Stick Figures

by System Breaker

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Adventure
Length: 11747

Every thousand years, a new Savage-family pony is born with his/her cutie mark, predicting them to do great things. Now, Phantom Savage, an aspiring writer born with his mark, finds out what his predecessor did that was so great..

Some Ponies get their mark from the family tradition, some ponies get their mark from a hobby… I was born with mine. A legend in my family says I'm bound for great things. What they mean by that, I don't know. And I guess I never will because the author cancelled my story!

Okay being serious now, thanks to a certain Andrew Joshua Talon, I have found out that my original idea for this story has pretty much been dissolved into the shit you read on this story now. For that reason, I have cancelled this story and will most likely never start it up again, even if motivation for this story returns. This is certainly not my worst fic, but it's nowhere near what I wanted it to be and I'm just gonna end it here before it gets worse. -System Breaker

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-17 02:02:31 UTC

Chapter II

CHAPTER II

I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that I needed to go somewhere quiet and out of the way. That always seemed to help anypony trying to write. I realized that the only place I could go was the more... attractive parts of town. But even there, nopony would even think of leaving me alone. Every single pony there would have to say "Hi!" or something. If there was only a way around that. I shrugged it off, telling myself that I'd deal with shit as it came at me. In the meantime, I was just going to focus on getting to that part of town in one piece.

I could almost feel several ponies eying me as if I were crazy as I walked down the sidewalk in broad daylight with saddlebags on. After a bit, I began to trot to get away from the gawking bastards faster. It felt like hours before I actually managed to make it to the friendlier part of Ponyville, the part that everypony hears about. As usual it was bustling with the activity of the pointlessly happy pony folk. I sighed and continued walking in hope that I could find somepony to help me.

I kept seeing happy ponies, some were couples having a good time cuddling and sharing their lives with one another, some were small fillies and colts playing the day away as if they would never have to stop. I, however, had no remaining family and the only friend that could've helped me had kicked me out so he could fuck a mare that he probably just met. I just sat down on a bench in the park I found myself in and then proceeded to lay down on the bench, putting my bag on the ground. as I laid down on my back, my cobalt-blue mane came down over my eyes a little.

Hours seemed to pass as I laid there thinking of what to write and how. I eventually was snapped out of my trance of thought by the sound of a bow being slowly dragged across fine catgut strings. Looking at the hills positioned in front of the bench, I could see the sky was just about to fade to lightless night. There was a fantastic tune to the music, and you could tell it was improvised. I don't exactly know how to explain it, but it's just one of those things that you can sense just by hearing it.

I walked over the hills to see who in the hell was playing the whatever-it-was. Standing on top of a hill was a light gray pony with a darker gray mane standing on two legs playing a violoncello with her back turned to me. Her cutie mark was a purple treble clef. I could assume it was a mare by the body shape... not like that you perverted prick. She was somehow able to bend the joints in her right forehoof just so the bow would stay in position as she continued to drag it across the strings. Her left forehoof was on the fingerboard (what the hell's a finger?) moving to produce the sound of vibrato.

She noticed she was being watched and turned to face me. She had eyes of a grayish mulberry color. My jaw would have dropped at how the sun behind her seeped past giving the effect of a heavenly light being cast upon her, but let's face it, I'm not that much of a fan of cliché crap like that... plus, the sun was to the left of us. Once her eyes met mine... I'd say there was a connection, but it more or less just got a little awkward.

"Hello," she said in a heavy British accent. "I hope my music wasn't bothering you at all."

"Not at all, miss..." I responded, trying to remember what Big Mac taught me about talking to mares.

"Octavia Melody," she introduced herself. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

"My name is Phantom Lucifer Amon Savage The Third, but feel free to call me Phantom." I gave a small bow as I introduced myself with my full name. I felt a little stupid doing it, but I felt it necessary for some reason.

"I suppose you're wondering what this thing is?" giggled Octavia, motioning to her cello a little.

"That's a violoncello, otherwise known as just a cello," I told her. "It has catgut strings, too. Very good way to sound more professional."

Her mouth nearly fell open in shock at my knowledge. "How the hell did you know the fiber of the strings AND the full name of the instrument?!"

"Savage family men are known for having oddly differing talents," I chuckled lightly. "My Cutie Mark... is a long story." Saved myself from hours of explaining by just saying those last four words.

"I suppose you know that MY Cutie Mark is a treble clef, then?" she questioned.

"Indeed. The same clef a Viola uses."

"Yes, actually," she admitted. "What do you do?"

"I'm trying to be an author," I sighed, turning and sitting down to face the sunset. "So far, it seems like it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Well, what's the problem with it?" Octavia sat down her cello and trotted up to sit down beside me.

"My only friend kicked me out of our apartment so he could fuck somepony he probably barely knows," I huffed, remembering the offense I'd taken. "I've got nowhere to go now... and I have 10 days to finish the first few chapters to send it to Printing Press in Canterlot."

"That does seem pretty tough," she agreed. "Look, Phantom, I know Vinyl probably won't like this too much, but you're welcome to stay at me and my friend Vinyl Scratch's apartment for a while, at least until your friend stops being a twat."

I gave her a confused look. "Are you sure? You and I just met and Savage family men are ALSO known for being the most offensive ponies in all of Equestria."

"You don't seem that bad," retorted Octavia. "Besides, Vinyl is also known for being offensive and she's been my friend since we were in diapers."

The apartment was bigger than mine. It had two bedrooms and one pull-out couch (which Vinyl demanded to be left in. There was also, by some luck, a desk in one corner of the room. Vinyl and Octavia apparently used it whenever they had inspiration for new music, but now they knew that I would be using the majority of the time I was there. Other than that, there wasn't much. A TV, a stove, an oven, that basic kind of stuff.

The first several hours I was there consisted of the tour, which lasted all of about 5 minutes, and sitting at the desk writing whatever I could. I knew it was going to end up being grade-A crap, but that's what editing is for, right? After 2 hours, I had finally finished the first ten or fifteen pages. That was my cue to take a break. My legs gave off pain as I stood up from the chair. I walked over to the door and grabbed the jacket I had brought. "Where are you going?" said a slightly masculine yet entirely feminine voice that could only have belonged to Vinyl Scratch.

"I'm going to walk around for a while" I told her. "I need a little break after 2 hours straight of writing." Vinyl gave a small nod, her crimson-red eyes giving me a look like she was glad that she was going to have a chance to look at my stuff while I was gone. I turned and left, not keen on staying for that shitstorm. The light had totally faded from the sky, as it was now about 1:30 in the morning. It had rained all night, causing puddles to splash beneath me as my hooves gently collided with the ground over and over again.

The park a little ways away from Vinyl and Octavia's apartment was obviously empty. I slowly walked through it, watching as the raindrops splashed down into puddles of water. The raindrops joined the puddle and disappeared into it, accepted by its natural brethren. I spied a bench a little ways away from where I was standing. I sat down on it, dampening my already-soaked midnight-blue coat even further.

I sat in that spot for a good five minutes before anything happened. Suddenly, a smaller stallion with a gray coat and a soaked deep-purple mane sat down beside me. His Cutie Mark made me curious. It was a scroll of some kind, but that could mean a lot of things. "You come here on a break, too?" he said in a voice that could have only belonged to a teenager.

"How'd you know that?" I gawked in surprise.

"I come sit on this bench every couple hours for a break from my writing," he sighed. "It helps me get a better grip on what I need to write next."

"Well, that happens to be what I'm doing," I laughed. He had pretty much explained his cutie mark to me. "What're you writing?"

"I'm writing a fictional story that's been in the works for a month or so now," he told me. "What about you?"

"I'm writing an autobiography," I responded. "I've got about eight days to finish the first chunk of it so I can send it off to Printing Press in Canterlot."

"Printing Press?" the stallion gaped. "That guy's a legend!"

"I know," I sighed nervously. "That's why it sucks that I have so little time. Right now it's not that good. I might as well just call it "A Gathering Of Adverbs," and sell it on the street corner."

We both laughed at my little writer's joke and then he chimed in again. "My name's Written Script."

"I'm Phantom Savage," I said. We talked for a little while, sharing our opinions on different books and such. As soon as I brought up living with Octavia and Vinyl Scratch for a while, he freaked out. It turns out that Vinyl Scratch is some kind of a famous Disc Jockey called DJ PON-3. I had no idea, and personally, I didn't care.

Regardless, in my first day there, I had already met another writer who wasn't a bad guy. We bid each other good luck on our works and we parted ways. It was another grueling hour before I could write again. I continuously fall asleep, but wake up as soon as my horn hit the table. Vinyl came into the room after a while and noticed I was struggling with staying awake.

"I got something that can help," she smiled.

"I don't want to have sex with you, Vinyl" I said flatly.

She gave me a look like I was the ugliest thing alive, "Fuckin' no! I meant an energy drink!"

A can of silver and red floated over to me. Vinyl set it down in front of me on the desk, then quickly opened it. The can was labeled "Red Buffalo." I shrugged and picked it up with my magic, lifting it to my mouth. Taking a long drink, the carbonation burned and it tasted bitter... or was it sour? I couldn't tell honestly. The flavor was an awkward mix of the two.

"It has Taurine and Caffeine in it," she explained. "It'll get you REALLY hyper."

I slammed the can down as the last bit of it slid down my throat, burning it as it went. I shook myself a little. "It's taste alone is enough to keep you awake!" I stated, throwing the can aside.

"It's an oddly good taste, huh?"

"Yeah," I agreed, picking up the quill I had in front of me. I began writing like I never was sleepy in the first place. It took several hours before I ran out of ideas. It was at that point when I put down my quill and looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 AM. I had been writing for a solid five hours straight!

Octavia came into the room just then, her mane in a mess from sleeping. "Good morning, Phantom," she yawned. "How long have you been up?"

"For about..." I thought for a second. "Seventy-two hours or so." Octavia's mouth fell open.

"Shit, dude!" Vinyl jumped in. "You're one hard working son-of-a-bitch!"

"I think you should get some sleep, Phantom" suggested Octavia. "This can't be healthy for you."

"I've stayed up longer," I laughed. Both their jaws collided with the floor (or would have if it was physically possible.)

"HOW?!" Vinyl shouted. "I MUST KNOW THE SECRET!"

"VINYL!"

Vinyl fell to her knees and put her hooves together as if she were begging. "I have to know how to stay up so long! I'll do anything!"

"Oh, I hope this doesn't end like all the clopfic writers want it to," I thought to myself. "I don't really have a secret," I admitted. "I guess it's just a natural thing. There's nothing too special about it anyway. What's really special is what I call my "Shatter-vision."" I gave a little devilish grin.

Octavia cocked her head in confusion and Vinyl just raised an eyebrow, not moving from her begging position. I sighed in annoyance. I would write about how I explained it again, but this explanation went on for a solid two hours. Octavia wouldn't stop asking questions and Vinyl... well she just sat there gaping and occasionally gagging when I would describe an example of what happens.

"That sounds like an absolute nightmare to have!" Octavia gulped, her voice quivering uneasily.

"You get used to it" I shrugged as if I hadn't just told them that I could see it in detail from the inside when somepony had their rib break off and puncture their lung.

"So how's your work going?" Written Script asked as we sat on the same bench we had in the wee hours of that morning.

"To me, it's total shit," I grumbled. "I'd rather eat the rotten asshole of a road kill skunk than have to read that."

"Is it just because there's nothing all that interesting to write about?" he asked.

My eyes grew as wide as they could. "That's the problem..." I mumbled. "I've got eight days to do something worth writing about!"

"How are you gonna do something like that then write about it in eight days?" he questioned, not only the statement but the logic of it as well.

"I have no clue!" I stated confidently.

Script facehoofed, but I didn't notice. I was already halfway back to the apartment. It was time to brush up on the family history!

Chapter III

CHAPTER III

Three thousand years ago, there was a Savage born with his Cutie Mark. As a young stallion he quickly found out that his gift of greatness was his perfect social ability. He was able to make any mare fall for him. He was, however, left with the curse of being lustful. Using his special gift, he courted Princess Celestia without fail, which is how I am related to her. Celestia and him were wed and lived happily for around twenty years... until Celestia caught him in an affair with Luna.

This came as a shock to Celestia, but at the same time, she wasn't too surprised. Regardless, the Savage was executed, leaving Princess Luna to have the next Savage child. Instead of being an alicorn, though, it was a unicorn. As peculiar as that was, it didn't matter. Princess Luna relinquished the child to Celestia and she raised him.

Two thousand years ago, a Savage was born with his Cutie Mark. He was unusually light on his hooves, yet he was stronger than most other stallions twice his size. For this reason, he became an expert assassin, forging the "Dark Brotherhood." He was, however, a little bit unobservant, and this would often times put the brotherhood in danger. Luckily, they had amazing defenses.

One fateful night, he fulfilled the deadliest and most dangerous contract yet. He was assigned to kill Star Swirl The Bearded. It was him who was assigned because he was the deadliest assassin to ever live. His contract was discovered and he ended up killing a decoy. It turns out that the contract note slipped from his pocket when he was traveling from the only informant they had back to his sanctuary.

One thousand years ago, there was a Savage born with his Cutie Mark. Nopony knows what he did that was great and rarely anypony knew him at all. The only pony who knew him properly was his wife, who only lived with him for five years before he left and never returned. The one and only guaranteed thing is that he is the one who developed this Shatter-vision. Other than that, there is no useful information about him that has been discovered.

"Wow..." I was near speechless as I read the history of my family. The book of the Savage family was made in multiple volumes, but only so many copies were officially printed because they were never published or marketed. We were always able to make a deal with a certain publishing company somewhere in Saddle Arabia to print out a couple copies every time a new volume was finished. I had every single Savage-family history book made, and looking through all of them at my predecessors was amazing. What they had done just blew my mind.

The one thing I didn't understand was my most recent predecessor. Nopony knew where he had gone or what he had done. They only know that he had a child in Ponyville then left days after he was born. I sighed in annoyance. I was getting no help on what to do. If my predecessor left somewhere from Ponyville, he probably didn't go far from it. I wondered where he could have possibly gone. There were only three known caves in the Everfree Forest, only one of which hadn't been explored.

That cave had to be the one. There were no other reported structures that were left unexplored in the forest, so that kind of narrowed it down. It was around 10:30 at night when I had packed up all the things I needed for the journey. "Phantom, where are you going?" Octavia suddenly asked, making me jump a bit.

"I'm going to find the place where my predecessor went," I told her.

"What?"

"The last Savage who was born with his Cutie Mark's work was never known. I'm going to go find out what it was."

"At least sleep tonight, Phantom," Octavia begged in the sweetest voice I had ever heard. "You haven't slept in over three days."

"Well..." I let out a long sigh and then finally accepted my defeat. "Fine, I'll head out tomorrow morning."

She embraced me in a hug from behind. "Thank you!"

"What the hell?!" I jumped.

"Oh!" She sprang off of me with a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

I laughed. "It's alright." That night was very helpful. I couldn't express how good it felt to get even a little bit of sleep after over three days of being awake. The bad part was that now I only had seven days to do everything. I left in the morning, right when Octavia was able to come down to bid me farewell. There was something about her, I couldn't quite put my hoof on it.

The forest was dark, thick and all around terrible. It took me forever to even just figure out where I was and what direction I needed to go to get to the cave after I had been walking for an hour or two. It was around mid-day when I came upon a... slight issue... And by that, I mean I came upon some bandits.

Bandit camps in the Everfree Forest were not a really common thing. They did exist, though and it made it a lot harder to get through certain areas of the forest without getting mugged, raped or even killed by the ruthless bastards. They would always wield things that were either amazingly effective or total garbage. I could see from the hiding spot I was in (in a few small bushes) that there was a machete lying out on a table without anypony guarding it. It looked like it had just been sharpened, too!

I quickly swiped it with my magic, bringing it over to me. I knew I couldn't sneak through the camp without being spotted because these bandits aren't as stupid as they may seem. I instead would need to hack and slash my way through.

I waited until one of the lesser bandits was close enough for me to pull him into the bushes with my hooves. I yanked him back into the bushes and quickly plunged the machete into his upper chest, probably fucking up his internal organs pretty good. I couldn't see anything in the bush, but I was sure it would have been nauseating for me to watch with my Shatter-vision. I'm sure the poor bastard would have screamed, but I may have cut into one of his lungs. It's either that or he was in massive shock.

I quickly stripped him of his tattered uniform and got into it, ignoring all the slimy liquid (probably blood) all over the inside. I grabbed my stuff and stepped out of the bushes. Just then, a large stallion came up to me, his eyes angry as if he wanted to tear me apart. "Recruit," he said in the deepest voice I had ever heard. "What the hell were you doing in that bush?"

"I found somepony in that bush," I lied. "Gave him a quick and silent death."

The stallion huffed. "Damn trespassers. Like always, you get to keep his stuff."

"Oh, I did," I said in a very creepy tone which could almost be taken as seductive... until I jammed the machete through his head. Shatter-vision activated and I saw it as the blade pierced his skull and dove into the pink fleshy mass that was his brain. The blade kept going until it came down through his chin, causing blood to pour from both the openings that were created by the machete.

I tore the blade out of his head and dragged him over into the same bush as the other guy. As I dragged him along, I felt this odd exhilaration... like I wanted to kill more of those bastards. I wanted to chop every one of them into pieces, tear them limb from limb.

I took my machete and ran as fast as I could in order to assault the rest of the bandits head on. As I came running up, several noticed the blood on my machete and attempted to draw their various wooden clubs and butcher knives. I was able to hack through the first guy's head with ease, the Shatter-vision showing the muscular tissue being separated as the blade cut through his neck like it was butter.

The next guy, I stabbed in the neck, piercing his windpipe and causing him to fall on the ground, bleeding and gasping for breath. The next bandit was a mare, but a big one. She looked bigger than some of the stallions there. I gave one of her forelegs a good hack, separating the bone in graphic detail and causing her to fall forward and bleed gallons at a time.

There were only two left, both of which were ready for me now. The first one was another mare, but she had thick body armor and was only vulnerable at the knee joints. I sliced one of her knee's open and would have swung back around to finish her off if I hadn't heard the last guy yell "CAPITAN!?"

I jumped at the last guy and was able to jump over him while tearing a slash all the way down his back with the machete. He dropped lifelessly as the Capitan laid on the ground in total shock. I approached her slowly, trying to make killing her as epic as possible."WHO ARE YOU" she gasped, barely alive from the massive slash in her knee which was seeping blood.

You could see about half of her leg was still intact. I knew that that would be the place to slash for the final blow. "My name is Phantom Lucifer Amon Savage III, and I hail from the city of Canterlot."

"HOW?!" the Capitan wheezed weakly. "How could a Canterlot pony defeat all of my bandits AND me?!"

"Do you even know what I'm capable of?" I began. "I can smile; I can murder whilst I smile, and cry content to that which grieves my heart, and wet my cheeks with artificial tears and frame my face to all occasions. And thus I clothe my naked villainy with adult stolen ends out of holy writ and seem a SAINT, WHEN MOST I PLAY THE DEVIL! WHAT THE FUCK AM I TALKING ABOUT?!"

I realized that firstly, I didn't understand what I was saying and secondly, the bandit Capitan was dead... oh well, it was a pretty cool monologue, even if I didn't know what the fuck any of it meant.

As I continued walking, I kept wondering why I had gone so crazy like I had. It was said that every Savage born with his/her Cutie Mark would have a curse as well as a gift. Could my curse be bloodlust? Who knows? It made sense considering what had happened, but it still felt unlikely.

My thoughts were interrupted by a strange feeling of... why did it get so dark all of a sudden? I realized it then, I was in the cave. I had walked straight into it and I hadn't noticed. I'm such a genius.

Walking through a long damp tunnel, I heard an echo from the other side. I stopped and began to listen. In a crackly and robotically stuttering voice I heard "Cel-elestia da-da-damnit! I wish I wasn't st*BZZZZ* with these round Ba-a-alls at the end of each a-arm. I wi*crackle* I had so-omthing like these hand things."

Was this some kind of automaton male version of Lyra or was I hearing things? I galloped into the open area in the cave. Before me stood a five foot tall bass guitar balancing on one wheel. It only had one string going right down its fingerboard (what the hell are these finger things? And why are they referenced on the parts of so many instruments?!) and it appeared to have a camera of some sort installed in the headstock. Protruding from its sides were two long metal arms, jointed about a third of the way down. On the end of each arm was a metal ball.

I heard its camera shift inside the headstock. "Do my Optica-al receivers decie*crackle* me?" the machine gawked.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Either my cam-amera is faulty or your predecessor is my-y creator!"

Chapter IV

CHAPTER IV

"...HOLY RAPTOR JESUS JOSEPH AND MARIAN ON A POGO STICK!" I could not believe what I had just heard and, honestly, nopony in their right mind would believe the whole "robot instrument" deal in the first place. You'd have to have seen it to have believed it.

"Your Cu-Cu-Cutie Mar*crackle* is the same as his," the instrument continued. It had obviously not realized that I was freaking out.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" I demanded harshly.

"I, Mr. Savage, a-am an automated bass guitar," it stated calmly, beating its string and producing a deep noise from a speaker inside it. "I-I-I think I have a rock in my vo-voice compart-artment. Could you get it ou*buzz*?" It turned around, then used one of its long arms to tap a small door on its back, opening it. Inside were a bunch of wires and other shit that made absolutely no sense to me. I spotted a rock at the bottom of the robot's shell. It was tangled in some wires, which I gently brushed aside as I slid the rock out from its prison using my magic. The robot gave me a sigh of almost... pleasure. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." It flipped the compartment shut with its arm and turned back to face me. "So, I'm going to guess you have a first name?"

"Yeah," I replied nervously, still coming to terms with the fact that I was talking to a bass guitar. "Its Phantom."

"Well, Phantom," it continued. "I'm Mr. Bassman. I know you're probably shocked to see a walking, talking and seemingly sentient inanimate object, but I assure you, I'm totally harmless... unless you piss me off."

"So... uh... what do you do, anyway?" I asked, calming down.

"Well, I've been on sleep mode for around nine hundred years or so, but I originally played with all these other instruments." Mr. Bassman motioned over to what was behind him. It was a bunch of other instruments... but none of them were moving. "All of them have either ran into a problem that needs to be fixed through maintenance, which I can't do, or they just ran out of battery. Stupid bastards didn't listen to me when I said going dormant would help. I couldn't be dormant for any longer so I woke up and found all of 'em like this." He sighed. "I can't do anything to help them because I've got fuckin' metal balls for hands."

"So you would play music with them?" I confirmed.

"Hell yeah," he said. "I was always the leader of the pack, givin' 'em instructions on how to play. They would always talk about me behind my back, though. Callin' me names, making jokes about me."

"What would they call you?"

"The stick figure," he sighed.

"Why that?"

"I guess it's 'cuz I'm tall and skinny... except for this." Mr. Bassman was motioning around the body of his guitar.

"Were there other Bass men?" I wondered out loud.

"There were going to be," he answered disappointedly. "I was the prototype, and I was apparently Terror's greatest creation."

"So his name was Terror!"

"Yeah," he perked up a bit in his tone. "I guess it's better than what some morons name their kids."

"At least he wasn't named Sly Clop or something" I laughed.

"That's pretty much naming their kid "Shady Fuck"," Mr. Bassman added. We both chuckled a little more. "I should probably ask what you're doing here" he said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

"I came to find out what my predecessor did that was so amazing," I explained. "I need to do something amazing myself and then write about it in one week so I can keep a publishing deal it took me SO LONG TO GET!"

"You have that Scatter-vision thing, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I smiled demonically, remembering the bandits I  slaughtered mercilessly.

"Isn't that something you can write about?"

"I need something I've done, not an attribute or a trait or anything like that," I sighed.

"Shit, uh..." Bassman stood there, obviously in thought. "I guess finding me was pretty cool. I mean, it's around three and half hours to walk here and it's through the Everfree Forest, so that's a pretty big deal to a lot of ponies."

"That, and I murdered, like, ten bandits on my way here," I mentioned.

"WAIT, WHAT?" he stopped

"Yeah, I killed an entire camp of 'em," I repeated. "That's why I have this sheathed machete on my back." I motioned with my neck to my back where the machete sat in its scabbard.

"DAMN!" he yelled. "That takes some skill!"

"I guess that means we should go back to Ponyville then," I shrugged, finding nothing else to do there.

"Woah, woah, woah! Wait right there!" Bassman began. "Are you sure I should go, because last time I checked my database, we means you and I in this situation."

"Why wouldn't you go?" I asked.

"Ponies might freak out," he said. "They may take me as a threat."

"I have a machete," I re-iterated. "Nopony will even be able to get near you with bad intention without losing their head... literally."

He gave a sigh of defeat. "Fine, I'll go with you, but when everypony freaks out, I will say I told you so."

The walk back to Ponyville wasn't anything special. Just your typical walk in the Everfree Forest. We never ran into anything problematic, except for Bassman occasionally tripping on a root or a rock or something, but with only one wheel, I'm surprised he can even stand up on his own. The townsfolk in Ponyville didn't freak out either... mostly because it was close to midnight when we got to the town's outskirts. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop... onto a mattress... in a soundproofed room.

It was then when I realized that Bassman's wheel made no noise whatsoever. I would have questioned it, but I didn't have the time. We were already back at the apartment of Octavia and Vinyl. I opened the door slowly, hoping that I wouldn't wake Octavia... had she been asleep. She was waiting in the desk chair when I came in, to which she sprung up and jumped on me, hugging me. "You're back!" she squealed.

"Yes," I gasped, barely able to breathe from her oddly powerful grip. "Yes I am."

She dropped me the second she saw Mr. Bassman. As soon as she found a tall bass guitar standing on one wheel gently swinging its arms back and forth, she freaked out. "Phantom?" she whimpered. "What the hell is that thing?"

"This is Mr. Bassman," I introduced him. "He's a creation of my predecessor. Apparently he's a robotically operated bass guitar that can talk and see and all that crap."

Bassman gave a tiny wave with one of his long metal arms. "Howdy."

"Is he safe?" she asked.

"As safe as bubble wrap," he answered.

"Well, he sounds like somepony... or something that Vinyl would want to see."

Octavia would have gone to get Vinyl, but she bounced around the corner. "I heard it all!" she erupted. "Where's this bass guy?"

"Uh... here?" Bassman spoke up, raising an arm a little to reveal his location.

Vinyl's eyes widened, but Octavia had caught on. "If you drop him I will kill you."

Vinyl suddenly got really sad. Bassman laughed, "It's okay, well not to drop me, but I mean I'd be pretty excited, too."

"So, can you play yourself or something?" Vinyl asked, trying to forget about dropping basses.

"Watch and see," he said. He then began to play a really cool sounding bass melody. He was playing so perfectly, I would have guessed that it had taken him years and years to perfect it like that. After about thirty seconds or so, he stopped and asked, "Is that a cool tune or what?"

"That was fucking EPIC AS ALL FUCKING HELL!" Vinyl screamed.

"Vinyl!" Octavia hissed. "There are people next door, on both sides of us, that are trying to sleep!"

"Oh yeah," Vinyl chuckled, blushing a little.

"So it's okay if I hang out here with Phantom?" Bassman interrupted.

"Of course Mr. Bassman," Octavia smiled warmly.

"Awesome," he exclaimed. "I'll just be in sleep mode in that corner over there during the nights." He pointed to a small dark corner of the room. It wasn't obstructed by anything, but it had a few chairs from the small nearby table a few feet from it. Bassman wheeled over and shrank down on his stopping pin and leaned himself up against one of the walls in the corner of the room. He then made a small "power down" kind of noise as he... well... powered down

I sat down at my desk and was about to get back into my flow of writing but Octavia interrupted me. "Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked.

"I dunno," I sighed, staring at the blankness on the paper in front of me. "I just... I think I... I just don't know." I guess I just didn't know.

"What's the matter, Phantom?" Octavia asked in a "don't you hide this from me, ass hole" tone.

"I wanted to find out what my predecessor did that was great, thinking that it would help me figure out what I could do that would be great, but now I've just got another idiot I can call a friend."

Octavia laughed lightly. "You have done some amazing things, Phantom," she told me. "You brought that thing back here, you went on an epic adventure in the Everfree Forest, you were born with your Cutie Mark, you can see people getting their bones broken from the inside for pony's sake! You've done some crazy and amazing things and you haven't even realized it yet!"

I began to nod quickly. "You're right Octavia," I agreed. "Thank you!" I picked up the quill and instantly began to write faster than I ever had before. It went from Midnight to 10:00 AM and I had written and edited my first copy of the first four chapters. I still had six days to re-write them, which was good because I would need six days to do it without getting exhausted.

That morning, I decided to show Mr. Bassman around the city and introduce him to as many ponies as I could so they wouldn't have a heart attack the first time they saw him. Things went over surprisingly well, especially with Lyra who had a lengthy conversation with Bassman about hands and other crap like that. Other than that, I spent the day writing. I got around one chapter of the edited work re-written and ready to send off to Printing Press in Canterlot.

I was hoping that I would get to see Written Script sometime that day so he and I could just talk, but he had to go somewhere right after I introduced Mr. Bassman. It was the next day when I got to talk to him. He was kind of out of it because he had apparently gotten drunk the night before. His brother was in town or something, so they went out and got hammered. Anyway, he wasn't feeling too good so he wasn't as talkative as normal.

"So how's your work coming?" he asked, groaning a little.

"A lot better," I smiled. "Should you take some painkillers or something?"

"Nurse Redheart already gave me a few. They should kick in soon." Script scratched at his neck gently. "What are you gonna do about the rest of your book?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I'll think of something, I guess."

"Did Bassman ever say anything about there being more of him?" Script asked, probably trying to find something else I could do so I could write more.

"Yes, actually." I sighed again, remembering a detail that would foil the plan I knew he had. "They all need to be fixed though, and nopony except Bassman knows what to do but he can't do it because he has metal balls at the end of his arms."

"Shit," Script mumbled.

Something hit me and it hit me hard. "Lyra," I uttered quietly.

"What?"

"Lyra," I repeated. "She knows about these "hand" things that should help with this exact problem! If I go to her and ask her if she can help develop some of these "hands" for Mr. Bassman, he might be able to do the maintenance necessary to get the other robots up and running again! Some of them I could just shock with electricity to power their batteries and they'd be fine."

"So... now what?" he asked awkwardly.

"Now, we go see Lyra!"

Chapter V

CHAPTER V

"I love you,"

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"I love you." Lyra was drooling in front of me.

"WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!" I yelled, trying to grasp this.

"You are the first pony I've ever met that has believed my Human theory!" she exclaimed happily.

"AND?!"

"You are the one pony who understands the truth about everything!" she continued drooling. "I want your-"

"Fucking Christ, Lyra!" I cringed. "Just because I asked you to make my robotic friend hands doesn't mean I'm gonna give you sex in return. Frankly, I find that kind of creepy."

"Alright," Lyra rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards... where the hell was she going?

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Metalwork," she answered, not even bothering to give me another glance.

"Well... that was interesting" Bassman said randomly.

"Not really interesting as it was weird as all hell," I corrected him.

"I guess I'm gonna get hands then?" he asked.

"I guess" I repeated. I just wrote and wrote as soon as we had gotten home. It took several hours for Lyra to even come back with some form of a prototype.

"Could you control these anyway?" I asked.

"If they conduct electricity, it's definite that I can control them." he clarified

Lyra was done fastening on the prototypes. "How do they work, Bassman?" she asked, a small gleam in her eye that showed hope for it working.

Bassman was able to move the fingers he now had, and I now understood, perfectly. "Well, that's oddly convenient that they work this well!" he laughed.

"Convenience is sometimes something that can really help" I chimed in.

"I guess I'm gonna head on back to the cave and work on those other instruments," he sighed. "I think you should come along, too Phantom, that way you can charge some of the instruments' batteries."

"Okiedokie," I shrugged. There were only eighteen out of the twenty-three total instruments that only needed recharging. Sadly, none of them were given the power to speak English like Bassman. The first three were small violins. They operated in the same way Mr. Bassman did, except the balls on the ends of their arms secured a violin bow perfectly, that way they could play themselves. On the other arm, they had what seemed like a single finger to move along their single string The fourth one was a cello that operated the same way, only it had two strings and two small finger-like claws to go with the two arms. The claws would slide along each string while one arm would play using the bow and the other would play pizzicato (by plucking).

the next five were all things for the drum kit. They were all small drum sticks that could hover around to play each drum, two of them being mallets for bass drums. Three were small clappers and one was another floating thing except it was for a triangle. One was a floating mallet for the gong and the last four were mallets for special percussion instruments, two for vibraphone and two for metallophone. In short, we had a bunch of floating sticks and four actual automated instruments.

The ones that Bassman still had to fix were an automatic pan-flute, a double-synth laser that was apparently also able to talk and was on a rolling platform, a three-stringed acoustic guitar that could talk named Ace and a huge rolling tower of brass horns. Needless to say, all the instruments were mobile. The last one was the poor bastard working on them, Mr. Bassman.

For the next forty hours at least, Bassman wouldn't shut up about everything regarding the instruments. His friend Laz0r, the synth laser, was one of the main things he talked about the whole damn time. Finally the point came when he said, "There! Finally done!"

"You're already done with all of the robots?" I asked.

"Hell no!" he shot. "I'm done with Laz0r!"

A little platform rolled over to me. It had two odd-shaped metal tubes attached to it on an axel with a glass bulb on the end of both, one was purple and one was red. "What's up?" it said in a heavily syinthisized voice. Lasers of red and purple shot from the color-corresponding tube as he spoke.

"So you're Laz0r?" I asked.

"Hell yeah," he buzzed. "You're Phantom Savage, correct?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" I asked, a bit curious.

"You just seem like that Savage-Family bastard to be named something like that." Laz0r would probably have been smiling if he had a face. "It's been a common name in your family. I read the Savage-Family history from those books you guys keep writing."

"Ah," I nodded, him having answered my question before I could even ask it.

"I remember your predecessor saying something about us playing at some event before he died," Laz0r spouted randomly. "Do you know anything about that?"

"He could have meant The Grand Galloping Gala, but I'm not sure." I bit my lip in thought, trying to think of another event like that.

"That was the one," Bassman interrupted. "I remember it clear as day."

"Alright," Laz0r laughed a little. "Do you think you can tell Princess Celestia the reason as to why there was no musical guest that year? Knowing her, she's still pissed about it."

"I wouldn't put it past her!" Bassman chimed in, hoisting what could only have been Ace onto something that must have been a workbench,

"Alright, I'll tell her." I turned and was in the process of leaving when I realized... "Bassman, could you come back to town and tell me when you're done with all of the instruments? I still need to write a little more and I've only got around three days to do it."

"Can do," Bassman responded monotonously. And at that, I turned and left to go fulfill Laz0r's request.

The train seemed to go unusually slow as I thought of what I could possibly say to Celestia. I didn't know if she's even want to see me after being born with this Cutie Mark. It'd remind her of her husband from three thousand years ago. Finally, the train came to a grinding halt, revealing the Canterlot station through its opening doors. I slowly stepped out and looked around, seeing that there were "high-class" fuckers everywhere. I slipped my modified pure-white fedora on so my horn fit through the hole and it sat snugly on my head. I proceeded to walk out into the streets, looking around in all directions to find the palace.

It was as big as it was when I was last in Canterlot. Hell, it never changed from the outside. Approaching the castle entrance, two guards stood in front of the door. As I walked past, one of them gave me a nod. I walked up the many stairs to the throne room where Celestia was likely to be. Turning into the room, she was sitting on her throne, conversing with one of her royal guards about what was probably an unimportant matter. If it was important, she wouldn't be smiling.

I approached her throne, the guard finishing his conversation and walking away to return to his duties. "Princess, I was wondering if there was a lack of musical guests at one Grand Galloping Gala a thousand years ago or so?"

The Princess raised an eyebrow. "What does this have to do with anything, Phantom?"

"Please, just humor me," I sighed.

"Yes there was."

"Well, I know why," I told her.

"Why?" she asked. "It was a Savage with his birth-Cutie Mark that was supposed to perform, right?"

"Well, kind of." I was nervous to continue with such an unbelievable story. "It was a group of instruments that can play themselves that was meant to play."

Celestia laughed a little. "Very funny, Phantom, but I know it was Terror that arranged it. He was the one that was going to play."

"Hey, if you don't believe me, I can show them to you!" I huffed angrily. I hated being laughed at, even if it was only indirectly.

"That won't be necessary" she said, raising a hoof to shut me up. "I'll tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If these things are real and they're still operational as you've implied, then they should be able to play at the Gala this year, correct?"

"Sure," I agreed, still irritated. I turned and began to leave. As I left, I turned my head towards her and shouted "I'll inform Bassman and his friends and they will BLOW YOUR FUCKING MIND, WOMAN!" It was midnight when I got back to Octavia's from telling Bassman and co. about the Gala. Bassman was psyched to show off him and his pals' hard work on their song which was still un-named. Bassman asked me to try and think of a name for it if I could, which I agreed to, but I obviously wouldn't think of one right then and there. I still had to get back home and write until I was too tired to breathe.

Two days... I had two days to get all of my revisions done and printed and all of that. It only took around 30 hours in total, which was good because that meant I had a lot of time to get it ready packing-wise. Ditzy was working the post office that day. She was really nice about it all and decided to ship it out for free because some assholes had come in earlier, making fun of her eyes and I never did that to her so she regarded me as a great friend. In short, the whole shipping problem was solved... not that kind of shipping you stupid twat.

I was finally done with the first portion of my autobiography. I had written it, revised it, re-written it and sent it in to Printing Press, and now, I could celebrate. It was just a small celebration with a little bit of wine that Written Script's marefriend, Berry Punch, made herself. Octavia ended up drunk, before Written Script, who was downing glasses of wine like it was water and he was in the middle of a dessert. I have an... interesting alcohol resistance, so I didn't get drunk at all... that, and the wine tasted like shit to me, so I barely drank any of it. Vinyl, however, brought out some Gin (which was apparently half alcohol) and I drank that with her. By the end of the night, everypony except for me had passed out. As soon as I realized I was totally alone, I started to laugh. I went to my sleeping place on the sofa and fell asleep.

It felt like nothing could go wrong... What the fuck was I thinking?

Chapter VI

CHAPTER VI

The next morning, I sat up, feeling a little dazed. The alcohol from last night hadn't fucked me up too bad, but I still felt a little shaken up. It was easily a little past noon, but nopony was up except for me. I Struggled to push myself off the couch. I slowly walked over and opened the door to take in a breath of fresh air from outside. At my hooves was a letter from Printing Press. I picked it up with my magic and took it inside with me. Sitting down in the chair at my desk in the corner, I grabbed my dry quill and used its tip to open up the letter.

Sliding out of its paper sheath, I unfolded the letter and began to read it. My half smile faded into a frown which then morphed into a face of anger. The letter said that Printing Press didn't believe that my story was real. He said that he would have accepted it had it been marked as a fictional story, but he was expecting an autobiography. I crumpled up the paper using my magic and then combusted it, turning it into a pile of black dust on the table which I blew out of the way so I could put a fresh page down and grab my quill so I could write to the fucker.

I wrote a letter back to him telling him that if he wanted to accuse it of not being true, he should make sure it isn't first. Then I demanded he drag his stupid ass over to Ponyville so I could drag his ass through the Everfree forest to show him the living instruments, unless I was able to pull Bassman away from his work long enough to drag him back to Ponyville for a few minutes. It wouldn't seem worth it to him, though and I wouldn't blame him considering it was, like, a three hour walk.

I shoved the letter into an envelope and then galloped off to the post office, hoping to catch Ditzy before her shift ended. All the other employees there fucking hated me. Unluckily for me, she wasn't there. Instead, there was a dark green stallion with a dark green mane, dark green eyes, etc. standing at the desk looking like he was just about ready to break out a knife and slit his throat he was so bored. I recognized him. I had seen him working here before.

"Gah, fuck, not you," he grumbled. "Whaddaya want?"

I put the letter on the counter along with a bit for postage. He sighed and grabbed it with his mouth. I would say it would have made Printing Press mad, but Printing Press and this guy were both earth ponies. He grabbed the bit after throwing it on the counter behind him. "There, you're done, now leave." I gave him a death glare as I turned and left.

Walking in the door, Octavia spun around with a confused look on her face, her long black mane following behind her head. "Where have you been, Phantom?"

"Post office," I replied in the most mundane tone possible.

"Why the anger?" Vinyl interrupted, popping out from under the table. Her horn was glowing and I saw a rag on the floor. I figured she was cleaning up some regurgitation of hers from last night.

"Printing Press doesn't believe my story is an autobiography," I sighed, sitting down at the small desk.

"Why?" Octavia asked innocently.

"The whole talking instrument thing didn't seem possible to him," I explained. "I don't blame him for thinking that, honestly."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Vinyl added.

"I'm gonna drag the prick here so he can see for himself!" I slammed my hoof on the desk while I shouted.

"Better go get Bassman in that case," Octavia suggested.

"I guess I've got nothing better to do," I sighed. I turned around as if it was a drag to do and proceeded out the door. After making the walk through the forest, I made it to the cave where the instruments resided. It seemed less lifeless to me. There were a few lights set up inside and there were a bunch of random instruments around and about doing various things, most of them were practicing though. "Bassman!" I called out.

He turned to face me. "Phantom!" he shouted happily, wheeling over from his workbench to where I stood. "What's up, man?"

Taking my mind off of the question at hand was the fact that there were so many instruments milling around that I was wondering if Bassman had finished all of them. "Are all of the instruments fixed?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he smiled (or would have if he had a face), putting his... metal balls at his sides as if he were putting them on his hips.

"What happened to your hands?" I inquired.

"Oh, I took 'em off!" he said. "I don't need 'em anymore and I can't play with 'em on, so I took 'em off."

"Okay, anyway," I continued. "I need you to come back to Ponyville for a little while. Printing Press doesn't believe what I sent him is an autobiography, so I need the proof that these "living instruments" I talked about actually exist."

"Makes sense," he responded. "I guess it'd only be logical to go with you, so let's go." He turned on his one wheel to face all the other instruments in the cave. "Everyone? I'll be back sometime tomorrow! We practice when I get back, okay?"

"Okay, Stick Figure!" a Scottish accent called out.

"Stop calling me that, Ace!"

By the time we had gotten to Ponyville, Bassman was able to figure something out. Why couldn't I teleport us there? "Why couldn't you just have teleported us all this way?"

"I can't do teleportation magic," I sighed. "I'm slightly disabled magically. I can't perform any advanced spells such as teleportation. It really sucks."

"I'd only assume," Bassman said.

We made our way to the train station to see if Printing Press was on it. The Equestrian male system is unusually fast. They use teleportation magic to get letters to other cities and such. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was on that train.

To my (un)surprise, Printing Press walked off of the train, his marigold coat and dark crimson eyes made the small glasses he wore look kinda stupid. On his flank was a picture of a typewriter with a page in it. He turned his head to see me, then he looked at what was standing next to me... his jaw hit the ground beneath him.

"Dear Celestia, you weren't lying!" he gawked.

"Why would he lie about something like this?" Bassman spoke up, motioning to himself.

"Are you convinced, or do I need to drag your ass into the Everfree forest to show you the rest of them?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm fine, thank you," he nodded, sounding a little nervous for whatever reason. "I guess I'll just go back then. Send me the next few chapters in about a month. I'm guessing that'll be enough time for the story to... progress further." And at that, Printing Press turned and got back on the train, looking like he had just seen a ghost. Bassman and I stood there in silence for the next few minutes. Finally, the train gave a mighty puff of smoke and then departed.

"Well, that was interesting," Bassman said after a moment or two of silence.

"Certainly," I agreed. We turned and began to walk back the other way. The story would certainly progress, but not in the way that anypony would have expected.

Chapter VII

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter VIII

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter IX

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter X

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter XI

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter I

I, Phantom Lucifer Amon Savage III, was born in Canterlot as a small foal with a very unusual characteristic. This characteristic is only seen in my family every one thousand years… I was born with a Cutie Mark.

And that was all I could manage to write without having to stop for one of my endless thinking sessions. I slammed my midnight-blue head against the desk in front of me, just so my horn didn't hit the table, too. "FUCKING WRITER'S BLOCK!" I screamed at the ceiling in pure rage.

"Phantom?" Kanji Zero Xaldin (or KZX as I called him) yelled. "Would you please shut the fuck up? It's 4:00 AM and I want to sleep."

I sighed. Nopony knew how irritating it was to write an autobiography. It was times like these where I wished that I had a Cutie Mark that actually told me to do something specific with my life... That would be a good thing to talk about next. I picked up my quill with my magic again and swiftly dipped it in the ink before continuing to write.

This Cutie Mark doesn't tell me anything about who I am though. Instead, it is the same for all of those blessed with this characteristic. It's a fine blade of steel piercing through a skull with blood-red eyes and black wings as far as it can. A legend in my family says that I’m destined for greatness beyond all belief because of this. It also says that I should have a curse, a terrible character trait that will prove to make my life much more difficult. Being born under a roof in Canterlot was bad enough, but now I have to look forward to something that has gotten many a Savage executed.

I was at a dead end once again... "CELESTIA DAMNIT!" I roared.

"PHANTOM!" KZX shouted again. "PLEASE GO TO SLEEP!"

"I need to get this book done, KZX!" I sighed, "you don't know what it's like to be plagued by anxiety and writer's block at the same time!"

"If it's the beginning of the book, write about your family or something!" He suggested, probably just to shut me up. I shrugged and dipped my quill into the ink again, hoping that his suggestion would work.

I was born to my father, Phantom Lucifer Amon Savage II, and my mother, Justice Skylight Savage. My mother was only around for about the first four years of my life, but from those short years I could tell she loved me with all her heart. It’s amazing that my father loved me just as much considering the Savage-family men have a constant problem of being very cynical towards pony-kind.

Ever since I was able to walk on all four hooves, I’ve known that I am distantly (key word there) related to Princess Celestia. I also knew that my mother had a deep trust in her, deeper than most ponies. She was an Equestrian Court Justice (hence her first name) for almost all of her life. She had found her Cutie Mark when she was but six years of age by simply sitting in the Equestrian Supreme Court and observing a rape and murder case, the last murder that has happened as of the writing of these very words.

My mother would occasionally bring me to the court sometimes, mostly to keep me out of my father’s hair. She would only bring me to minor cases like disturbing the peace or theft. She would never bring me to any of the assault or rape cases, as rare as they were. From this, I could tell two things. First off, she cared for me very, very deeply. Secondly, she didn’t know that all Savage-family men grow into fucked up sons-of-bitches. If she knew the ladder, she probably would have brought me to the court a lot more.

I realized that some ponies reading it would wonder about my father and I put down my quill to think a moment on what to write. I looked at the clock. It was 5:45 in the morning. I hadn't slept at all since I talked to Printing Press, the world famous publisher from Canterlot that had published best sellers like "Of Critters And Colts" and The Harry Trotter series and even the Fallout: Equestria series. He had only had one bad book published, and by bad I mean you'd want to destroy it after reading the first several pages. The book was called "Nineteen Minutes." That's how long it would take until you wanted to throw it into your fireplace.

I laughed quietly at the joke I had thought of, then realized that I needed to get back to writing. As soon as the tip of my quill was about to hit the paper, a frantic knock at the door interrupted me. I let out an angered grumble as I arose from my small desk in the corner of the room. My apartment was small and not exactly very luxurious. We (KZX and I) lived in the poorer part of Ponyville , where drug dealers and whores tended to be at night and where thugs tended to be during the day... and it was also where stupid teenagers who think they're thugs get the crap beat out of them (and sometimes back into them).

The walls' paint was peeling slowly, converting it from a forest green to a wooden brown. It was better than the carpet, which couldn't peel, leaving the floor its same dark shit-brown. It was a soft carpet, though, so neither KZX nor I complained about it. I traversed the short distance to the front door of apartment number 4. To my surprise, standing outside my door was the local mail carrier, Derpy Hooves. Her real name was Ditzy Doo, but everypony called her Derpy Hooves because of how clumsy she was.

She rarely came by this part of town. Normally, not a single pony anywhere near here got any form of mail. "Mail for mister Phantom Savage!" she chirped, giving me a letter with hoofwriting on the front that could only belong to a Mr. Printing Press.

"Thank you, Ditzy," I said, giving her a smile. Her unsynchronized eyes didn't bother me like it did most other ponies. I'd seen worse before. I was always extra kind to Ditzy to make up for how much of a dick everypony else was to her and how much of a dick I was to everypony else. I walked back inside and sat back down at my desk, opening the letter at the same time. I slipped the letter out of its envelope and flipped it down from its tri-fold.

"Dear Mr. Savage," it began, "There has been a small mishap on our end. I seem to have once again failed to remember that it is a policy for us not to give our clients a deadline of less than a fortnight for any form of writing. You will have another ten days to write your first chapter or two. Don't worry about the quality of your work made prior to this deadline change in comparison to the work after the deadline change. We had the same mishap with the late John Steinbuck and his book "Of Critters And Colts," and that is one of the finest works of literature to date. We hope this is in no way an inconvenience. Sincerely, Printing Press."

"Well, ten more days will certainly help," I thought out loud.

"SO YOU KEPT ME UP ALL NIGHT FOR NOTHING?!?!?!" KZX exploded.

"I guess so," I replied, grabbing my large jacket from a hook on the wall and putting it on.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asked as if he weren't angry at all before.

"I'm going to talk to the one pony I know that understands me better than anyone else!"

"Isn't that me?" he asked.

I laughed, "Yeah right."

"And that's why I came to you." I finished telling my story and then promptly shut up as I waited for a response.

"And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?" Big McIntosh asked. "I don't know anything about literature or even how to write properly in the first place. How am I supposed to help you?"

"Good point" I sighed.

"I've helped you out with how to talk to mares and stuff like that, but if you think I can help you with things that require me to be as smart, if not smarter than you, you're fucked in the head, my friend."

"Well, then who do you suggest I ask?"

"Try Lyra Heartstrings," Mac suggested. "She may seem crazy, but she's read a lot of fictional stories regarding things that aren't humans. And whatever you do, don't talk to Twilight Sparkle about it. If you get her talking about something like that, she will never, and I mean never shut the fuck up."

"Thanks Macky," I smiled gratefully.

"Don't ever call me that again," he deadpanned.

"And that's why I came to you." After saying those seven words, I got the biggest feeling of déjà vu. I shook it off though, and awaited a response.

"Well, what exactly has happened in your life that's interesting," Lyra asked, flipping her grayish cyan mane out from in front of her eyes. "And I don't mean something about your family, I mean something that has specifically happened to you."

"Well... I have a strange power that has been in my family for the past thousand years or so." I told her. "I can see an inflicted injury through an X-Ray kind of perspective, but only as it's happening."

"That sounds disgusting to watch" Lyra gagged.

"When my father died a few years ago, it was when somepony bucked him in the jaw, sending the lower section piercing through the sides of his face. It was not fun to see that."

Lyra was about to throw up, so I just decided it would be better to seek help elsewhere for now and come back to her later. I thanked her, regardless of her not doing jack shit, and left. I was stuck with the shitty writer's block that I had and I still had gotten no help what so ever. I sighed, feeling defeated, and went back home. I only just thought that the day couldn't get worse... well, yeah, fuck what I think!

I walked in the door to see KZX sitting on the small loveseat with... Aloe Blossom, Lotus's sister. As soon as I saw this, one of my eyebrows shot up so far, I thought it would come right off of my face. KZX and I had promised each other to let one another know before we were gonna bring a mare over to the apartment.

Aloe gave me an awkward smile as if she were saying "please leave so we can do things to each other in private." I huffed, annoyed that not only had KZX brought an attractive female into the apartment without letting me know beforehand, but he was also going to kick me out so they could do it.

Sure enough, KZX spoke up, "Phantom, would you mind leaving for tonight so... we can be alone?" Trotting over to my desk, I grabbed all the parchment I could, along with several quills and a few unopened bottles of ink.

I was about to walk out the door when I realized... this would be the perfect time to say something to piss them off. "Don't forget to pull out," I told KZX with an evil smile. "You don't want to continue the stereotype of Mexequines having too many children, do you?" The last thing they heard was a demonic laugh resonating from me as I stepped out of the house and into the open. It was time to find a quiet place to get working on this damned book.