The Many Lives of Mortimer Matthews

"Well, of course I'm not a pony," said Mortimer to the pair of arm-rippers. He stretched. Whatever it had done, that mutant chicken had really left him with a pair of sore arms.

Mortimer surveyed the two before him. One arm-ripper was orange with no wings and seemed to be very uneasy, and the other was purple with a horn. He decided to break the silence, as the two seemed to be unable to speak.

"My name's Mortimer, but you can call me Mort. How about you?"

"So, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why exactly did nobody notice someone like me walking through their streets?"

"Wait, what?"

"I said, why exactly did nobody no- "

'What did you just say?" Mortimer sighed.

"I said, why exactly d- "

"No, I got what you said. I'm just wondering why you're saying nobody. That's something a foal would say."

"Well, if it's baby talk- "

"There you go again! You're saying baby, like a little foal would say kitty when referring to a cat."

"Okay then, what would you say?"

"I would say nopony."

"You use the name of your own species as a general collective noun? How... intriguing." Mortimer thought for a moment. "Hang on. You said that there were other species who spoke the same language as you. Do they use nopony?"

"I see no reason as to why they would not."

"Maybe because they're a different species? Whereas nobody doesn't just refer to one species in particular."

"True. Anyway, what was your question again?"

Now because Mortimer was not one of those few beings capable of time travel (or breaking the fourth wall), he was not able to skip back to the line break and check what his question was. This whole exchange had the net effect of both sidestepping the question of how nobody/pony had noticed someone like Mortimer walking through the streets, and providing some nice filler.

"I've completely forgotten. But I do have something else I would like to ask."

"Sure, Mort."

"Why is Spike looking at me like that?"

Twilight looked at the little dragon, who was indeed gazing at Mort with a voracious look in his eyes. His mouth was open slightly, and he appeared to be drooling. In other words, perfectly normal behaviour for a young dragon (do not quote me on this).

"Spike!" reprimanded Twilight. "Close your mouth, please. It's not very well-mannered to stare."

"But... he's so... dreamy... " murmered Spike.

"Look, can you get him to stop? Mortimer asked. "It's just that I'm worried he's eyeing me up to eat me, and I've been through that already. Not fun at all."

"I'm not going to eat you... Mort... " the little dragon whispered. "Unless... you want me to... "

"I'm sorry about this, Mort," apologised Twilight hastily. "He's not usually like- Spike! Get Mort's fingers out of your mouth this instant!" Spike withdrew sheepishly. "That behaviour is not appropriate. Go straight to your room!"

As the dragon slunk away, Twilight began frantically apologising once again. Had she hands, she would have wrung them like a bell.

"I am so, so sorry about that, Mort. I've no idea what came over him."

"You may not, but I do.," said Mortimer as he wiped dragon drool onto his shorts.

"What do you mean?" In response to this, Mortimer cleared his throat in an explanatory manner.

"Firstly, did you notice that he was able to suck my hand without crushing it? I certainly did."

"Of course."

"And that makes me think that the whole über-fragility thing only applies to ponies. I mean, otherwise Spike would have taken my hand clean off!"

"Following you so far."

"But if... hang on, is Spike usually attracted to males?"

"Definitely not." Twilight paused. "Mort, did you just say that you were a male?"

"Indirectly, yes."

"Oh. Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"So anyway, I have a suspicion that while ponies kill me messily, I merely am perceived as incredibly attractive when it comes to dragons. The male ones, at least."

The pair mulled this information over for a few seconds, before Mortimer's eyes began to widen. With horror. Just thought that I should make that clear.

"Twilight, by dragons, do you mean cute harmless ones such as Spike, or... " He trailed off.

"No, they're giant fire-breathing flying reptiles."

"Oh, God."

"They aren't very common, though, so you should be safe."

"Yeah. You know what? Don't wanna think about it. Mooooving on, what happens now?"

"Well, I've written a quick letter to Princess Celestia about you, so I should receive a reply any minute now."

Mortimer briefly toyed with the idea of making a comment on the efficiency of the Equestrian postal service, but decided against it.

"Magic?"

"Magic."

It was at this point in time that Mortimer felt that he hated magic, and said so.

"I hate magic."

Twilight's response was rudely interrupted by a shout from Spike's room.

"Soooo... " mused Mortimer thoughtfully. "You're saying that Spike sometimes coughs up letters, and it isn't a serious medical problem?"

"That's right."

"Magic?"

"Magic."

It was at this point in time that Mortimer felt that he hated magic, and said so.

"I hate magic." Twilight suddenly felt as if the code of the Matrix had been altered a sudden sense of déjà vu, and said so.

"Mort, why do you hate magic?"

"Because," said Mortimer by way of explanation, "I am naturally inclined to be immensely distrustful of anything new."

"You seem to be trusting me just fine," pointed out Twilight.

"I am also prone to ignoring my own rules. It's a slight personality flaw on my behalf."

"Now, Mort, I have quite a lot of questions that I want to ask you. First, though, I'm just going to check on Spike. I feel like I was a bit too harsh on him."

"Good idea. Do you mind if I just nip outside for a bit of fresh air?"

"Feel free. I'll be with you in a minute."

She heard the door close as the human (that was what he had called himself, wasn't it?) followed her instruction, and headed towards the stairs. But barely had she reached the foot of the stairs when the door flew open, only to be slammed shut again. She turned around.

Mortimer was leaning heavily against the door, panting slightly. His hair and clothing had become suddenly unkempt, and his shirt was torn.

"What exactly happened to you?"

"Well, Twilight, I have some bad news and some good news. The bad news is that I am never ever going to leave this house again in my lives."

"And the good news?"

"The good news is that I'm never going to be stuck for a- "

This last sentence was cut off, as the door suddenly burst open for the second time, and Mortimer was dragged outside at speed.