Mare in the Mirror

"How ironic," he thought looking up at the couch from his place on the floor.

"I must have slid off the couch sometimes in the night." he added feeling how tense and stiff he felt. He rose unsteadily on to his feet.

"Is it not enough that I am forced to be something so below my station that I have fell to the point of sleeping on the floor like some dirty, filthy, rabble." he grumbled.

The first rays of sunlight danced through the window and caressed his form. Pouring another glass of OJ, this time making a much smaller mess. It made him felt somewhat better than the day before. After he downed the glass he felt a sudden urgency. Making his way to the bathroom he encountered a situation he hadn't really thought of, how to take a wiz. Normally it was a point and shoot affair but with his new equipment he new that wasn't going to work. He didn't want to sit down as he knew was typical. He couldn't, his pride wouldn't allow it. But, as the urgency became even more urgent he succumbed. It was odd going about his unusual business in this way but at the very least he wasn't on the moon. He chuckled at that thought. He finished up and flushed watching the whirlpool as it formed. Yep, he knew then that his life had literally went down the shitter.

Feeling dirty and smelling more rank than he would like, he decided to take a shower. The warmth of the water was soothing and oddly liberating. His father always scolded him when the subject of how much he adored being clean and pampered was brought up. Blueblood could never understand his father's and many other stallions aversion to frou frou. Perhaps it was vain but he liked being clean, getting a pedicure or manicure, and spending time at the spa. He like how he looked in a tailored suit or in well polished armor.

Gossiping with attractive masseuses and talented hair dresses was one of his favorite things to do on his almost daily escapades. Although he found many of those mares and even a few stallions were up to his standards he would never stoop so low as to treat them as he would one of his conquest. Learning a long time ago the dangers of mixing business with pleasure.

The water had a profound affect on his demeanor as he left the bathroom behind with a noticeable bounce in his step. Looking in the mirror he almost fell into hysterics at how he, Prince Blueblood looked. A rather dull looking mare with a disheveled looking turban wrapped around her head. His tail was even more curly than his mane, it looked more like a bramble bush than an actual tail. The absurdity of the situation was more than he could handle and he fell into a fit of giggles on the floor.

Feeling his stomach rumble he jumped to his feet and went to fetch some food. Of all the things that were in the cupboard or the fridge nothing quick seemed appetizing so he pulled down the box of oats and attempted the impossible, cooking. Grabbing a pan he filled it with a rough guess about the amount of water and oats; he then sat it on the stove. Picking up the box of oat's he turned it over and read the directions.

"So... Medium/Heat and stir until it reaches the desired thickness ," he read.

"Sound's easy enough" he said in a cheery tone. A few moments latter he had a big bowl of steaming hot oatmeal. Grabbing a spoon he headed for the table.

"Yuck!" he spat.

"This taste absolutely horrid."

He marched back to the kitchen and dumped the contents into the trash.

"I will start again and this time I know I can do this right." exclaimed Blueblood.

Four attempts latter," What am I doing wrong! This can't possible be that hard if those idiot cooks can fix good oats, why can't I." he almost shouted in agitation.

Referring back to the instructions, " Add sugar and fruit to taste,"

Blushing and feeling like a moron, he searched for some sugar. With the added sugar the oatmeal was at the very least sustenance. The next chore after eating was cleaning and that wouldn't be fun. Not having any luck with magic he decided to hoof wash everything which ended with him breaking on of his bowls.

He slumped back on the couch and felling a little tired he began to hear other tenants begin to stir. Blueblood could barely make out the voices of stallions, mares, colts, and fillies. He hadn't dared venture out on his own yet, he still felt very venerable. The towel turban had spent enough time on his head so he unwrapped his hair and waltzed over to the mirror. Know that his hair was a curly maelstrom he already wore a cringe. It was far worse than he realized and even after spending countless minutes struggling not only with burden of using a his hooves to hold a comb but also taming his unruly hair, he gave up. Blueblood's tail proved to be the same.

"So I can't use my real name, so what do I go by." he thought. Remembering how earlier he referred to his hair as a bramble he had found an adequate name but it wasn't a whole name it needed something else some it need some pizzazz. Tapping his hoof to his chin it came to him like a flash of lightening, it was embarrassing but it fit his situation vey well.

"My name for now will be, Bramble Shambles," he said victoriously followed by hoof-pump.

With that out of the way he grabbed his brush off of his night stand and started to awkwardly brush his coat. It was still early morning when he finished. So, he did what he did every morning work out. He completed the works squats, push ups, sit-ups, lunges, and an assortment of plank exercises. The only thing left was jogging. After several attempts at jogging in place and doing laps around the apartments it just wasn't enough. Eyeing the door he sat down and shook his head no.

"If I go out there it will just as if I strolled up to the princesses and said 'I like who I am now please don't ever change me back'," he told himself. He would never give them the satisfaction. So he went back to the bathroom for his post-work out shower.

The entire book collection was nothing but a slap in his face as they includes such titles as, "Fillies Guide to Making Friends, How to Treat Her Right, Articles of Honor and Morality, His Brain vs. Her Brain Fundamentals in Gender Studies, and Unbridled Heat." There were two books that did have some redeeming qualities if only because they were things he thought he needed to know and they were, "Young Mare's Guide to Hygiene and Modest Mare's Voyage of Self-Pleasure,". The later more than likely a gag.

Since Luna's return things had been unsettling at best. The royal court had to deal with the Mad Mare's antics which included everything from self loathing to tasteless pranks. In a way he liked it. It was a pleasant interlude from the stoic visage that was Princess Celestia. There were rumors of Celestia's fun side but he had never seen it but, he had heard a giggling Twilight in his youth. Blueblood was always jealous of Twilight. She was a commoner, she never had to worry about image or what it meant to be a noble. In her short time at the capital he noticed a change come over his aunt and he hated Twilight for it.

After getting comfortable on the musty smelling couch he opened, "Young Mare's Guide to Hygiene," and started to read. Minuets turned into hours and soon he had to abandon the book due to creeping stiffness that now plagued his limbs.

Looking back at the door he felt himself slowly gravitate towards it. Slowly he opened the door and took his first steps into a new world. It started with a proud strut but with each step he took he shed his practiced grace and before he reached the stairs he was practically running, no he was skipping. Throwing open the lobby doors he found himself looking a dangerous world of red bricks and cement skin.

The air reeked. It smelt more like a farm than a city minus the fresh air and earthy aroma. He held his hoof to his mouth suppressing a gag. The ponies all looked dishearten and had hard faces. Feeling a familiar itch on his back he was reminded that this was the infamous Tarterustown. A town known for it's high crime rate and oppressive police force.

"Why on earth would my aunties send me here. I know that perhaps I need to learn a lesson but this could just as much be a death sentence," he thought as he walked further from his apartment. He stopped dead in his tracks and wearing a look of shock.

"Had he just agreed with the Princesses about needing to learn a lesson, that's absurd," he thought.

"Momma, Momma" shouted a filly from a cross the street.

Blueblood glanced toward the pair. He noticed the filly pointing his way. Hearing the mare shush her daughter he started to walk away when he heard the filly ask her mother an question.

"Momma why does that grown up not have her cutie mark?" asked the filly innocently. He jerked around and glanced at his flank and just as the filly had said, he was a blank flank. How had he missed that. Falling on his rump he started to fidget and suddenly realized how violated he really was: he was a mare, no he was a poor mare, no even worse than that he was a poor blank flank mare. Finding the strength to look back over to where the filly and her mother were walking she spotted the fillies mother who mouthed a silent.

"I'm so sorry."

He need a drink and a strong one at that.

After checking out several of the local businesses he finally found one that was a bar and its name was "Teasie's Plush Pony Paradise".