"Sorry, but you're in my story now."
Hello, hello, Bronies! Here for your Daily Dose of Disharmony?
. . . .
What? Why am I smiling and happy? Oh, come on! Did you expect some dramatic gut wrenching death scene? Maybe a heroic sacrifice? Since when is Spike capable of doing something like that? I'm trying to make a point here. I'm trying to get you to see something about our little dragon friend. Come on, gather round and listen. Let me show you what's really going on here.
Ahem! Ahem! Give me a minute to get my story telling voice on. AHEM! Mi-mi-mi-mi-miiii! Aha! Okay then. . .
This is a very sad story about the death of a dragon named Spike.
"Spike, take a letter."
Spike is quite a boring fellow. He has a job that demands nothing of him, and every letter or memo or whatever thing that he writes is a reminder of the inconsequential nature of his existence.
"Spike, I'm done with these books. You can go ahead and shelf them."
Look at him there, shelving books, doing exactly what he's told to do. Now, he's writing a letter. Now, he's cooking Twilight's lunch. Now, he's sleeping in a basket. Now, he's waking up and getting back to work. One might even feel sorry for him. . .if the poor little fool hadn't chosen this life.
"Spike, I need these reports organized."
But in his mind, Spike has gone on fantastic adventures. One time, Spike dreamed of being big and strong, of intense battles against armies of Diamond Dogs, of saving his "secret" crush Rarity from peril like a brave knight saving a princess, of recieving a hero's kiss on the lips. It was wonderful. And each day that he returned to work was a reminder that none of it would ever happen to him.
"Spike, wake up! Quit daydreaming!"
But one day, while he was following Twilight around the Crystal Empire, he was suddenly given the task of recovering the Crystal Heart and bringing it to Princess Cadence so she could defeat King Sombra and save the Crystal Empire. He was given his own stained glass window for his tiny act of heroism. This whole ordeal excited him terribly.
"Spike, I need you to go and pick up some more quills and ink."
He didn't want this excitement to end, so, he used his imagination to go further. He dreamed up his own personal "Dragon Code" that gave him a special purpose, an identity, a sense of dragon pride so to speak. At last, something to make him feel good about being a dragon! It barely even mattered what his "Dragon Code" meant - the mere thought that being a dragon was no longer something to be ashamed of; especially after seeing what horribly cruel evil monsters dragons were during the "Dragon Quest" incident; was something almost too wonderful to behold.
"Spike, I need you to go back and get some more parchment."
As he created this fantasy identity, he began to fill it with many possible details and bits of lore. He wrote a song about how dragons were the Finest Creatures Ever. He stomped out his lustful desires for Rarity when he learned of her crush on a stallion named Trenderhoof. And he offers himself up to do labor whenever he can. And he called his way of life, the "Spike the Dragon Code."
"Spike, you can clean up around here while I work on my flying some more."
It was such a wonderful bunch of thoughts for a lonely little social outcast, and so in his head, he went over it again, and then again, and again, over and over, desperately trying to convincing himself beyond hope that it was truth, that he would always feel this sense of purpose and higher calling. Surely there's an answer to why he's a dragon living among ponies deep down within him - mustn't there be? Perhaps if he looked a little deeper inside himself. . .
"Spike, got to sleep! It's past your bedtime!"
But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? Some things have no answer. Some things have no purpose. That's what chaos is all about. Believe me, I should know. I am the Spirit of Chaos after all. You wanna know the truth from someone who knows what he's talking about? Don't bother answering, cause I'm gonna tell you anyway. In reality, all he's doing is doing the same menial tasks he always has. Nothing has changed. Twilight Sparkle may be a Princess, but he's still a little slave of Pony-kind. The longer he spends here with Twilight, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets his amazing dragon heritage.
"Spike, is breakfast ready?"
And I'm trying to tell him this: that in Pony Society he can never be anything but a servant. That as long as he remains here he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop. Here, watch this:
"Hey Spike, the next time Twilight asks you to take a letter, do not do it."
"Spike, take a letter."
. . . . .
"Alright. . ."
You see? Can he just not hear me? How can I tell him in a way that he'll understand that every second he remains here, he's electing to kill himself? How can I get him to see what I see? How can I make him look at himself? To see how amazing, how powerful, how majestic, how mighty, how awesome he could be if he went off and became a real dragon and learned combat and magic and all of that good stuff?
"Spike, don't let Discord mess with your head."
I suppose I can't - not in the way I want him to. But I don't make the rules - I hate rules, actually. But haven't I been denying my intended purpose of bringing Eternal Chaos? Hmm. . . We're not so different, I suppose. But don't you see? By the power of my friendship with Fluttershy, my new purpose is to use my powers for good, and isn't disillusioning Spike a good thing? I think it is. So I suppose I'll try once more to convey all this to him; I'm compelled to, it seems. I just have to keep on trying. My shinny brand new moral compass tells me too. Perhaps, well, maybe this time he'll see. Maybe this time.
And I tried again, and Spike didn't listen. And I tried again, and Spike didn't listen. And I tried again, and Spike didn't listen...
