You can tell that a fight of epic proportions went down here.
Just by walking to what was the front door to the place you can tell. Looking at the piles of bricks next to the hole it looks like someone’s trying to fix it up. It’s actually quite surprising how little news coverage was on the Canterlot High incident; granted, there was little to no information on this Twilight Sparkle horse creature, everything ended before any news crew was on the scene, but c’mon. A being from a different dimension? How the fuck’s that not front page? Or even a special edition?
“So, what are you thinking right now?” says the fat, balding old man next to me with a raised brow and a concerned look. The usual look of the great psychologist, Dr Brainstorm, especially when it’s at me, his life-long project.
“I think this school better fix that hole.” I reply. Probably not the best answer to that question; but as you can tell from the mini-rant I had above, I was holding back. Hell, my mini-rant was even more held back compared to what I was really thinking. Judging by the smile my psychologist gave me after I said it, he can see that I was trying to.
My name is Woundsalt. I don’t know why we name people like we got some secret ability within us... Well, okay. Maybe they got me down… I have a knack for giving pain like a salt to a wound, but what if I was called something less suitable? Like… fuck, I don’t know… Blue Curaçao? Yeah, that sounds harmless. What if I had a harmless name like that but still have…
“Woundsalt, about this school.” My… ugh… ‘mentor’ says, interrupting my train of thought. “Please don’t speak to the other students until I do. We would like to have them to be warned first, don’t we?”
“I guess… you know what’ll be a better idea? Me not coming here in the first god-damn place.”
More eyebrow-raising from the old man. “Oh come now! Didn’t you say you would love to meet people your age?”
“… No. If anything, you said that I would love to meet people your age. Multiple times. Besides, even if I even did, would I agree to come with you now on a Saturday or when people my age are actually here?”
He’s silent. Usually, when he’s silent like this is either because he thinks I have a point or too pissed off to continue the conversation. Both are possible in this case. The reason we’re here is because he was assigned by this school’s principal to come here see if there were going to be any mental long-term side effects from last week’s incident. So, if that’s the case, why did he bring me here to be the? The only reason I can think of is because he doesn’t want me out of his sight. He thinks the moment his back is turned, I’ll become an alcoholic or some shit. Like I’ll ever do that to myself.
As we continue waking to the main building, we spot somewhere near the front a tall, rainbow-haired lady wearing the most ridiculous purple pants I’ve ever seen. Judging by the way she looks at our direction, I take it this must be Principal Celestia.
“Ah! At last, Doctor Brainstorm!” The lady says. “Thank you for notifying that you’ll be late. I take it the town traffic got the better of you?”
“Hmm, yes.” The psychologist replies. “Some inexperienced traffic warden was dancing around in some junction like he had no idea what he was doing!”
They both laugh for an awkward amount of time until she notices me.
“And this must be Woundsalt. Doctor Brainstorm has told me a lot about you… and about… ‘them.’”
“Yes.” I say to her. “Them.”
I get blackouts. Particularly bad blackouts. Not like it harms me, oh no. If anything, it harms other people who eventually harm me… You know what? I take it back. It does harm me.
“Okay, I tell you what.” The white lady states. “Since I only really planned to talk to Brainstorm, I’ll let you have a look around on your own. Any questions?”
“Actually, I do have a few…
… AND WHY THE FUCK DO YOU STILL HAVE THE STATUE HERE? WHAT IF SOMETHING DANGEROUS COMES OUT OF THERE?!”
… Oh shit, it happened again…
Celestia’s face is stunned. The way she is twitching her right hand makes me feel like her body is in this state too. Doctor Brainstorm breaks the awkward tension with a sigh. “Admittedly, he has been improving trying to control himself.” He explains. “He ‘bursts’ now and then, as we’ve all just experienced.”
I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Yelled at the principal on the first time we met; not exactly what I call a good impression. I have a feeling this is going to be a start of an extremely painful relationship.
“Huh… Okay…” Says the principal, hesitantly. “Luna, make a note about these… interesting points. We need to confirm that everything is safe before the students return from their break.”
I only just noticed the… I’m assuming she’s the vice-principal… Luna just now, as she lifts up a few paper on her clipboard. “They all are already on the list of parent complaints, Principal.”
“I see…”
Yeesh, the look Miss Celestia gave to me! That’s a look I know too well; the ‘I wish I could be a powerful magical entity so I banish you to the moon’ look. My second least favourite look; second only to the ‘I wish you look Medusa right in her fucking eyes’ look.
“Well, Woundsalt?” My psychologist says, attempting to lighten the mood. “The adults are going to discuss the possible post-traumatic stress disorder that may now plague this school. You go and have a look around, alright?”
Adults? Fucking adults? Did he just say I’m a k… You know what? Fuck it. I’ll let it slide as long as I can get the fuck away from these people.
“Alright.” I say flatly as I walk away from the trio of hard-asses.
“And Woundsalt?” The good doctor yells as I go down the first corridor. “Try not to break anything. It’s bad enough this place has a giant hole in it.”
I nod as I keep moving.
Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ, why is this hallway so dark? It’s not like what happened affected the lighting, at least not this far in. These guys has to get an electrician in here before someone trips on something.
Well, besides from dark halls, I did find a few nice things in this school so far. They got a poetry club. Not a bad looking one, too. They got their work on the walls. They were pretty good… for amateurs. Especially the one who wrote the one that was in memory of his dad. What was his name again? Printed Page? Yeah, he was the best there, but I wish he had a bit more oomph to his work. Some pizzazz. Trust me to criticise, of course; Mister Almost-had-a-professor-who-majored-in-literature-adopt-him-because-of-a-haiku-but-my-big-fucking-mouth-had-to-ruin-that-chance-to-get-out-of-the-hell-hole-that-is…
Did I just hear a flush? Is someone besides from me here? I know it can’t be the three I know are here. Why would they use one so far away from any office?
Oh god…
What if it’s her? No wait, it has to be her. She should be the only student on grounds right now.
The evil horse chick.
I only saw a few pictures of her on the news in her demonic state. They say she’s completely powerless now; nothing more but a girl with no power of the arcane what so ever. All the same though, I do not want to meet her. The last thing I want to do today is meet someone who last week thought an invasion of a parallel universe using teenagers was a good idea. I’ll just avoid her by going nowhere near where I think she will be. So right now, I should avoid hallways with a women’s restroom in them. That’s a good plan.
Oh, hey! The lights just fixed themselves up! That’s convenient! Now I can clearly see that I’m in front of a women’s rest…
…
Fuck!
Okay, okay. Calm down, Woundsalt. For all we know, she could be in any other rest- SHIT THE DOOR’S OPENING! PANICPANICPANICPANI…
…Huh.
Is this… Her?
I mean, she has the fiery red hair. But she doesn't look as evil as she did in my head. But then again, the only way I saw her until now was her flying in the air laughing maniacally. Can’t be more evil than that unless she managed to get a twirly moustache.
She seems to be a bit shocked. Probably because I’m blocking her way out.
“S-sorry.” I try to say as I move aside. She’s still stays there, looking at me with her big, light blue eyes. “Erm… Hi?”
“Oh! Er… Hi.” She says. “Look, sorry. The… The way you were looking at me… You… know what I am, don’t you?”
I nod slowly. As harmless as she looks right now, I have the feeling dropping my shield right now would be a very fatal error. However, she is harmless… according to news sources. Good thing I got a plan if things get out of hand and it turns out she isn’t the everyday, run-of-the-mill teen girl but still the monster: Run. Run like the coward I know I am. Bet the other students here didn't think of that.
“I guess I should thank you for not immediately running away like the others. What’s your name?” asks the Horsey-Universe refugee… Shit. Not only did they have the same idea I did, but made it better. Why didn’t I think of running away immediately? Ah, fuck it. Too late now. Maybe I should pretend to be a gentleman. I mean after all, I better have the name of the ‘Fall Formal Freak.’
“Woundsalt.” I say, extending my hand out. “And what’s yours, if I’m allowed to ask?”
She’s smiling as she shakes my hand. “Well, I figured they kept me anonymous on some news sources. Sunset Shimmer... You’re the guy that Celestia said will be coming today, right? With the psychologist from the orphanage?”
I nod. If she does still have some arcane power in her, lying to her might be a dumb thing to do.
“Do… do you want a tour of the place? I mean, it’s okay if you say no. I understand.”
Well, I already got myself pretty lost. “I would like that.”
“…So yeah, I’m stuck here for thirty-one moons. Probably have to stay here though, if the Celestia in that universe’s still mad at me for all I done.” Sunset Shimmer says as we walk through one of the many halls.
“What do you mean by thirty-one moons? Like, a month? Or thirty-one moon cycles, which is… a bit over two and a half years?”
Shimmer shrugs. “That’s all I got from Twilight before she left. Tried asking the friends she made here about it, but they don’t particularly know either. I got some magic paper to contact that realm, so maybe I can write something to her and ask… but not much of it, so I should use that in an emergency.”
I nod. That bites. Stuck in a parallel universe and she doesn’t know how long she’ll be here until she gets back home. It’s even worse, knowing now she’s practically alienated the entire school with what happened that night… Crap, am I feeling sympathy for her?
…
You know, I find it kind of funny how the Principal here’s the ruler of their world over there. I wonder…
“Hey, would it be a stupid question to ask if there is a version of me on that side?”
She looks at me for a while. “Everyone here’s got a pony them on that side, Wound… I actually heard of yours, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Twilight mentioned him. He used to write poems for an art magazine. Very Anti-authority... very popular too, apparently.”
Well, how about that? He seems to have made a name to himself. Then again, I bet he doesn’t suffer from what I have.
“Apparently he has a rare condition that makes him hard to work with, though.” Sunset continues. “Confused Magic Condition… The second reported pony in history to have it. He’s not a unicorn, see. An earth pony. Twilight says she’s currently helping him control what's inside of him.”
… Oh, why do I have the feeling…?
“Does… Does this condition involve insulting peo- I mean, ponies during blackouts?”
“Well, his does. It depends on a ponies certain skill, real-” Her eyes widen. “You asked because you have it, don’t you?”
“That’s… what my gut tells me.”
She mouth drops a little. “Holy… Hang on, we’re jumping to conclusions here. There are other symptoms. Do you have prophetic dreams?”
“I dreamt up Brainstorm’s day planner, once. Spoiled my own surprise birthday party.”
“Knowledge of a certain thing into an omnipresent degree? In this case, literature?”
“I do feel like I already read books I just started read. I always thought it was because we have a small library at Saint Diamond Heart’s, but that could explain it.”
“Suffer from possessions?”
“I… don’t think I d-Urk! Yes, he does.… Okay, apparently I do.”
“Right… So far, it’s pointing to CMC.” Shimmer says, putting her hand to her chin in thought. “Okay, last one to make sure: Abnormal tears.”
“… What does the pony me cry?”
“According to Twilight, ink.”
“But… Ink’s natural, right?”
“…No.”
“… Well, now I feel like a freak and an idiot.”
She touches my hand. “Well… looks like you have CMC, Salt… On the plus side, since humanity hasn’t really experimented with magic, you’re the first to be diagnosed. That’s something, right?”
This news only gets a small smile from me. “I guess… How does pony me handle it?”
Sunset looks down. “Too be honest… pretty poorly. Twilight says that since the magazine went bust five years ago, he’s been drinking and yelling at statues. She’s got him on a routine now and he’s making some friends for the first time, so he’ll be on the right path soon hopefully… Oh come on now, Salty. Don’t…”
But I was already doing what she was going to tell me not to do.
Cry.
Well, why shouldn’t I? I just heard I got a rare disease and my pony universe brethren’s an alcoholic. I deserve a cry. And a cry I will have.
Crap, I just realised I’m wearing my favourite Hater D shirt. Better take it off before I get anything on it.
…
It was at this moment, the Fall Formal Freak did something I never thought would do.
Hug me.
And then kiss me.
And then caress my washboard abs.
And then unzip my fly, take off my pants and reveal my humongous p-
“STOP! STOP THIS FUCKING SHIT RIGHT NOW!”
We both look towards Dream Weaver, our director, a small purple unicorn stallion with flowing pink and blue hair, as he facehoofs himself. “Oh, for fuck’s sake… Woundsalt…”
“Sir?” I ask as I take off the ink ducts.
“Not you!” He says as he points hoof towards the doors to the studio. “Him.”
And him it was. The dyed black hair, the grinding teeth, and the stare from his big, red, eyes. It’s him. It’s the pony.
It’s the ‘Salt.
And he isn’t happy.
Oh, for the love of Celestia and god combined, he is not happy.
“Dream Weaver, you piece of shit!” He yells. “I can’t believe the depths you go to! I mean, goddess damn! Giving me a false script, so I can give you the go-ahead on this slop!”
“You just have to tell him didn’t you, Welshy?” Dream whispered underneath his breath before turning to the poet. “Wound, do you mind? Art is being made here.”
“Art? Fucking Art? You have the nerve to call this art?” The ‘Salt shouts to reply. “A fanfic where a human me with abs and a python in his pants has sex in a school hall with Sunset Shimmer and the two mounds on her chest big enough to make bowling balls scream in fear is considered art to you? Do you think this shit would be next to the Moaning Grin?”
I look at our Shimmer, as she looks at the mounds in question and starts to feel a little insecure. Well, as correct as he is, it’s not her fault she was made that way. The Obviously Outstanding Clones™ factory made her a little more… front stacked than the usual model.
I, on the other hand, don’t need to start to feel insecure about what the poet said about me. I already do feel insecure about it. Especially when I have to put my pants back on... it's a bit problematic.
“And besides,” The real Woundsalt continues, “This is supposed to be a Nightmare Night special! Where is the horror? Where are the scares?”
At this point I, halfway through re-clothing my lower self, intervened by raising my hand. “According to the script there’s a lunatic with a chainsaw that’s supposed to attempt to kill us both in the third act hiding in the janitor’s closet.” This is true. But after the maniac was dealt with, we go straight into 'Round 2' as it were.
Intervening was a bad idea.
The stallion looks at me like I just said terrible things about his cellist friend. “You.” He says, pointing his hoof at me. “What’s your name?”
… Well, it’s too late to shut up, now.
“Jack, sir. Jack Emupproppa.”
It’s actually Jack Emalotonitz, but in this industry if you don’t get a gig long enough, you will eventually do whatever your agent tells you to do, even if it’s to change your name.
“Jack.” The stallion grumbles as he gives a look directly into my eyes. “You playing me in this, Jack?”
I nod.
“Okay, Jack. Be me for a moment and give three reasons to Dream Weaver why I hate this goddess-damn fiction he's trying to make.”
Hmm… I shouldn't do it otherwise I won't get paid... but he looks like he has not had a good day so far. Best to humour him.
“Well, for starters," I start. "for what it says about my pony self is extremely degrading. Any fan of his work would call it slander…”
Woundsalt nods. Dream Weaver sighs.
“And the pairing is a bit odd. I don’t see why we couldn’t have had an OOC™ Octavia, it hasn't been over-done yet. Why don't we do the top pairing and not some random coupling that has little to no chemistry? No offence to Sunset Shimmer, here.”
“None taken.” Says the lady in question, now forgetting about previous insecurities and now looks at me in the area I have just now re-covered. As you may have grasped right now, not the real Shimmer. She's actually a Sunset Shimmer Clone; Mode Human, Rating 5, +KCup, +N. The +N stands for nymphomaniac, which explains why she's looking at my area with... intentions. It’s the little add-ons that make Obviously Outstanding Clones™ so popular.
“And for my third… this is straight up porn. It probably wasn't obvious before the part I took my shirt off, but it is. No question.”
Wound looks at Weaver, smiling. Clearly, he knows what I have said upsets the director. Weaver’s face proves it.
“… You know, I don’t get this shit from ERRA. Pineapple Rice and Dandelion lets me do what I do, because he’s not a PHILISTINE WHO BELIEVES THAT A SEX SCENE IN ANY PIECE CLASSIFIES IT AS PORN!” The purple unicorn says, shouting the last part in my general direction. “Unlike you and Jack, Woundsalt, They understand the creative license I bring to the table!”
“Pfft... Hahahahaha! Oh, please!” Woundsalt laughs... and he thinks his rival poet has an evil laugh, he should hear himself. “Pineapple Rice understands nothing but how to act like a beach bum, and Dandelion can't even understand how to look at women properly!”
“At least they have depth!” the frustrated director snaps, waving his megaphone at the white earth pony. “Not like some blank slate that became an overpowered OC and bitches about it for twenty chapters!”
… The silence that came after such words said one thing. It has said that Dream Weaver is going to die a slow and verbal death. And judging by the way he has put his hoof in his mouth, he knows this.
“Jack,” Woundsalt says in a disturbingly kind manner. “Have you already done the surge scene in front of Celestia?”
“Erm…” I whimper. “Yes, sir. But I feel like it’s missing something, so I want to try it again.”
“Well then,” The poet says, looking into the eyes of the director that insulted him... I have a feeling he’s already in his ‘black-out.’ “Either you stay here and take notes or take the girl somewhere to get a coffee… it’s your choice.”
I think it’s best to go with the one that involves me getting, as he would say it, the buck out of here.
I show ‘Sunset Shimmer’ to the exit as the poet to do what his condition forces him to do and the director to shake in his chair.
“So… Do you know a place around here to get a drink?” I ask her.
She puts her hand up to flick back her hair. “There’s a café on the other side of the lot.” She says, still in ‘character.’
“The other side? That’s a bit of a walk. Isn’t there a few just outside the entrance?”
“There are… but I can’t go to them” The clone sighs. “No OOC™ over the rating of 4 is allowed out of Dress-Like-a-Dream Studios in case of folks confusing them for the real people.”
“That sounds… awfully sad.”
She smiles sweetly. “We get shot on sight.”
…
“Why did you smile when you said that?” I ask in an alarmed tone.
“Oh, did I?” the clone giggled. “Sorry, I was thinking about when we have to get back in the studio to do the next scene.”
Of course you were… OOC™s are terrible with emotions. Especially +N ones; it makes them very difficult to talk to.
I look behind us as the door closes on the studio with the two inside it.
“Something tells me…” I say to her. “That’ll probably not happen.”
Author's Note
Aha! Surprise!
You guys thought I was giving you a treat, but I got you a trick!
So... yeah, I had this idea for a story for a while where there is this studio that makes the more... fascinating fics here at fimfiction... the only problem is I think going meta is against one of the rules here, so it'll have to be a gag... but at least tell me what you think.
Happy Halloween, ladies. *tongue wiggle*
