Tardy

by Bobby Jay

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Doctor Whooves, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 5092

An equestrian play on a Stephen king classic, Misery.

Dr. Whooves is a succesful writer who is reaching a pinnacle in his writing career. After a crippling accident, he's finding how far the extent of an obsession can go. (Crossover of Stephen King's Misery)

Published 2012-02-25 21:04:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-03-01 02:30:38 UTC

Chapter 1

(Note: This is not my Fic, but belongs to one of my close friends whom chose not to create an account, All writeing credit goes to him not me)

Tardy

By Aubergine

Chapter One

"No, for the last time I simply have to publish this. The readers must be ready."
Dr. Whooves didn't like to be stern, especially on the phone.
"Say what you want Mr. Whooves, these books won't be selling if you go through with this.", a nasally and whiny voice said from the other end.
"But they won't be my stories unless I am free to do what I want with them, is this hard to understand?", Dr. Whooves replied.
" But they won't sell any more copies with the main character killed off. It just makes no financial or rather logical sense." Ms. Punch retorted.

Dr. Whooves, as he was warmly known, lay down the phone on his table next to the most recent edit of his manuscript. Taking a large inhale, he turned towards the large glass pane adorning the majority of the wall. Taking in the sunset, the snow covered pine trees nestled in a nearby small valley, and the sheer stress of his work, he thought back. This wasn't why he became a writer; he started writing to relax. Granted, his profession had landed him the amazing cabin in rural Coltorado. An ideal writing spot, he was assured by the saleswoman. A large three story house, if it even could be called a cabin. His recent best seller had financed his outdoor hot tub, which had yet to see any of the gorgeous mares he was promised it would attract. He exhaled.

"Dr?" Inquired Berry, "Dear Celestia he's hung up again.." Cursing under her breath.
"No, no, Berry, I'm still here."
" OH! Sir please don’t worry me like that," he heard his agent chuckle, "now like it or not, you must make a choice."
"Yes, yes I'm sure." Said the doctor. "All adventures come to an end."
Ms. Punch sighed apathetically, "If this really how you feel, fine." She paused, "Your readers won't appreciate this."

Mr. Whooves hung up the phone, and began to tie up his manuscript. I don't care, he thought, As a writer I have the right to adjust my stories... He repeated in his head over and over. He made his way through his main hallway and out the front door, an unmanned carriage waiting for him. It appeared to be... no, no it couldn't. This model shouldn't be out for several weeks! And yet, here it was. There was a note taped to the side. It read as follows;

Dear Dr. Whooves,

It is in this letter that I thank you for your amazing work as a writer. My daughter( I dare say I do too), adore your book and would sincerely like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts. And with a few minor strings pulled, I have managed to get your hooves on one of our new prototype automated carriages! The manual is inside the seating area, and with this, I bid you adew.

your devoted fan,

Filthy Rich

The Dr brushed off the snow covering the seat, and searched for a small booklet. The manual, after finding it, said that first thing to do in order to move was to pull the large brass lever back. He did so,and from the carriage roared a mighty thunderous noise that shocked him for a matter of seconds. After regaining composure, he set his manuscript which he had been carrying unto the seat adjacent to his. Breathing relaxed, shallow breaths, he read the next step. Adjust the steering ropes. These must be the two limp lengths of rope lying on the ground, he conjectured. He pulled the one to his right and heard a creak. The wheels had turned to their right, as well! How queer, he thought. The final step was to press down on the pedal sticking at an angle from the ground. He gently pressed the pedal, and the carriage began to hum. Yet, nothing had happened. He hadn't moved at all. He pressed the pedal once more with significantly more force and the cart burst forward into a stack of firewood.

"Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear... surely I can't have broken it so swiftly?" He said to himself.
He checked the wreckage and moved the firewood out of the way. He attempted the cart again, going much slower this time. Other than the occasional burst of speed from a leg shiver, the ride out of his house's vicinity was smooth and easy. He knew where he was going. He had ridden from here to Ponyville plenty of times, sometimes to pick up apples (which he didn't do as often since the youngest Apple sibling harassed him), or to buy jam from the Zap Apple harvest, which was one event he would run to if he had to. About one fourth of the ride through, he began to notice an increase in the snow level. But this carriage had much sturdier iron wheels than the wooden ones which would fall or shatter after too long in the snow. He had sped up considerably since leaving his cabin, and was now finding it hard to slow down, and he guessed would make for a dangerous break. He saw a curve up ahead, when it hit him. He had no idea if he could make this. Some of the strongest colts he had ever seen pulling him to town hadn't been able to handle the sudden change in direction, almost skidding off. But he had to try. Even on the slowest speed his carriage offered, his cart would still succumb to the sheer curve. He went along anyway.

One wheel gave, and then the other. Skidding by the side of the cliff the road gave way to, sparks flew into his face. He flicked a hoof over his face to shield it, letting go of the ropes. His carriage tilted over the edge of the steep incline, and finally ultimately dropped over the edge. His cries of terror drowned out the sound of iron clashing against branches and rocks, banging ridiculously loudly as parts flew this way and that. He blacked out.

**************************************************************

It landed in a small clearing, smoke rising from the rubble, small fires burning. A figure sprinted up from the nearby woods, clad in winter clothing. The man in the rubble was clearly unconscious, not dead. Unicorns had an uncanny knack for just knowing these things. She had just been chopping firewood when she heard a man's scream. She rushed to where she heard and here she was. She struggled to pull the man out, heaving to drag him to safety. The man had a brown coat with a spiky yellow mane, and an unrecognizable cutie mark that may have been mangled in the wreck, but which needed severe medical attention. Which, of course, she could supply. Then the realization of the situation crashed upon her. This was no ordinary colt, this was Twilight's favorite author, the brilliant Dr. Whooves.

(Editor's note: If you find any problems just message me (Albert C. Shadowfax))

Chapter 2

(Albert's note: I don't know how he wrote this so fast and I don't care, lol all writing credit goes to my friend, Aubergine (whom doesn't have his own account) oh well, live and let live anyone?)

Chapter Two

"I'm your number one fan"

Reality was fading in and out.
"I 've read all of your books"

He could make out the face of a mare.
"I'm your number one fan"

His memory flooded back. The car crash, the loud, painful shout.
"Where am I?", stuttered the Dr who found he was laying in a bed.
“Somewhere safe”, said the mare.

With clearer vision than earlier he found that the mare had a purple coat with an even darker mane.
“You’re Dr. Whooves.”, said the mare with a satisfied smile upon her face.
“Well, yes. I do believe I am.”, said Mr. Whooves sarcastically. He couldn’t be bothered to answer questions like these, there was a much more worrying question in his head. How the hell did he go from his burning carriage to what appeared to be a parlor?

“Oh! Goodie, my name is Twilight Sparkle. It is such an honor to be able to take you in. For you really must be a gift from Celestia.”

The room was octagonal in shape, with three long windows to his immediate right. A door was directly across from his bed post, ajar presumably from when Twilight came in.
“Why am I here?”

That was a retarded question. Of course he knew why he was here, his fucking body was practically useless. He felt sharp, severe pains all throughout his body, especially through his back legs. He glanced down through squinted eyes to see that his legs were in hastily made splints that hadn’t prevented his blood from pooling onto the white satin sheets of the bed underneath him. Apparently, this fucking pain also made think in swears, a habit he had long since abandoned.

“Because Celestia wanted you to. Oh! I’ve also found this near the carriage...” Twilight dug in the sack lying next to her, pulling out a leather satchel with her mouth.

“Frmph Mrph!” Twilight spit it out onto his lap, “Ta da!”

He recognized the satchel immediately.
“My manuscript..” The Dr trailed off, “Where have I been?”

“About 2 and one half miles due east from here, but that isn’t important. Seeing the crash almost killed me faster than it would've killed you! ‘The Adventures of Daring Doo’ has always been my favorite series, you could ask me anything about it!”, Twilight now had an almost psychotic grin spread across her face, her cheeks obscuring her eyes.

“Yes, Daring Doo, how did you know they were mine?” said the Dr.
“Well who wouldn’t recognize you?” said Twilight, putting stress on the word ‘you’, then twisting her mouth back into the semi-sane smile.

“I, uh, take it that you’re a fan of my work?”
“Of course! How could you not have figured THAT out yet?”, chuckled Twilight, “Maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought before!”, said Twilight, now clutching her mid section and kicking her legs with a wild laughter.

“Uh..” said Mr. Whooves cleverly.
“Don’t feel worried in any way, Mr. Whooves, I majored in several subjects while in Canterlot including Emergency and Long Term Pony Treatment. You’re in ridiculously safe hands.”

“Well.. I suppose I’m very honored too, to be taken care of by someone such as yourself.” A slight grin shot across Dr. Whooves’ face. He felt comfortable here, for now.

“Who would’ve thought that this morning I’d be getting complimented by Dr. Whooves? Certainly not me!”, she crept in closer to his bed, now sitting on the edge.

“Do you have any problems?” She asked as her eyes widened and her smile faded.
“Well... I would hate to insult the woman who I assume saved my life. But I suppose that I am a bit hungry?” Said the Dr, emphasizing the last part.

“Well you are certainly right to assume that! Chopping firewood sure becomes more exciting when a world famous writer crashes nearby! I just followed the noise of the crash. And I certainly could not in good conscience leave you there to die. So, here you are.” Another smile creeping to the corners of her face.

“Thank you. I suppose I cannot thank you enough, really.” said Mr. Whooves.

Twilight stared for a minute, smiling with a hypnotic gaze.
“Oh my! Yes, the food. I’ll go prepare some. Just stay tucked tight!” Twilight skipped out of the room, a sweet smile still derangedly torn across her face.

Mr. Whooves waited in silence for a few moments. After realizing she would probably need to prepare it first, he began to look around him more inquisitively. He noticed a bookshelf to his left, adjacent to the door, stocked with books that had been seemingly randomly placed. The walls and floor were wood paneling, save for the ceiling, with had a white stucco paint layer. Outside, he could see several dark green pine trees with white blankets draping over them. Everywhere as far as he could see was covered in snow, including a silo which was across from the dirt road leading from the front (He guessed) of the house. There was also a rather “vintage” car that appeared to be from the mid-70’s parked in front.

Sleepiness suddenly washed over his body as if he had just submerged in a luke-warm bath. Clearly, he thought, this mare was at least some part crazy. But who was he to judge? She was a devoted reader who admired the author. Surely there’s some redeeming quality in that. After all, he would probably be dead, had it not been for her. Suddenly his eyes felt the need to be clamped shut. He laid down, staring out the window. Judging by the sun, it was hardly noon. Yet he had to sleep. Screw hunger, he was exhausted. He knew this strange new mare would take care of him. Well, not strange. He shouldn’t assume things.

(Editors note: I don't know if anyone bothers to read the notes, but message me if you find anything wrong. Its 11:03 P.M. here so I'm dead tired.. Oh yeah and if anyone cares I'm working on a new chapter for 'The Ponyborn', hehe my stories are so random (except this one (its not even my story) this one makes sense) wow i just did an inception!)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(Albert's note: Sweet Celestia another chapter... Aubergine is making me look bad..... All writing credit goes to Aubergine, but if you really want you can tell me how good I'm at editing and pre-reading)

(Aubergine: From here on out, you will see events that do not correlate with the movie, but rather with the written book. For any questions, message Shadowfax)

Chapter 3

“Hello, Deputy? This is Berry Punch, I’m calling to ask if anyone has seen Dr. Whooves recently in the Hoof Creek area.”

There was a slight air of worry in her voice.

“Dr. Whooves? The one who writes all those ‘Daring Doo’ books? I don’t see why someone like that would be ‘round these parts.”, said Big Macintosh.

“Dr. Whooves?” Inquired Cheerilee, who was walking by with a load of laundry in her hands. “Here in Hoof Creek?”

Big Macintosh held the phone toward his chest and leaned in closer over his desk to talk to his wife.
“Yes, dear.” He said in a hushed tone.

“Here for a book-signing?” Cheerilee’s stance was now more for conversation.

“No, hon, I don’t know wha-- excuse me one minute”, Big Mac held the phone up to his ear, his eyes widening. “Hello?”

“Sir, Dr. Whooves has been visiting Hoof Creek ever since his youth. In fact he owns a cabin down there that he tells me is lakeside.” Berry Punch was now pacing nervously around her office.

“I think I know what you’re talking about. Its.. three-story, separate tool shed right next to it?”

“Hell if I know, just ask around. I need to know if he’s still there.” Berry Punch said, slightly annoyed.

“But might I ask why you’re askin’?” Big Mac retorted.

“He’s my client”, Berry said.

“I see. Well, I’ll add it to my ‘things to do’. Ain’t often a big time writer like that go’s around here unnoticed.”,
said Big Macintosh.

“Well, sir, he shouldn’t even be there. He is supposed to be right here, in Manehatten.” Said Berry matter-of-factly.

“Strange, indeed, ma’am. As with protocol, we’ll have to wait two days, and then we’ll be able to file a missing pony’s report.” Big Mac was now sitting more comfortably, and Cheerilee was still listening to his conversation.

“Thank you deputy.”, Berry Punch hung up, and put a hoof on her face, letting out a large sigh.

“What’d she want?” Cheerilee asked.

“Apparently, Dr. Whooves is missing.”

**************************************
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey”

The morning sun was casting a dark shadow around half of the room. The purple mare, Twilight Sparkle, stood outside his doorway with a bowl of soup suspended magically.

“You sure know how to sleep, Dr!”, Twilight slowly trotted towards the bed.

Dr. Whooves looked down to see a tray being placed under his chin magically, emitting a purple-ish aura that faded in and out.

“I have the food situation covered, too, Mr. Whooves. I’d never be unprepared for you.” Twilight hesitated after her last word, staring at the ground. She was seemingly in thought, but shook her head and muttered, “Never mind”. She then put the soup on his tray and the spoon next to it.

“I’m sorry? I think you said, ‘prepared’? You didn’t know I’d be here, did you?”, he said jokingly. He chuckled slightly, not expecting her response.

“Well, in a way, yes. I always know whenever you come to Hoof Creek, you always visit during and after you’ve written a novel.”

This was true, but how she knew this, he didn’t know. He sat in bed with a puzzled expression on his face for a moment until Twilight piped up.

“Oh, you told Fleur De Lis this in an interview three years ago. You also told her where stayed, and my heart just lit up when I found how close it was!”, The same deranged smile crept back to her face.

“Ah yes, I think I remember. What a lanky pony, she..” said Dr. Whooves, remembering.

“Well I’ve been able to go to my Laugh House and see your big ol’ cabin for about a year and a half now. Ever since you started writing up there six months ago, I’ve been able to look up at your room, see your light on, and just let my mind wander about whatever it is you were up to.”

Dr. Whooves had so many questions, but what on Earth was a ‘Laugh House’?

“Laugh House?” asked the Dr.

“That’s what I call my barn. There’s a large window on the top that’s absolutely perfect for daydreaming out of!”

Dr. Whooves shook his head understandably. “So I take it you’re an avid reader?” He asked.

“OF COURSE!” She shouted, sprinting out of the room. She zipped back in with a pile of books suspended with magic, some falling out of the pile.

“I’ve read the whole series, three times over! And I hope that you don’t mind, but...” She bit her lip. “I read your manuscript.” A slightly less eccentric smile was on her face, this one more critical.

“Great! Its what I’ve been working on for the last several weeks, after my latest ‘Daring Doo’ book. In fact, before I went out in that carriage, I was talking to my agent about it. Of course, she doesn’t agree with how the ‘Daring Doo’ book ends, but this manuscript is another story entirely.” He took a long sarcastic breath indicating he was aware he was rambling, then continued.

“So this is my first attempt at free-lance writing. What did you think?” He asked.Maybe there were some good qualities in this pony, she seemed to really admire him. Surely nothing bad could possibly come of that.

“It was amazing” she said, brushing her hair behind her hair,” but you’ve got to see your errors.”

“Errors?” He said.

“Yes.” She sat down and picked up the spoon, feeding it to him. “The swearing.” She said frankly.

“What about it?”, he questioned.

“It just isn’t.. you. It’s unholy and wrong. Honestly it just isn’t how people talk.” She said, her eyes focused on him, the smile now completely gone.

“Well, it is. I grew up in the Ghetto of Manehattan, and when you grow up there, you’ll know what I mean.”

The anger building inside Twilight swelled her eyes, her mane practically flaming with hatred.
“No! That isn’t true!”
“Yes it is!”
“NO, no, no, no, no, no!”
“Twilight-”
“NO! LIAR! I DON’T GET UP, GO TO THE LIBRARY AND SAY, ‘GIVE ME A GOD DAMN BOOK’, OR GO TO A RESTAURANT AND SAY, ‘TELL ME ABOUT THIS HELL OF A SANDWICH’, OR GO SEE FLUTTERSHY AND SAY, ‘GIVE ME THE CUTEST MOTHERFUCKING CAT YOU HAVE’! NO!”

All the while making large gestures with her hooves, her tone growing hotter and hotter. While Twilight was shaking the entire bed, Dr. Whooves was struck with fear and the most vulnerable feeling he had ever felt.
“NO PONY SAYS THAT!”

With her last large hoof movement, she knocked over the bowl of soup laying on Mr. Whooves’ tray.
“SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO?” She said, still fuming.

Suddenly, her face flushed red with embarrassment, as if she realized she had just cursed out her hero. She looked away, her eyes darting towards the ground, putting her hooves on her temples.

“Sorry, I’m just-- Oh, Dr.” Her face was now blank and expressionless. Her tone grew cold. “I think I need to stay away from you for a while. You’re just a tardy-artie.”

She turned around and headed towards the door, leaving the soup on the ground. For some reason, Dr. Whooves was just now wondering what kind of soup it was. Pumpkin? Cheddar? Never mind all of that. He was beginning to feel severe pain in his legs and mid-section.

“Twilight? The pain killers..”

She obviously was not listening. He could hear the hooves against the ground, growing farther and farther away. He tried to put together what had just happened, but suddenly he saw a purple blur running out from the front of the door, full speed. Maybe she was leaving to go buy groceries? He didn’t know. But he could use some time off from that. Dr. Whooves had an extensive knowledge of psychiatric problems. And it was apparent that Twilight Sparkle had more than a handful. He lay down for another nap, hopefully trying to ignore his severe lower body pain.

(Editors note: hey everypony! Now you're probably wondering, "Why does Albert have TWO notes in the story?" good question! My answer? Cause i can! Now if ya find any problems message me and I'll pass them along to Aubergine, now everyone have a good night and get ready for one heck of a week.)

Chapter 4

(Author's Note: This is a relatively short chapter; expect shorter ones on weekdays.)

(Albert's Note: I am no the Author^. All writing credit goes to my friend Aubergine.)

Chapter 4

The door flew open, a grey blur flitting around the room. Sunlight streamed through the window, irritating Dr. Whooves’ eyes. He woke on his back, propping himself up on his good front leg. The grey blur that was flitting around the room was now clearly an owl, perched across from him on the bed post. Twilight walked in, magically carrying his breakfast with a grin on her face. The owl stared across at him, jerking its head around at weird angles. Suddenly Dr. Whooves noticed the weirdest smell emanating from somewhere in the room. Was it Cheddar? Pumpkin? He tossed aside the thought, there was a Celestia damn owl in his room.

“Hooo, hoo.”, hooed the owl.

“Morning, Mr. Whooves.”, said Twilight in a tender voice. “I’m terribly sorry about last night, sometimes I just get so riled up. Oh, and I haven’t even cleaned up your spill. Is there any chance you can forgive me?”

“Think nothing of it, Twilight. We all need to let off a little steam now and then.” Mr. Whooves said, in his most (secretly insincere) forgiving tone. “I was wrong, anyway.”

“Oh, Dr, thank Celestia you’ve finally seen the way.” Said Twilight Sparkle, setting the tray of food on his chest, “I was beginning to think that you were a lost cause!”

“Oh, I’d like to think I’m not.” He said, smiling.To deal with a mare like Twilight, he now realized, he had to play it cool. He didn’t know what could set her off, but her sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

“Not like that, Mr. Whooves. You’re such an inspiration. Recently I’ve just been.. swamped with all the work that’s come from my job. Your books are just so refreshing to someone like me. I couldn’t live without them! Of course, I used to bury myself in my work, and I was amazing at it. Top of the class! But when I got my first signed copy of ‘Daring Doo and the Sapphire Stone, I finally had a purpose!” Her eyes were now looking up, and her smile was that of an absent-minded horse. Twilight certainly was prone to rambling, Mr. Whooves had noticed.She was remembering all the wonderful times she’s had in her life, all the memories. She could show Dr. Whooves one day. One day, but not today.

“Well I notice you seem to have a pet owl? Or is this also a gift from Celestia?” He asked, his head tilted, questioningly.

“Oh, you fooler, you! That’s just my favorite beast in the world”, she said while scruffling her pet’s feathers, “My owl, Darling Doo!”

“Darling Doo?” He said.

“I told you I was your biggest fan! Oh, come back here!” She ended the last sentence chasing her owl through the doorway, making, ‘hoo’, sounds.

“Hoooo hoo!”, the sounds playfully left her mouth, in a childish way. She turned back towards the Dr, “Hoo!”, she said, and then went back to chasing her owl.She was, in a sense, a child at heart. A disturbed, scary child. Maybe she would like the ending to his new book. He hoped she would. Because if she didn’t, there wasn’t much of a chance he would get out alive. He stopped muddling his mind with scary thoughts and ate his breakfast, the smell still lingering of the spill she still hadn’t cleaned.

********************************

“Well was he in there?” asked Cheerilee, her hooves hanging out of the passenger side of the carriage.

“If he was, would I look like this?” Big Mac said, pointing a hoof towards his gloomy face.

“I suppose not. But would it kill ya to say that again without sarcasm?” Said Cheerilee, her face crumpled up with disappointment.

Big Mac let out a large sigh, facing the ground. He looked back at her, a huge, fake smile on his face.“If he vuz, vould vy vace vook ike is?” He said, through a constant smile.

“You know its this kind of spice that keeps our marriage together.” Cheerilee said, smiling coyly.

“And what would keep it apart?” He said.

“You.” She started laughing and trying to control herself. “Alright, hehe, alright get in the cart, honeybuns.”

“I thought we were done with that.” He said, stepping into the carriage.

“We were done, after you stopped calling me, ‘schwoopy-doppy, sweetie-weetie, pony pie.’” she said, smiling even wider.

“You, hush up.”, he said, pointing a hoof in her face. “C’mon now boys.”

The two stallions started trotting off, down the road that Mr. Whooves would have gone, provided he left. Cheerilee and Big Mac had been living together, happily married in the town of Hoof Creek for near 15 years. A small community with a population of 100 or 200, depending on who came during a Family Reunion. Being the Deputy of the town wasn’t a stressful job in general, but when it was, Cheerilee was always there to help. With all of her, “helping”, they were surprised they hadn’t ever had a filly of their own.

“There! Stop! Stop here!” Big Mac, extending his hoof towards a broken tree off the side of the road. His eyes were now wide with excitement, he thought he may have been on to something. “Cheerilee, come look.”

They stepped out swiftly, Big Mac hastily jogging towards the tree sapling, which had been snapped at the center.

“Macintosh, its just a tree.” Cheerilee said, jokingly.

“Maybe, but why would this kinda tree snap? They’re too flexible in the wind, couldn’t break in a blizzard.” Said Big Mac, examining the sapling.

“Big Mac, it could be several things. The weight of the snow, a stumbling bear--” Big Mac interrupted her.

“A runaway carriage?”, He said, in a suggestive manner.

“Oh, Tosh, you haven’t found anything.”, said Cheerilee.

“Well, it just.. shoot. you’re probably right.” Big Mac let out a sigh and walked away, head hung low.“Let’s go home, boys. We’ll keep lookin’”.

Cheerilee and her husband left, unaware of the wreckage and snow tracks just 60 feet below, to be covered by a layer of snow that night..

************************************************

Dr. Whooves had noticed nothing out of the ordinary with Twilight today, she seemed to have finally forgiven herself for her little outburst. She introduced him to his wheelchair, which she would use to carry him to and from the bathroom mid-day. Starting today, she would start washing him regularly.

Today, though, she seemed giddy in a secretive way. He figured he would ask about her mood later, how her day was. Mares loved that.

“Goodnight, Mr. Whooves! And another day’s gone by that I won’t get back. At least I’ve spent it with my hero.” She smile shyly.

“One thing before you go to bed, Twilight.” He was able to get his comment in just moments before she would leave.

“Yes?”

“Is there.. anything you want to tell me about today?”, he gestured a slow circle with his good hoof, “Anything at all?”

"Honestly.. Yes! Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!” she started hopping around the room, emphasizing every ‘Yes’ more than the last.

“Ahaha, and what might that be?” He asked.

“Your book! My reserved copy came in the mail today! I’m already on page 200, you magnificent stallion, you!” She said, scrunching her face in a way a mother scrunches her face when trying to entertain her baby.

“Well I’m certainly glad you like it so far.” He said with a large, beaming smile.

“Oh how could I not? But I have to go, must finish, BYE BYE!”, she left out the door.
Dr. Whooves certainly knew she was ecstatic about her book, and he would be too. Perhaps she would let him read it after she was done. There was nothing more satisfying than reading your very own well-reviewed literature.

**************************************************

“You tardy-artie.”

(Editors Note: I had everything spaced that I could..... I like spaces....)