And What's Up With Doorknobs Anyway?
"Miss Lulamoon, Dr. Moon will now see you," the receptionist droned.
Trixie harrumphed and trotted through the door between the waiting room and the inner sanctum of the psychiatrist's office. "Hmph, 'tis about time Trixie was seen!"
Upon entering the room, she observed several things. A couch, a fainting couch (for sessions in which Rarity Belle was the patient), a bed, an empty chair, and a chair containing a princess of the night. One of these things was not like the others, and this last item aroused Trixie's interest.
Trixie ran through a list of potential questions she could lead off with. She settled with, "Your last name is Moon?"
Luna nodded, and motioned for the unicorn to take a seat on the piece of furniture of her choice. Trixie opted for the couch, and curled up upon it. Finding that Luna was not expanding upon her nod, Trixie prodded again. "Trixie is surprised to find your last name so simple and plain."
Luna Moon answered Lulamoon: "We have been graced with many names bestowed upon ourselves, but prefer simplicity for the time being. But enough about ourselves. Tell us Trixie, what bringeth thou here?"
Trixie sighed. There was a lot on her mind. "Well, Dr. Moon, to be honest, there's a lot on Trixie's mind. She is unsure of where to start."
Luna frowned, writing something upon a clipboard she kept suspended with her magic. "Well, we feel perhaps we (the collective we, not the royal we) should talk about your insistence on using the third person point of view in your speaking patterns. Even in this modern age, that can't be normal."
Trixie grimaced, the word "Hypocrite" flashing across her conscious mind. "Actually, I do believe I know what I, I mean Trixie, would like to discuss with you first. Can we talk about umbrellas?"
Luna raised her eyebrows. "We suppose if that is where you would like to begin, you can."
"Well," Trixie started, "They are stupid. They are ungainly to hold with one's hooves. Trixie could wear an umbrella hat, like the annoying pink one, but that looks tacky and stupid. Trixie believes that is one of the few things she could agree with the drama queen seamstress upon. Trixie feels the optimal solution is to simply cast a shielding spell upon one's body when it rains. Voila. Problem solved."
Luna was only on her third patient, and she was already regretting choosing dispensing free counseling as part of her "I'm sorry I tried to bring about eternal night again" community service package. "Well, Trixie, not all, or even most unicorns can cast shielding spells. And what about the roughly two thirds of the population without horns?"
Trixie spat, not even bothering to aim towards a trash can. "Bah! Pegasi and Earth ponies are stupid. Trixie dare not deign to consider the inferior pony races."
Luna flinched. Patient is a flaming racist. Worse than initial diagnosis, she scrawled.
"Right, well then, We'll be sure to touch upon your feelings on that topic at a later time." "Please don't ever come back," Luna then silently pleaded. "Right, well, Trixie, what else is bothering you?"
Trixie perked up upon hearing her name. "Oh, well, another thing that really wrinkles my sprinkles is the fact that there's no Autumn Wrap Up. What the heck is up with that? It's like, there's a Spring, and a Fall, Trixie means Winter, and a Summer Wrap Up. But no Autumn Wrap Up."
"An interesting observation Trixie. However, while we are somewhat unfamiliar with the modern holy days, or "holidays" as we are told they are referred to now, we are given to understanding that there is a "Running of the Leaves". We suppose that is a roughly equivalent event, is it not?"
Trixie grumbled. "But it's inconsistent. I, I mean Trixie, HATE inconsistencies."
"Now Trixie," Luna began, but was cut off.
"And THAT'S another thing! You want to talk about inconsistancies? Let us talk about the Equestrian language. It is a rotten monstrosity!"
The lunar mare had to agree on this point, herself trying to familiarize herself with a thousand years of bizarre and arbitrary grammar rules. Still... "Miss Lulamoon, while we are inclined to agree with you, we question how this has any direct bearing on your psychological well being."
"NO! NO! IT DOES!" The distressed magician cried, rising from the couch. "It-it makes Trixie right plum mad. Angry like a bull, Trixie gets!"
Luna's cheeks reddened. "Trixie! Is the speciesist slur necessary?!"
Trixie deflated back upon the couch. "Trixie is sorry. She is only distressed by the lack of mauve and pollen grain plaid couches at Quills and Sofas!"
Luna sighed, becoming flustered. "Trixie, please, we struggle to see how that could possibly trouble you so."
"And that's another thing!" Trixie continued, not even bothering to elaborate on her previous woe. "What's up with doorknobs? They aren't designed to be ergonomically friendly to ponies. There is no functional aestheticism in them! They are utterly inconvenient to those of us with hooves, which is most everyone who is anyone in Equestria! Fuck the minotaurs and griffons! Doors should be designed for US! Not THEM!" She was out of her seat again, inches from Luna's face.
Luna reared back, disturbed. Doubly so, since her previous patient Lyra had also ranted on the same exact subject. Trixie still swallowing her vision, Luna stole a glance at the clock on the table next to her chair. Five minutes had passed. She was doomed. She considered what actions she could perform that would be sufficiently frowned upon to send her to the moon again. It was rapidly shaping up to be preferable to this.
"Trixie?" Luna pleaded.
"Yes," the foal-blue pony asked, backing up at last.
"If I," Luna began, her eyes betraying utter desperation, and her "I"s betraying an abandonment of the royal We in hopes of personally connecting with Trixie, "give you fifty bits, will you go away and never come back?"
It was Trixie's turn to rear back in shock. "Dr. Moon, does the greatly disturbed and powerful Trixie hear you offering her a bribe?"
"Y-y-yes Trixie, I'm afraid I am."
"You'd really offer me fifty bits to leave your presence?"
"Yes," Luna said, ashamed, but also desperate.
"Make it a hundred and you've got yourself a deal!"
"Next patient," the receptionist droned.
In bounced a perky, pink party pony.
"Oh, Tartarus no," Luna said, preparing a spell that would hopefully be powerful enough to send her to the moon.
POOF! Luna disappeared from the psychiatrist's chair. A moment later, she found herself the patient upon the bed in a different doctor's office. This time, the Nightmare occupied the doctor's chair. "Hello, Luna," it said. "I understand your sister sent you to me for psychiatric counseling."
Luna facehoofed. "Me Dammit. Wrong moon."
Author's Note
Should I make this a series?
