighter than before. I’m willing to bet green is good. Not by general opinion of the population, but by the stunned look that is now on Rainbow Dash’s face.
“What? You’re clean? How?” Rainbow says, surprised. “I saw you by the window! All those ponies were handing you drinks! You were practically gone! No way you would’ve sobered up by now!”
No-one bought me a drink last night! They sort of figured the fact I got myself soda all evening is as a sign that I don’t want any-Oh… I think I know what happened here. She must have mistook an impersonator for me. I wonder if she actually see me at the right bar?
“Say, Dash… did you see me at the SorriNa?”
“The… Sorri-what? No, you were at the Wind Jester.”
I shake my head. “Nope. SorriNa. You must have followed some impersonator around.”
She continues to look at the device and back to me. “… Seriously? You have an impersonator of yourself?”
“Yeah, apparently there is a bit of a sub-culture in my fanbase that likes to disguise themselves as me to try to get free stuff. Kinda scummy, but hey.”
Silence.
“You… have a fanbase?”
“Yep.”
“… And some of them dress up to look like you?”
“I… don’t get it neither to be honest with you.”
More silence continues as she looks at me in disbelief. The door gets knocked once more. “Woundsalt?” I faintly hear. Must be Fluttershy. “Are you awake?”
“Uh... yeah, come on in.”
The door opens to reveal that it is, in fact, Fluttershy… wheeling in a little red wagon, the contents of which is humongous stacks of books. She lets go of the wagon mouth-le to discover the both of us there.
“Oh! Good morning, you two!” Fluttershy exclaims. “I brought a few books for the library...” She notices the look on her friends face. “Did I walk into something, here?”
Rainbow Dash turns to her fellow pegasi. “Actually, you might help me out here, Shy. Woundsalt says he has a fanbase...”
“Oh, fanbase is putting it lightly.” Fluttershy interrupts. “More like a… movement.”
“… Okay. And in this… ‘movement’ there is a bunch of ponies who try to look like him. Is that right?”
“Oh yes! False Salts! I know a few.” Fluttershy smiles. “They’re nice. Some scam ponies out of stuff, but most just do it for fun.”
Rainbow Dash turned back to me. “Okay… I’m sorry, Wound. I saw that fake in there, cheating ponies off drinks… I even heard him say that you and Twilight were…”
I put my hoof up. I don’t want to hear what he said.
“But… you admit you were in this… Sorreenar? Did I say that right? And you didn’t drink there?” She asks… Well, she seems much happier now.
“You went to the SorriNa?” Fluttershy asks as well.
“Well, it turns out it was Octavia’s favourite bar, so…”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence until both of them jumped on top of me.
“Way to go, champ! I’m so proud of you!” Rainbow Dash squeals as she grabs a hold. “Staying sober in a bar! That is great self-control!”
“And at Blue Curaçao’s!” Flutteshy adds, just as psyched. “You actually went there and faced your old bully!”
I look at the two in a scowl. They both know they’re too close for my comfort. They both realised this and get off me.
“Sorry…” Fluttershy whispers. “So, did you see him?”
“Yeah! He’s…”
“Kind?”
“Well, I was about to say overweight, but… yeah, that too.”
“Uh… yeah.” Fluttershy sighs. “I didn’t say anything at the time I met him, but he should really be concerned about his health, being as big as he is.”
I shrug as I look towards the wagon. “So… what’s with those?”
The two look back at the wagon and then to each other. “Let me guess.” Rainbow dash grumbles. “Your mom wants to donate these books to the library?”
Fluttershy nods. “Don’t worry, Rainbow. These are the ones with the foreword from your dad.”
Rainbow nods back as I go over to pick one of the books up.
“Ironsight Revengance: Call of the Changeling Heart 2 The Final Encounter… By Wordshy; Foreword by Balder Dash.” I read out loud… Okay, I’m missing something here. I know I am. “Why are you giving the library these? I thought pegasi don’t want the world to know about Chariotora and all that shit.”
The two are biting their lip. “Yeah… you didn’t read the paper yet this morning, did ya?” Rainbow finally speaks. “Luna revealed the Chariotora document to the public late last afternoon. Everypony who didn’t know about it does by now.”
Hmm… Luna and not Celestia. I have a feeling I know why. I also have a feeling I shouldn’t say anything about it out loud. But still, that’s quite a huge announcement. Why did she revealed this to the world right now? Because maybe I was right? Because almost a third of everypony knew already? Because quite frankly it was dumb to keep it a secret in the first place?
“So, I guess your mom decided to hand you some books to give out on the land, then? Trying to cash in on this seemingly new discovery?” I ask Fluttershy.
“Yes… Unfortunately.” Flutteshy sighs. “Look, I’m not entirely thrilled about everypony knowing about Ironsight now. The last thing I ever want is a meanie like him being remembered.”
I can understand that. However…
“Historical figures need to be remembered, Shy, especially the mean ones. How else are we to know in future to avoid creeps like him?”
… The jock just took the words out of my mouth.
“Well, I guess that’s true…” the yellow pegasus sighs towards the surprisingly smart cyan one. “I guess it’s never good to keep secrets from anypony anyway.”
…

I can only sigh at that last sentence.
“What?” Rainbow asks. “Something happened at the date?”
“No. It’s just that…”
Wait. Would they know? I gather Twilight told them what’s up. But they wouldn’t say something like ‘never good to keep secrets from anypony anyway’ unless they know they got nothing to make a secret… fuck it, I already opened my mouth I might as well use it.
“I found out that Twilight didn’t tell me the way Rain Coat went out.”
… Oh goddess, the look on their faces. They knew! The buckers knew! Those hypocritical bitches!
“Who… who told you about that?” Rainbow Dash stutters. “Did you dream it? Are you picking up our letters to eachother?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean…

… So that means this horn’s going to work, isn't it? ISN'T IT?”
Hmm. That’s funny. I ended up with my eyes closed.
… You know, that’s a good point raised by my surge at the end, there. How would we know if the detachable horn Rain was working on is going to-
“TWILIGHT WILL FIND A WAY! SHE ALWAYS DOES! SHE ALWAYS DOES!”
Was that… Fluttershy? It sounded like her, but I never really heard her being this… loud.
I better open my eyes.
…
I better close them and open them again to prove I’m not crazy.
…
No? That’s actually happening? Rainbow Dash is holding back Fluttershy and Fluttershy’s looks like she’s going to break my neck?
…
“Did… did I say something out of line?” 
Rainbow turned her head to look at me. “Oh thank Celestia, it was a surge. See, Shy? He didn’t mean any of it. It was just a surge!”
This made her friend calm down… a little.
“Okay...” Fluttershy said sternly. “I… better go and check on my critters. Maybe get started to pack for the Princess Summit. Good-bye, you two.”
I, along with a very nervous Rainbow Dash, waved as the animal lover goes home. Rainbow Dash looked at me nervously.
“What?” I ask her.
“You are so lucky I was here. I never saw her that mad before. She would’ve killed you!”
…
“What the Tartarus did I say?”
“Well, she was fine until you mentioned some dove she used to have.” Rainbow calmly said. “I guess it’s nothing you really know about.”
I think it’s best for me not to answer. Better change the subject.
“So… what’s the plan for us this morning?”
She smiles. “For me? I have a date.”
… “Seriously?”
“Yeah! I found somepony to… experiment with. It’s like you surged: Whether I just keep the world asking or just finally give it an answer, you know?”
Huh… That does sound like something I would say… not surge, but say.
“So, who is she?”
“Thunder Roll.” Dash squeels. “She said she wants to try and find out who she is too in her ad. And she likes long walks on the beach and the Thunderbolts.”
Hm. The lonely heart’s column. Well, she had to start somewhere.
“Well, I hope you two have fun. But what about me? Wasn’t this our time?”
Rainbow Dash cringes. “Yeah… sorry bud, maybe after the Princess Summit. Besides…” She continues as she looks at the books Fluttershy left. “Looks like you’re going to be busy.”
I sigh… maybe a sigh of relief more than anything. I can’t pretend some time to myself is something I feel like I need right now. Maybe I can get some time after all of those to check up on a few things.
“I better get going.” The Dash says excitedly. “I need to pack for the Summit and get ready for this! Oh, and Wound? Can you make sure all of them do have a forward from my dad? We don’t want anypony to think that ghost-ponies of dead dictators are real; especially the one Wordshy came up with. He’s a little… gory.”
“In comparison to what? The one with a wall of unicorn h-KOFF! HACK! KHEEEEEEEEEE…”
And without a goodbye, she’s gone. Figures. Fucking Featherbrain.

Well, looks like I got work to do. Better get started to make sure where they need to be out of reach of foalhooves. Maybe if I read o-Urk!  “As fast as you can read, sire, I’m afraid it isn’t physically possible to go through them all in the time you have to yourself today. Perhaps I should give you the crib-notes on this literature in your mind?”
…
Well, if it saves time...





Okay, collecting cutie marks I understand, the occasional heart and unicorn head too; but why does Wordshy’s take on Ironsight have him taking frat-ponies’ spleens so much?
…
Oh, so he can shove all of them down some guy’s throat in the later novel. That’s… beautifully disgusting.
Thankfully, my magic detected all of these to all have Rainbow Dash’s father’s warning. And I do mean warning. I know those two kept calling it foreword, but it’s definitely a warning. This is entirely fiction, blah blah, We’re not related to changelings especially in such an awesome way as the changeling heart, blah blah, most hives would consider this blasphemous, blah Mcblah blah… Clearly, Rainbow takes her dare-devilish ways from her mom.

I hear a knock on the door. Huh. They do know this is a public library, right? If there is anything I learnt from my first day of knocking doors, is that doors of public places should not be knocked.
“Come in!”
I hear the hinges. Better see who that i…
…
Printed Page walks in. To be quite honest, I’m surprised he’s even awake right now. Hell, I’m surprised he’s alive right now.

Okay, I’ve seen that look before last night. Vinyl had it. He’s crying. Even with his shades on and none of those tears, I can tell he’s crying.

“Hey, Page.” I say, quietly. He does not look like he want a loud noise right now. “How’s your first night drink-”
His head turns towards me as he says a single word. A single word that explains why I feel... that I know he’s been crying.

“B…Brother…”
	
> Some Brother's Do 'Ave 'Em
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

...
“… Excuse me?”
“Well… That’s… that’s what we’re supposed to call each other, right? Isn’t… isn’t that the tradition?”
Oh thank fuck, it’s that kind of brother. Fucking Saint Diamond Heart’s and their stupid tradition almost gave me a heart attack!
“Actually, we canned that when they realised it was confusing to orphans who actually had brothers… I take it the fact we’re having this conversation is because…”
Uh… he fell on the floor before I got to finish the sentence. I better play host. “Do… do you want anything, Page?” 
His head comes off the floor to say “Just let me die here, thanks.” Before colliding with the ground again.
Something tells me he wants more than that. For starters, I think he wants to be somewhere more comfortable than his current position. “Do you want to die on the couch instead?”
He rolls over to look up at me. “Is it far?”
I point to the sofa. He looks at the furniture a few steps away. “Okay.” He said, as he tries to crawl his way to it and climb his way to the lower level usually reserved for flank cheeks. Looks like he’s not fully recovered yet from last night. I better go give him a coffee.
I walk to the kitchen, looking back at the crime scene that was my former nuisance. It was clear what had happened this morning. He got woken up by Ink Print who was still mad at him for going to the SorriNa last night, he accuses her of lying about him being adopted before he left, she pulled out a certificate to prove what she said was true, so he immediately comes here for... some reason. Sympathy, I guess. Or he wanted to see my face when he said we’re from the same orphanage, which... well, I bet it was priceless. Or at least just to get away from his mom and have a good rest. He does look like he needs the latter.

...I can’t believe I jumped to that conclusion, right now. Of course he meant Saint Diamond Heart metaphorical ‘brother’ and not actual brother! After Fluttershy doing that mistake, I do the same the day after! Goddess-damn, that was dumb of me! It must be that sentence making me jump to that conclusion. ‘You have a sibling.’ Shit, I’m still happy those four words were together like that. I’m willing to cut out that sentence, buy a frame and put it up somewhere for me to admire for the next time life throws me a curveball. Oh, what’s that universe? I’m caught in the rain? Don’t care; I have a sibling. Onderlandwah actually proven to be dangerous and now any children I make is going to have three eyes? Don’t care; I have a sibling. It turns out somepony wants to crucify me because they think I’m their messiah? Don’t care; I have a sibling. Printed Page turns out to actually be my actual brother?
…
Ah. That might not work to make me feel better in that situation… Mainly because it’s the problem. But seriously, what the fuck’s the likelihood of two ponies who knew each other for a mass majority of their life who live in the same city who both have magic… and now that I think about it, our birthdays are pretty close together like two separate ponies in two separate rooms tried to estimate the age of two separate babies that were found in the same basket…
…
You know, I kind of want it to be somepony else. No offence to… Whatever his real name is on the sofa in the next room, but I kind of wanted somepony I didn’t know yet. Somepony that won’t make this sound like something fresh out of a sit-com. Is that too much to ask? Somepony who besides from that brief time in the basket hasn’t met me my entire life as my brother or sister? Not somepony I know? Not somepony I’ve been annoyed at for my entire life?
Not him?
…
I better ask him his personal choice of hot beverage.
“Hey, I’m making us both some coffee. Do you want any cream or…”

You know how you forgot one thing to do and because of that leads to a chain of events you’re not proud of? Don’t you hate it when that happens? Well, guess what? I’m in one of those chain of events right now. I forgot to put the biology book away which means it was just open on the arm rest of the sofa. Right on the pages of CMC.
Guess what he is looking at right now?
And he’s put two and two together. I know that look on his face. That is the look on his face that indicates that he has calculated why such a book would be out like that, open to this certain section. He points at the book and then points to me. I think he wants me to confirm his calculation.
I nod.
“Wow. That’s… Wow.” He says, stunned. I’m just waiting for him to ask me something stupid about it. “So… you have prophetical dreams?”
Oh. Here I thought he’ll ask about the tears first. “Yeah. Actually had one about the mare in the book last night.”
He takes off his shades… even behind the redness I see the twinkle in his blue eyes. I think he wants to know what I dreamt.
“She’s, uh… doesn’t have the best ending.”
The twinkle disappears.
“Sorry to hear that.” He said. “Forgive me for asking but… what happened to her?”
Well, if he wants to know…
“She went a little nuts after predicting her father’s death so… she went out the Pegasi Way.”
… I don’t like the sudden silence. I better break…
“You… you have a form of omnipresence? Like how she does?”
Or wait until he does. That’s fine by me.
“Yeah… Everything that’s written down, I know about.”
“Everything?”
“Well, my magic needs to look for it, but… yeah.”
He puts his hoof up to his chin. He’s thinking.
“… Can you… can you find me?”
“What?”
“I mean my name. Sorry, still a little… fucked in the head.”
“Oh, right… Is this some kind of test?”
“Kind of.” He said, rubbing one hoof to the other. “See, I didn’t really catch my name when Mo… Ink Print threw the certificate at me.”
Stopped himself from calling Ink her mom. That’s… a thing. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. All I know is, it’s a thing.
Right. Page’s real name… Certificates… Ink Print and Printed Mint… Here.



This Certificate is to signify that We,

PRINTED MINT AND INK PRINT

are now the legal guardians of

PRINTED PAGE PRESSER

Under the eyes of Princess Celestia and Saint Diamond Heart Orphanage.

“…TO ALL WHO NEED IT MOST”




“It says Printed Page Presser.” I say out loud. “They add on the family name to yours wherever the guardians find suitable. So that means your name is…”
“Page Presser.” He concludes, and then eventually smiles. “That does suit me better. I mean, hell, my cutie mark is a printing press!”
I smile along until the kettle whistles. Then he winces. It is a little loud for a hangover.
“Sorry… You want some coffee?”
“Try need… Milk with two sugars, thanks.” He whimpers as he rubs his forehead. “Maybe some headache tablets, if there’s any.”
I walk back into the kitchen. It’s pretty clear he’s a little broken here, but I’m glad he’s fixing himself up quickly.
“You know,” I hear. “I always did want a brother… now, I got more than plenty! And a lot of sisters too!”
“You could say that.” I giggle. “So out of all the stuff they gave you, that’s the one thing they didn’t?”
“Yeah!” Mister Presser exclaims. “Or was it… Yeah, it was me wanting them to adopt you so you can be my brother!”
… I stick my head out of the kitchen.
“Fucking… seriously?”
“Yeah! Come to think of it, Ink telling me this means she gave me it anyway, right?”
“Well sure, but… fucking seriously?”

He sighs, still smiling.
“Look Wound, I get that you thought I was an annoying little shit back then. Fuck, I know I was an annoying little shit back then. However, if there was anything I felt the same now as back then it’s that… I just feel happy to be around you. That you’re in my life. That ponies send me stories about us… granted, most of them has one of us being screwed by the other, but I’m not happy because of that part! I’m happy that we’re there for each other in those things! I’m… I’m happy you’re here now. Sure, you aren’t here for me and this little thing with Princess Twilight is for you and… shit dude, if there is anyone who deserves all you have right now, it’s you! But… I’m happy you’re here for me right now. Where no-one in what I should be calling my family isn’t. You... you were the best brother I never had.”

…
“I… I got a letter from Canterlot…”
> Silence in the Library (Yeah, Right)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“…So, yeah. It’s highly possible we’re related.” I finally conclude.
“Wow… that’s… wow…” He says, with his voice trailing away to think of something. “Woundsalt, do you mind if I suddenly do something I know you won’t like?”
“Is it hug me?”
He nods.
… I sigh and hold my front hooves out. “You have ten seconds.”
He quickly slaps his forelegs around me. He’s right, I don’t like this. However, I understand that this is quite emotional news to somepony who said I’m the brother they never had.
But I had to tell him. I knew I had to tell him. After all he said to me… about me… about us. I had to tell him about the fact there’s a chance we’re actually brothers.
I had to tell him… because it pretty much guarantees that we’re not.
Think about it. With all this shit going on in my life right now, I won’t be surprised if it turns out I’m in a goddess-damn sit-com. All these different characters with different storylines, situations that are fucking nuts and of course…
Plot twists.
I’ve been getting plot twists by the bucket-loads since I got here. Thought I was a failure in poetry, but TWIST! It turns out I’m the hottest shit everywhere and Canterlot’s the only place that doesn’t care. Thought everyone in my past’s a prick, but TWIST! The poet formerly known as Printed Page comes out of his shell and makes himself cooler and Blue Curaçao turned over so many new leaves it’s like he’s a whole new tree. Thought my date was going to be a stuck-up busybody like all the bitches from Canterlot, but TWIST she’s… you know. 
So with all these plot twists in mind, surely there is more to come and most definitely going to affect something like this. So, while Page was spilling his guts out, I was doing what I should have done since these twists of fate started to happen. Get into the mind of fate. Guess the twist.

And I think I got it.

If I don’t declare the letter to Page and think that it is somepony else, which is what I still want it to be, the twist is that Page is actually my brother. However, If I do reveal this letter and bring up the possibility that it is him who is the mysterious sibling, the twist is that it is that somepony else! Easy! You can see it telegraphed a mile away!
Look, don’t get me wrong. Page really made me consider that maybe him being my brother wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. So much, in fact, if it turns out I’m not right and it happens to be true anyway I wouldn’t mind. It just wasn’t not enough to make me want somepony else as a sibling, that’s all. And let’s face it; if I didn’t tell him, the plot twist would be worse for him. I know my sit-coms. If I continued keeping it a secret and like I predict doing so makes him my sibling, then I’d be juggling whether or not to let him know or not and the next thing I know, TWIST something renders him in at least a coma... Worst case, death. And then he’ll never fucking know then now, will he? So, not only am I guaranteeing he isn’t my brother, I am guaranteeing that Page doesn’t have anything like that happen to him! So, if anything I’m giving him a huge solid here! 

You may never know about this scheme of mine, or believe the logic behind it but… You’re welcome, Page Presser. Don’t you ever say I never gave you anything nice.

“… Aaaaand off!”
“Thank you.” Page says, releasing immediately and then getting up. “Can I use the bathroom? I feel like one of those Sombreracs wants out.”
A little too much information, but I can relate. “Sure. Up the stairs, to the left. Maybe you shouldn’t have one the most alcoholic cocktail repeatedly in a short amount of time next time.”
“Okay… brother.”
... He’s going to keep calling me that, isn’t he? Ah well. Let the baby have its bottle.
As I see him slowly move up the stairs, I go get started on the coffee. Might need to heat up the pot ag-
…
“Hello, darling. Forgive me for not knocking again, but… are my ears deceiving me or did I just hear Printed Page?”
Well, I guess I should be thankful that Rarity didn’t sneak up on me this time. Wish she stops eavesdropping, though. “Yeah. He’s had a hard night last night, though. In fact… Three… Two… One…”
“HUEEEEARRRGH!” Came the noise from upstairs.
“… I don’t think he’s willing to meet anypony today.” I finish.
The now completely grossed out fashionista nods. “I did hear from some window shoppers that he had an issue with his mother and went on a… what would you call it? A bender?”
“Five high alcohol level cocktails in five minutes.” I inform her. “That’s not what I call a bender, that’s what I call liquid seppuku.”
Bleh, that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe I should refrain from comparing actions to suicide in the light of Rain Coat.
“But… haven’t you gotten yourself into this sort of state for the last five years?” She asks. 
“Not in five fucking minutes.” I reply. “I may drink in excess, but I don’t drink in express.”
“True.” She sighs in compliance. “Well, anyway. I was hoping you could assist me with a translation. I’ve received a letter and I can’t for the life of me tell where it’s from.”
Huh… Well, I do still feel like I owe her for the suit. “Alright. Let’s see it.”
With a glow of her horn a letter floats into my face. Hmm, let’s see. “I Rarity. Os gwelwch yn dda maddau y newid iaith yn sydyn . Mae fy ffrind sy'n medrus yn y cyfieithiad wedi diflannu rhywsut.” I read out loud. “Well, it looks like somepony did an unholy desecration on a bag of Scrabble tiles, so I guess it’s from Cumreign. Didn’t you say some filly from Cumreign bought a wedding dress from you?”
“Why, yes!” Rarity gleefully smiles. “But she has written to me in Equestrian before. Why write to me in Cumreign now?”
I read on. My magic just managed to translate this mess for me. “She couldn’t find a translator, apparently. She just wanted you to know the wedding was a great success and thanks you for the dress, anyway. She’s going to give you five stars on Whinny.com.”
“Oh, hurrah! Another happy client! Fantastic in any language!” She dances with joy. “Woundsalt, thank you. I know precisely how to reward you for this.”
“Oh come on now, there’s no nee-”
“HUEEEEARRRGH!” Came the noise from upstairs.
“Oh, but I insist!” Rarity says, coming closer to whisper. “I found an arcade near the Renter District that I know would peak your interest.”
“Why? I’m not a gamer.”
She raises her hoof to her mouth and zips her lips. “That I leave for you to find out on your own. I haven’t even investigated it myself because I found the floor of the place to be harmful to my hooficure. However, it is definitely something you need to observe.”
Hmm… why does an arcade needs my observation I wonder? “Alright. I’ll have a look after I sort out Fluttershy’s donation to the library…”
“HUEEEEARRRGH!” Came the noise from upstairs.
“… and get him an exorcist.”
“Yes…” Rarity says, looking up the stairs. “Woundsalt, can I ask you something about the Canterlot Horn? And I’m asking this as somepony who hasn’t even touched it while it was in circulation admittedly, so forgive me if it sounds like a terrible question.”
“What?”
“Well, I’m a little curious to why nopony didn’t hire you afterwards. Page I understand.” Rarity says, pointing up the stairs. “His father would be against any notion of him going to another magazine; at least, not one under the chain of Printed Media. But why did you not go elsewhere?”
Th… that’s a pretty good question, actual-
“Because there was no elsewhere, Miss Rarity.”
We both turn to the top of the stairs. Page stands there looking down us as he continues.
“No elsewhere for him at least. My father didn’t even want him to start with, why do you think anypony else in his competition wanted him either? Woundsalt, in the opinion of heads of multi-million bit companies, is the mad, sad, little pony on a soapbox who shouts ideas that change things. They don't want things to change, so they don’t want to hire the pony who shouts about it.”
“But all those ponies who love Woundsalt…” Rarity interrupts.
“Don’t matter to them.” He snaps back as he comes down towards us. “All that matters is that their agenda is absolute and no pony like Woundsalt, if there’ll ever be a pony like Woundsalt, ever have a soapbox to stand on ever again.”
The library falls silent. Fuck… That’s dark. I never heard him be this depressive before. Me, I understand, but Page? Printed Page? No. Printed Page didn’t say that. Page Presser did.
“That’s… quite a negative viewpoint from you, Mister Page. I... I always thought of you more of a cheerier soul than this.” Rarity eventually states. “Do you really believe this?”
Page nods. “I tell you something else that I believe, Miss Rarity…” His horn starts to glow as something floats down where he… Oh goddess. He must have found it in the bedroom opposite.
He found my adoption certificate.
“… I believe your friend needs to explain why she did this.”
> Much Ado About Nothing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“… She will be getting it annulled after the Princess Summit. Provided that there is a way to annul an adoption without looking like a horrible pony in the eye of the media. Especially since she’s particularly popular as of late.” Rarity finish explaining, levitating a book towards me for me to put on the shelf with the others.
Page is silent as he holds the ladder.

… She told him the entire story. How Twilight went into reception asking for paperwork of my release. How Type Face fucked up the paperwork. He’s been quiet ever since. I wished for this, once upon a time. A quiet Page.
But not like this. And not right now.
…
“Do you believe this, Woundsalt? That the receptionist had a bad day in the office?”
Oh thank Cadence, he speaks! “Well, I don’t see Twilight as a pony who lies about something like this. Besides, I’m willing to bet Type Face did it on purpose to screw with me. I wouldn’t put it past her. We have what you’d call a ‘Hate-hate’ relationship.”
“Like every relationship you have in Canterlot.” Page quips.
“True, true. Next book, Rarity.”
I see a book float towards my hooves. Let’s see… 
…
“Mister Page,” I hear Rarity says, breaking my concentration. “I think it’s safe to say with great confidence that this secret must stay in the library for-”
“Oh, no argument here, Miss Rarity. Don’t you worry.” Page interrupts. “I won’t reveal this. One condition though… Fuck the media. You tell Twilight to annul this immediately.”
I look down at the two. Page, what the fuck are you saying?
“I’m sorry, come again?” Rarity also asks.
“Forget what the paparazzi think.” Pages replies. “As of my father’s passing, I am now the owner of Printed Media, the largest brand of newspapers and magazines. What I say is what the paparazzi think, and I say the child that everypony believes that exists… doesn’t want to be royalty anymore. That they, whoever the buck they weren’t, realises the stress of being the child of the newest princess is too great to handle and they request an annulment. Princess Twilight, while saying that she loves this non-existent child, understands and rips up the adoption papers. The unknown orphan is never heard from again and Twilight will continue pretending that butter can’t melt in her mouth.”
Shit, that’s insane! However… It’s insane enough to work! Granted, it’s lying but it’s still the truth. I don’t want this and I feel like I’ve been stressed out since I found out; really, the only lying we are doing is the lie everypony else created: The kid.
“But… but…” Rarity stutters. “But what about the other brands? Wouldn’t they have anything to say on the issue?”
“Au contraire, Miss Rarity.” Page quickly replies. “You do not know the lesson I learn frequently being the heir of Printed Media.”
“Which is…?”
“Nopony fucks with Printed Media. Printed Media has knowledge on everypony and everything. More than other any corporation does, at least.”
“Oh, do they now?” I interfere. “Okay, ignoring this adoption fiasco, since you just found out about it, what else does Printed Media know over other companies?”
He looks at me. “Celestia left an unofficial visit Saint Diamond Heart’s crying yesterday afternoon. Ponies have only rumoured why. A reporter of mine discovered it is because of a secret Saint Diamond Heart kept… One she didn’t see coming.”
I sigh. “Let me guess. Trombones?”
He blinks. “You mean you know that?”
Rarity blinks. “Trombones?”
I sigh again. “Yeah, I had a prophetic dream I didn’t tell you girls. It was a little fucked up.”
“Oh, the one for Celestia’s eyes only.” Rarity squirms. “Say no more. Twilight did mention it. She didn’t write to us what it was, unfortunately. Or should I say fortunately?”
“Fortunately.” I nod.
“Definitely Fortunately.” Page nods along. “Trust us.”
“That I shall.” Rarity says, not nodding. You’d think she would be somepony who’d continue a starting trend. “Well, I leave you two to the rest of the books and pack for the Princess Summit.”
I look at the pile. Yeah, that doesn’t need three ponies to sort out. In fact, by the looks of things they all are copies on the shelf already; including the one in my hoof. So we could just put these in storage and call it a job well done. The shelf is full enough already, anyway.
“Okay. See you later, Rarity.”
“Take care, Miss Rarity.” Page bows. “Make sure Twilight annuls this as soon as she can.”
“I’ll make sure she will. Adieu, Mister Page.” She says as she walks out of the door.

The moment it closes, a question came out of my possibly, but logically guaranteed not-brother.
“So, how many times have you verbally ripped her high-class lifestyle to shreds?”
I couldn’t help smirking as I come down the ladder. “Hard to say. I don’t remember what I say in surges, remember?”
He guffaws as he looks around. Before moving the cart with his aura. “True… Look man, I got to be honest with you. When I saw that certificate, it… well, let’s say it’s the cause of vomit number two and three.”
“No kidding.” I reply, leading the way to storage. “Are you surprised that it’s a secret to the public?”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “And a good thing too. This could break your reputation. You’ve seen the folks at that bar last night. I can’t imagine how well they’ll receive this if it comes out.”
“I can see that.” I say as I put the book in my hoof onto the floating cart. “Then again, those guys forgave me for not knowing I had a fanbase.”
“I… I think this might be too much for them to be in a forgiving mood, Wound.” He says concernedly. “These ponies love you for being you and the fact that you say what you feel and believe; especially when it comes to your hatred of Celestia. Yet here you are being close to royalty. It feels like you sold out your feelings and beliefs!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I hate Celestia…” I begin my rebuttal as we walk over to the storage room.
“You do realise you wrote the proses titled ‘When Whitey Raises the Moon’, ‘The Revolution Will Not be Rated TV-Y’ and ‘I Bucking Hate the Bucking Princess’, right?”
…
“Okay, I can see why it would come across that I hate the Princess, but…

… want an Average Donut Joe running things and just have her doing what she has been doing in the last thousand years. Is that too much to ask?”
… The fuck was that? Was that a surge? It sounded… calmer.
Page, alongside myself, stays still for a moment. “Was… was that you right now or your magic? Because you don’t usually go on and on like you just did unless you have a blackout, but that sounded less… rage-y.”
“I… I think it was a blackout. It’s been weird since I got here. It made me cry in front of Apple Jack’s Family yesterday. Still don’t know why.”
“No kidding?” Page asks as he returns to moving himself and the wagon, eventually reaching the storage door. “You know, I never really saw you cry before.”
“Really?” I ask as I open it up. “You’d think all the times were hanging around my cubicle you’d catch me writing something.”
“What does that got to do with…” It was then that his mind has clicked. “You write with your own tears?”
I nod as his mouth figuratively and almost literally hits the floor.
“Holy crap, so that hermaphrodite at the bar last night wasn’t joking about you crying ink?”
I smile. “Like someone who owns a bar shall ever lie.”
He giggles… It seems nicer than it used to be.
“True, true.” He smiles. “Speaking of, do you mind if we head back to the SorriNa on the way to that arcade Rarity was on about? I think I left my wallet there.”
I can only blink at the question before answering with my own. “You… want to come with me to this arcade?”
“Why not?” Page shrugs. “I’m not planning anything today. Besides, I never really been to one before. Have you?”
“… I think I woke up drunk in one. Or it was it a casino? No wait, I remember. It was on a table of an illegal poker game.”
…
“I’m so happy you’re out of West Canterlot, Woundsalt.” Page Presser said calmly as he puts the cart away.
“Me too, good buddy.” I sigh as I close the door. “Me too.”
> I Hate Fetch Quests
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh don’t bother, sir.” Says the colt behind the café counter as I pull out my card. “For you it’s on the house.”
“Alright. Thank you.” I sigh. Another opportunity to be slightly less rich down the bucking drain. Well, it’s a café in the renter side of town… Should I be surprised that ponies want to give me free stuff around here?
I walk back to Page Presser. Something tells me he heard that the coffee’s free. I’m sorry, did I say something? I meant his smugness. “The price of fame is paying for nothing. Who would have thought?”
“Like you can talk. What’s the biggest thing you got free from a member of the Page Pack?”
“A few of them chipped in to make a two-story doghouse for Satchmo.” He shrugs. “It’s nice, but he prefers his old place and I don’t see him having the energy these days to go up the stairs, but hey. Thought that counts, right?”
I nod as the barista walks towards us with the coffee. That was quick for such a busy café. He must have put us first on the list. I wonder how long it will take until the star treatment seems natural? I nod again to thank him as we leave with the beverages.
“Have you even got to spend that cash yet, by the way?” Page asks as he heads out the door, hovering his brew by his lips.
“Not at all” I reply, as I walk three-legged alongside him. “Rarity gave me the suit for the date, all the drinks we had that night were on the house, a zebra gave me some powder for the magic; all of it free.”
“Hmm… maybe you can buy a house.” He suggests. “Rumour has it Twilight’s planning to move back into the Library. You know, keep the Elements together.”
“Well, it does make sense to do so.” I say as I take the first sip. Wow, that was a good first sip. “But why back in the tree? Why not build her an actual castle? Isn’t there an old one somewhere they can refurbish?”
“Well, no doubt they will someday. If anything they want her to look like one of the public for publicity’s sake. Like how Princess Cadence became a babysitter or let Princess Luna come down to Ponyville when Nightmare Night came around.”  He says taking a sip from his coffee. Judging by his face, he had a good first sip too. “You do need to move out of there, anyway. Living with an alicorn is bad for your Unalicorn image.”
“What, the Unalicorn image that I only found out about yesterday?”
“And because of that, ponies give you some lee-way. But think about it. The longer you’re there, the longer ponies will suspect you’re the new Spike. Or some new pet like the owl. What’s that owl’s name again? Owlfucious?”
“Owlowliscious.” I correct him. “And don’t say anything bad about him. Owlo’s a cool guy once you get to know him.”
“Well, fine. But you’re not Owlo. You got to get out of that library. Be independent.” He states as he goes for his second sip. Again, I suspect it was another tasty sip by the way he is nodding at his drink. “Show everypony you can stand on your own feet, you know?”
I take my second sip. Shit, this is good coffee.
“Yeah, I got you.” I say as the box known as the SorriNa can be seen as we turn the corner. “Maybe I could go on a holiday too. That’ll be a good way to waste money, right?”
“Definitely.” Page Presser smiles. “Take it from me, Prance does damage to a wallet. Went there a few months back.”
Hmm… Prance, huh?
“I’ll look into it.” I reply as we stop in front of the doors of Blue Curaçao’s black cube. “Right now, let’s just get your wallet back.”

Hmm… judging that a place like this, it could be closed around this time. Meaning it is acceptable to… knock! Okay, Woundsalt. The last two times were pretty embarrassing, but now… Now it’s your time to show the world that you can knock on a door without humiliating yourself! I shall become the Knock-master! Deep breaths…
I… watch as Page knocks on the doors to the place instead.
Fuck. Actually, you know what? I was holding a coffee. If I did try to knock, I was bound to fall on my face. Thanks, Probably but guaranteed not-bro.
The door opens as a blue head pops out. My goddess, how can Blue’s neck support such an overweight head? “Amigos!” It exclaims as the door opens wider. “So nice to see you two again! And together, too!”
“Hey, Blue.” I greet first. “Just came by because somepony lost his wallet.”
He turns to the other poet. “Oh? Well, I’m not surprised, Mistah Page. Five Sombreracs in five minutes… You’re lucky you didn’t lose more than that!” He laughs.
“Y… Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m… I’m not entirely versed with drinking.” Page stutters as he looks away. Shit, and here I thought he can’t get any redder.
“Is okay, pony. I heard what your mama said to you before the show. You deserved to drown your sorrows.” The portly owner says as he opens the door. “What’s the situation on that, by the way? Was she telling the truth?”
Page is silent. The kind smile dissipates as the blob of my former bully moves outside. I think he got what is not said. “Oh… Oh, Mistah Page…” He sighs as he moves towards Page. “You a bruddah?”
The red unicorn nods slowly.
He sits and puts his front hooves wide open. “Come on. Come and hug a bruddah.”
Page hesitantly puts his hooves around the barrel of the bar-stallion. Blue clasps his front stubs around the red unicorn. It looks like one a hotdog just got hit sideways by a water balloon that didn’t burst on impact. So yeah, not a pretty sight.
“There we go. There we go. ” Says the obese pegasus. “Welcome to dah family.”
“Th… thank you.” mumbles Page… somewhere in there.
… Well, this is awkward.
“You don’t mind if I head on in and get it?”
“You go on ahead. Parfait’s got it in the lost and found box.”  Curaçao whispers. “He’s talking to an apple farmer right now, though. Issues with the cider dealer.”
Apple Jack’s here, huh? Well, I better see how she’s doing, knowing that the last time I saw her she was face down on a cart having a journey to the centre of her being.
Handing my coffee to Page’s aura, I walk on into the SorriNa.





Wow, this place looks so different when it’s close to empty. No talk, no singing, no music coming from the jukebox; it’s quite a haunting experience seeing this place with little to no-one here. Strange, I don’t usually feel afraid of an empty bar. If anything, an empty bar is my slice of heaven. I’d be alone, the only words I’d be hearing is how much the booze costs and I’d be getting drunk in peace. But this bar… this bar scares me when it’s empty. Why? 
...
I better find Parfait and AJ before it gives me a panic attack.
Sure enough, they are both at the bar.
“You sure?” I hear the cow-filly as I walk towards them. “Cuz we’re already getting profit as is.”
“I gather that, sweetie.” Parfait giggles as she drops a big bag of bits on the bar mat. “But I don’t want any special treatment because I’m different, you know? Besides, if anything you deserve every coin for helping me out here.”
“… Okay, sugarcube. If you say so.” Apple Jack says as she hesitantly puts the bag in her storage saddle. Did… did he just buy the cider for more than she bargained for? Wow! And here I thought the Apple family should’ve given her the cider for free!
Parfait finally sees me and waves, causing the country filly to turn around. She’s… not happy to see me. Why are half of the girls not happy to see me, today?
“Uh… hey, Apple Jack. How was your trip?”
She’s silent… Why do I have the feeling…?
“Zecora ratted me out, didn’t she?”
She nods. Damn it. I guess rhyming and lying is too hard to do at the same time.
“I’m sorry. I know I should have just left it and wait until Twilight gave the all-clear, but it was the stuff that got me some control over my magic! A few more hits and maybe we’ll find a way to stop the surges!”
“I know, darlin’. I know.” She sighs. “And Twi’s fine with it… But dang, you got a silver-tongue that needs tamin’. You actually made me think I was something I wasn’t for a moment, there.”
“So… You’re not…?”
“Nah.” AJ waves away. “Just a manly filly with a suitably manly name. Notin' more, Nothin' less.”
Parfait looks to the both of us. “Can somepony fill me in here?”
“Woundsalt talked me into tryin’ something called Onderlandwah yesterday.”
“Oh, right. That stuff.” She nods. “We got a zebra brother who grows the stuff. Apparently, with some juices and a lot of magic, you can see the past.”
“Have you or Blue tried it before, Parfait?” I ask. I wonder if the powder explains the unbelievable change with my old bully.
“I know I did.” The lavender pegasus smiles. “I dreamt that I was wearing some school uniform that was talking to me while attacking some bullies from my orphanage with a half of a pair of scissors. Shit got epic.”
Aw, fuck. That does sound cool. Why did I get the white plane? Wait, that was just her. “How about Blue?”
She shrugs. “Took it before him and I got close. I won’t be surprised that he got some from our bro, though. So AJ, what was your trip?”
“Riding some furry dragon thing through Manehattan. Really fun.” She grins. “Just glad that it answered a question Woundsalt planted in my head. Speakin’ of, Wound. Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
I nod slowly as we walk away from the bar.
“Rainbow told me y’know about how Rain Coat went out.” The cowfilly says, believing to be far enough from the… Bar-herm? Actually, that sounds nice. Better run that by him. “Ah’m sorry we didn’t tell ya ‘bout that.”
“That’s alright.” I reply. “But… can I ask why you girls didn’t tell me?”
She’s a little… cautious.
“Well… Twi’s a little worried at the amount of mental stress you might be havin’. You remember me making sure the surge in the family shack wasn’t a personal meltdown yesterday, don’t ya? I wasn’t just making sure for myself, there. I was making sure for all th’ girls.” She eventually says with a hoof on my shoulder. “Your life’s changin’, Wound. And changin’ quickly. Someponies might say too quickly. We dunno how well you’re takin’ it and… We don’t wanna see you go the same way she did.”
…
“I can’t fly. How can I…?”
“You know what I mean.” She says as the hoof comes off. “Just… promise me you’ll talk to us if you ever felt like that, okay?”
Okay, clearly this is something that’s been on her mind. Better say yes. I know I never contemplated suicide ever in my life, even after my cry last night, but… guess it’s good to know that there a shoulder to lean on, right? A friend in need, is a friend indeed… I think that’s how it goes.
“Okay. If I ever get that down, I’ll tell you.”
Apple Jack smiles. “Thanks, buckaroo. I better get goin’ back to th’ farm and start packing for tomorrow. You take care of yourself, pardner.”
She quickly hugs me (feeling my displeasure in those small seconds, no doubt.) then waves to Parfait and walks out the SorriNa.
“Does… does she think you’re suicidal or some shit?” The pegasus asks as the door closes. “The fuck’s that about?”
“Long story. I’m fine, really.” I sigh. “Anyway, Page is outside talking to Blue. Do you have his wallet?”
She nods as she searches under the bar and comes up with a wallet. “That crystal pony by the bar last night found it. Nice Guy. Surprised he’s old enough to drink, though.”
I snicker at the comment as I head closer at the bar to look at the wallet, seeing the words ‘QUITE A NICE GUY, REALLY’ burnt onto it. Yeah, I remember Brainstorm giving him this on his eighteenth birthday.
I pick i- shit!
I pick it and most of its content up. Some post-it note fell out when I grabbed it. What’s this now?



Let me know when you want a walk on the wild side again. I’ll be waiting.
Croissant xxx



Oh, ho ho! Pagey’s got a Croissant! How sweet of him, the bucking charmer. That namby-pamby romantic sludge he writes was bound to give him a hook-up eventually. I better put this back in the wallet.
“Thanks for that.” I say to Parfait. “Oh, and before I go. Can I run something by you as something you can be called?”
“Shoot.”
“Instead of barcolt or barfilly…” I pause for dramatic effect. “Bar-herm.”
…
“I’m getting a marker and putting that on the sign.” She says bluntly.
“Yeah, fair enough.” I say just as bluntly. “Sounded better in my head.”
“It happens." She giggles. "The two Neighponese ones up there were from some otaku assuming calling me those would be… how do you say it? Kawaii?” 
I nod. “Well, I better hoof this back to Page. See you later, Parfait.”
“Take it easy out there, champ.” He smiles, as she starts wiping some glasses.
I head back out onto the Renter streets.





“… He’ll still treat you like one. I saw the look on his face when you told him what your mom said last night. I’m half surprised he didn’t run on stage to hug ya! He cares for you, bruddah!”
“You think so, Blue?”
“Yeah! More than an actual brother does! Trust me, I know for a fact my twin, Orange…”
“You have a twin?”
“Same basket.”
“Ah.”
That was all I heard from the two when I came back before they noticed me. It’s abundantly clear they were talking about me before. Better put myself into this conversation.
“How is Orange, by the way? I heard from Parfait he booked it.”
He looks at me with a sour look, like I opened a can of worms after their sell-by date.
“Like what I was about to say… my brother doesn’t care for me. Just himself. He would have left the room and left me there, if it was me drunk off my flank on-stage. But you two…” he says as he puts his front legs on both mine and Page’s shoulders. “You two are family. I can see that.”
“But what if we’re…?” We both ask in unison… which made us look at each other. Freaky.
“See? You two are Ohana! Even if not by blood!” The extremely chubby pegasus laughs. “Thick as thieves! Thicker than me, even!”
This made Page Presser smile… and me concerned. What the fuck were these two talking about before I came out?
“Thanks, Blue.” Page says. “That makes me feel better. We better get going and see this arcade for ourselves.”
This arcade? They were talking about the arcade? What about the arcade?
“Alright, gringos… say Wound, think you can come around tonight? I need to talk to you about something.” Curaçao says looking at me. “The bar’ll be closed anyway. We can have a mano et mano in peace.”
Huh? Wha? What does that got to do with…? Buck it. I’ll just ask Page later.
“I got to do a thing with Vinyl, but… yeah, I think I got time after that.”
“The rap tournament Slim Shake was supposed to be in, eh? I hope she found a replacement.” He smiles. “If rumours are true, this Hater D howlie deserves every words thrown her way!”
Heh. Something tells me she doesn’t.
“Well, until then, hermanos…” Blue says as he opens his bar door. “Adios.”
“Adios!” We reply.

As the door closes behind him, I hold up Pages wallet. He takes it and replaces it with my coffee and back on the road we go.
“So,” I say to Page. I got to know. “What did you two talk about while I was in there?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Page quips. “I told him about your mystery sibling and the possibility that it isn't me and... he thinks we’re not brothers.”
“He doesn’t see us as…?”
“No. And he’s got a good reason for it, too.”
…
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the reason?”
He looks to me, smiling mildly. Looks to me he’s a little hurt to say what he’s about to say, but accepts that he has to tell me.
“Wound… this arcade. It’s owned by a filly…

… A filly named Salty Bet.”
> Pressing Buttons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We stand on the other side of the street by one of the streetlamps taken from Canterlot, staring at the sign on the top of the arcade.

A red and white affair, with a salt shaker right above of… a button? Or maybe it’s a bit… Well, it’s a yellow round thing. That’s all I can say. Well, not exactly true.  I did say something after reading the sign labelling ‘Salty Bet’s Mega Arcade’…

“Fuck.”

Page sighs. “Yep… According to Blue, she was there last night, having some drinks with her impersonator friends.”
“I… noticed her. She… she does look like a filly-me.”
“Hmm.” Page mumbles, finishing his coffee. “Pretty common. There’s an entire dating service dedicated to organizing a date between a lucky pony and an impersonator or ‘Saltette’ as they are known.”
“No kidding?” Oh Celestia, I realise by saying that he’s going to go into more detail on it.
“Not at all. It’s really a big deal, especially in Neighpon. They even have a special place called ‘Shio Meido Kissa’ in the capital. It’s like a traditional maid café but the maids are also Saltettes, usually getting into character by telling customers that they are perverts for eating in such an establishment and yelling swears at them constantly.” He says as he throws his cup in the trash. “Definitely an odd side to your fanbase.”
…
I take a mental note to never go to Neighpon as we look back at the sign.

“So…” I eventually say. “What are we going to do here? I’m guessing barging in and telling her straight up she’s my sister is a little uncivilised.”
“Most definitely.” My comrade nods. “Especially since, and I’m putting this out there in case we’re wrong, the only thing we’ve got so far to prove it is that you two have similar names and she looks like a female version of you. Which, even though that means out of the possible known candidates she’s the most likely to be your sibling… means little to nothing, really.”

I stay silent as I turn to him, waiting for him to explain what he said.
“Well, think about it, Wound. Is Twilight’s brother called ‘Sparkle Armour’? Do all the members of the Apple family have the word apple in their name? Is Rarity hiding the fact that her last name is Belle or did her sister Sweetie added that to her name just for kicks? Fact is, you can’t prove a relation with just a name! It helps, sure, enough to make me believe that you two must be related; but you can’t.”
“Sure you can!” I reply. “Twilight Sparkle, Shining Armour. Sparkle, Shining. Two words involving light. And The Apples who don’t have Apple in their name still have a name related to apples. Granny Smith? A type of apple. Big Macintosh? A type of apple. I can keep going if I fucking bothered to know all their names!”
“What about Rarity and Sweetie Belle?”
“Well… Well… Fine, you got me there.” I grumble as I finish my coffee and put it in the trash. “But what could she be if namesake doesn’t mean she’s my sister?”
“I don’t know, Woundsalt.” He says as he starts to walk to the place “but…

… We’re going to find out.”





I don’t see why Rarity was squeamish about entering this place. What was her excuse for not coming in here again? The carpet? The carpet is fine… besides from the design. It looks like somepony with a sugar rush went nuts on an Etch-a-sketch. However, I recall that nopony cares for the carpet of these things but the games.
And there’s a bucking lot of games.
Lines upon lines of machines facing each other, screens glittering with visions that are destined to excite the senses. It’s hard to walk down the mechanical aisle without something beeping a merry tune of some kind.

“Yo! She’s got Skull-Fillies!” I hear a familiar voice from behind me. I turn to discover that the three of the four wise-crackers from last night. If I were to guess, the beanie-wearing pegasus named Musclebound just shouted his enthusiasm over the machine he’s looking at.
“And Perpona 4 Arena!” The unicorn which I remember to be called Lava Beard shouts, looking at some other machine.
“And Under Nightmare In-Birth Exe:Late!” Squeels the crystal pony who I believe is named Doki Stick. “Why is it that Salty Bet’s place is always amazing every time we come here?”
I have no idea what the fuck they’re on about, but clearly they know about games and the filly of the hour.
Oh goddess they’re looking at me. Maybe I should ask them some questions.
“Uh… Hey. You guys wouldn’t happen to know where the owner of this place is, would you?”
“Oh! Uh… She should be to the back.” Lava Beard says, pointing to the direction which could be described as the back of this place. “A friend of ours went down there to talk to her about something, too.”
I nod in thanks and follow the path the bearded one points out to me.
“Say fellas. You said he’s an orphan, right?” Asks the crystal pony as I walk away. “Because everytime we come here, I always wonder whether or not Bet’s related to him in some way.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Musclebound answers. “And since this is his first time down in Ponyville… you don’t think he came here to discover they are related in some way, don’t you? Like a cousin or something?”

I pause when he said that.

“Maybe. Nothing to do with us, anyway.” Lava Beard says, adding his two bits into one of the machines. “Let’s digitally beat the crap out each other, fellas!”
“Yeah! Dibs on Dark Anger!”
“Dibs on Storm Feeler!” 

Page sees me frozen into place. “You look like you’ve thought of something.”
I nod.
“Do you mind filling me in?” He asks.
“Something tells me we might be looking at this all wrong, Page… What if we don’t have the sibling but… somepony from the rest of the family?”
“You… you mean like a cousin or something?” he asks.
I nod as he looks toward ‘the back’ as the bearded unicorn describes it.

Let’s think about the magnitude of this realisation here. I maybe steps away from finding the family that my mother took me away from. This could be quite a big clue to… everything. Who is my mom? What did she do for a living? Why did she go and leave me and this mystery sibling by the doors of Saint Diamond Heart’s? All these questions could be answered with just a few more steps into this abyss of machines and good times!

And those few steps I take.

I see a glassy counter with small knick-knacks stuffed inside them. I see shelves full of interesting stuff with numbers attached to them. Do you know what I don’t see?
Her.
Well, probably because there’s a forest of dreadlocks in the way. I’m guessing this is Wullay, the zebra of the four from the bar last night.
“But yo, seriously.” The pony shouts. “When’s the Marevel Machine coming back?”
Hmm… if he’s talking to who I think he’s talking to, then this could be a good test to prove she and I are related in some fashion.
“I don’t fucking know, man!” I hear. “You know how that fucking box always craps out so fucking easily. It’s a bucking miracle that thing can still turn on!”
Five swear words in two sentences. The Salt family lives.
Wullay turns around to find me standing there and walks away slowly to reveal a white… earth pony? No wait, of course she is. She is supposed to be the filly version of me, so having a horn sort of ruins the illusion. Must be some other family member that I got my magic from. Same goes for the red eyes, as she clearly has a wonderful yellow. Her hair is nice too… it’s actually black, not like me and my dye job.

Salty Bet looks at me stuned. “Oh… Oh… H-hi. Erm… I’m sorry, I’m jumping to a conclusion right now. Can I just confirm with you that you are who I think you are?”
Heh… the impersonator wants to know if the real thing’s the real thing. Sweet, sweet irony.
I see from the corner of my eye Page Presser coming towards us.
“Madam,” Says the unicorn. “I tell you now that he is in fact precisely who you think he is.”
“Wow… O-okay.” She stutters as she tries to get a grip. “Sorry… It’s just that, I tried to build up the courage to talk to you last night but…”
I’m going to get this nervous shit with everypony I try and talk to now, aren’t I?
“Anyway,” Bet continues. “Welcome to my arcade, Mister Wound. I have a feeling you’re not here for the games.”
I shakes my head. “No… I’m here to learn some family history.”
> Salty Towers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So yeah, I got these contact lenses that makes my eye colour red.” Bet speaks as she puts a key into a ticket counting machine. “They hurt a little, but you know. Details are important when it comes to False Salting.”
“I guess as much.” I smile. “How much detail do you have to put in though? Like, do they forgive you for not painting over your cutie-mark?”
“It depends, really.” She says as she opens up the box. “If you’re making it clear you’re out for fun and shit they’ll forgive you for wearing something over it like a pair of pants or something, but if some stallion is claiming to be you or somepony’s on a paid for date, they better make sure they got the quill’s on the right angle; a few degrees off and they’ll look at you like you just puréed a kitten.”
We both snicker as she takes the tickets out. I look over to Page, as he puts a few bits into a racing game for him and a brown-coated colt in a propeller hat to face each other in another derby. The kid’s up 2-0 already.

I know I should get started talking about family matters right now, but I got to say I’m glad she requested to just talk to me a bit to calm her nerves down. It’s calming me down a bit too, admittedly. I know I came to her all cool and shit but deep down I was nervous as a cockatrice next to a mirror. I do need to know what goes on in the mind of a pony who wants look like me, anyway. Especially, as it turns out, Salty Bet here is actually in one of those look-a-like dating services.

“So, why are you even in one of those dating services, anyway?” I had to ask.
“Honestly? It’s the cushiest job in the world.” The filly declares. “Go to a place with the contact lenses, call the client a douche a few times, have dinner which the client pays for, see a movie where the client pays for the ticket, then do a little apology about calling them a douche, give them a little kiss and bam! Not hungry for the rest of the week!”

“That’s it?” I question. “I was expecting something a little more sinister than that. Like, it turns out to be glorified prostitution or some shit.”
She giggles awkwardly for a moment. “Well… I’m not going to lie; some Saltettes take it to the bedroom. Someponies want to live their fan-fiction fantasies, unfortunately.” 
I wince. Just had to say it, didn’t I? Just had to open my bucking mouth.
“Not you, I’m guessing?” I ask, praying that she shakes her head.
She does shake her head. Thank Cadence! My possible family member is not a prostitute. No… wait, the look on her face…she’s thinking about something. Something’s up.

“You see that machine over there?” she eventually asks, pointing a hoof to a direction.
I look over where she points to find, without a doubt, the newest machine in the place. It’s sleek design of a giant robot face engraved onto the giant box of metal to ensure whatever a pony does inside of it is serious business. Its sleek stainless steel chassis opens up revealing the bearded unicorn with a look of euphoria planted on her face. He walks out and hugs the machine, rubbing it with his left hoof and slobbering on the thing.
“Hey!” Salty shouts. “No drooling on the mech simulator!”
This made Lava Beard jerk his head up and walk away with a dizzy state. Bliss must be in this machine.
“Got it from the owner’s son from the company in charge of sending these things from Neighpon to Equestria. That’s the only one that’s here so far.” She smiles. “I let slip to Jitterbug I ran an arcade, he decided to give me that as payment. The agency I work for genuinely believe I should give him at least a night for something this expensive and…  Well, he is a cutie and I do like the guy…”
Ah. I seem to have caught her in a dilemma. I think she wants some advice. She doesn’t know she’s asking advice from the stallion who only had his first actual date yesterday, does she? Ah well, I should at least put in my thought.
“Well, if you like the guy you should drop the act and tell him that you do.” I utter, shrugging. “Anything that happens after that, it’s all down with what you two want.”
She looks at the machine as she ponders. 
“You know what? Yeah… I’ll tell him. I mean, it shouldn’t be weird, right? Even if…”
She turns silent as she rolls the ticket back to the counter.

“Mister Wound… I know you’re here for answers about your family. And It's an honour that you came in here.” She says as she opens the door to get it. “But… I’m sorry, there are no answers here.”
Before I ask what the fuck she’s on about, she looks into my eyes with her wonderful gr…
Green.
Green? They were yellow before. Why are the gr… Oh!

Oh…

Oh…

… Fuck.

“You’re a changeling?” I whisper in amazement.
She nods as the eyes return to the yellow she had before. I can’t believe it. All of this suspense, all of this emotion… for a bucking changeling. I can’t bucking believe it… No wait… Yes I can. Now that I think about it, it would be a little too easy, wouldn’t it? Having an answer to at least one of my problems plastered on the front of an arcade? No… that’ll be just handing it to me on a silver platter! And that would be the only handing the universe gave me on a silver platter I would actually be happy about!
…
This is because I foretold the plot twist, isn’t it?
Well fuck you too, Fate. Next time, give me a good curveball to knock out of the park.

“So… I guess those contacts don’t exist then.” I say with as little disdain in my voice as I can muster. In the bug’s defence, her only crime so far is having a similar and I’m willing to guess false name and the ability to change her body on a whim.
“No.” She groans in sympathy. “Look, I know I lied, but I’m supposed to have a cover, here, Mister Salt. I don’t really want everypony to know who I really am. The Canterlot Wedding Attack hasn’t really made being a changeling popular in pony towns, even though I didn’t have any part of it.”

She looks around in disgust of herself. I’m guessing it’s a little embarrassing to reveal you’re a changeling. I have a few questions, though. Like how she just said she had no involvement with that changeling attack; the only day I was happy to live Westside. None of those motherfuckers got near the orphanage that day. Can’t say I blame them.
“You weren’t in the attack? Why? Are you exiled or some shit?”
“No, I ran away.” She coughs. Clearly talking about this is making her feel awkward. Shit, it’s making me feel awkward hearing it. “I caught wind of the assault and didn’t want any part of it. I mean, it was a little unethical, wasn’t it? That sort of invasion during what would be a time of peace?”

I nod. Wow, this is quite a moment I’m in… I keep hearing, especially after the attack, that changelings are all controlled by the same mind; a ‘Hive-mind’ as it were. What I’m also told is that Hive-mind is also a giant dick, which would explain why they did attack at the wedding. So, seeing this one actually say that she was against the grain, putting her morals in front of her colony, and deciding to leave that world behind her to come here… This is eye-opening stuff.

“So, I came here,” she continues. “We read common pony literature to blend into Equestrian society when we want to spy and such, so your work and its fanbase is well known about around the hive. In fact, I won’t be surprised if it turns out I’m not the only one using Saltette dating programs for some cash and something to… eat.”
“Not hungry for the rest of the week, huh?” I ask light-heartedly. I think it’s safe to say what she meant by ‘eat’. Devouring emotions out of hapless clients; you cheeky, little insect. Well, Fair enough, I guess. It is for her survival. It’s not like there’s a place around here that serves emotions on the cheap... Unless of course the McClownface Happy Meal actually contains happiness. Which they do not.
She giggles a little. “Yeah… And before you ask, no. I don’t leave them in zombie-like states like what the Queen did to Prince Shining. Just enough to make them feel queasy in the morning and think they hit the wine a bit too hard, that’s all. They’d be fine by lunch, give or take body weight.”

I nod in hearing this. Time for me to ask another question. “So, why a name like Salty Bet? Isn’t that just asking me and other ponies to go and investigate some relation? I mean, you know of me, right? You know I’m an orphan…”
“Not at the time.” She blushingly says. “At the time, I only thought it was a little cute to name myself after the poet that talks about a world without a royal ruler as I walk away from a world with a royal ruler. I didn’t really consider the consequence of sharing the name until somepony did eventually ask about it. I told him that I just didn’t know whether or not there was a relation and bring up some bullshit that I’m worried about finding out because it could pull out some skeletons in the closet If I did.”
…
“You were planning to feed me that same bullshit when I went in here, weren’t you?”
She looks away, cheekily smiling.
“Yep… sorry.” She puts her hoof in mine. “But I sort of see now that you're excited about getting somewhere with your search and… well, no point letting you walk down a dead-end path on something this important, right?”
I guess that’s true. I got enough cock-teasing in my life as is, in my opinion.
“Well… Miss…?”
“Peon No. 241543903… Yeah, I prefer to be called Salty Bet, nowadays. Or Betty.”
Betty it is.
“Miss Betty, I thank you for being honest with me.” I say with a smile this creature deserves. “You may not answer my family matters, but I’m happy you ex… Oh sweet Celestia… Say, how much for that?”

I point my hoof in the direction to the object I want her to see. An object high above the back wall. I have a feeling that it must be worth a lot of tickets; and by Star Swirl the Bearded’s pubic hair, I will pay and play at any or all these machines to get it!
…
“You know what?” Salty Bet says looking at the object. “I don’t want to see you heading out of here empty-hooved…”

“…You can have it.”





Page looks toward me as he walks around the store. I’m willing to guess his adversary on the Daypona machine went on home or to a worthier foe.
“So? How did it…?” He stops because he sees what I have in my hooves. “What in the name of Tartarus is that?”

He asks the question as he looks towards the gift of the changeling. I don’t know what happened to my old one, but since I’m in this town making a new life…

…I’m starting it with a bird that dips its head repeatedly.

“His name is Mister Bobby-bird the Second.” I told Page Presser, probably with the biggest, shit-eating grin I had in my life. “And he wants a drinky-poo.”
	
> One Step Forward, Dubsteps back
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put the only thing I’m completely glad I got for free onto Twilight’s desk, placing a tea cup of water at the beak impact zone. I push the head down to the cup and then…

Release.

...

Beautiful. Just… Beautiful. Look at the little guy go. Just bobbing away without a care in the world. I said it before in my Onderlandwah trip, and I will say it again. My incredibly small dream is done and I feel wonderful. I have put a plastic bird on a desk and have it pretend to drink water from a teacup. Thank you Betty, you magnificent shapeshifting wonder-bug.

I look at Page, who is staring at me with a hint of curiosity. “What?” I dare ask with a smile.
“Nothing. It’s just that I… I never saw you so happy before.” Page says, now smiling along with me. “The closest thing I can even think of you being this happy is the first time you rubbed your interview with Satchel Mouth in my face and this blows that out of the water. Did… did she confirm it or something?”
I blink for a moment. “Confirm what?”
“That you and her are related!” He prods at my shoulder. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have that conversation with her?”
Oh shit, I forgot to tell him! Yeah, I should fill him in.
“I did. We’re not. Turns out she’s just a changeling who ran away from her hive.” I say casually. Probably a bit too casual, considering the subject.I don’t think Page would make a big deal about…
“SHE'S A WHAT?”
Wow, I’m a terrible judge of character.

“Relax, man! She’s not doing any harm! She just wants asylum from Queen Chrysalis!”
He was about to yell out a rebuttal, but then something possessed him to think about what I said. “Asylum? You mean… she pissed her off in some way?”
“Probably.” I assure him. “Bet thought the Canterlot Wedding attack was wrong, so she scarpered before the attack.”
“You mean… they have morals?” He asks. He sounds like a prick by saying that out loud, I know, but I can’t hold it against him. I can’t pretend I thought the same when she told me her story.
“Yeah. Turns out that ‘Hive-mind’ we all thought they had is a myth, I guess.”
He looks toward Mister Bobby-bird the Second, as he ponders.

“Hang on. If that were the case,” He eventually says. Something tells me he's not convinced. “Then why did her brethren think that it's wrong? I was there at that wedding, Wound. Those changelings were more and willing to fuck shit up.”
“I’m guessing because the queen wanted to.” I reply. “Bet does make it sound like she rules with an iron hoof.”
The unicorn freezes for a second. 
“… Holy crap. That... that must be it.” He nods in epiphany as we continue looking at the bird. “Being forced to do nothing but obey for so long that you will eventually believe that it’s all you can do.”
“Horrible.” I groan. “And if you wanted to get the fuck out of that life, the reputation of it stops you from being yourself.”
"Fuck that sounds familiar." Page mumbles. He probably thought I didn’t hear him, but I did.
We stay silent for a while.

“Say, Woundsalt?” Page eventually pipes up. “Do you know where I can find some powder called Onderlandwah?”
I turn to him. Now why would he want to know about…? Actually, I feel like I already know the answer to the question I was about to ask. “You want to take some for a bit of self-discovery, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I had an appointment with a zebra today to have some, but… Well, due to recent events I think it’s safe to say I missed that appointment.”
I tried to refrain from chortling, to little success. I guess it has been quite a morning for him. “Come on.” I say as I walk away from my brand new knick-knack. “I got some upstairs.”





“Why do you think I should be in the bed when I take this?”
“Oh, trust me. This stuff knocks mother buckers out cold. Something tells me you don't want to be lifeless on the floor again, anyway.”
…
“Thanks.”

I put an estimated amount of the powder in his hoof. I think this is roughly the amount Zecora gave me.
“Okay,” I say. “Any questions before you go have the ride of your lifetime?”
Page nods as he looks at the powder, and then to me.
“How long will I be out?” He asks.
“Uh… I don’t know.” I unenthusiastically whimper. “I only taken this shit once, and I didn’t really keep a check on time.”
The look on his face makes me believe that he is not confident in me playing witch doctor. I better take the edge off by asking him shit.
“So… uh… anything specific you’re looking for inside yourself?”
“Y… yeah.” He coughs a little. “It’s a little hard for me to put in words.”
I got a feeling this is about a certain filly named Croissant and her note that dropped out of his wallet when I picked it up. Maybe if I twist his front leg a bit. “Let me guess. A filly?”
He giggles. “You found Croissant’s note in my wallet and jumped to a conclusion, didn’t you?”
Crap, he saw through me. “Hey, it fell out, alright?” I confess. “Don’t fucking sass to me when your nine-year-old wallet can’t hold sh... jumped to a conclusion? Meaning I got it wrong in some way?”
He puts his hoof to his mouth. He knew he messed up and regretting it.
“Alright, fine.” He eventually grumbles. “This is about her. She’s a…”






…
She’s a what?
She’s a what?
Shit, that hoof he put on his mouth… that wasn’t the one with the powder on it, was it? That would explain why he hasn’t finished the sentence and has his head droop onto the pillow like it was magnetised to it.
…
Fine then. Go fuck yourself, Page.
… I hope you find what you’re looking for.





I close the door behind me with a light thud and a heavy sigh. It’s getting close to the afternoon, now… almost time for the Re-Cute Mitzvah of the century. Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like it? Well, besides from the fact that I’m a cynical asshole? I bet it’s because of Pinkie Pie. She has proven to me that she is very eccentric. I don’t like eccentric ponies. They scare me. It's like they are one hair straightener away from turning me into baked goods and wearing my skin like it's a hoodie... Something tells me that I just referenced something my magic has read that I didn't again. Whatever the buck it was, I do not want to know.

I hear the door below open up. Time for me to face the music.
…
Huh.
Looks like I’m facing a different kind of music.
It’s Vinyl.

“Hey.” She cheerfully smirks. “Thought I’d come and talk to you before the party.”
I smile. She definitely seems happier than when I saw her last.
“Hey… Look, about last night…” I start.
“Nah, nah. No need to apologize. It’s cool.” She assures me. “Just caught me by surprise, that’s all. About that though, if you're okay in answering… Do you know how she died? I got the full story from Dad, and… well, I feel like you don't have the full story and should.”
“I didn’t… at first.” I better explain my dreams to her. “I dreamt up your dad’s letter last night. It’s what they do; find a bit of information in the world that has been written down and show it to me. Out of all the words my magic knows the definition of, privacy apparently isn’t one of them.”

“Heh.” She chuckles. “Well, it saves me telling you, I guess… Shit, dad mentioned the trombone didn't he?”
“He did. No need to fill me in, there. I know about that too.” Oh sweet mother of Cadence, I wish I didn’t. “Dreamt up Saint Diamond Heart’s confession the night before.”
“Ah… yeah…” She whines with clenched teeth. “Any prophetical dream of yours not about my family?”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I dreamt the Chariotora Document Luna released yesterday. And that’s the only three I ever had so far.” You know, this talk of dreams is tickling my curiosity of Rain Coat’s dreams. “What about your aunt? What were her dreams like?”

“To be honest? They’re really weird.” She says, with a hoof to the back of her head. “She keeps having the same one every night where this pony in a suit stands in front of a map of Equestria with a plastic-like smile on his face as a bunch of symbols appear on the map as he says how the weather is the next day... wait, you only had three dreams so far? Why's that?”
“My magic kept most of the symptoms on the down low because he was worried if anypony found out I had CMC, I'd be off to a lab. My psychiatrist seems to have had connections to the some folks your grandpa knew.” I say as she nods in understanding. I got to keep asking about Rain. “So... the same dream every night, huh? Same pony just standing in front of a map talking about the weather for all of her life?”
“Yeah. Fucking torture, right? The more I think about it, it's no wonder she went nuts, you know?” Vinyl sighs. “And good luck talking to somepony about it; especially in Darwhinny. The place is almost a bucking ghost town.”
“So why did she go there?” I ask. “To hide from the ponies who would’ve put her in a lab?”
“M…Maybe…?” She says removing her shades to wipe one of her eyes. Something tells me she’s about to cry on me again. “I’m… I’m sorry man, I know you want to know as much as you can about her but can we change the topic, please? I thought I can handle it, but...”

"Okay, Vinyl. I got you. I got you." I say as I... hug her. I didn't even think about it, my front legs just went up and did it. It's... alright, I guess. I got no complaints on this hug. It's not like the two with Octavia but... hey, it's not like this hug is for me. 

...
"Wound, as much as I know you're trying to cheer me up here, can you..?" She says wiggling. So it isn't just me.

"Okay. " I whisper as I let go and think of a new topic. It's not like I have a range of topics to ask her about now, anyway. Let's go with the one not involving threesomes.  “So, what’s the plan for this rap thing tonight? I guess I should write a few things down.”

“If… if you want. You don’t particularly have much of a competition on your hooves, though.” Vinyl sniffles as she fixes herself up a little. “As much as she tries to talk a big game, Hater D’s not exactly what you call a wordy individual. She’s still pretty new to rapping according to all that I can dig up about her. Really the problem is her Diamond Dog DJ, Grandmaster Flint. His jams pretty much carried those two to the finals. You can leave him too me, though. I’ll just keep it at an easy tempo for you to rhyme on.”
“Alright, if you say so.” I grumble happily. “Just a heads up, though. I’ve never been on stage before, let alone rapped on one.”
“Dude, don’t sell yourself short. We’ll be fine.” She giggles. “If you can make poetry, then you can easily rap. Besides… I managed to eavesdrop a conversation between D and Flint. She’s under the impression that you’re a False Salt and already written down some jabs of you being a fake. Just imagine the look on her face when she discovers that it’s really you?”
“…Okay, I am imagining it. It is glorious. One issue though. How does she not know it was me?” I ask. “Doesn’t me verbally ripping her into shreds last night prove who the fuck I am?”
“You’d think so, right?” She says, giggling louder. “But since you were wearing your pants she doesn't believe you. You even gave her your bucking name and she... she...”
We couldn’t hold in the laughter. We just couldn't. Fucking A, what a stupid griffon! I told her who I was and she stills think I'm a fake and is going to get all kinds of embarrassed at this thing!

Our muzzles touched.

… 

Well, we might as well ask about that elephant in the room.
“Hey… look, I asked Octavia about a rumour I heard about…”
“Yeah, she told me you heard it.” She nods. “she also admitted to messing with you a little. Kinda unfair, but hey. All part of the game.”
I blink for a few seconds. “Game?”
“Yeah… look, we heard that rumour a while back.” Vinyl explains. “we tried fighting it, but rumours about how ponies get their freak on in the Renter Strip is hard to go away. I mean, don't get me wrong; the Renter Strip is a good spot to if you're open about yourself and that's awesome, but when a rumour comes out about you being a certain pony who likes to have it in a certain way, good bucking luck getting rid of it. Celestia knows we tried, Wound. Eventually we thought ‘buck it, let’s make a game out of it.’ One of us dates a colt for about three dates, then we say what is or isn’t going on and judge his reaction. If he’s keeps his cool whoever was dating him has free drinks at the SorriNa on the other’s tab. If he reacts to the reveal badly…”
“Then vice versa?”
“Bingo!” She says, putting her hoof on my nose. So the cellist was just fucking with me to judge my character… unless the rumour is actually true, then she was only semi-fucking with me. I have to wait until the third date to find out the truth. Alright, I can get behind this. Gives me time to know her… or them.

“Well, thanks for filling me in. Or at least, half-filling me in.” I say as I get myself up from the ground. “So… what now?”
“Well, for one thing…” Vinyl Scratch smirks. It’s not one of her best, but damn it’s up there. “I think the pony behind you is going to take us to a party.”
“Huh? What pony be-”
“SURPRISE!”
“GAH! PINKIE FOR FUCK’S…”
> 'Round the Corner, 'Round the Bend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“… WITH A PINEAPPLE!” I hear myself finish.

Sounds like a traditional, angry surge greeted the sudden appearance of Pinkie Pie. Fair enough, in my opinion. It should be well established information by now, especially to her, that surprising me is like wearing a tie dye t-shirt at a funeral; a dumb fucking thing to do and you deserve the vitriol that is bound to go your way.

Before I even dare look at Pinkie, I turn to Vinyl Scratch. I think I should explain myself about what just happened. “So yeah, that was a surge. I’m guessing it’s not too different with Aunt Rain.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Just replace threats of putting fruits up places fruit shouldn’t be with suddenly appearing storm clouds and it’s just the same. Also, it doesn’t make those nearby blue.”
“Huh? What are y…?”

The ending of the question never left my muzzle because I finally looked at the eccentric surpriser. By looking at her, I remembered what she had promised me about this Re-Cute Mitzvah. No Pink. She even said she’d paint herself blue. I never thought she would actually do it, but… here she is. In all her hair-sprayed, body-painted wonder.

Bluey-Pie.

“No, Vinyl. I painted myself like this for Woundsalt’s Cute Mitzvah, see?” She stretches her leg to the disc jockey in a very elastic fashion. “No pink at the Cute Mitzvah. Right, Salty?”
I nod my head in ‘agreement’ as I mime the words “long story” to the DJ.
“Ah… okay.” Vinyl smirks… shit, I wish I can smirk like that. “About this Cute Mitzvah thing, actually. Is this going to be a short party? Because the guest of honour and I have a tournament to go to later tonight.”
“Ooh! Sounds fun!” The party planner perkily peeps. “I did plan this party to go to bed-time, but if you two want to leave until then you can. No biggie. Twilight only was in her own ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party for like a minute and fourteen seconds give or take an ad break.”
Ad break? What the fuck does she mean by…? You know what? No. I’m not even going to question it. I feel like it just raise more questions. That way madness lies. In fact, don’t even give it any indication that she said anything out of the ordinary. I feel like this is the best way to deal with Pinkie Pie.

Sandbagging her silliness.
I mean let’s think about it. The last time I decided to follow along with Pinkie was Tuesday when I talked to her at the private party and gave her my two cents. It left me having a world-collapsing panic attack and a new surname. The second time I faced Pinkie Pie didn’t have to be separated to yell expletives. Why? Because I sandbagged the silly. She wanted me to have lessons on taking a surprise yesterday, I made sure to distract her with this Re-Cute Mitzvah. Thanks to me sandbagging Pinkie Pie, I’m not tied to a chair right now with balloons and paper bags popping in my face. This is my strategy. Sandbag the s-where did she go?

“Ooh! One of these things! I love these things!”
Oh goddess, she found Mister Bobbybird the Second. She’s nodding along with him and everything. This might be a good way to test my strategy.
“Pinkie, leave it alone!” I yell at her. “I only got it about half an hour ago!”

“Aw, okay…” She says, ending the activity. Great! It works! “Who gave this to you anyway?”
“Some pony in an arcade named-”
“Salty Bet?” she interrupted. Of course she knows about her. Probably had a party for her and everything. “Ooh! Are you two related? I was thinking she could be a sister or a cousin or maybe an aunt because sometimes aunts can be very y-”
“That’s what I was in her arcade to find out.” That’s it, Woundsalt. Interrupt the long dialogue. Don’t give her a running jump into the deep end. “And before you ask, no. No relation.”
“Oh. Oh well! No offence to her, but that pony’s a bit of a weirdo, anyway.” Says the painted blue pony bouncing around the place… So yeah, she would know what a ‘weirdo’ looks like. “I went to her place for a sleepover this one time and all we did was play video games! And yet I felt drained the next morning!”
… Of course she did. Pinkie Pie’s just full of happy. I bet to a changeling like Bet she’s a fucking smorgasbord. 

“Well then,” Vinyl Scratch says, keeping the painted Pinkie Pie from moving around too much. “To party?”
“Uh… yeah, I gu-”
“TO PARTY!” The party planner formerly known for the colour pink yells, as she pushes both of us out the door.





“Oh…”
“Pinks,” Vinyl says, interrupting what could have been the fifth song since leaving the library. “Maybe all these songs be better in front of an audience more than just us two? Like, at the Cute Mitzvah or something?”
“Oh! Right!” the recently blue one squeals. “A few songs would be perfect after the glass breaking part! I love that part!”
I can only smile at Vinyl as we continue on. Thank goddess she thought of that; my ears are killing me.

“Seriously, what does she put inside her to be this mental?” I whisper to the DJ.
“Yeah, she a bit much some times.” She whispers in reply. “But she does know how to throw a party.”
I nod a little bit before changing the subject. “Vinyl, I got a bit of a confession, actually. I didn’t really know Neightalian. Magic possessed me.”
“Oh, so that shit yesterday was…? Dude, that's awesome. You have Neightalian magic?”
“I would say more of a Trottingham kind of guy, he's just connected to all of literature so of course he's a smart a-”
“I can speak Neightalian!” Pinkie yelps from ahead of us. A little rude, but I guess she said it to be part of the conversation.
“Can you now?” Vinyl Scratch asks the previous pink pony.
“Uh-huh! Well, some plumber I know taught me a word!”
Not exactly learning a language, but hey, it’s a start. We wait for her to say this word.

“[Vagina!]”

We regretted to wait for her to say this word. Or at least, I did. Vinyl just quickly looked at me to see my reaction. She’s snickering, so it must be priceless.
“It’s pink!” The suddenly foul-mouthed filly giggles.
“Urk! I’m afraid it isn’t. The word for pink is [pink].” My magic states. Clearly, the mystical Mr. Fix-it inside me would want to correct this.
“Oh, really?” Pinkie asks. “Then what did I say?”
“Urk! Apologies, Pinkamena. I do not find you responsible enough to know such information.”
Yeah, I’m with my magic there. I don’t think Pinkie’s mentally mature enough to learn that she said filly-bits in an alternative language.
“Nu-huh! I can be überly-tuberly responsible!” The party-making potty-mouth protests. “I handle knives at the bakery…”
Somepony puts a knife in this filly’s hoof? Seriously?
“I also have to handle the ovens…”
And somepony trusts her with heat-creating devices. Why, oh, why is somepony trusting her with heat-creating devices?
“Oh! And I take care of Pumpkin and Pound Cake! They’re the babies I told you about yesterday. Oooh they are soooo cute!”
AND CHILDREN?! SOMEPONY IS TRUSTING HER WITH BUCKING CHILDREN? THEIR OWN CHILDREN? KNIVES! HEAT! CHILDREN! PLEASE TELL ME I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WORRIED HERE!

“Ooh! Here they come now!” Pie points down the road. Up to our direction comes a blue earth mare pushing along a stroller big enough to hold twins, noticing us and zooming in closer.
“Ah! Mister Woundsalt, I assume!” The realistically blue mare greets me. “It’s an honour to meet you. My name is Cup Cake. Pinkie told me so much about you!”

All I can do right now is look dead in this Cup Cake’s eyes and point to Pinkie, asking a very simple question.

“Are you the pony who trusts this filly with knives, heat and your own children?”

She takes a quick look at Pinkie Pie before looking straight back at me with her reply. “I know, dearie, I know. But you’d be surprised how responsible she can be. Believe me, she’s full of surprises.”
This makes my jaw drop as the pony in question gives me, albeit an action that disproves her point, but a well-deserved raspberry.

“Anyway… Pinkie, I hope you and Woundsalt don’t mind me taking the twins out for a stroll. Just in case anything happens at this Re-Cute Mitzvah.”
“Good call.” Vinyl peeps from behind us. Yes, good call indeed.
“No problem!” Pinkie pronounced. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s all.” Mrs. Cake nods then waves. “Mazel tov on your Re-Cute Mitzvah, Mister Sparkle!”
“Thank… You…” There was something wrong with what she said. What was wrong with what she said?

…

Mister Sparkle.

“Pinkie.” I say with clenched teeth. “Did you tell Mrs. Cake before or after Twilight’s instruction to not tell anyone about the adoption?”
“I didn’t tell her about that. I only told Vinyl.” She says, turning her head around to the DJ. “Did you tell her that?”
“Nope.” Vinyl says. “I figured it’s supposed to be on the down-low. Didn’t even tell Tavi.”
“Then how come Mrs. Cake…?” Pinkie pauses until a look appeared on her face. The look of dread. “Oh no.”
“What?” I ask her.
“Oh no.” She repeats.
“What?” Vinyl asks.
“Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no…”
“Pinkie!” We both yell.

The now panicked pony looks at me.
“I’m so sorry. I was just so excited about the party! I wasn’t thinking straight…

… I put your new surname on the cake.”

I ran to the Sugarcube Corner.

[br]

I don’t know how I guessed that the Sugarcube Corner would be the one house in the village that looks like a gingerbread house, but I ran towards it to open the door. Please, no. Please let it not be true. Or if it is True, please tell me she isn’t there; that she is late so we can get rid of the cake before she gets here. I. Don’t. Want. Octavia. To. See. This.

…

Lo and behold, there it stands. It stands in the middle of the bakery in large, blue letters on a lighter blue tower of cake.




MAZEL TOV
WOUNDSALT SPARKLE!




I stare at the words.

Everypony stares at me.

She stares at me…

… Indescribably in front of the cake…

… Understandably tearing up.
> The Celebratory Event Involving the Colour Red
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I breathe.

Yeah, I know it doesn’t sound impressive, but seriously, what can I do at this point? All these strangers are looking at me for an answer they probably won’t believe, the only pony I recognise and kind of like is upset and my biggest secret is there for all to see. What can I do at this point that’ll not make this situation worse? The only thing I now that’ll prolong my life no matter what. Breathe. Don’t talk, don’t move and don’t even think. Breathe.

I feel the two fillies coming in behind me. I turn to my left, seeing the blue Pinkie Pie assess the situation. “Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.” She utters. “Okay, okay. I can fix this. Vinyl, try to calm Octavia down. I’m going to go round and tell ponies the truth.”
“You...?” Vinyl attempts to ask, clearly hesitating due to the fact everypony’s watching us. “You're going to tell the truth? I mean, can't we say you mixed the two names together by mistake or something?”
“And lie to them? Are you crazy?” Rhetorically asks the party animal. “And besides, everypony knows I put in way too much planning into Cute Mitzvah Cakes to accidentally mix two names together. They’ll know something’s up!”
Both fillies wince. They both know Pinkamena is right. I would wince along, but that would mean doing something that is not breathing.

“Hey.” Vinyl whispers to me. “We'll handle it in here. You head outside. If your CMC is like my aunt's, highly stressful situations like this usually start surges.”
... I decided it was time to do another thing that is not breathing and do what she says. 





I sit on the pink steps of the Sugarcube Corner, rubbing my throat now sore from the predicted outburst. Nothing too fancy, but one I needed. It's good for releasing stress. Shame it makes ponies think you're crazy. I hope nobody was walking by during that.

...

I look back at the door of the party place for a split second, only to look back toward the street at break-neck speed. I think this is safe to say what the fuck is going to happen soon. I've seen some rom-coms. I know precisely what's going to happen and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. She's going to storm out here, mad as Tartarus. She's going to come to me and demand the truth from me, even though Vinyl probably already told her. I then will attempt to tell her the truth and that I got adopted by her and she will again not believe it. She's... She's going to remind me of last night when she asked if Twilight and I are an item and I said no. Then ask why the hell we have the same surname. I try to tell her the truth again but then she'll interrupt me and shout out her conclusion she came to after her point of view of her events, something in the lines of 'BECAUSE YOU'RE MARRIED TO HER YOU BASTARD!'. I'll deny it. She'll ignore me and go on a rant about how such and action is totally against what she thought of me. She'll call me a fraud, a sellout and a horrible excuse of a stallion and... and...

...And then she'll say goodbye.

No...

NO!

I don't want her to say goodbye! I want her here! I need her here! I need her! I saw her for the first time after wishing so for eighteen fucking years, I don't want her to go away!

“Woundsalt...”
It's her voice. She is behind me. No... No... Fate, don't do this to me. I know I've been a dick to you, but please don't do this to me! Not this! Anything but this! I'll take Page as my brother, I'll lose my rights to my poems to some other billionaire, I'll even take any other bullshit plot twist you have up your sleeve; just don't make Octavia hate - Urk!

...
I'm sorry, master. But I find you emotionally incapable, right now.
I turn my master's body around to the cellist. “I'm afraid he's in a bit of a state right now, Octavia," I explain calmly. “I have taken over for the time being.”
She stands in the doorway. She is distressed as my master predicted, but not in the hyperbolic way he was fearing. She seems to be more worried more than angry.
“But aren't you hurt him by possessing him?” She asks. A fair question.
”Unfortunately so.” I reply. “I estimate I can only be in possession for as long as fifteen minutes before any serious damage occurs. Hopefully by then he would have calmed down.”
 She closes the door and sits next to us, sighing before looking in our direction again. “Woundsalt's magic...” she soon says.“Is there a name he calls you or something?”
 “He hasn't created one for me as of yet. Just call me Magic for now.”
“Okay... Magic. I want you to tell me the truth.” she states. “Will you be honest to me?”
I nod.
“What is the relation of Twilight Sparkle and Woundsalt?”
Ah. So she is asking me if what her roommate must have told her is true. I shall confirm this.
“Due to an error caused by the orphanage's receptionist, Woundsalt is officially the son of the princess.”
“And you are not just saying that to protect him in any way?” She justifiably accuses.
“No madam. I am not.” I reassure. “If you need any evidence, the certificate is in the library and the receptionist as we speak is getting interviewed by a reporter from the newspaper called Wordsworth Daily. It will be revealed for the entire public tomorrow morning.”
”And you know this because...?”
“I am picking up the notepad the interviewer is writing down on.” I explain. “And the receptionist has just admitted doing this on purpose to rub Woundsalt the wrong way.”
The cellist smiles. “I'm guessing she's not a fan, then?”
“Most definitely not. Especially since my master was blackmailing her for drinks after he caught her having coitus during work hours.”
She giggles. Do you see, master? She can listen to reason. There was no point believing that she will be frothing at the mouth when she sees you like some rabid bear. If I have the permission to speak on the matter, this belief of you being stuck in some sappy soap opera is not doing well on your mind. This is reality, for goddess' sake.

“I'm... I'm happy that this is the case, to be honest.” She mumbles. “Not like what I was thinking. Goddess, what was I thinking? Of course the two aren't married! Why would Woundsalt go completely against his Unalicorn way, even when he believed none of his fans existed? Why would he even take her surname than vice versa? And why was no mention of a wedding? Isn't something like a royal wedding considered a public holiday? It was stupid to even think of such a thing!”
“Then what caused you to think such a thing?”
“... Emotion got the better of me, I assume.”
“It happens.” I say back. “My master was crying over a mannequin at Miss Rarity's boutique while he was getting his suit yesterday.”
”Really? Why?” She quizzes.
 “It looked like a horned version of himself and he stopped to ponder what his life is like if he was...” I raise my master's front hooves to symbolise quote marks. “...Normal.”
“A hard thought to have, I imagine.”
“Indeed. Thank Cadence he didn't get any ink on any of the clothes, I don't think Miss Rarity would' liked that.”

...

Octavia sighs. “Magic...Do you mind if I ask you another silly question?”
“Well, I wouldn't call the last one silly, but I will answer you. What is your query?” I ask, tilting master Woundsalt's head.
 “Well... I have pondered something about Woundsalt. Something that I find peculiar.” She utters. “Why did he agree to come down here and get assisted by the Elements?”
 Hmm... I could have sworn my master filled her in on this last night.
“A few factors, really. Him leaving the orphanage being the major one, followed by the fact he knew he was as society would call a 'loner', and finally because if he didn't agree to Princess Twilight's plan he would succumb to a spell that was going to be very experimental and could have been severely damaging to him.”
She winces. “Well, that's my issue. I don't see why he...”
She stops to think on what she was planning to say. She starts again.
“Okay, I understand that this is my personal opinion of Woundsalt and it's probably just me. Perhaps it is merely a fan-filly's opinion of the young colt she idolised for her entire life, who has read his poems enough to recite them backwards and wrote letters to him on a daily basis... and maybe a fanfic...”
“A very good fanfic if you don't mind me saying.” I say to her quickly. “I really like your OC. A very interesting character.”
“You mean he...?”
“No, he didn't. I have. He still hasn't read a single fan-fiction of himself. I'll make him read it one day, perhaps.”
“I would like that.” She says, slightly blushing. “Anyway, there was a thought that haunted me since this morning. A thought that may have led me to assuming the worst in there... What I'm trying to say is...

... He's not the Woundsalt I thought he was.”

I tilt his head the other way. “How so?”
“Well... Look, this morning after some practice with the cello and bass, I thought I do some light reading from the book. Just my favourites: ‘When Whitey Raises the Moon’, ‘The Revolution Will Not be Rated TV-Y’  ‘I Bucking Hate the Bucking Princess’, you know. The best ones. No offence to the others, of course...”
I make him nod. Those are commonly considered as the cream of the crop to many ponies interviewed on the subject.
“... It was then, I realised something.” She says to try to get back on track. “For all my life I thought Woundsalt was this pony who does everything his way. An independent soul that doesn't need any crutch; especially one that is a princess or her assortment of friends. One who would've left the orphanage by himself and found a place to go before he even met her. One who would keep up his personal opinions and refuse to make any deal with royalty, no matter how dangerous the circumstance. Maybe even yell at her for even daring to change his lifestyle. What I am trying to say, Magic, is either that Woundsalt never did exist or... something made him change.”

 I look away, for I know which one of those conclusions is true.
“Magic... What happened to him after the Canterlot Horn closed?”
 My gaze away from her must have tipped he off to the right conclusion. I'm sorry, master, but I must tell her.

“Do you recall, Dear mare, that Woundsalt was going to say something to you last night?”
“Yes.” She nods. “He never did tell me.”
“It was because he was going to thank you for giving him that contract.”
This news makes her blink for a few seconds. “But... Why? The contract was terrible, wasn't it?”
“Incredibly so. However, by you giving him that contract you also gave him something else. Purpose.”
“Purpose?” She repeats with a questioning tone.
“Yes. He, like you back then, believed that the contract meant a great deal. That it was an opportunity of a lifetime. The moment they have said you have given him this opportunity, he thought of it as a selfless act that was a major sacrifice on your behalf. As if you ripped your heart out to give it to him. So he, believing that a great sacrifice was made, did the same. He ripped his heart out for the Canterlot Horn, in honour of the pony who ripped her heart out of for him. Even during the days where he felt his work conditions were terrible and the pay not worth it and the realisation of how terrible the contract was looming in his head, he looked towards the ceiling and in his mind he tells himself that he isn't suffering for him, for the sake of art or for anyone else. It's for the one who ripped her heart out for him. Then he takes out the paper and quill, rips out his heart and the suffering seems to cease.”
“A little... disgusting. But wonderfully sweet.”She peeps, smiling briefly... until realising that this isn't the end of the tale. “But when... When the Canterlot Horn closed down, what happened to his heart then?”
I look back into her eyes to say one word.

“Exactly.”

She looks away with the look of sorrow. She can feel that the next portion of my tale will be of a sad nature. However, I feel she must know, so I continue regardless.
 “In the next five years, he did nothing but drink, swear at a statue and ask the same hoof-full of questions to himself. Did I do enough? Did she even see me rip my heart out? How am I supposed to even know? And before I depress you even further, might I say that he is happy that those questions have been answered last...”

Silence. That does not bode well.

“Lady Octavia?”

The silence stops when she asks me another question.

“How... how many times...?”

“I'm... I'm sorry?”

“How many times... did... did… he ask these questions?”
“Every night.”

She turns back towards me. She is in tears. In even more tears. Oh master, forgive me. I may have upset her too much. She must have felt responsible for the way we are. I am so sorry, master Woundsalt! I thought I was helping the matter, I swear!
“I... I better go...” She says turning away to leave.
“No, Please!” I quickly shout. “He wants you here!”
“I know... but... but... I need to go.” She says as she starts to gallop away.

I close my master's eyes...
To save me from seeing her go.

> It's My Party, I Can Cry if I Want to.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear the door open behind me. I don't bother looking. I'm not in the mood for looking in any other direction but straight down to my hind legs as I sit on this step, trying to make a Rorschach test on the pink concrete. I'm trying to make it look like a disaster that could've been better than the one that happened out here, but it looks more like two bears giving each other a high-five.

“Oh, no.” I hear the Manehattan voice of Vinyl come from behind me. “Pinks, hoof me a few paper towels, will ya?”
I didn't hear Pinkie doing so, but I guess she did. The next thing I heard is the door closing, followed by me seeing her white coat from the corner of my eye as she sits down with me.
“Hey buddy,” The DJ whispers gently. “I guess it didn't go so well out here. Do you want to talk about it?”

...

“My... My magic possessed me.” I decide to say, still not looking up to her. “It made her believe the truth, but it... it said something else...”
“What... what did it say?” she asks, still keeping her gentle tone but now a little more on edge. “Did... did it offend her?”
“N...no.” I groan, still looking down. “She... she asked it why I didn't do anything for five years. It said... I... I guess what it said was accurate but... I don't...”
“Woundsalt, look at me.” she says bluntly.

...

I look at my friend. Her shades are off her face. Her magenta eyes are looking at my red, ink-filled ones. She's looking straight at them. She isn't even taken back by the black running down my cheeks. Her aunt cried something worse, I imagine.
“I'm going to fix this, Wound.” She says like she is engraving those words into stone. “But in order for me to do that, you got to tell me what your magic said.”
“All it said?”
“All it said.”

“After she confirmed the adoption with it...





... And then she ran off, crying.”
I finished my explanation, as the DJ continues to clean my tears with napkins. She hasn't said a word since. I... I feel I should say...

“I'm sorry, Vinyl.”
This made her stop wiping my face for a few seconds. “What for?” she asks.
“That this happened. See, I know that the game is on and I don't know your true relationship, but I know you two are close enough that if I upset one of you, I upset both of you.” I start to explain. “I apologized to Octavia after my dick move last night, so I'm apologizing to you for this, even though I know it's not particularly my f-”
She grabs my head and turns it more to her direction, muting my explanation.
“Let me get this straight,” Vinyl says. “You are apologizing to me right now because you made Tavi cry?”
“Y...yeah? Why, was that not a thing to d-ulp!”

...
She kissed me!
...
She fucking kissed me!

And that wasn’t a peck, neither. That was a 'let's kiss like some pony I don't like is watching' kiss, like the one from last night. I look around to find this pony, but all I can see that indicated a pony being there is the slightly moving door of the Sugarcube Corner and that could've been nothing.

Suddenly, some information came to me. Information my magic has kept from me since the date; shit, since Vinyl crashed the library Tuesday night.
Her name isn't Vinyl Scratch.
Her name wasn't Vinyl Scratch since four years ago.
She took her wife's last name.
Octavia and Vinyl Philharmonica... I admit it, it does sound better than Octavia Scratch. Anyway, the fact of the matter is... it's true. It was all true.

They are a lesbian couple. A married lesbian couple.

I look at Vinyl Scr...  Philharmonica. I think she knew what went in my head right now.
“I'm guessing your magic showed you our wedding certificate.” She says as she picks up her shades to cover her mischievous, magenta eyes. “So, uh... surprise!”

I look into the shades as I ask her a very valuable question.
“The fuck?”
Okay, I asked her part of a very valuable question. All of this is hitting me out of left field, okay? What do you want from me?
“Oh shit, dude, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to go that frontal!” Vinyl yells happily with her hooves in the air. “It's just that... Good Goddess, do you have any idea how many colts we went out with that never thought of doing what you just did?”
“I just did... what, exactly?”
“Get it!”
“Get... what, exactly? And please don't open another opportunity to make me ask roughly the same question again.”
“That we mean a lot to each other!” Vinyl shouts, pointing in my direction. “Even the ones who we did tell about who we are, it was all 'Vinyl and them' or 'Octavia and them'. None of them, BUCKING NONE OF THEM gave a fuck for 'Vinyl and Octavia'! All they ever thought about is the parts of the relationship they were in, not the one with them out of it. Yet you... you! You got that from the first date! I mean, I didn't believe that when Tavi told me, but you seriously do! You...”
She drops her hoof to deliver the rest of her last sentence.
“... You are the one who won the game.”

...
“You want me to explain what the fuck this is all about now, don't you?” She asks, smirking the biggest smirk that I'd ever seen her smirk.
“Yes please.” I quickly reply.
“Alright. Where do you want me to begin?”
“Well, I'm guessing you two met when you were at university together and a little while after that you became more than friends...”
“Yeah.”
“... A little while after that part would be nice.”
“Okay...

...  So, we fell in love with each other. Tavi around the time was showing her mom that she's a grown up and that she can choose what she does in her life in any way she Cadence-damn likes. I thought I should have been there for that but... Meh. Her mom got off her case anyway, and after we finish our studies and then moved to Ponyville. She wanted to move into the Renter Scene since it's pretty close to Canterlot for when she needs to do the Gala and... well, all she heard was that was where all the hardcore appreciators of your stuff were. The Renter Side has the reputation of where anypony can get with anypony, so I guess the place was a learning point for a couple of newly-made lesbians. Anyway, we lived together for a few months, then the Ohana Islands decided to legalize same-sex marriage.”
“Oh, so you struck while the iron's hot, huh?” I remark. The Ohana Islands were the first places in Equestria to get the 'gender-equality' ball rolling.
“Pretty much, yeah. We didn't even propose to each other; we just got the news, looked at each other, nodded and ran to the docks for a couple of tickets!”
We laugh for a good while. Goddess, did I need a good bucking laugh.
“Anyway. We get married and then we stayed up all night pretty much looking at the stars from our hammock and... Something hit us both. Something I guess a lot of ponies go through after a wedding. I think it's safe to say we got a little afraid of what the future could hold for us, that's the best we can describe what we thought that night. This thought hanged around us throughout the next day until we went to a bar that night and we met this zebra. He made this powdery shit called Onderlandwah, right? Really weird stuff.”
“I know. I took some.” I nod. I have the feeling she wants to ask me what I dreamt while under the influence. I save her the trouble. “All I got was an empty room with a horned version of myself and a bunch of symbolic bullshit. You?”
“Some neon world where ponies can kill each other with a frisbee. Pretty freaky.” Vinyl giggles. “Anyway, we wake up and we kinda discovered a few things we have in common we never did before. We're bi, we kinda have a thing for threesomes and most importantly...

... We want a kid.”

I blink. I kind of understand what all this was about now. I'll try and fill in the rest.
“So you two came back to Ponyville, deciding to kill all three birds with one stone and find a stallion that respects your new lifestyle, can be a great dad and would like to hang around you two.”
“Yeah... maybe marry him too.” She says, putting her hoof on top of mine. “If he wants to, of course.”
...
“Uh... wait. Is multiple marriages legal? I mean no offence, but last time I checked bigamy is frowned upon in a court of law...”
“Oh, no no no no no. Don't worry.” The DJ says, letting go. “Some fun fact about Ponyville most don't know: When gay marriage became legal here, the mayor messed up the paperwork. Now there is a loophole where anypony is allowed one straight and one gay spouse if they desire!”
“Oh shit, really?”
“Yeah!” She giggles. “Only here and San Fransiscolt... and rumour has it Flotrotta wants to make it happen on purpose.”
We laugh.

...

“So... do you want to head in or...?” I ask her, looking at the door.
She looks at the door too. “Okay.”

We stand up to walk in th-

*Slap!*

> I Got the Slap, You Got the Slap...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn't see this coming.
I mean, yeah, I saw the smack coming. Usually, I do. Usually, it's the first thing I see the moment I break out of a surge; the furry front hoof of somepony I crossed coming towards my face; like I was a page on a passport and it was a stamp. And let me tell you... It hurts to get slapped in the face by a fellow pony. Especially if they got horseshoes. Hoo boy, I don't know who invented those small semi-circular bits of metal attached to pony hooves, but whoever they are and if they are still alive I want to find them, grab their head and rub their possibly ugly face on the floor. What's the matter, the pony who invented horseshoes, the ground's not fucking good enough for you and your delicate little footsies? Well here's what my face feels like on a regular basis thanks to you and your invention, jackass!
...
I went on a bit of a tangent there. I'm sorry. The fact is this: Getting slapped sucks, especially when you don't see it coming.
I especially didn't see it coming when Pinkie Pie, of all ponies, slapping Vinyl.
Yes, that just happened.
No, I am not shitting you.
She slapped Vinyl. She slapped Vinyl hard. Right in her face. By the sound of it, she wasn’t wearing horseshoes, but it was so brutal she might as well. I bet the folks heard it from inside.

She gets more into the DJ’s grill, sneering.
“You… are UMBELIEVABUBBLE!” She finally yells. “The moment she runs off you end up… I can’t even say it. I can’t even say it! How dare you Vinyl, she’s your best friend!”
Uh… I don’t know what’s going on. I look at Vinyl, but all she does is look back at me as she rubs her cheek, with her eyes widened with amazement on what just happened. It seems like we are in agreement: We don’t know what’s going on.
“And you!” The mad-mare shouts, turning to me. “Why do you think this is going to help matters? I mean, sure; I’m not Princess Cadence, but I think it makes no sense to… NOPE! Still can’t say it! I saw it, but…”
“Pinkie, what the fuck are you…?”
I didn’t finish my sentence because my mind, halfway through the sentence, somehow clicked into why a pony should be freaking out like this. What she is trying so very hard to say.

She caught the kiss Vinyl gave me.

That has to be what’s going on. She saw the kiss somehow. But how did she see… Oh shit, that door movement I thought was nothing! That had to be her! It’s all coming together in my head now! She was coming out to see how we were doing, saw the kiss, went back inside thinking that I was cheating on Octavia with Vinyl and after some time with this weighing on her mind she decided came out in crazy bitch mode at us without even considering the possibility of a super-secret love triangle!
…
Hey, Magic, do you remember when you said I should stop believing I’m stuck in a sappy soap opera? Are you not surprised that I’m jumping to such conclusions when stuff like this happen?

“Pinks?” Vinyl says calmly. Something tells me she has also figured what in Tartarus her blue-painted friend was freaking out about as well. “We can explain. Just… just calm down and listen, okay?”

It took a few seconds before Pinkie Pie sighs and sits down. Something tells me she isn’t going to buy this… fuck it. We have to tell her.
“Well…” Vinyl tries to start. “We… uh…”
She looks at me and mouths the words ‘Help me.’
Seriously? Didn’t she come out to her parents? What makes Pinkie so goddess-damn hard to say it to? Ugh, whatever. I’m just going to be blunt with it and rip it off like a Band-Aid.

“She…” I start, pointing at the unicorn. “…is gay and married to Octavia,” I say next, pointing to where I think she left. “And during their Honeymoon four years ago in the Ohana Islands…” I continue, pointing at the direction I’m assuming where the islands they are in relation to the Sugarcube Corner. “… They took some magical powder off a zebra which made them…” I carry on, quickly pointing to both Vinyl and then back to where Octavia could have left. “… realise they want a stallion to love and to hold as well, and she…” I point back at Vinyl. “Decided that I…” I point to myself. “… because apparently I’m the only stallion they know that understands the relationship of the two…” I point to Vinyl and then to Octavia’s possible exit. “… Am that stallion. The kiss was… well, she’s been waiting for that special somepony for a long and hard four years. I think we can forgive her for being a little too excited about it,” I conclude, putting my hoof down. “Can’t we, Pinkie Pie?”
…
“Pinkie Pie?”

She’s… staying still. Too still. In fact, just the fact she hasn’t moved during the entire conversation might be something to be concerned about. I look at Vinyl Scratch who is just as concerned as I am of the situation, only she takes a quick look at me for a brief moment like she ate an off-season Zapapple.

“Vinyl…” Pinkie says quietly. Or at least her version of quietly. “You… you like fillies?”
The now outed mare looks at her petrified party-planning pal. “Y… Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, it’s just that… Tavi and I were keeping it a sec-”
“No! No…” Pinkie Pie interrupts her. “There’s no need to explain yourself. Just… just…” The pink pony takes a few steps back, leaving a shell of blue paint in her original place. “Just make sure Tavi’s okay. Okay?”

The DJ nods. Pinkie looks at me as if she wants to say something, but all she does is walk back inside the Sugarcube Corner. It was then I noticed two cake slices on the floor. Vinyl picks them up, sighing.
“Vinyl… What does this mean?”
“It means the party’s over for us…” She says, hoofing me one of the slices.

“… Here’s your slice for the road.”





“I did the right thing, right?” I eventually ask Vinyl, biting into my cake on the way back to Princess Twilight’s library. Mmm! Minty! How did she know I love mint? “Telling Pinkie all that?”
“I… I guess.” She shrugged. “Probably better than lying to her like I wanted you to do.”
…
“That’s what you wanted me to do?”
“Yeah. I know I didn’t make that clear and it was probably hard to come up with a good lie that explains us lip-locking too, I guess. Probably just as well we told the truth.” She takes a bite out of her slice. “Aw… the cake just had to be mint flavoured, too. I love mint.”
“Me too.”
Vinyl stopped walking. “I’m sorry I got you kicked out of your Cute Mitzvah, Wound.”
I stop to tell her… “Don’t be. To be honest, it was just something to keep Pinkie busy so she doesn’t annoy me while I hang out with the others. You said it yourself: she can be too much sometimes.”

This makes her look back, sighing. She probably is a little worried about the state we left Pinkie in. I bet she’ll be fine, personally. Just a little stunned, that’s all.  It’s not the first time I made someone unhappy enough to kick me out of an establishment. They don’t mind that I come back… well, most of them. Still, I feel that I would be unrecognising my new status as ‘the male third’ of this three-way couple if I didn’t ask my one of two filly-friends… “Hey… You alright?”
“Hmm? Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just that… I feel I’ve wronged Pinkie in some way.” Vinyl says, starting to walk again. “I mean, all this time I kept it a secret from everypony; especially her. She…”
She stopped for some reason.
“Look, she was raised on a rock farm, okay? I went to those places a few times. They… they’re pretty traditional in those parts. She tries to be more morally lax compared to the average pony there, but the values of those parts are still very near to her, you know?”
I’m trying and calculate what she is trying to say. One solution came to me in my head, but I’m not sure it’s right. I might need to ask her about it.

“Wait… are you telling me Pinkie Pie’s homophobic?”
She’s nodding.
“Seriously?”
She’s still nodding.
“Pinkie Pie?”
She’s nodding even harder now.
…
“That… that seems out of character to what I thought about her, to be honest.”
“I thought so to when I discovered it.” Vinyl says, looking almost as amazed as I am. “And don’t get me wrong; she knows she shouldn’t be. She does try to go all ‘to each their own’ and shit, but she does act a little more anxious if she thinks you’re batting the opposite team. Like, there is this water dragon I bumped into once who definitely ain’t hiding how he waves his flag, right? He told me he met the six of them back when they were starting. He said she was quiet, which as we both know is NOTHING like her, but he swears to it. She didn’t talk to him at all. Just stared at him weirdly until she left with the others.”

“Holy shit.” I say before taking a huge chunk of cake. “She didn’t even say hi?”
“She said jack shit!” She says, chomping on her own piece. “I even talked to her about it. That’s when she admitted to me that she finds it a bit weird. So naturally, I never told her about me and Tavi. Why open up that can of worms, right?”
…
“Even though I just now did and is why we are out here with only one slice of cake between us.”
She winces. “Did I mention I’m sorry?”
“No, no. It’s cool. I’m willing to bet there wasn’t any booze there anyway.”
“… Yeah, there wouldn’t have been. Like I said; rock farm values. Oh! Speaking of: Let’s go past a liquor shop and buy you a Cute Mitzvah present. I know you got a routine, but…”
I hug her. “You had me at 'liquor shop.'”
> Hooters and Hard Times
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know, you’ve been looking at that bottle pretty hard.” The payer of the bottle smirks, being the legendary smirker that she is. “Never tried Captain Swash Buckler before?”
I break my concentration of my gaze at the bottle in my left hoof as we get back on track to the library. “No, no. I drink it. It’s… it’s just that it’s kind of important to me.”
“Let me guess, your first drink back when you were twenty-one...” She snickers. “...and you made me buy that so it can be your first again in your new life too?” 

I nod and smile. She was a hundred percent correct… except of course this would be technically my second drink of my new life, but one could debate that Emperor Dive Kick’s sake was more an assassination attempt than a drink.

When the Canterlot Horn closed, it was on my twenty-first birthday. Meaning that at that point of my life I became both legally allowed to drink and unemployed after thirteen years of working like a dog. Doctor Brainstorm, knowing that it was quite a fucking day, took it upon himself to take me to a bar and told me do find something to take my time with. I needed something to celebrate, what with the day being my birthday and the fact that I will be free from the shackles that are in the office jokingly called the ‘Salt Box’, yet I wanted something to dull the question of what to do with my life now. I chose the Captain and… he delivered. Its texture was satisfying, like an achievement conquered. The taste made me forget the uncertainty of the future and the label design… oh, that a label design... I have continued my career of a drunk in different spirits and booze throughout the years in many different points in my life: Eggnog on Hearth’s Warming, vodka during a Winter Wrap-up, anything in the morning, all that jazz; but no beverage has fit the occasion perfectly as a good Captain Swash Buckler on the rocks at that exact moment.
Maybe because… it wasn’t really a moment thing, but an emotional thing. I was nervous for my future… but I was excited knowing that something I despised was dead. Is there a word to describe that emotion? There should be.

“Uh… Wound?” I hear Vinyl as I ponder about this word. “That’s the window I came in, right?”
I look up. Seems like we’re back at the library, al-“OH, FUCK ME!”

Someone broke a window. Someone broke a fucking window. I’m willing to bet it was some punk who took one look at the cake at the Re-Cute Mitzvah, jumped to the ‘he sold out and married the princess somehow’ conclusion, turned around and ran straight here with a rock. Something tells me this isn’t even going to be the only broken window when the day is done…

“Don’t worry, dude.” Vinyl says, rubbing my front leg that is rubbing down my face. “Twilight will buy a new one. Shit, I bet she has a spell that fixes stuff like this.”
“I know she does. It’s just that…” Hmm, how can I put this in a way that doesn’t make me look like a self-conscious prick? “Since I came here, I sort of noticed my fan base is very... anarchistic.”
“Well, if you call yourself the Unalicorn…”
“They gave me that name, not me! Anyway… since I found out about it I’ve been worrying about what the hell they’re going to do if they found out about the adoption.”

…
“You don’t think…?” Vinyl asks pointing at the window.
“I do think,” I say to her, nodding. “And it’ll be even worse tomorrow when it hits the papers. According to my magic, Wordsworth Daily’s got the scoop.”
…

“Bullshit.” The DJ says bluntly. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“What makes you think that?” I ask quietly. They might be listening.
“Because they bucking love you, man! If anything, they would be hating Twilight for adopting you, and even then they would rather forgive her because she moved you here to Ponyville with them. Yet alone how many times she saved their houses from the monster of the week!” She laughs off. “Maybe it’s a troll trying to get a rise out of your fanbase?”
“A troll?” I ask looking at the DJ in a quizzical manner. “As in those weird green things they say hang around on bridges or…?”
“As in the pony pissing others off for their own amusement.” Vinyl sneers. “There are some really mean ones out there, man. Like, I got stung by this one stallion called Thunder Roll, right? I was planning something special for Tavi and have an all-mare freak-fest. I thought I was going to meet-up with some little filly I contacted in the lonely hearts column but what I found was him with a bucket of cold custard instead!”
“Shit, really?” I wince, looking at the window. The bastard! What kind of buck-wit does that? “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing, he got away. All I could do was wash off and just cook somethin’.” Vinyl shrugs. “Turned out Tavi was planning the same thing too, so I guess it was for the best.”

…

I feel a hoof on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Wound.” The DJ assures me. Must have seen my face when she brought her up. “She’s just a little unhappy, that’s all.”
I blink a few times, looking back at her. “I made her unhap-”
“Don’t you dare say you made her unhappy.”
“But I…”
“No, you didn’t!” Vinyl shouts, holding her hooves to my face making me look into her sunglasses. “Your magic did! You are not your magic, don’t you dare say you made her unhappy! You are the one who had her humming back home last night.”
…
“She was humming?”
She nods. “Even when I was still mad at you for being blunt with me. She never did that when dating any colt before. She apologised to me for it with a smile on her face. You make her that damn happy. Remember that.”
I look down on the floor, smiling for a moment. That was good enough for Vinyl to let go.
“I better check on her, though. You go and clean up the pieces and I’ll pick you up in about two hours from now, okay?” She asks.

I nod as she pecks me a quick one on the cheek.
As she walks away, I slowly walk to the front door of the library. You know something? She’s not indescribable like Octavia…

… But she sure is something.





… Well, at least it wasn’t what I thought before I opened the door.

It does seem like a recurring theme right now; things not being what I thought they’ll be. For instance, while observing the crime scene that was the library window, I couldn’t find any rock or brick with a tag around it with certain words on it like, ‘Traitor’ or ‘Sell-out’.

I, instead, found the nocturnal bird I dub as Owlo on the floor looking very frazzled.
“You okay?” I ask the owl. It’s pretty clear what happened here. He ran into the window thinking it was open, the silly thing.
He pecks the air with his beak. From what I gathered, this is the owl equivalent of nodding.
I look around, noticing something the owl didn’t “You do realise that window over there was open, right?”
The owl looks at the other window in question, then puts his face in his wings. The double Face-hoof of the avian world, I bet.
“It’s okay, man. It happens to the best of us. You go clean yourself up on your perch, I’ll handle this.”

The owl flaps up to its spot as I find the broom.





It didn’t take long to get the pieces off the floor. A lot of it was in pretty big chunks, anyway. Still, if there is anything I learned from many a broken bottle, it never hurts to sweep for the tiny shit you can’t see. I put the broom away, I turn to the little featherbrain. Looks like he’s got another letter wrapped around his talon.

“I’m guessing it’s from Twilight?” I ask as I remove the letter from his leg. He nods as I start reading.



Dear Woundsalt,

Thanks for writing back to me this morning. It’s good to know your date went well. Sort of wish you tell me more on it though, because according to the rest of the girls you haven’t told me half of it! The money came from an old rival of yours? The date was in your former bully’s bar? You were in a bar and you didn’t touch a drop? Wow! I never thought you would have made so much progress in one day! Don’t you ever give me half the story, okay? Don’t be modest because you’re writing to a princess!

That being said, however, I appreciate your modesty of not bringing up the dream you had last night. I’m sorry I didn’t go into detail about Rain Coat’s death. It’s just that I didn’t want you to worry about this detachable horn she was working on. I think it’s safe to say now, though, is that her blueprints prove to me is that she wasn’t mentally well. She thought she needed a cup of penguin, for crying out loud! How do you put a penguin in a cup and in what way did she ever think something like that would have any magical qualities?

Anyway, what we should take away from this is, and I am sorry to say it, is how important it is to have friends. She was shielding herself from the world like you were doing in Saint Diamond Heart’s, you know. She was living by herself, drinking heavily, taking harder drugs than Onderlandwah (Which I am fine with if it’s helping with your magic, but if you haven’t apologised to Apple Jack yet you probably should. It was mean of you and Zecora, making her take it), and most importantly… no friends. Remember that the next time one of the girls ask you if you’re okay, alright?

On a lighter note, this lesson of change you’re working on… It sounds like a great one to start off with. Can’t wait till you finish it. Better be careful though, something tells me the girls might learn it before you. Rainbow’s being curious about her sexuality, Apple Jack for a moment believed she could become transgendered (Again, APOLOGISE to her… and while you’re at it, as of writing this Fluttershy wrote to me about the surge you had in front of her. I know that one wasn’t particularly your fault but she’s a little mad your magic used her missing dove against her. Apologise to her too, just to make her feel better.), Rarity just opened up to me on her experience with Onderlandwah, and by the looks of things Pinkie Pie is a little worried about all three… she can be afraid to new ideas sometimes. Not her fault really, she was raised on a rock farm. They’re pretty morally strict there. If you get caught in a debate with her about sexual equality or something, just remember that. Also, try and be careful at this Re-Cute Mitzvah she’s planning. I don’t really think you are ready for a Pinkie Pie party still, but… well, you have definitely surprised me on your progress so far. Surprise me and have fun!

Hope you have a great second day. If things do go bad, just remember: You got a sibling! And yes, we’re looking for them now. No more spit necessary!

Your Extremely Happy Teacher,
Princess Twilight

PS: Just a heads up, according to Princess Celestia the receptionist from Saint Diamond Heart’s is on her way to Wordsworth Daily. I can’t confirm that she’s going to reveal her ‘mistake’, but if it turns out your full name is on the front pages… Well, don’t act surprised.



I lay back in the chair. Sweet Cadence, just seeing how late this information is, it really shows how big of a day it’s been. I better write her back. Quill, check. Paper, check. Ink… let me just imagine Octavia kissing Printed Page… Oops! Probably a bit too much there! Anyway, ready to go!



Dear Princess Twilight,

Sorry for not giving you ‘the full story’… I was a little bummed this morning that you didn’t tell me about Rain Coat. Definitely water under the bridge now.  Here is my day as best as I can describe it…









… So yeah, that about wraps it up. Sorry if it’s a little too much to read… safe to say I was little too busy to think about that lesson. I’ll think of something though, don’t worry.

Anyway, I’ll be out for the night, with this tournament and… well, don’t say I didn't earn my drinks night tonight. I’ll try and apologize to Fluttershy and maybe talk to Pinkie Pie when I see her again.
Your Soon to be Drunk Student…
Woundsalt. 



… Sweet Tartarus, it’s been a long time since I had hoof cramp like this. And all I pretty much wrote down was what I did today… minus the fact I met a changeling today. Something tells me she won’t be nice about Salty Bet if I told her about it… even if I tell her Betty had nothing to do with her brother’s wedding. I roll it up and hand it to Owlo. “Now, there’s a good chance I won’t be back here tonight.” I tell him. “If you come back before me, make sure you don’t break anything, okay?”
He looks at me in a grumpy manner.
“Hey, I’m just saying, I don’t want to walk home to more broken glass, okay, Owlo?”
“Hoo…” The owl sighs.
“Good. Off you fly, now. Try not to dislocate your leg carrying this thing.”

The owl flaps his wings and flies through the open window with some surprising ease considering his load, leaving me, Mister Bobby-bird the Second and Captain Swash Buckler on our own.

…

Eh, buck it. I take the cup from Mister Bobby-Bird, throw the water out and replaced it with some of the rum. There you go, little guy. At least I can say I didn’t drink this all by myself.

Should I get a glass for myself? I should probably get a glass for myself. I can look at the bottle more that way. I love the design of Captain Swash Buckler; it’s so badass! This pirate unicorn standing on his hind legs on some rocks by the sea, floating a small keg of his head while brandishing two pistols in his front hooves, with a long… flowing… lime green mane and an open red coat… showing his fit… lean stomach… and a look in his left eye directly into my soul… like he is saying, “C’mere and sit with me, lad… I want to have... an adventure... with... you.”

…

Say, is that phoenix back in the library or am I a little too hot and sweaty while I’m looking at an alcohol mascot?
A… Tall… Handsome… Mascot…

…

Oh, goddess… I'm gay.
> Yar Har, Fiddily Dee
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

No, wait…

Bi.

I meant bi. If I was actually homosexual, I wouldn’t have gone all head over hooves when I first saw Octavia. Bisexual.

I’m sorry, this is just hitting me hard.

See, I’ve always been very vocal about how pro-sexual diversity I am. I think that’s been well and truly stated, especially since I got here.
I mean sure, I freaked out about my orphanage founder’s confession to being… whatever the fuck she was, but only because her nymphomania coupled by her fetishes caught me incredibly off guard.
Besides from that, however, look what I’ve been doing. I’m supporting Rainbow Dash with her first try at batting for the other team, I was more than willing to lend a hoof to Apple Jack when she wanted me to help her talk to her grandma about Parfait; Shit, if it did turn out after her stint with Onderlandwah that Apple Jack was quite literally Apple Jack I’d be there telling her family and friends how that is fine and dandy. I’m even willing to go see Pinkie Pie someday and talk to her about her homophobia and maybe find some way to pack that shit in. I know for a fact that I love ponies being whatever type of pony they want to be.

But here’s the thing. As much as I love the ponies being whatever pony they want to be… I never thought I was one of those ponies. I thought what I thought I was is what I was, if that makes any sense. No experimentation needed. That I was just a straight-up straight stallion. Nothing special.

So now, at this moment where I realise that isn’t the case… this is throwing me through a hoop a little. Especially since it’s now.

Why now?

Why not when I was in puberty? Why not all the times I see a hoof-holds from homosexual couples when they’re roaming around the orphanage? Why not the first time I got myself some Captain Swash Buckler; or any other time I sail with the Captain out of deadly seas of sobriety for that matter… with his smooth, silky mane blowing through the air…

I smack myself in the face. Down, Woundsalt! This is not the time to fantasise over the pirate on the bottle! He’s probably not even a real pony! Even if he was, he wouldn’t respect you in the morning; he’s a fucking pirate!

Ugh… I’m so bucking confused! Why now? Why him? And most importantly, why is this new homosexual side of me coming at me so damn strong? I can feel my heartbeat in my neck, I’m sweating like a pig and down there… Do you really want me to talk about down there? This is horny! There is no denying it! I don’t even think a cold blast of water is going to cut it! I might need to be in there for at least ten minutes!

I need to talk to somepony about this. Maybe I’ll ask Vinyl when she comes back to me. She is what I think I’ve become, she should be a good pony to talk to about this. Wait, no. She’s at least an hour away and I’m not trusting myself to be left in this library with him. She found out she was bisexual thanks to Onderlandwah anyway, not like I’m…

That’s it! Onderlandwah!
I’ll talk to me about this. Inner me, I mean. He is all of me, right? If there is anyone who would know more about me is me. Can’t pretend I don’t need to check on Prin... sorry force of habit... Page Presser, anyway.

I head on up and open the door. He isn’t there. There is, however, A note. I'm guessing he already woke up and ran off.



Woundsalt,

Thanks again for giving me a hit of this stuff. It definitely did the trick… though it was really weird. I held up this magical sword and said some magic words that made me muscular, Satchmo became some kind of giant green beast, you were a skeleton with a silly voice for some reason… but as weird as it was, I feel like it confirms what I was worried about for a while now.



Hmm… okay. He said this has something to do about this Croissant filly… what is this confirmation?



As I was going to tell you, yes this was to do for Croissant… but that’s a nickname of her’s. Or much rather, his.



His? Croissant’s a stallion? Oh buck, he found his true sexuality before I did, didn’t he? Trust Printed Page to get his shit together before Woundsalt, the mother bucker! Ah well, all this proves is that me taking another hit of Zecora’s powder is the right thing to do. I might as well keep reading before I do, though. I kind of want to know this stallion’s name.



Baguette is his real name. Croissant’s the name he gives himself while he’s in public. I believe in some circles he would be known as a fishy-drag, meaning a colt who makes himself look like a filly in such great detail, he’s able to fool ponies around him as one. He had me fooled, I give him that.



Oh. Oh...
Oh, buck! I just realised! What did that note in Page’s wallet say again? ‘Let me know if you want to walk on the wild side’? Walk on the Wild Side is a song by the late and great Velvet Reed where a bunch of transgenders dress up as fillies and fuck stallions! How the buck did I miss that? I love Velvet Reed!



As you may have also guessed, Baguette came to me in his Croissant persona while I was on vacation in Prance. It was a fun time… although I have the feeling it wasn’t much of a holiday, what with everypony coming up to me. The book was released about a month beforehand, so naturally I wasn’t getting much privacy. They were bucking ruthless! ‘Can I have your autograph, Monsieur Page?’, ‘Can I have a photo with you, Monsieur Page?’, ‘Is Woundsalt with you, Monsieur Page?’; relentless. Bucking relentless. Croissant showed me a quiet cafe where nopony saw us.We were talking about a few things, like you, her work, how I felt when you had that interview with Satchel Mouth; that sort of thing. I was constantly buying her wine, knowing how happy dad Printed Mint would be if he saw me with a Prench filly under one of my front legs… I suppose I had my comeuppance.

This led to her apartment and… well, that’s when Croissant realised that I didn’t know he was Baguette. She decided to break it to me. I, naturally, was stunned. However, at that point I noticed something about my holiday that I hadn’t noticed before; Dad Mint wasn’t there to tell me no. To take me away from the ‘freak’. To scold me for even thinking about doing what I did next.



Oh goddess, he didn’t…



It was the greatest night of my life.



He did! He bucking did!



Unfortunately, we both knew it was only for the night. We couldn’t risk Mint knowing about that night, and she had work for the rest of my time in Prance. Croissant is a waitress… apparently her boss doesn’t know the truth. Anyway, the last time I saw Baguette/Croissant, she was kissing me on the cheek and slipping the note into my wallet. I never brought it up with anypony since. Since then, I have been wondering; who was I with that night? A filly named Croissant? A colt named Baguette? Both? The answer’s clear now, thanks to you and the powder.



He’s gay.



I’m gay.



… For me?



No, not for you. I’m not making all that fan fiction true. Seriously, I could be your brother, for buck’s sake.



Oh, thank fuck.



I’m off to Blue Curaçao’s. I’m hoping he and I might have a talk about this. He seems like the type of pony who could help me out with this new discovery.

Thanks again,
Printed Page Presser

PS: I saw the clock before going under. For future reference, I was out for half an hour.



Half an hour, huh?
Yeah… I got time.

I throw the note off the bed and jump on. Thanks for proving to me it works, Page. Now it’s my turn to use Onderlandwah to solve the mystery of my sexuality.

I put some powder in my hoof and licked it.

And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“What the buck’s taking so-” Oop, there we go.
	
> Morpheus? Damn-Near Killed Us!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well then… Looks like I decorated the place. If I remember correctly, I did complain about how barren it was last time. Nothing but white save for a few memories embodied as physical objects.
Nice to know I’m listening to my complaints… but I kind of like it the other way.

I mean, for starters, what are all these ponies doing here? This place is crowded as fuck! This makes the SorriNa last night look as empty as it was this morning!
…
Hey, Wait a minute…
These ponies ARE the ones in the SorriNa last night! I see Betty the changeling right there! And there! And there! Is my mind making Betties? Is this some elaborate way of telling me there is a changeling invasion in the… No wait, it’s not just her. I can see a good amount of Blue Curaçaos too. Quite easy to spot a pony that large in a crowd. And I am seeing a lot of copies of those guys I re-met in Betty’s arcade. I just found my fifth Wullay already… and maybe smell seven of them.

It’s just all those ponies copy-pasted ad nauseum like it’s a lazy day in an animation studio. And the weirdest things about this army of clones? They are doing nothing. They are just standing there, looking in the one direction. What the buck are they looking…?
Ah, okay. Yeah, fair enough to the duplicate masses. If there was a great, big, green wall erected as if something terrible is going on the other side of it, I’d be looking at it too.



“Well, you are taking Onderlandwah while being the horniest you’ve ever been,” comes a very familiar voice from behind me. “What do you think is on the other side?”

I turn around and, sure enough, it is the white unicorn that is apparently my inner self accompanied by his independent horn. Sneaking behind me seems to be a habit of theirs, I notice. It is not the only thing I notice, however. Now the crowd is looking at us… or much rather, the horned me.

“So… what are they doing here?” I ask. I know I should press on with the reason I’m here, but I feel like I should be patient with myself. I’ve been through a lot. “Feeling lonely?”
“Not exactly.” The other me says. “I made them to try and get us used to ponies watching us, since we’re famous and all. Is it working?”
“Not at the moment.” I reply. “In fact, I think it’s safe to say it’s creeping me out.”
“Hm... Ah well, give us time. The Crystal Empire wasn’t built in a day.” He hums. You know, for a physical representation of myself he’s quite cheerful. “I take it you came here to hear magic’s apology?”

What? No, I… Wouldn’t he of all ponies know why I’m here? Ah, fuck it. I think it’s safe to say I do need to talk to my magic over what happened.
“It’s on my list on shit I have to do here.” I answer, looking at the horn it emanated from last time. It’s pretty silent. I have a feeling I have to start this. “Magic… It’s okay. You don’t need to apologise. I know all you were trying to do was help me.”
“But...” The horn flickers. “But I have failed you. She still left. My objective was to stop h-.”
“So what about your damn objective?” I interrupt the aetheric being with powers beyond my control (Usually a dumb thing to do, but I don’t think it’ll bite me in the flank.) “I know damn well I was breaking the fuck down back there. You came in to help me out. She ran off, sure, but she’ll be back. Vinyl will make her come back. And I know for a fact it would’ve been worse if you didn’t step in, so… thanks.”
“Oh please, don’t thank me.” He flashes. “I just felt like I needed to be a tad more useful, that’s all. Thank you for telling me. Just a warning, however. I’m afraid because of me possessing you for so long today, it would be best for me to not take over at all tomorrow. That heart of yours deserves some time to recover.”

I nod to say I understand. It’s so nice to know he’s helping me out. I bet the magic inside Rain Coat wasn’t this nice to her. Probably because they didn’t talk as much as we do… that and I know he isn’t deliberately driving me crazy… I think.

“So, with that out the way...” I say, trying to get the representatives of my entire being and my magic on the subject on the topic I want. “I need to ask you about what just happened just now.”
Inner-me looks at me curiously. “You mean the whole Croissant, Baguette thing? I thought you got that. I think you got what Page was saying before you even read...”
“No. Not that. I got that.” Sweet Celestia, am I this bucking hard to talk to out in the real world or is inside me just being a buckin’ putz to piss me off? “I’m talking about me getting weak at the knees while looking at a picture of a bucking pirate. I thought I was straight but apparently not…”
“W… wait.” He hesitates. “What?... Didn’t you…?

...didn’t you already know?”

…

I shook my head with both the answer to the question and to show my disbelief that he had to even ask the question.
“I… I thought we knew that since puberty.”
“Thought we knew sin-” I stop myself to rub my face. Oh goddess, since when did talking to myself become such a fucking hassle? “What do you mean by since puberty? I’m only having this now!”
“What?” Asks the unicorn me. “How the buck can…? Oh, wait. I know what’s happened. In fact, it’s something I’ve tried to tell you before you woke up.”
Erm… He’s getting a little close. His eyes are meeting mine and the look in them becomes sinister.

“Cold showers.” He says bluntly. “You and your bucking cold showers.”

I decide to stay quiet to let him explain himself.
“Every time. Every mother fucking time you get a single bucking thought on sex the first thing you bucking do is go straight to a fucking cold shower. When you thought about the Philharmonicas when Octavia teased you about their relationship. What did you do to stop it? Cold Shower. You pondered how sex would work between Blue Curaçao and Parfait D’Armour, Which, by the way, is not what one could call a ‘straight’ thought. What did you do to stop that thought again? Cold Shower. Remember when Haywatch was on the air? You were looking at what Night Riding was packing more than the filly lifeguards, I can tell you that!” 
“What? No I w-”
“Shut up! You know who you’re talking to, don’t bucking lie! And after every bucking episode of Haywatch? Cold shower, cold shower, cold shower, cold shower...”

He continues as he slaps one hoof into another every time he says ‘shower’. Admittedly, I do take a lot of cold showers. I was a little nervous of getting caught with my hoof in the wrong place by Doctor Brainstorm back in the orphanage. Can you blame me? There were kids present for buck’s sake! Still… I think I broke me. He seemed to be so calm and collected when me met but now… now he’s gone nuts. His red eyes are burning, he’s snarling like a maniac; it’s like he’s… no… he can’t be… Oh buck, he could be. No, he is. He most definitely is, there’s no denying it.

He’s surging.

He’s definitely surging. His words are heated with rage, his eyes are piercing into my soul, I can feel myself being verbally whipped every time the unicorn repeats the words ‘cold shower’, the more and more he gets madder and madder. He can’t listen to anything right now. I can’t end the rampage. I have to wait until he snaps out of it.

“... Cold shower, cold shower, MOTHER FUCKING COLD SHOWER!” Other I yells. “Princess H. tapdancing Cadence, I am sick and tired of cold showers! Can you see why I was about to tell you to have a bucking wank when you left here last time? Anything to relieve yourself than another cold shower! What, do you think that’s healthy for you? All those showers? That kind of shit is what they do to ‘cure’ homosexuality in regions where Pinkie Pie was born in for buck's sake and you’ve been doing it to yourself for years! Kind of makes you saying to Twilight that you’ll talk to Pinkie Pie about her homophobia seem farcical now, doesn’t it?”

Ow… that was a knife twist and a half. So this is how it feels like it’s on my end. He’s making me feel like I should say something, but I know he isn’t able to listen to me; I know whatever I say is pointless. The classical surge: No time to listen to rebuttals. No time to hear replies. Only time for fury.

“And now that I think about it?” He continues… sounding more like my magic more than me. That’s weird. “Do you know who gave the most damage to you? It’s not Doctor Brainstorm, it’s not Printed Mint, it’s sure as hell not the magic infused to you; IT’S YOU!”
He points square to my muzzle, making the duplicates look at me instead of him. It’s becoming abundantly clear that, even though this is my drug-induced dream, this is his house.
“You’re the bucking one giving yourself the cold shower. You’re the one who drinks like you’ve got a vendetta against your own liver. You’re the one who keep ripping your bucking heart out for some company that didn’t deserve it! And are you happy, Woundsalt? Are you happy that you keep hurting yourself for little to no reason?”
You know what? Buck this. I don’t need this. I came here for answers, not abuse. I’m going to do what at least a quarter of ponies do when I get like this: Walk off. I don’t know where I’ll be going in this white abyss, but I’m sure as fuck that wherever I’ll be going will be better than here right now.

“Oh, walking out on yourself, are we?” The unicorn shouts. “Okay then, go! Go! Walk away like she did! Like the one you keep hurting yourself over! Little Miss Indescribable! You want to know what words could describe her? I got some words for y-”

It was at that point I hurt myself once again. By punching the unicorn in the face.

He falls onto the white floor. The look on his face makes it abundantly clear he has returned from his surge. The look of fear. I lean into the pony’s ear to say to him:
“Magic, get rid of all the shit here please.”
“Y… yes, Master Salt.” Glows the horn as all the clones disappear.
“And the wall. I know there’s nothing on the other side, I would have heard something by now if it was the case.”
“Yes, Master Salt.” It glows again, disappearing the wall. “Anything else?”
I giggle. “Why yes, magic…

… You can stop bullshitting me with this inner-me crap and talk normally.”

The unicorn chuckles. He erases my cutiemark from his flanks because he now knows his cover has been blown. “It was a good trick, was it not?” He says… and really says this time, not from his horn but with his mouth. “An trick of ventriloquism created by Jalapeño Stick. Used to wow audiences by talking as himself while his dummy was also talking. Always wore a hat too, so nopony saw the horn glow.”

He thinks he can laugh this off. A good effort, but it hasn’t worked. “Why, magic? Why did you try and be me? Why the facade?”
He looks down in embarrassment. “When you first came in, I figured you wouldn’t listen to me if I was being myself. So I made the persona to show a version of you and I working together… something I always wanted to do but never got the opportunity since… I’m sorry I haven’t really been there for you.”

I put my hoof on its shoulder to let him now it’s okay. He looks up, smiling at me. “So, what gave it away? Did I break character while I was surging?”
“Well, you did.” I reply. “But the more I think about it, for somepony who shared the same mind as me, Inner-me had moments where he didn’t know what I was thinking.”
“Thought I can read you like a book. I’ve been around you long enough to do so, I thought.” He snickers. “I guess there were a few pages I missed… or made up entirely. Are you sure you didn’t think you were bisexual until now?”
I shake my head.
“Wow. I’m sorry master, I thought you already knew.”
“That’s okay.” I nod back. “I guess that one’s really on me for not experimenting… Hmm, something I just realised right now. Did you change my Onderlandwah dream to be different? I hear from everypony how it should be great adventure. Vinyl had some neon world, Apple Jack rode a dragon, Page became buff after holding aloft his magic sword...”
“Hmm, yes. I’m afraid you got the short end of the stick, even originally. All yours was going to be was this: some white plain with the two of us wearing...” Magic clapped his front hooves and suddenly we were both wearing long leather overcoats and shades. “... these.”

I pull off my shades, to look at my magic. “Woah… Seriously? That’s it?”
“Well, I was also given the instruction to pretty much make anything you want appear. However, yes. That’s it. I knew that it was a tad boring so I took the liberty to try and make my own story up about it. Put some things down I wanted. Kind of against what I was supposed to do, but… well, I had my fun.”
…
“Anything I wanted?”
“Anything. Why? What are you thinking?”
An idea hatched in my head. Something that he may already have thought.
“I’m just thinking… with this rap battle against Hater D… We’re gonna need some weapons.”
He smiles. He got what I meant. Suddenly shelves upon shelves of books zoom toward us at neck-break speed. Talk about service. Magic puts a hoof onto a certain book. “I have a feeling we’ve got weapons covered. We even have her diary. For when things get seriously tense, of course.”
“Of course.” I chuckle. “We can’t be too mean.”
We both laugh until we slowly go back to silence.

“Master… You still haven’t really told me how you found out it was me.”
Hm? Oh, no I didn’t.
“You claimed you know what words to describe Octavia by.”
“I do.” He states, finally taking off his rounded lenses. About time too, those things look bad on my face. I never look good with shades on. “And that was the major tell? The fact I would know but you may never will?”
I nod. He hit the nail right on the head.
“I’m never going to understand love.” He sighs. “Not even in the dictionary is there a good definition. It’s virtually...”

He put his hoof in his mouth.
“You were going to say indescribable weren’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes you were.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, admit it.”
“Never!”
We laugh again. It’s good to know I have a friend in me.

“Almost time.” He utters when we calmed down. “Anything else you wish to ask me?”
“Yeah… why do I suddenly feel… sticky?”
“Oh. Erm… You may need to wash the bedsheets when you wa-”

I wake up.
…
Aw, buck me.
	
> Answers With Asterisks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put the sheets into the machine along with some washing up liquid, then turn it on. I hope this doesn’t stain. I don’t know how it happened, how it got everywhere. Well, all I know is I’m not as horny as I went into my magic’s place.

I can’t believe I did that. In a library of all things. No, even better: the princess’ own bucking library. In her bucking bed. And I’m bucking twenty-six, not thirteen! Why the hell did I do that? Ugh… I need a shower. At least this time it’ll be a warm one, Thank Luna. If there is anything I learnt from seeing my magic surge in front of me is that cold showers are off the menu.

“Yo, Salty!” I hear below the moment I turn the water on. A little early, aren’t we, Vinyl? “You ready to go?”
“Just about. Let me just wash myself up a bit.” I shout out as I step into the jet of water. Oh… that’s heaven. It’s going to be a hard time turning this off when I’m done. Better get scrubbing before I fall asleep in here.
“Alright. I’m a little early anyway.” She shouts downstairs. “So, what happened to the window?”
“Twilight’s owl.” I call out, grabbing the loofah. “Turns out Owlo doesn’t know the difference between open and closed.”
“No kiddin’.” She guffaws. “Wait… Did she call her owl Owlo?”
“Nah, I shortened it.” Wow, this is a good loofah. The very best for the princess, I assume. “She called it Owlowliscious.”
…
“Okay, I thought the shortened version was stupid, but then I heard the full name.”   
We both giggle as I keep scrubbing. Sorry buddy, but I can’t pretend she’s wrong. Well, props to my fur, the… uh… ‘protein’ is coming off quite easily. Then again, should I be surprised? My coat can survive ink stains, for crying out loud… a lot of ink stains.

“Wait… you haven’t had any of it yet?” She asks. Must have seen the  bottle. “Like, I was worried I was going to drag your ass to the tournament. Looks like all you did was gave your bird toy some and that’s it. You Okay?”
Well, Sherclop, as much as I appreciate your work I didn’t ask you to analyse my office desk. I better tell her what’s up, anyway. She maybe the best pony to talk to about what just happened.
“I… I had a moment while you were away. See, I was going to...




... So, yeah. I feel better now. Or at least I think I do.”

Seriously? A surge right now? What the buck was that in aid of? Crap, how long have I’ve been in the shower? That’s wasting water! A bunch of ponies are dying of thirst in Zebrafrica and here I am blathering away in the shower like a chump as all this water just runs down my body for no reason! I turn off the shower and step out of the…

Uh…

Vinyl is here. In the bathroom. She’s got her shades above her horn and she’s smiling. This is getting awkward. “Aw… aw, Wound…” She whimpers. “C'mere.”
“Erm… Vinyl, what are y-Gah!”
She’s hugging me! I’m wet and she’s hugging me! I thought she wasn’t a fan of hugs… What the buck did I say when I was under? ‘I don’t know where the towels are so I may need to use your body to dry me off’? ‘I heard that there is a tactical advantage to being wet in a rap battle’? ‘I think Octavia may be into damp ponies’? What the buck did I say?
“I’m here for you, man.” She says calmly. “No matter what happens, you got me, you understand?”
I… I nod. I know I should do more than that and ask her what I said during a surge, but… 

… maybe when she lets go.





“Oh, wow. Dude, I’m sorry. That must’ve been awkward, me hugging you like that.” The DJ says rubbing herself off with one of the towels. “So, they’re not always angry fireballs of slurs?”
“Well, they usually are.” I reply, also rubbing myself down. “They’ve been off the usual M.O. a few times since I got here; I returned to my senses crying my eyes out in Applejack’s place yesterday, and it was calmer than usual with Printed Page this morning. Now… well, I’m willing to bet this was different to the blast I gave to Pinkie before the party.”
“Shit, yeah.” She nods. “You sounded like you have mixed feelings about what happened. Like you’re happy that you found out about yourself, yet you feel a little sad about what you did to yourself.”
I look away. I think it’s safe to say, that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling.

…

“Oh… Oh! Holy crap!” I hear Vinyl squeal. “The theory! My theory!”
This makes me look back at her. “Your theory? What theory?”

I see her smiling like I just asked a million-bit question she knows the answer to. “Okay, I thought something up when Aunt Rain came to see us when I was a kid, right? Like, I ran to her when I saw her get off the boat, jumped to her arms and shit, totally stoked to see her for the first time in my life face to face, you know?”

I nod. I feel like she said all that because she felt like I wouldn’t know what that feels like. Fair enough, I suppose, since I was a tad too blunt with Rain Coat’s death and whatnot. However, I do know what that’s like. Clearly the DJ hasn’t seen me when it’s happy hour.

“Well, she seemed to surge when that happened.” She continues. “Usually it’s just her staring blankly as storm clouds start appearing. However, that one time? Just a mist. A nice, calm mist; could barely feel it. And she was smiling. We all had no clue why it was different that one time… But I had a theory. The folks think it doesn’t sound right. Shit, even I thought it was kinda dumb back then, but if what you’re saying is right then it should have some merit…

… The surges are attached to how you’re feeling.”

I take a deep breath before I say what needs to be said.
“Please explain.”

“Well… let’s take this surge you had right now. You were… you were...” She puts a hoof up to her chin, to try and find something to say. “Kinda happy but… kinda sad too.”
“Ambivalent?” That has to be what she’s thinking.
“Yeah!” She exclaims, pointing. “Do you feel like that right now? Bambi-Valium?”
“Ambivalent,” I say while nodding. Although she got the word wrong, she’s still kind of right. Happy because I learnt something about myself, sad because that surge my magic had was… sobering to say the least. Yeah… I’m ambivalent.

This theory Vinyl has… it seems to make more and more sense the more and more I think about it. Take how I got my cutie mark, for instance. Clearly I was mad because I just had it with the Curaçao brothers’ shit, so the surge took that anger and decided to let loose. Practically every surge after that is when I feel angered, harassed or annoyed in places where I feel angered, harassed or annoyed. My talk with Page this morning, I was calm. Therefore, my surge was calm. So… that surge that looked like a emotional breakdown at Applejack’s…

… 

“Wound. You okay?”
“Hm? Sorry, I was mulling it in my head a little bit.” I say, wiping a few inklets in my eye. “So would that mean, if I’m happy, it would be a happy surge?”
“If you even surge at all, yeah.” She nods. Crap, that reminds me.
“What about dizzy spells? I had one at Fluttershy’s yesterday which my magic believed was a surge that he seemed to stop but he had no idea how he did so. Any… any theory on that?”

She tilts her head, looking dumb founded. Looks like the answer’s no. “Dude, I don’t even think Aunt Rain had anything like that. What… what happened at Shy’s?”
“Well, I got there and there was a letter from Twilight for me. See, I asked her highness beforehoof whether or not Rain can help me. I actually wrote down asking if she did have a detachable horn, by random happenstance.”

She winces. “Yeah... I guess you know all about her plans on that now, don’t you?”
“Oh, do I ever.” I reply sighing. “At the time, however, I didn’t. When Twilight told me she had plans for this, I remember that I asked her highness about this just randomly. So I pondered that whether the CMC was at play, knowing all this was written down or just me getting lucky and then… dizzy.”

“Huh.” Vinyl lets out. “Well I don’t know how it happened, but at least we know you can skip a surge. Maybe we can check out her place some day. See if it’s something there.”
“Well, she’ll be heading out to the Princess Summit tomorrow with the rest of them. They’re planning to give Twilight a surprise. Maybe when she gets back?”
“Yeah.” She nods, then looks out the window. “We should get ready to go. Hater D’s not gonna give herself a verbal beating.”

Heh. D wishes.
“Okay.” I say as I crack my neck. “I’m certain I packed a pair of jeans to hide my cutie mark… And a hoodie to blend in.”
“Awesome.” Vinyl smiles. “Oh… uh…

… Did you, by any chance, came up with a rap name?”
	
> I'm Gonna Pop Some Nags
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ion Disruptor?” 

I nod. She’s been repeating it since I started getting into my hoodie and jeans.

“I… I think I’m missing something here.” Vinyl groans, shaking her head. “Why are you naming yourself like a weapon from a crummy science fiction novel?”

“It’s something I picked up in a science book once.” I start explaining. “See, nerves in an equine body are generally negatively charged. Neurons have proteins in the membranes that allow certain ions to pass through, like calcium, potassium, and chlorine. When salt dissolves in a wound, it breaks down into the positive sodium ions and negative chlorine ions, and the increase in chlorine disrupts the balance, triggering the nerves there. On top of that, nerves can't normally allow positive ions inside, but the influx of negative ions in the neurons opens some of the passages in the nerves, allowing the excess sodium ions in, triggering the pain. That is why salt hurts in a wound. It disrupts ions. Hence… Ion Disruptor.”

“Wow... Well, ain’t you a little scientist?” She smirks. “Just like mommy.”
“Ha ha,” I say jokingly. “What would you have come up with?”
She looks up to the sky in thought. “Well… okay, this is going into your fanbase a little. There’s this joke character they made up like a mascot to represent the False Salts who use the likeness for hook-ups. What’s he called again, now…? Oh, yeah! Salt-Lick the Pimp!”
…
“Okay, one: No.” I start. “and two: Isn’t the main idea of the rap name is to hide my true identity until I reveal it? Something so close to my real name might be a little too obvious.”

“Fine.” She utters. “But no offence, Woundsalt, Iron Diffuser or whatever the hell you came up with won’t cut it. You need something a tad more gangsta, something a bit more street, something that… well, something you didn’t get from a science book. You’ll get laughed out of the place with that name.”

Hmm… I look around in thought. She’s right. It’s a tad too nerdy for a rap-battle. I better think of something with a bit more street cred. Something short. Something everypony should like. Something that’ll have make my true identity a mystery… Hmm, I wonder if… Heh, it’ll work.

“How about… uh… Spirit Projection?”

I look back at her to see her nod and grin. “Dude… that sounds hype! It’s like you spit out fireballs and shit! Spirit Projection, bucking A- Where did you get that from?”

“Oh… somewhere in here.” I say pointing my hoof to my head… while looking at Mister Bobby-Bird the Second as his beak, or as my little thesaurus-like mind could also call it a projection, dives repeatedly into the cup of rum, being a spirit. Thanks, little buddy. You earned yourself that drink.





“...And this is what Slim Shake calls the ‘Sad-Buck’ track.” She says, about to press a button on her stand. “I doubt we’re going to use it, but it’s perfect if you got a verse for making Hater D look like someone to pity than respect. It works best with little action from me, though, so it better be a good verse to please the judges.”
I nod as she hits the button, making this ‘Sad-Buck’ track starts to play. Quite a quiet, sombre affair; especially after the last few jams, which was practically explosive, loud and clearly there to accompany vivid, voluminous verbal volleys. The only similarity is how the names the replaced rapper used to call them. It’s nice to know there is a comrade in support of the word ‘buck’ out there.

We were in what one would call a dressing room. One that needs a bit of renovating, admittedly. It seems the small theatre this tournament final is being held in has seen a lot of better days. Could be worse, I suppose. Could be in some abandoned warehouse about eight miles away from civilisation.
She told me the rules of this thing on the way there. Seem simple enough; Flip a coin to decide to go first, each side does two verses each, a maximum of three minutes each verse, no touching the other team or you're disqualified… I wonder what causes that last one?

“Not a bad set.” I say, taking the headphones off. “I’m thinking the Bucking Big Bang first and we see how what we play when round 2 c-”
I hear a knock on the door before I finished my sentence. Vinyl seems to get the message because she was nodding as she walks to the door. She opens it up slightly for a few seconds, looking through the crack, then makes the gap for… a big ass fluffy coat. I’m certain there’s a pony inside of it, but damn that’s a big ass coat. It looks incredible.
“What up, 3?” I hear under the coat. “Just came to meet this substitute rapper Hater D’s complaining about.”
“Hey, Mac. Spirit Projection, this is Mackerel Shore. He’s the guy running this… Wait, she’s what?”
“Yeah, she’s demanding us to get the real name on Spirit Pro… ject...” The coat stops talking for a few moments. I think whatever the hell’s underneath it just figured out who I was. “Holy bucking crap. Holy bucking crap!”

A sea-blue head finally comes out of the coat, accompanied by a big shit-eating grin, a couple of widened brine-green eyes and a two hoofs jumping to one of mine for a shake. Something tells me somepony’s fanboying the fuck out here. “It’s… it’s an honour to meet you, sir!” Squeals the tournament runner. “I was a fan the moment the Poetry Corner was made!”

“Uh… hi?” I say as his hoofshake rumbles across my front leg. “Er, Mister Shore. If you don’t mind, please keep your voice down? We kind of don’t want ponies to know it’s really me until during the main event. Kind of a big reveal thing we’re planning.”
“Hmm? Oh! I got ya.” He says, putting his hooves back in the coat. “Just a heads-up, though, if you’re going to do that. You better head out there with your hood up. Ponies could recognise you by what you’ve done with your mane. Looks amazing, by the way! Really makes you look mature!”
“... What I’ve done with my mane?”
He blinks a little bit. “The… the new white bit. Everypony’s only seen your mane in all black. I said something out of line, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I really like it, though. Very edgy!”
My roots are showing? I know I haven’t re-touched the black for a while, but surely it hasn’t grown that much already, can it?
I look into the mirror. It has.

“Uh, so...” I hear my partner say as I stay looking at the mirror. “This complaint...”
“Ah, yeah... Nothing to worry about, really.” Mackerel says, as I see him put his head back into his coat in the reflection. “All I have to go back to her and tell her that if she really wants his real identity she’ll have to give you her’s; she’ll withdraw her complaint. She does this to every opponent who’s not up for revealing their real name in her bracket and the moment we press the issue, she drops it. Nothing but a mind game to test the gumption of her opponents, I think. Still, I had to check in to see him anyway. Always good to meet ponies in the trade, especially if you never heard of them before… is… is he going to be alright? I mean, this is going to be the first time on a stage ever and he seems… distracted.”
“Hmm? Oh… he’ll be fine.” Vinyl waved off. “He’s been going through a lot of shit lately, that’s all. I’ll keep him focused, you make sure the crowd’s hyped, okay Shore?”
“Okay, 3. If you say so.” mumbles Shore as he sees himself out of the locker-room. “Break a leg out there, Mister Projection sir!”

I put up a hoof of recognition, not letting go of my gaze in the reflection as I see Mackerel Shore head out the way he came in. Vinyl turns to look into my reflection as well. “Okay Wound,” she whispers “I know you’re in a delicate place right now after all that’s happened today, but can you please get your head in the game now? I don’t want to go out there with you crying again.”
“No, no. I’m not crying.” I reply to the blunt but reasonable words of DJ PON3. “I’m… thinking that maybe I should stop dyeing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” I say, turning to her. “You heard it from Mackerel Shore just now, everypony’s only seen me fully dyed. Maybe… maybe I need to show them the real me.”
“So the white’s your actual mane colour?”
I nod.
“Well… are you comfy with it? I mean, you were hiding it for years.”
“Kind of forced to, admittedly.” I correct her. “Carers were worried about losing me in snow.”
“Heh...” She guffaws. “Tavi wanted me to try out a white mane one time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I kinda like this blue, you know? I feel like this is more me. I’m a redhead originally. Made ponies think my eyes were red too, the bucking idiots.”
We giggle a little.
“Maybe what you need is a new colour.” Vinyl says afterwards. “A little change in look can change the mind a little.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well… what is your favourite colour?”
“Bl-”
“Besides black.” She quickly intervenes. “Seriously, leave black to the goth-foals. Black’s nothing but a shade, anyway. What’s your actual favourite colour?”

There is nothing but silence and thought until there was another knock on the door. We must be in the busiest fucking dressing room in the world or something.
“Quick, put your hood up.” Vinyl urgently says. “If Mac can spot you for the mane, somepony else will.”
Good call. I do so.

She opens the door slowly. The look on her face is one of slight confusion and caution.
“Is there a reason why you are here?” She snarls to whoever’s out there. Oh shit, don’t tell me it’s Hater D. If I swear to goddess if it’s Hater D I’ll...

“Miss Scratch, please. I came to apologise to you over my partner’s actions. What she did was wrong and if it weren’t for contractual agreements I would drop her like she was a hoofball. I hope these are a suitable token of sympathy?”

Okay… it’s not D. For one, that’s definitely more of a male voice. Also, whoever this individual being may be is holding a bouquet of roses abundantly high for both ponies and griffons. Almost like something that walks on their hind legs.
“Well, at least one of you knows how to be a good sport.” Vinyl grumbles, levitating the bouquet into the room. “Anything else?”
“I would actually like to meet this individual that made Miss D angry enough to rip a pillow to shreds last night.” The stranger chuckles. “I feel like it is a crime that only one of us has seen this pony.”
Vinyl looks to me, “Your call.”
Well, he seems nice. “Yeah, bring him in.”

She open the door all the way for me to f-WOAH!
Sweet Celestia, what is he trying to do, blind me? I was going to say it was a diamond dog, but the poor thing is more bling than diamond dog! Gold chains, gold rings, gold… anything! I know these guys are usually attracted to shiny materials, but damn!
“Spirit Projection,” Vinyl starts to introduce us to each other. “This is Grandmaster Flint. He’s Hater’s DJ for this thing. Flint, this is Spirit. He’ll be replacing Slim Shake.”
“Hello!” He exclaims with an open paw. “By the sun, so there is such a brave soul to dare face us after her heinous acts!”
“Huh… yeah, brave.” I suppose that’s what one would call blindly going into something you have little to no experience in doing. I put my hoof in his paw and we shake. “Here’s hoping for a good show.”
“Oh, I’m certain it’s going to be phenomenal.” Says the diamond dog. Wow… this seems like quite a contrast compared to the hostilities of Hater D. Or the illiteracy, might I add. Did I just hear a diamond dog say ‘phenomenal’, a word with four syllables to it? No offence to our opponent here, but I always thought that diamond dog’s are a little… well, I never expected a four syllable word to come out of a diamond dog’s mouth, let’s just say that much. I wonder...
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mister Flint, but you seem like a very well educated being...”
“Compared to my brethren, yes.” He nods. “I say with pride that I am a black sheep. Ran away from the mines near Puddingshire when I was a small pup, found myself at an establishment of two very kind and talented musician ponies. They gave me a place to stay and eat as long as I learn some of their craft and never looked back since. Unpleasant places, those mines. The closest thing to an education down there is grabbing one by the head, putting their nose onto a diamond and the words ‘This is all you want’ repeated ad nauseum into their ear. Ghastly. Simply ghastly.”
Wow… that’s bucking brutal. Nice to know changelings aren’t the only ones with bad upbringings.

“Anyway, enough about myself.” The dog continues. “I must ask you a question about the world of False-Salting. It seems quite an interesting use of visual attributes that can bring in a pretty penny. Tell me, Mister Projection, have you ever used your body for ill gains?”

Oh! Uh… I better think up something quick. We can’t have me pretending to be someone pretending to be me without a story like that.
“I wouldn’t call it ill will gains at it were, but I used to be in a dating service.”
“Really?” He snickers. “How interesting. Any devious tales from that occupation?”
Erm… Uh…
“My last date with them was this stallion who wanted me to put up a trombone somewhere.”
He blinks a few times under the shock. I do a quick look at Vinyl as she mouths the question “Seriously?” Sorry Vinyl, I panicked.
“My word… I take it the trombone was in an uncomfortable place?”
“Most definitely.” So sorry, Vinyl. “I downright refused, he complained and the service dumped my ass.”
“I say, that seems a tad cruel of them.” grumbles the dog. he seems to have bought the story. “Firing you for something you weren’t comfortable with.”
“Oh trust me, the False-Salt dating game has some bucking darkside.” Another false False-Salt story might be something to seal the deal. Or… maybe tell him about Betty’s ordeal. “I know a filly whose company was telling her that her client paid way too much in a gift for her just for him to go home with just a peck on the cheek if you catch my drift. Thankfully, she actually likes the guy so she might; but the bucking gall on them, right? Telling her she has to do it?”
“I most definitely agree. It’s appalling!” He proclaims. “Thank goddess you left! Anyway, it is best for me to take my leave before Hater D starts getting nervous about where I am.”
“Okay.” I say as I extend my hoof for another shake. I feel like I did well. “May the best pair win.”
“Hmm, yes indeed.” He says, a little more flat than he was during our entire conversation. Something tells me he’s not confident that he’s on the best pair, right? If so, great. We might not even need to reveal who I am at all and still win if that’s the case. “Oh, and one more thing, PON-3...

… If you want to truly know what we think, it is best not to eavesdrop. You could get bad information that way.”

Grandmaster Flint opens up the door, looking at our clearly stunned faces. Our secret plan was based on false assumptions. They knew. They knew all along, the cunning bastards.

“May the best pair win indeed, O Great Unalicorn.” snickers the son of a bitch as he closes the door.
> Average Rap Battles of Misery!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What are we going to do, Vinyl?”
“Okay dude, I get that you’re stunned about all of this, but you gotta stop asking me that.” Vinyl flatly says to me as we wheel her gear onto the stage.
“Well, why haven’t you given me an answer to it yet?”
This keeps her quiet as she plugs some wires into her machine. I can see them both. Hater D and her DJ and Grandmaster Flint are both over on the other side of the stage, also setting up for the final. They are giggling. They are smiling.

They are the enemy.

… Holy shit, Grandmaster Flint blinged out his equipment too. It looks like the restaurant that holds Printed Mint’s ashes got melted down and molded into a turntable and a bunch of amps! I hope to Celestia we aren’t judged on presentation.

“Okay. Game plan.” Vinyl finally says. “If you win the coin flip, say that we’ll go first. That way, we can reveal who you are before they even have the chance to spoil it and deflect any attacks she’ll say about you and I.”
“And if they win and we have to go second?”
She shrugs. “It’s up to whatever they pull first.”
…
“We better win this fucking coin flip, then.”
“Yeah, that’ll help a lot.” She giggles, finishing up her plugging in and quickly hits a sound effect. She nods to some back hand. She’s ready to go.

“Okay folks,” I hear some backstage hoof say. “Doors to the theatre will be open in three… two...one.”

And his word made it so. That or whoever’s in charge of opening the doors.

I can hear the audience starts coming in to take their seat. You know, I’m kind of surprised I don’t feel any butterflies in my stomach. This is my first ever time on stage, after all. I mean, shouldn’t I feel the least bi… Oh wait, my teeth has started to chatter. This must be it. Yep, I’m having the urge to put myself into a fetal position. Stage fright has arrived. Mayday, mayday: Stage fright has arrived.

I turn to my DJ with my eyes open wide. “Help, I’m nervous.” Is what I think I would say if my mouth was working correctly. All that came out was unintelligible whimpers.
“Uh oh. I was worried that this’ll happen.” Vinyl sighs. “This is your first time ever on a stage, isn’t it?”
I nod frantically. Probably too frantically. Crap, I just realised our opponents might be seeing me like this. I jump over my DJ’s turntable to cower behind it.
“That bad, huh?” I hear from her. “Look, I never really had it before so I can’t help... Wait, you must have talked to actors during your Canterlot Horn days, right? Some musicians, maybe? Did they have any advice on stage fright?”

Uh… I never really had a talk to any actors. It’s rare that I do talk to any artists at all back then, if that wasn’t already clear. Printed Mint was always a little paranoid about me saying something offensive to somepony who has the money and ability to sue the magazine. Satchel Mouth had to sign so much shit to get to me for our interview he was massaging his hoof al the way through it.

However… Something that the orphanage did back in the day was have an annual play written and directed by somepony from Moscolt. He wasn’t there very long because it turns out his VESA was suspicious but his plays bought in a lot of potential adoptees so all of us wanted to be in whatever he was doing... including...





“Please, Mister Check-off?”
“Sorry Woundsalt, but niet. Brainstorm’s orders. You in play is... forbidden.”
“But… but you said you needed a seagull, right? I can be a good seagull.”
“Dah, I know. But it’s for sake of orphanage. You have… eh… ‘moment’ in front of audience... ”
“But it’s not even a speaking role! I… I want somepony to see me and… It’s not fair. I want somepony to notice me… maybe they’ll...”
“... I so sorry, Woundsalt. Your are right. Is unfair, but my hooves? They are tied… You write, dah? Is what quill means on cutie-mark?”
“Uh… kinda?”
“Ever thought of writing poem?”
…
“Write poem, Woundsalt. Write poem of birds. Write poem of many birds. I put bird poem in lobby. Ponies see poem, they ask who wrote poem, I point them to you.”
“Why… why birds? I thought this play’s only got one seagull.”
“Dah. Is thing I tell actors if they feel unsure on things. I tell them to focus on something. To stop being scared on stage.”,
“You mean, I must focus on birds so I don’t overthink what I’m doing?”
“Dah! Can you do that, Woundsalt? Can you write poem of birds?”
…
“Dah, Mister Check-off.”





… My goddess, so I did have a mentor back then. How did I not…? Gah! Niet, Woundsalt! Now is not the time to ponder on the past! Now is the time to do what he has taught you! Let’s see… something to focus on. Something to make sure I don’t overthink what I’m doing.

…

Heh. Yeah… She’ll do nicely. Mister Check-off, I’m going to focus on  birds like you told me to… or on one bird to be precise. My eyes will be right on the birdie. I stand up from the turntable and walk to the front of it, looking at my rapping opponent. I will leave Grandmaster Flint to Vinyl Scratch. Hater D, your lion-like ass is mine.

“You good now?” I hear my partner ask.
I nod, as I put on my hood. I’m ready to rip some new holes.

“Okay, folks!” Says the lead back-hoof. “Curtains up in three… two…

...one!”

And so it does, slowly followed by a cheer of hundreds. The lights make it hard to count how many, exactly, but it’s not like I’m counting. My focus is still on my enemy. 

“Hellooooooooooooooo Everypony!” Yells the coat concealing Mackerel Shore “Welcome to the Grand Finale of the PegExpress™ Rap-Beat Battle Tournament! Sponsored by PegExpress™, Buck-Star™ Cafe and Redbull™! Don’t be the last unicorn, or any other type of pony for that matter, to try some Redbull™!”

Another applause. Blech, Redbull™. Truly horrendous. I know it’s a little rich for the alcoholic to scrutinise something that is terrible for the equine body, but I wish to gather that shit can by can and throw it into the ocean.

“... and Now, to introduce the opponents!” Mackerel shouts through the microphone after some other words which I phased out because I was too busy hating the taste of the sponsored beverage. I should probably go back to focusing on Hater D. “Hailing from Griffonstone and the Puddingshire Mines respectively… She’s a beast and he brings the beats… Hater D and Grandmaster Flint!”
He points to the two, making the two put their talons and paws in the air, resulting to some cheers. Could be greater, but since rumour has it they beaten the crap out of their opponent… that might not make you the favourite.

“And their opponent...” Shore continued as the crowd dies down a little. “Not gonna lie to you folks, we got a first tonight. As many of you may have heard the Detrot-Made Hand Grenade, Slimshake, has had an accident and is as we speak in the hospital. I think I can say for everyone here that our hearts goes out to him. That being said, I am proud to announce that his DJ is here tonight and refuses to forfeit and has found a substitute for her fallen comrade! Please welcome, one Manehattan Musicmaker and one brave mother-bucker from West Canterlot jumping in on such short notice! DJ PON3 and her wordsmith Spirit Projection!”

I put up my left hoof and the crowd goes wild. Probably because we got more of a home advantage compared to the griffon and mutt. Probably because we appear to be the underdogs in this. Probably because… they sense a victory.

“Rappers,” Mack says into the mic, signalling both D and I. “Come to the center of the stage for the coin flip.”
We come center stage, looking deep and angrily into each others’ eyes. Well… I’m trying to. Her beanie’s kind of in the way. Suddenly, a green hoof with a bit appears in the middle of us.
“Aight, you two.” Comes a deep, booming voice. One of the judges, I imagine. The notoriously big-boned one, I bet. “Before we start this I wanna highlight a certain rule, since we got a surprise entrant and some rumours are circulating ‘round. No touching at all, got it? You shake now, you shake after and any contact between the two of you in between leads to disqualification of the offending party. You hear?”
She nods. I nod.
“Good. Shake.”
I extend my left hoof. It meets the tight grip of her left talon. She comes in close to whisper in my ear.
“Colonel Sand-dirt can’t save you here, dweeb.”
“Seriously? Dweeb?” I couldn’t help but whisper back. “What are you, a school bully from a tacky 80s movie?”

She lets go, sneering. She knows I have this quite minor victory.
“Aight. D, your call.” The deep voice wheezed. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.” she speaks as the judge flips the coin in the air. Please be tails. Please be tails. Please be tails…
Fuck!
“Heads it is.” Hater snickers. She knows how much we would like control. Wait, we still maybe have a chance of them wanting to be second so that we’ll be… “We’ll be going first then.”
Fuck!
Just nod, Woundsalt, and head to the turntable. Don’t show your disdain of the result to your opponent. Show them to your partner. Vinyl sighs as she sees my unhappy face. She knows what has happened. Well, that’s what happens when you have a plan that can be ruined by pure chance.

Mackerel hoofs the microphone to the griffon. She points at her partner in crime as some music begins to play from their speakers. This final is starting. And so she begins…

“Well, well, well
White ponies in trouble but can’t
Tell, tell, tell
that above them swoops one
hell, hell, hell
of a griffon takin’ to them to the rocks with rhyme
with beats so underground
they had to come from the mines

Do you really think you have a chance, 3?
having some Salty-looking punk
trying to rhyme to your musical junk? Please!
Like your mane, your style’s nonsense...
No seriously, who did that to you?
And at the time were they fully conscious?

You should apologise to the bass
Knowing how many times you poorly dropped it
And while we’re pulling out shoulds, you shoulda forfeit.
Showing up with a pony that nopony even knows
You think you too hot to trot, Spirit? Answer: No.

I predict that Projection’s over his head
Thought he’s as good as Slim but he’s shaking instead
But still crank it, Salty-boy, but don’t be surprise if your verse lacks
‘Cause even the pony you trying to be can’t do squat with your backing track!”

As the crowd does a loud and long “Hooo!” to the end of the verse, applauding at the efforts of the two. Meanwhile we, their opponents, are… perplexed. Or at least I am. They’re keeping the illusion alive. Why?
“It’s a trap.” Vinyl answered. She must tell I was about to raise the question to her. “If you reveal who you are, they’ll come back to you with what they think is a rebuttal that’ll hurt your reputation.”
That’ll hurt my reputation? How the buck can they have a rebuttal that good? Or maybe a better question to ask is… “What happens if we don’t reveal it?”
She is silent.

I get a tap on my shoulder. Mackerel passes the mic to me. Our turn.

“Buck it.” I whisper away from the mic. “Bucking Big Bang. Start it when I take off my hood.”
Bucking Big Bang, as the name suggests, starts with an explosion to start with and has a loud and powerful beat. An exquisite opening track.
“Wait… what are we going to do about the trap?” Vinyl asks. I thought I made it clear.

“Buck the trap. We need the reveal. We’re running straight into it and we’re running straight into it crossbows blazing.”

She opens her mouth to try and say something, only to close it again, nod and readies herself. Eyes on the griffon, Spirit Projection. Time to show ponies who you are.

“PON-3, you know I’m new ‘round here, so help me out a bit.
Give me a rolled up newspaper for this dog and bitch
Who think they’re hot shit because they’re this close to Tartarus, ‘Well, well, well’ please allow me to introduce... 

...myself.”

The hood goes off, the explosion happens. The crowd screams with joy. I see the judges look at each other for a split second, eyebrows raised. I see Mackerel Shore jump up and down giddy with excitement as the explosion dies down. Perfect.

“My name is WOUNDSALT, mother bucker!
Got the call and I dropped my beer.
Because I heard birdie tweeting shit since I bucking got here.
So I say this, Hater, something I know you and your DJ dreads
Mr. Dove is Dead and his partner is out to bust your heads.

Because when my quill hits the ink, everypony start breathing
And when D’s words hit the mic everypony starts leaving
When 3’s needle hits the records everypony starts to see
And when the mutt’s tracks goes through the speakers everypony start to heave.

‘Cause We’re Definitely, Doubtlessly, Distinctly, Daringly, Dangerously, Diabolically better
And can Denudate, Dismember and Dismantle you down to Hater D’s Celestia-damn letter
Must start to regret-ah playing with ponies
Little girls like you, D, shouldn’t do that
Because it’s a good way to going so down
that you’ll become the Griffonstone economy’s floor mat.

Think you come back after all that I spat, you must be sconed.
Do I need to hoof the mic back or are you two doing the smart thing and gonna go home?
If so, here’s two proverbs for you from a Manehattan mare and Saint Diamond Heart’s Colt:
Don’t ever be brash with my Vinyl Scratch and ALL HAIL THE FUCKING ‘SALT!”

I throw the mic to Mackerel, which he catches. The crowd is louder than it ever has been so far; first with cheers and then chanting four of the last five words of the rap. “ALL HAIL THE ‘SALT! ALL HAIL, THE SALT!”

A quick look to the judges makes me believe they have also enjoyed it. A rotund green one, who I bet is the one who flipped the bit, looks at purple skinny stallion with two cans on his flank with eyes wide. “Holy crap.” his skinny comrade mouths to him. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
I think that means we’re winning. Vinyl’s face when I turned back to her is also showing signs that what I believe is true. “Dude… did we just blew the roof off this place or what?”
“I… I think the former.” I snicker. “How’d I do?”
“You did amazing!” She grins wildly. “You sure you’re new to this? ‘Cause that was some pro-level shit you put down!”
“Really?”
“Yeah! That alliteration thing you pulled did in that? I know damn well Slim wouldn’t do that sh-”

She stopped talking because we both noticed music playing. Familiar music. Familiar music coming from the other speakers. Our opponents speakers.
“Isn’t that...?” I ask Vinyl. She nodded before I even finished with the question.

The full question was going to be “Isn’t that our Sad Buck track?”

And the grins on the griffon and mutt confirm that not only did they took one of our songs, but they know we’re not happy about it.

“Sounds to me that my statements weren’t entirely true
But since we got the Unalicorn up here, let’s talk about you.
How you were the high horse with hard verses against the Princess
Sticking it to the Sun Goddess with every syllable... yet,
After five years what did that young upstart get?
To become her favourite student’s favourite pet.

No wait. Son. Sorry, wrong word. Haven’t you heard?
The big secret that got revealed by a friend of hers? It’s quite absurd.
Princess Twilight adopted you? You owned by royalty now?
No alcohol at the bar last night. Mommy got you on a routine? Wow.

You know what? I think I’m still right
The real Woundsalt is still in hiding
As his spirit haunts Saint Diamond Heart’s
Thinking about the days when he was writing
While his corpse sells out for a life for a cellist chick,
turtlenecks with blazers and Mommy Dearest’s digs.

And you know the part that I find the most strange?
Is the part that no renter admits their hero has changed.
I swear, there are two things I will never understand.
How you think you’re still the stallion or your petty pathetic fans.”

She puts the microphone straight into Mackerel Shore’s hooves with a smirk that’ll rival Vinyl Philharmonica’s greatest hits. Or maybe she took that too, the bitch. Every pony is silent with what she has presented towards us. She and her pooch, using the song Vinyl designed for making the opponent look like a sad fool, made me and everyone in the theatre that was cheering moments before the saddest of fools. I do some quick looks to some faces I can see in the audience. Either they have taken lemons during their piece or they are wincing by the fact they got insulted while D was tearing into my reputation and fandom. I’m willing to bet the only ponies smiling right now are the judges, the only ponies who decide who wins. They probably think that what she just said takes large stones. Not only did she just put me down, but she also put down everypony who supported me. Probably earnt her a lot of points.

Fuck.

I turn back to my disc jockey, to get her thoughts on the matter.

“Sl-Slim had a copy of my songs on a CD. To practise and shit.” Vinyl whimpers. She knows how brutal this is. “Hater must have took it off him when she… Woundsalt, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think they would do this.”
She blames herself for this. She shouldn’t. Bastards stole her song… wait… “Are we allowed to protest? It’s our song they stole.”
“We… we could.” She sighs. “But they probably won’t believe us. There’s no telling who made what song. In fact, I bet that’s their back-up plan in case we pull something out of our flanks and win. They’ll protest, accuse us of taking all our songs from their library, everypony’s going to see how many songs they have compared to us and...”
My DJ looks down to her turntable “... And then that’s my reputation down the crapper, too.”

… You know something?

Fuck them.

Fuck them, the cheating assholes who break and manipulate the rules to their advantage. Fuck them, the brutes who get away with this kind of bullshit and never get punished due to little to no proof. Fuck them, the… Just fuck them! Fuck them for going at my girlfriend’s reputation!

… They want to go for the reputation? I may as well go for it, too. 

Magic? Open up the diary. Let’s see what this Hater D’s hiding underneath her beanie.

… Oh? Well that’s… That could explain why she… Oh, so that’s why she… Oh, this is…
  
...Perfect.

We definitely got some verbal ammo, but just to make sure they don’t protest on us during our verse...
“Vinyl, what do we have that’s not on that CD?”
“Hmm? Well...” She says, slightly blushing. “I keep this one track for good luck wherever I go. It’s… Tavi playing a piece on a cello. I could make something out of it. I know a good drum beat that could be great with it.”
“Is it punchy?”
“Well, after the intro, yeah.” She nods until she realises why I asked her. “What the buck have you got planned?”

All I can do, as I get the microphone, is smirk like a champ.
“I plan to win this mother bucker. When I put my hoof up, pause the track, got it?”

She smirks back. I would like to believe I have the better one this time. “Wait for the drum beat.”

I turn around ready to go with a stare so fierce at Hater D that if her feathers started to catch fire I wouldn’t be surprised. I hear some good solo, as she cocks her head. She never saw this co… ming… Wow, Octavia is playing her cello… Bah! Focus, Woundsalt! You can get a copy of the song later to drool to! The drums will come in any second!

Here it is. Let’s see how long she’s going to take until she breaks.

“Oh, I’m sorry. But I seem to recall
That I didn’t see you or your poodle at the Sugarcube Corner at all…”

She decided to turn to her DJ at this precise moment. Big mistake. I put up my hoof.

“...Gilda.”

Yeah, that got her head turned round. You get personal with me? Let’s see how you like the taste of your medicine. The hoof goes down.

“Understandable, knowing the last time you went there
You embarrassed yourself in front of Rainbow Dash
By being just a fucking nas
-ty bitch with a bad attitude to her newer friends
Shit got bitter in the end
What happened to never coming back again?
Did you forget how your old compadre put your ass in place
So now you ‘Hate R.D.’ and gave her some space?
And add this to the list of shit you can’t understand, Bird Brain
That I changed because I know if I stayed the same
I’d be just like you
Some grumpy cunt with nothing to do
but sighs and cries in her room
And be in a fucking mood
Which is also why the fans don’t care
If I did shit different to my ideals and hair
Because they know the taste of Salt’s in the air
And still hits like a big fucking bear!
And who cares if I’m owned by royalty?
Ask Celestia and she’ll tell you I’ve been owning her constantly
Honestly…”

I put my hoof up again. I better take this home.

“Say, this is beginning to sound like something to write to ‘Mommy Dearest’
Dear Twilight: Hope you’re alright. Today I got a lesson for you. Let your ears hear this.
Change; whether it’s something planned or sudden
Happened to you or your bother
Something somepony needs to do
Or somepony’s got a new lover
Support is the best thing when it happens
And I want to thank everypony for being with me
because I know the other
way is how a griffon hates
and starts being a bother
So to conclude, Change happens and support is how good friends
remain to be good friends at the day's…”

End.

I was supposed to say end.

But she punched me. She punched me hard.

I fall on the floor knowing that the cheaters will finally be disqualified... and that I still got it.
> Better Than Drinking Alone.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ssss-Aaaah!” 

“Yeah, it fucking stings.” Says Vinyl, from experience. “But the ice cubes in the bag are frozen potions. Keep it on your eye and it’ll be fine in no time… shit, we kept the Captain Swashbuckler at the library, didn’t we?” 
“Eh, it’s fine. I have to head to the SorriNa anyway.” I tell her. “Blue wants a word with me for some reason.” 
“Well, let’s not keep him waiting then.” She says as we walk away from the miraculously still intact theatre. 

To say that the minutes following the punch that I had received wasn’t eventful would be lying. Not that I could recall it, of course. I was too busy being knocked out to fully witness how an angry mob of Renters chased off the griffon who punched their… er… hero. 
“Who got her off me by the way?” I ask Vinyl. “Do we know?” 
“Yeah… funny that.” Vinyl giggles. “It was Grandmaster Flint.” 

… 

“I’m sorry, am I concussed or did you just say the fucking mutt on her side of the team saved me?” 
“Yeah! He totally did! Gave her a Celestia damn suplex!” she says, who appears to be quite happy even though she’s talking about the asshole who stole her songs. “Turns out that Gilda chick, outside of the ‘Do they know, don’t they know’ mind game they pulled, was working solo on the dirty tricks and Flint thought we were lying about what really happened to Slim. But seeing her throw that right hook gave him some clarity.” 

“Well, that’s real nice of him.” I say, trying not to be sarcastic but failing. I know I should be a bit more thankful, but I got to ask: “What about the part where he took your song and practically claimed it as his own?” 
“Heh, yeah. I asked about that. Apparently he was being duped by her.” She replies, still smiling. “Turns out he was training her to be a DJ. She gave him the CD after our first verse, told him she made the songs and made him play the Sad Buck track. He had no idea they were really mine.” 
“... Do you actually believe that?” 
“Meh. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. He practically saved your ass back there.” She chuckles as her horn glows. “He also gave quite a peace offering.” 
Before I can ask what she’s on about, she reveals why her horn was glowing. She is hovering up a business card, showing me what the Diamond Dog has written on the back of it. 



I think it’s safe to say we are in need of a new rapper and those were some good songs I’ve unknowingly stole. It would be great to work with the both of you in the future. 
GF

 

“He works with quite a big record company.” She explains. “It’s fairly new, but it’s been making some huge strokes as of late with some very talented folks and doing a very bold move to take the entire operation to the Renter strip. I know you said before that you had no interest in rap before, but I was not kidding when I told you that what you did on stage was amazing and… Well, as much as I like the nightclub scene, I would love to be more recognised. Maybe… maybe we can do this?” 


I look at the words on the card in thought. A job opportunity? I got a job opportunity? I… I haven’t had a job opportunity since the Canterlot Horn. Okay, I may not exactly be looking but… I feel like I have to do this. Not just for Vinyl, but for me. 

“I don’t see why not.” I smile. “What’s this record company called?” 
Her face changed from excitement to worry. 
“Ah… see, that I needed to ask to you about.” 
She flips the card over to reveal the name. 




PRINTED RECORDS

 


“How are you with Printed Page these days?” She asks nervously. “Because he’ll be our boss if we do this.” 

Ah, yes. Completely forgot about Printed Records. The little present he got from The Prints before the magazine went bust. Just a little company they made so they can say he never spent a day unemployed, with some experience running a company to boot. I think he wanted me to do a thing with it. Just read out my works and make it an audio thing to sell. I told him to go fuck himself, of course… probably a dumb move upon reflection, but hey. Tradition. 

“Meh, it’s cool between us. Page’s changed quite a bit since Printed Mint passed away.” 
“Shit, his dad’s dead?” She says, putting the card away. “Since when did that happen?” 
“Same day as Twilight’s coronation.” I reply. “So yeah, You're probably not the only one who didn't get the news there.” 
“Damn.” she says looking ahead. “And he’s taking it okay? I mean, Tavi told me that he was smashed last night. Something about his mom telling him he’s adopted?” 
“Oh, ho ho… You didn’t even hear the half of it. Let’s just say it turns out Page Presser’s finding a whole lot about himself.” 
... 
“Page Presser? Did you just call him Page Presser? Oh shit, she… she wasn’t lying, was she?” 
Well, it’s a good thing folks don’t give you personal information about themselves very often Woundsalt, you damn blabbermouth. 
“She wasn’t, no.” I declare as she takes off her shades, looking so stunned it’s as if somepony shoved a zap-apple where she didn’t want one to be. 

“From Saint Diamond Heart’s too, just like me.” I add. “He’s taken it well outside of the initial shock of it all. Plus he’s been on a personal quest to find himself as of late, so it’s been part of the journey really.” 
“Oh... well, that’s nice.” Vinyl nods. “Must suck real hard, though. Believing these two people to be your parents for so long and then suddenly have the rug pulled from under you. I wouldn’t like that.” 
“You’d rather they tell you when you were young?” 
“Yeah. I’d rather have the adoption certificate framed on my bedroom wall than in some box somewhere in the attic.” She puts her shades back on. “Kinda… kinda lets you know that there are a couple of ponies there for you, y’know?” 
I give her a smile for her words of wisdom. I find it fascinating how smart Vinyl is. 

We look up in the stars for a little bit. I don’t know why. I just had the desire to. She must have had the same urge to as well. Fair enough, of course. Seems to be a good time to look up at Luna’s splendor and reminisce. 

“You know something, Vinyl?” I say out of the blue. “I think I sort of realise now that I'm not the only pony with a few cracks.” 
“... Yeah.” She says hugging tightly. “I know I got a couple. For instance, and I should tell you now so you don’t freak out about it if and when you’re around tomorrow: I won’t be able to talk. Like, at all.” 
“Really? Why?” 
“I don’t fucking know. My Vocal chords take a break on Fridays for no reason. Not exactly the Confused Magic Condition, but it’s quite a medical mystery. Only affects about a thousand ponies.” She explains. “I wouldn’t call it a setback, though. I get around okay. I can get my thoughts across in different ways, no problem. Got a whiteboard at home, I’ve been learning some Earsign too… that shit’s complicated as hell, man. I’ve been trying to do it for years and I still feel like a rookie.” 

I nod. Earsign is the language for the hard of hearing and the mute. It’s not exactly ideal. As you may have guessed it involved flapping your ears around a lot, the result of which, to the untrained eye, makes you look more like a pony on a psychopathic ear-flapping rampage than a pony asking if the certain individual he’s attempting to talk to has the time. 

“I knew an orphan who can Earsign. The only deaf pony I know, in fact.” I add to the conversation. “Kind of had a sour first impression with him because apparently this...” Uh, how did it go now…? Left up, Right up, Left down, Right down, Both left, Both right, Both left, Both right, position B, position A, and then back into the starting position. “... was me threatening to stab his deceased father thirty times with a rusted spoon. All I was doing was swatting a fly.” 
“... Shit, dude. I’ve been learning Earsign since I was seven and all I got from that was that you were doing something to his dad.” My fellow stargazer sighs. 
“That hard to learn, huh?” 
“Yeah. And the word dad is the most basic shit.” Vinyl snickers, doing the sign for it. “Although in my defence, the way you did spoon looked like the word for panda. Pretty similar words, those two.” 
“Clearly!” I can’t help but snicker along, as reach the Renter side lights. I can faintly see the outline of the black cube known as the SorriNa with my un-punched eye. The sign lights aren’t on, making quite hard to see clearly, but it’s abundantly clear that the journey is at its end. 

“Let’s see that eye, there.” Vinyl whispers before we end up by the front door. 
I take off the ice pack and… oh wow, I think the stuff did the trick. That feels so much better. 
“Hey! Would you look at that? Good as new!” My DJ jokingly yells. “Black-eye-B-Gone! Brought to you by Zebra Potion Bullshit!” 

I smile lightly at the selling pitch. “Thanks for the good time, Vinyl. I think it's safe to say I earnt a drink tonight.” 
“Yeah…” She sighs, then suddenly her ears prick up like a pegasus wings in a strip club. “Say, after your little talk with Blue, maybe I'll come back and... Have a drink with you? I'm certain he won't mind.” 
Looks like I've found another first: First time I'd be drinking with somebody I’d like to have a drink with. And this time I actually mean somebody and not an adorable office novelty. “I would like that a lot, actually.” 

“Cool. I'll be back as fast as I can.” Vinyl Philharmonica says, turning to leave. “I just need to... uh... fix… something. See ya later!” 

She ran off before I asked what she was going to fix. She did seem to have a look on her face before she left, though. The look of a mare with a plan. I... I think I'm liking that look a little more. To tell the truth, I still have an inkling of dread but it seems diminished compared to the last few times I saw it. Maybe because I'm a little too tired to chase after her and enquire what she could mean. 

I knock on the door. 
… 
... I know I should be ecstatic that I finally knocked on the door without embarrassing myself, but quite frankly I just want to get in there. 

I see a purple hoof open the door slowly. Behind that hoof came a kind, smiling, pierced face. Parfait D'Amour. “Oh, hey Woundsalt. How’d your Cute Mitzvah go?” The hermaphrodite asks in a joking matter. I guess everypony in town knows what's up about that now. “Something wrong with the cake?” 
“Well, you know. Never been a big fan of keeping secrets.” I jokingly said back to her. “I find it leads to very embarrassing moments.” 
“Heh, no kidding... Bucking A, man.” She sighs shaking her head. “The Great Unalicorn, the philosopher of Equestrian antidisestablishmentarianism, is the adopted son of the newest princess. And here I thought I’ve heard everything. Drink?” 
“Yes, please. Captain Swashbuckler on rocks, thank you. Make that a double, actually. As you may have guessed it's been a hard day.” I whimper as I head on in. “... so, what's so important that Blue Curaçao wants me back here? Do you know what this thing's about?” 

“Uh... About that... That might be postponed.” Blue's lavender spouse says, pointing near the stage. “Bit of an impromptu LGBT support meeting came up out of nowhere. You read Page's note he left you, right?” 
I nod, turning my head to the stage. I’m a little surprised Page would still be here, actually. I thought he’d be done and headed somewhere else by now. Maybe go and get himself a hotel room to stay the night; maybe even get his dog from his mom if it’s on the way. However, there he is. Lying on the edge of the stage with the fat former bully, Blue Curaçao, sitting in a creaking chair. They both seem to be deep in thought. They also look like they’re super tired.

“… Yeah, bruddah. What you got there is a toughy.” Blue finally speaks. “She wants to be Croissant, You want him to be Baguette especially since you want to tell the world who you are... The big question dat needs to be answered is are you willing to jump on a plane, find dis pony and tell her to be him for you and live happily ever after?” 
“... Wait, would that actually be happily ever after, though?” Page asks, not even really answering the old question. “She’ll be forced to be Baguette and I’ll be forcing her to be Baguette. That doesn't sound like a happy time for both of us... No. As much as that sounds like a lovely fairytale ending, it's not one for us.” 

“If that's what you think then... Maybe a one night stand’s all it’s gonna be.” the Barstallion shrugs. “Probably better to have a look around closer to home, anyway. Plenty of fish in the sea, amigo, especially here on the Renter strip. I’m willing to bet there's a stallion out there waiting for a gentlecolt like you to take them off their feet... as a matter of fact, I might know a few guys. Maybe we can get some blind dates goin’?” 
Page lifts up his head to look at the ponderous pegasus. “You know what? Yeah. That’ll be great. Just as long as they don’t know it’s me until the date.” 
“Of course, bruddah!” The Blue whale bellows, jumping out of the chair with some implausible energy and agility. “I’ll go through my phone book and try some ponies out. Any... ‘reservations’ you want me to have in mind?” 
“You mean outside of the ‘Don’t tell them it’s me’ thing?” 
“Well, I got that. I’m asking if there’s anything about your date you specifically want. You know; fellow artist, into yoga, part of the Page Pack, maybe even a certain... body size, maybe? Like, I know some guys who are my kinda build who’re looking for somepony but they always say they get turned down because of dat. Not like I know, of course... would that be a problem to you?” 
Page looks away shyly, being a tad more red in the cheek. “N-no. I don’t mind. I’ll... I’ll take whoever you throw at me.” 

Blue nods and turns around to walk away, finally seeing me. “Hey, Hermano!” He exclaims. “How’d the rap battle go? Did Vinyl win?” 
“Well, Hater got disqualified for touching the other rapper.” I had to say, giggling. “So... yeah, Vinyl won. She’ll be coming round later to celebrate with me, if you don’t mind.” 
“Of course not, amigo, Of course not.” He replies waving his hoof around. “I was plannin’ to pull out the champagne, anyway. Nothin’ like a bit of bubbly to celebrate a loco week like dis, eh?” 
I point at the pegasus as I head on to my former rival. “The best sentence I heard all Celestia-damn week.” 

I hear him laughing as I get myself to the stage through the jungle of clean tables and empty chairs. He sits up from his position to give me his attention. “Hey, Woundsalt.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hoof. “Heard what happened up at the Sugercube Corner. Sounds like it’s all out now, huh?” 
“Yeah…” I sigh, jumping up on the stage. “Also, according to my magic the receptionist that started the whole fucking mess went to Wordsworth Daily to admit she’s responsible for it so... looks like they got the scoop first.” 
Page makes a noise of disdain. Even though there is no Printed blood in him, what is there still boils when the rival media chain gets a major scoop first. “… I guess that's probably for the best, actually.” He eventually admits. “Since she said that it's her fault you're now a prince, all the rage would more likely be directed at her more than anyone else involved.”
“Well, here’s hoping, huh?” I exhale, looking at the lighting rig that hangs above us as we both go silent.

“So, how’d your little talk go?” I decided to ask my… you know what? Fuck it. My brother. He damn deserves being called that after today. Jumping from finding out he’s adopted to finding out he’s gay in a single fucking day. “Because it looks like you had a conversation and a half.”
“Oh shit, yeah. It’s been quite emotional.” He wheezes. “I started with what I wrote to you, which was followed by a him giving me long hug, then one of us changed the subject to how I should announce this in front of Printed Ink, which made him tell the story on how well it went when he told his brother about him and Parfait, which was followed by me giving him a longer hug because… holy fuck, his brother. I know he said they were in the same basket but... Did you know he went on a fucking hunger strike to try and break them up?”
All I can do is blink for a few moments before saying “I… I did not, no. I only re-united with Blue yesterday, so I haven’t heard what happened from his time living in the Ohana islands yet. I’m not surprised, though. Blue and Orange Curaçao were pretty homophobic back when I knew them. I’m not exactly sure what made Blue change his life to the lardass we see before us, but it seems very clear Orange didn’t share the same experience.”
“You mean…” The unicorn coughs a little. “You mean you don’t know you were the…?”
“I was the what?”
…
“Actually, nevermind. I just remembered that it’s the thing Blue wanted to talk to you about. It’ll wait when you two are alone.” Page says, looking away.
“Aw, c’mon man.”
“No, no. I’m keeping it a secret.” He replies, hooves up as he turns back with a grin. “You know, like how you didn’t tell me the filly you were with last night was Octavia fucking Philharmonica, you sly dog. How in all of equinity did you manage to make that happen?”

I guffaw. Oh, he didn’t know? Well, he was blind drunk, to be fair. “I had a chance meeting with her wife earlier that morning in the library. They’ve been looking for a boyfriend to have a three-way relationship with and turns out Octavia’s a huge fan so… yeah. That was our first date last night.”
“Wow, that’s great.” Page smoothly coos. “I would never have guessed she lives here… or be bisexual for that matter.”
“Yeah, it surprised me too when I found out.” Hmmm… I wonder how he will take the following information? “You may have seen her, actually. She used to perform at Fillyways.”
“Used to? You mean she…?” He pauses as his eyes light up. “She was the filly who quitted yesterday while Ink was in the restaurant and flipped off Mint’s ashes, wasn’t she?”
“Actually, she flipped off some crystal pony she didn’t get along with.” I correct. “I was the one who flipped a hoof at Ol’ Minty.”
“Oh but of course you did, you...” He laughs. The best damn laugh I ever heard come from him. “Hoo… Well, nice to know you got some vengeance. Say, I should do that. Live down here, I mean.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, It’ll be great! I like it here, I’m already planning to move the record company down here anyway so a short commute would be great, I can sell Printed Media for a nice bit of land and build a good house on it, Satchmo’s so much happier here because he gets to go to Fluttershy’s...”
“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, cow-colt.” Did he just say…? “You’re planning to sell Printed Media? But you were raised to run the thing! Printed Mint gave you his family business and you’re fucking throwing it away?”

“Well, I can’t pretend I need it, can I?” Page replies as his head turns to see the two at the bar who are pretending not to listen in on our conversation. Clearly they are bartenders and not actors.  “Besides… I feel like that I’ve got more of a family here.”
I look out to the eavesdroppers, who seem flattered over the words they are trying desperately to pretend to not listen to. A lot has happened in this cocktail bar tonight.

…

“Do you want a roommate?” Suddenly came from my mouth. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, I can’t deny I was thinking about it and now that I finally given what I blurted out some thought I believe this actually can be a good thing to do. It gets me out of the library and make sure Page doesn’t fuck up in some way. I don’t exactly think he knows how to take care of a house by himself, what with living the life of luxury with maids and stuff. I don’t know how to take care of a house neither, admittedly, but I’m certain with the two of us there we can at least bounce off ideas on how it’s done.

“Is… is that you asking to…?” He questions, before realising that’s exactly what I’m asking. “Uh… yeah! Sure! You can live with me. Someponies will be a little iffy about that, though. Us two living under the same roof? Sounds like a start of a fanfiction that I had in my fanmail. And not one of the good ones.”

“Meh, let them write their stories.” I proclaim casually. “I already feel like I’m in a bad fanfic since yesterday.”
I hear a chuckle from Page Presser. “I guess being adopted by royalty is one of the most common tropes in that sort of thing.”
“That and the discovery that I have a great amount of magic inside me, this whole secret sibling debacle, all this sudden fame you opened my eyes to…” I start listing before I realising it feels like I’m blaming him for that last one. “No offence, buddy, but you got to admit that’s a lot to take in.”
“True, true… this fan fiction of yours isn’t sounding too bad, actually.” He grumbles sweetly while looking towards the lights above. “Maybe if you add in some side characters with their own life-changing and difficult problems? You know, for some snarky critic to make comparatives and parallels to?”
“Sure, why not?” I giggle. “Throw in plenty of side characters! Too many side characters to handle!”
“Maybe put this fan fiction in the perspective of yourself, too.” He continues. “That way when the minotaur manure hits the fan ponies will laugh at your reaction.”
“Easy there.” I laugh. “You almost making this sound good!”
“And you know what?” He says, cracking up a little. “Maybe give it a fated love plot where somewhere in the second act the love lead ran off for no well-known reason!”

…

…

“Woundsalt? Are… are you all right?”

…

“Woundsalt, talk to me, please. You being this quiet is creeping me out. Tell me to go fuck myself or something.”

…

“Something else happened at the Sugarcube Corner, didn’t it?”

I nod as I see a napkin come from his direction with a shaky hoof. He’s not used to me crying.
“What happened, Woundsalt?” He asks quietly.
“... What you pretty much said just now.” I start, hoping to end it there. I know I can’t. “Octavia saw what was written on the cake, I went outside panicking because… well, she was in there crying under the belief that I sold out. She… she takes my work to heart, Page. It was pretty clear since we met.”
“And that’s why she ran away?”
“No, no. She calmed down a bit when her wife told her all the details and then came out to see me. I was freaking out too much so my magic possessed me. It only wanted to help and it… it did. It defused that situation, but then she asked him why I didn’t do anything for the last five years. It said… It said...”
I need to take some deep breaths. I’m a little hysterical right now, it’s making it difficult to say…

“It said all of what he’s done was for me.”

I turn up to see her there. I turn up to see both of them there. Vinyl is only a few steps behind her with a smirk… no, not a smirk. A smile. Of course this is what she meant by ‘fix something.’

“That every day in that office he gave his all for a filly he never met.” The cellist continues. “A filly who gave him a life-changing gift. A soapbox. Not the best soapbox, of course, but with that soapbox he dedicated his life to use. Not for his own benefit, not for fans, not for fame, not to start a fight, not to start an idea… He used it for me. I never realised it until his magic told me.”
She chuckles as I notice the tear-lines on her face. They’re pretty faint, but they are there. “I’m… happy about that, Page. I really am. I used to write to him every day, you see. He never got them, I know, but... You know, it’s amazing, isn't it? Two strangers who had never met, never had any contact with each other or any clue that we were trying to make contact for that matter… And yet thought of each other day.”
She looks away for a few seconds. “... but then the Canterlot Horn closed, and the soapbox disappeared. I didn’t know where to send my letters, so… I didn’t write them. It was around the time I was at Manehattan University anyway… having the time of my life.”
I had to take a quick look at Vinyl Philharmonica. Her shades are off at she’s welling up. Also, I just noticed her horn is glowing for some reason. Huh.

“I… I had thought that all that he’d done to himself for the five years after was because it was just him. His way of saying ‘Hey, fuck the media.’ ‘I don’t need that kind of attention.’ ‘I’d rather be swimming in my own vomit than be some other rich-pony’s bitch again.’... That was what I believed was going on.” The cellist cringes. “His magic, however, showed me that was just a fallacy. That he was beating himself up because he… he had questions. Questions he was asking himself every night. He never knew that he did more than enough, so much that he became a legend. He never knew that I was watching, feeling and loving what he was doing. He didn’t even know how to answer these questions for himself; I… I feel terrible. I know it’s not really my fault, but… I feel like I let you down, Woundsalt. So I wrote this for you after I left the Re-Cute Mitzvah. Vinyl?”

Her DJ reveals why her horn is glowing. She was holding an envelope. A sky-blue envelope. It lands beside me, face up. I look back at Octavia, as a smile appears on her face. “It’s about time you got one of these, anyway.”

I look at the envelope. I want to read it, but… I feel like I need to say something first. I need to tell her…
“Octavia, I’m going to say something I’d never thought I’d ever say in my entire life. Something I thought that would be impossible to say truthfully, but… here I am. About to say it.

You, Octavia… are indescribable to me.”

She can only blink to what I just said. The reaction of almost everyone here. If anything, the only pony who gave this the reaction I believe it deserves is Page Presser, who’s widened eyes compliment his open mouth with the sudden horror of a poet admitting to such a thing. I might need to elaborate a little, maybe.
“Think about that. The pony magically connected to all the books in the world, all the scrolls, all the scripts, from ancient tablets that have never been found to those little notes in Neighjing fortune cookies... fails to give an adjective, a simile, a metaphor… anything of that nature to describe somepony. I’m… I’m full of speeches and yet I’m speechless when I'm...



… and I don’t want to change without you.”

Shit! Seriously? Halfway through my confession of love to her, I surge? Fucking CMC! I swear to Celestia if this ruins this for me I’m going to k-hey! What is she doi-ULP!
...
Well, that sudden but very emotional lunge towards me along with the just as sudden and just as emotional kiss from Octavia Philharmonica has just dispersed my fear of the surge ruining this reuniting.
Everypony else applauds as we let our embrace go slowly, only for Vinyl to come on in getting us both with a hug. The three of us can only giggle like dumb little foals.

“Well, fillies and gentlecolts.” Shouts Blue as picks up some champagne glasses and a tumbler for me and comes towards us. “I think it’s time for a toast.”
“I think you’re absolutely right, mi gorda.” Says Parfait as she takes the glasses from his husband and starts passing it around to everypony. “Woundsalt, would you do the honours?”
I nod as she gives me my rum. Hmm… what to toast? I know.

“Here’s to change.” I say, lifting my Captain Swashbuckler on rocks. “It may be hard sometimes, it may not be good sometimes, but with friends… it is all worthwhile.”

“To change!” this little party cheers as we clink our glasses together.

…

You know, with all the talk with Printed Page with this fanfiction called our lives, it makes me think that here, in this moment right now, would be the good way to end it. Not my life, of course, but… my story. I mean sure, there are a few questions; I want to still know who my parents are or who this sibling is and it would be nice to know if that moment with Captain Swashbuckler in the library would lead to anything. I still need to talk to the girls before they head to the Princess Summit for a few things too, especially to Pinkie about kicking me out of my own Cute-Mitzvah. And I need to write to Twilight about the lesson I learnt, now that I think about it.

… But I leave all that for the sequel called tomorrow. Now, all I want to do is sip my rum, have a good time with my friends and end this story with style.

As I feel the drink slide down my throat, I taste the satisfaction of doing exactly that.
	
> The Epilogue Called That Night's Dream
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

TWILIGHT SPARKLE
Hey Girls,
Sorry that it’s just the one letter from Owlowlicious. I’m still not quite ready for the Princess Summit and I need to go through a lot of notes. We all seem to be quite busy, these days. I hope that changes when I can head back into the library.

Which leads to my first bit of news: I’m moving back into my library! I’ve been talking to Princess Celestia and she confirmed that it would be best for me to stay in there and not build a castle and put taxes on other funding. This does mean Woundsalt may have to live with me until he moves out. I have a feeling we might need to help him out with that.
Speaking of Woundsalt, I’m afraid the Re-Cute Mitzvah wasn’t the only leak in the whole adoption fiasco. The now EX-receptionist went to the press and admitted she made this happen. She got herself fired because the janitor caught her in his closet with her boyfriend. She released the information in the hopes that it can sully the orphanage’s name… which really didn’t need her help to do that, to be honest. Saint Diamond Heart’s already getting some flack for not realising they had another case of CMC on their hooves, along with splitting Woundsalt apart from his sibling and something involving that one dream Woundsalt had that I don’t want to talk about for very good reasons. They might receive a cut from their funding from all these suspicious happenings, sadly.

Anyway, before I continue with some more news, I want to reply to all of your recent letters.
First off, Rainbow Dash: Sorry to hear about the date. Some ponies are just mean, you know that. Way to go putting the custard on him instead. That’ll make Thunder Roll think again on crossing with innocent fillies! Don’t worry about finding somepony to ask about lesbianism, Dash. Vinyl and Octavia would be good ponies to ask, perhaps. I’m certain they won’t mind.

Fluttershy: I understand her being afraid by the threat, but tell your mom that she will be fine from any changeling attacks. Changelings can’t walk on clouds, after all. They can fly, sure, but even then they will easily be caught if they pretend as a pegasus and stay in the air in Cloudsdale while all the other pegasi walk. That’ll stick out like a sore hoof. Princess Luna has already sent a couple of soldiers from her regiment to guard her anyway, but really they are there for her peace of mind more than anything else. Also, I’m glad you managed to find that dove and that he seems to be living a good life. Leave him with his family, though. Accept the closure, okay?

Apple Jack: Don’t let Filthy Rich’s lawyers intimidate you. They know very well that Filthy Rich should have sold Parfait the cider in the first place and that he should be thankful he/she didn’t sue him for discrimination. If it does go as far as the courtroom, you will have a great character witness. Nopony’s going to argue with a princess. ;)
Also, and I know you mean well, but I feel you may be a bit to frontal about us being concerned about Woundsalt’s well-being. I agree that there might be more to the surge at your house, but we got to be patient with him before he opens up. He knows he has shoulders to cry on.

Rarity: I can’t believe you spied on Woundsalt going into Salty Bet’s arcade. We want him to trust us and that’s not going to happen if we don’t respect his privacy. You are so lucky he didn’t catch you! That being said, he didn’t say anything about it when he wrote to me this afternoon. I have a feeling he is hiding something, especially since I have proof that his mystery twin is NOT Salty Bet. In fact, I got some evidence pointing to her being a changeling. The Royal Guard claimed someone saw her change; Some guy by the name of Jitter Bug. They haven’t jumped in yet, though. They have no definitive proof outside of the witness’s word that she is. She hasn’t contacted any changeling they know of, she seems to have that arcade up in Ponyville before the Canterlot Wedding attack so she wasn’t involved in that, there are no reports of her eating anypony’s emotions... For all we know, this Jitter Bug character may be wrong about her being a changeling, but we know for a fact she isn’t Woundsalt’s sister. Still, you better bring this up with Woundsalt and why he seemed so happy when he left… AFTER you apologise to him for being nosey, of course!

And Finally Pinkie Pie: … Girls, we have another new first, today. Pinkie has written me a lesson she MUST learn instead of one she has. 

‘Change can happen at any time and a when such a change happens to a friend you must give them help and support no matter what because that is what good friends do.’

Couldn’t put it better myself. Of course, your first step is to apologise to Woundsalt for kicking him out of his own Cute Mitzvah, and then you go and give Vinyl an ‘It’s okay that you are what your are even though I'm a little disgusted by you’ party. Maybe work on the name a little. Something that doesn't say that you're disgusted.

Now onto the biggest news: Woundsalt’s DNA test has come back and the results are... interesting.

For those of us who are unfamiliar on how DNA works, DNA is made up of molecules called nucleotides. Each nucleotide contains a phosphate group, a sugar group and a nitrogenous base. The four types of nitrogenous bases are adenine (A), thymine (T), guanine (G) and cytosine (C). The order of these bases is why Rainbow Dash doesn’t look like Rarity and vice versa. Because Both of their DNA is set different in many ways.

And both of your DNA are definitely different from Woundsalt’s DNA because... Woundsalt's DNA is weird. It has As, Ts, Gs and Cs, but also… question marks.

And before you all ask if that is a CMC thing, it’s not. I have taken the liberty of looking at Rain Coat’s DNA as well. There are no question marks when it comes to her.
Originally, I thought this was something wrong with the machine, but one scientist has stated that this is another rare anomaly! Not as rare as the CMC, but still very special; Making the fact that Woundsalt has both this and CMC astonishing. He was a biological miracle already and now it turns out he has this as well? You have a bigger chance winning first division in the lottery every week in a year only to have all your winnings destroyed by a hot air balloon crashing into your mansion than meeting a pony like Woundsalt ever again!
This scientist also gave me a list of other cases of ponies with what he calls ‘Qs and Ms’ (One thing I didn’t mention from my DNA explanation from above, usually the nitrogen bases are paired to each other, As with Ts, Gs with Cs. So… it’s a nerdy science joke that you guys still don’t probably get, but trust me it’s a little funny) and from it are some very similar names to Woundsalt. So much, in fact, we could make a family tree from this list.

We could… but someone on the list already did.

His name is Salt-Lick Flats, Flats being his adopted name. He, according to the fact that they share practically all of the same ‘normal’ bits of DNA along with having the exact same amount of question marks, is Woundsalt’s brother. 

And if the rest of you girls are wondering why Fluttershy and Rarity believe that I’m wrong, it’s because there is this joke mascot Wound’s fanbase has that represents the False Salts who use the likeness of Woundsalt for hook-ups called ‘Salt-lick the Pimp’. However, I’m afraid it’s true. Salt-Lick is real. He used to live in Los Alicornes, running a business where he and other ponies that look like his brother… well, let's just say the character of Salt-Lick the Pimp is more than just a joke. That’s not the oddest news about him, unfortunately. He has recently been added to the missing ponies list. The authorities decided to investigate his apartment in the hopes to find a clue to where he went. It was then they found a room dedicated to finding his original family. Him and Woundsalt’s family.

I got word from the leading stallion of the case of Salt-Lick’s disappearance, Lieutenant Column Base, who gave me this description of this room from his audio tape. I’ll transcribe what he says on it to you guys.

“It seems to start in the middle of the wall furthest from the door with the missing pony’s adoption certificate, with a note reading ‘Reminder: Thank Mom and Dad for delivering this to me.’ Lace Up and Pointed Flats both live up at Coltorado and have confirmed that they know of this room and sent him the certificate for this purpose. The certificate also has a string that leads to a the right corner of the wall. In this corner is a copy of the book ‘Boys From the Corner’. It’s like a collection of these two poets works while they were in some old Canterlot magazine. Damn shame he taped up the book in this way, Mrs Base has been trying to get it for weeks and… almost gone on the wrong tangent, there. Sorry. Anyway, he has the book taped to the pages of the poets' life stories. Salt-Lick highlighted a part in the biography of Woundsalt. ‘Found and raised in Saint Diamond Heart Orphanage’, the same orphanage the missing pony was from. He also pinned a piece of paper with its own note: ‘Most definitely my brother. But why did they separate us?’ At this time, we have no contact with Woundsalt nor the orphanage. Along the string, there is another string tied to the middle. This string leads to a news article about a mare named Salty Kisses who was last seen walking into Everfree Forest, never to be seen again. This also has a note from Salt-Lick: ‘Mother?’ He also highlighted a quote from her boyfriend, Wound Lick, vowing to look for her himself. I had one of the boys look up whether or not he did. He tried to… the poor bastard was found dead the following week. Timberwolves, according to the autopsy. Even though there is no note about him, my gut's telling me that Salt Lick believes Wound Lick's the father.”

Sidenote from me here, girls. Vanishing off the face of the earth seems to be quite a common trait with ponies with Qs and Ms, especially in forests. At some point in their lives, ponies like Salty Kisses and possibly even Salt-lick as well walk into the woods, never to be seen or heard from again. This has happened to not to just these two, but also to ponies named Salty Shores, Table Salt, Pretzel Salt, Salt N. Pepperston the Third… You girls have probably caught onto the pattern, right? The only reason why no-one really made the connection at this point that these ponies are related? Well, a pony can’t really figure out a relation by name alone, of course, and with question marks in their DNA who knows how close of a match they are? There are ponies on this list that aren’t a Salt, as well. Few of those ponies go missing, too. Also, not every Salt does a vanishing act; none of them alive right now except Woundsalt, unfortunately, but some Salts don’t go into the woods and fall off the edge of the earth. One thing that does have them all in common, however? All the ponies on the list, a Salt, missing or otherwise... are orphans. Yeah.

Column Base keeps going on and on about every article of ponies from the Q and M list disappearing or being foals found in front of churches, orphanages and the homes of young couples who can’t have kind of their own for certain reasons, so I’m going to skip to the part that I found… disturbing.

“There seems to be one article on the floor, roughly near the certificate and the book. According to the landlord, the last pony to see Salt-Lick, he claimed to head out for some blue-tac. A hunch tells me he may have wanted to put this somewhere between him and Woundsalt. It’s another baby at some couple’s doorstep: This time, two stallions named Dry Coat and Blank Canvas. The two found a little filly with a note implying her name is Vinyl Scratch and whoever left her there wanted them to take care of her. They live in a House-cart; one of those caravan things, which at the time was in the Canterlot area, both saying they were about to head off to Manehattan until they heard her crying. The note attached to this one asks ‘Sister? If so, why not in the orphanage like us?’”

… and before any of you ask, yes. She is on the Q and M list. According to medical records, her vocal chords seem to temporarily disable itself every Friday… a trait that a lot of Q and M ponies possess.

…

Girls, before we freak out completely, we have to keep in mind that a lot of this is speculation. For all we know, Salt-Lick’s wrong about Vinyl and Woundsalt hasn't just got into a relationship with his sister and sister-in-law. One thing’s for certain, however... we got to tell him this. All of this. He got mad the last time we kept information from him. Can you girls imagine how mad he’ll be if we kept this to ourselves?

How you do this, I leave to you. If I can suggest something... tell him afterwards this. Celestia told me this when I was just starting as her student, and it has been jumping back into my mind recently given this new role I now have: Life is a story. One with characters, scenes, situations, even plot twists. Sometimes stories, especially life, raises questions. Questions that may never be answered, some answers raise more questions. In this case, I think it's safe to say it is definitely the latter. But, and I want you girls to say this part in a way so that he gets it... 

... the only difference between life and any other story is that other stories end.

Life still goes on, making more characters to meet, more scenes to be in and more situations to experience. Even more questions will be raised and we answer all that we can. And if he asks why we answer the questions ask him: Well, don't you feel good for yourself when you correctly answer a question?

I hope I see you girls very soon. Let's keep answering questions together. Not just for Woundsalt, but for us.
Twilight.

P.S. I know it sounds obvious, but keep Woundsalt out of the Everfree Forest, okay? Just in case he tries to look for his mom like his dad did.