How *Not* to Handle a Trip to the Library

A Pegasus' Guide on How *Not* to Handle Pretty Much Any Situation Ever

Entry #1: How *Not* to Handle a Trip to the Library

****

Tap, tap, tap.

The lone, silver and gold-themed pegasus tapped his hoof on the wooden floor and groaned impatiently. "Come on," he finally snapped, shouting up the stairs. "You've been up there for like, fifteen freakin' minutes!"

A small, purple dragon poked his head out of a door on the top level of the stairs and scratched his head, raising an eyebrow at the pegasus. "Uh... what was it you even wanted, again?" he asked.

The winged pony's face scrunched up in frustration and he smacked his head on a nearby bookshelf. "A book!" he shouted, turning away from the shelf, a noticeable bruise already forming on his muzzle. "I gave you my library card and a sheet of paper with the title on it, and then you *waddled** your little way up those stupid stairs saying, 'Don't worry about it, I'll be right back!' *and then you never came back!"

"Oh yeah," the small dragon said. "Let me get right on that, it'll only take a second!"

The pegasus wasn't even able to reply before the door slammed shut behind the tiny, scaled agent of the devil himself. He sighed and sat down on the floor. He took a few deep, calming breaths and shook his head. He found that he was able to calm himself down rather quickly this way.

He looked around the library a bit, deciding he wanted to distract himself from his exaggerated frustration. He had only been in this place once before, when he had moved to town a little over a week ago. He had actually received his library card from the Princess who inhabited the library, Twilight Sparkle herself. He had, however, only done this after being attacked and accused of being an "intruder" in her home. "How the hay was I supposed to know somepony lived here!? It's a *library*!" was what had immediately shot out of his mouth. Took him almost five minutes to realize he'd just shouted at a Princess. He apologized and she apologized and they had a nice little laugh and then the tiny demon dragon hit him with a frying pan.

That day sucked.

"I found it!" came a voice from somewhere on the outside of the pegasus' easily-distracted mind. "At least, I think I did. Your penmanship is awful."

"Whatever," the pegasus retorted, sneering at the little devilspawn. "So, can I actually have the book now, or do you have to like, hit me with another frying pan before I'm allowed to go?"

"I said I was sorry, like, thirteen times!" the dragon replied, handing him the book. "And you can leave after you sign it out. You know, if you actually write something that looks even remotely like a name this time."

"Rude," he said, still sneering. "So what do I have to sign?"

"This right here," the dragon explained, pointing at a large book filled with names in varied writing styles. "You just have to put your name, the name of your book, the date, blah blah, yadda yadda," he said, mimicking a voice the pegasus recognized as Princess Twilight's.

He shrugged and walked over to the book. "Okay, so I just put 'Silverbolt' here, 'The Rein of King Arthor' here, and 'February 25th' right... here. Perfect," he said, admiring his handiwork.

"'Silverbolt?' That's what that note said? Oh man, I didn't know there was even an 'S' in your name," the tiny hellbeast said, obviously not recognizing the glorious artistic work of the great pegasus master, Silverbolt.

"Oh, ha ha, ha. Guess that's it, then, I'm out of here," Silverbolt said, putting the book in his saddlebag and turning towards the door.

"Hoo?"

"What?" Silverbolt said, turning to see an owl sitting on a perch he hadn't noticed before.

"Hoo?"

"No, I asked you 'what' first. You can't just ask me another question before you answer mine."

"Hoo."

"You! You can't just keep asking questions while I'm asking you questions!" Silverbolt almost screamed at the bird. He was getting irritated again. Curse his short fuse.

"Hoo?"

"Argh! I give up! You win, bird!" he cried, turning and stomping out the door.

The little dragon burst into a fit of laughter and fell over on the ground. "Hahahahah! H-how does everyone keep falling for that?" he asked, holding his gut.

"Hoo."

****

Outside, about a block and a half away, the pony now knownst to us as Silverbolt continued to mumble under his breath as he trudged back to his home, book and saddlebag in tow. "At least I get to go home and just relax," he muttered.

"Mommy, why is that emo-looking stallion talking to himself?" a little filly asked her mother, standing nearby.

"Oh, no reason, honey. He's probably just crazy and/or homeless," the mother replied, before giving Silverbolt a little smile. "The poor dear's probably lost. Or perhaps he's thinking about writing some kind of deep, emotional poem or something."

"I'm not homeless, my hair's just messy! Also I'm not crazy! No crazier than anyone else in this town, anyway..." he called to the two mares, who quickly averted their eyes and sped off down the street. People were always assuming he was homeless because of his uncouth hairstyle. So what if he had a spiky, unruly mane? He liked how it looked.

About twenty minutes later, he was finally approaching his tiny house on the edge of the backwater village. He sighed wistfully and smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. He headed inside and trotted cheerfully to his bedroom, making sure to carefully extract his book from his saddlebag with his mouth before throwing himself unceremoniously onto his bed.

"Finally," he breathed, turning over on his back and ritualistically opening his freshly-acquired book. "Some time to... my... self..."

He stopped. His smiled melted off his face as if it were molten lava flowing down a freshly blown volcano. He closed the book and directed his eyes at the title.

"Chronicles of Neighrnia: The Princess, the Witch, and the Bathrobe," he read slowly.

To this day, ponies all over Ponyville say that if you listen very closely in the dead of night, you can still hear the faintest echo of his unending, pained screams slice through the still, cool air.