I Only Hate You.

Chapters

Part 1: They Call her TGPT.
Part 2: She Calls her TTT.
Part 3: They Call her BSBFF.
Part 4: She Calls her HPC.
Part 5: They Call her BBPN
Part 6: They Called her TLM

Part 1: They Call her TGPT.

Crime and punishment; a staple in civilized living. Those that commit a crime are dealt a just punishment. Be it swift and with mercy, or firm and hefty; crime is met with justice no matter the cost. The soiled ilk of France, the lowest of degenerates rot their time away in the galleys of the once beautiful land. Day after day, year after year, the criminal souls that fill the galleys toil away at menial labor as penance for their crimes. None such criminal was more deserving than the thief and runaway Jean Valjean. A man imprisoned for several years for the crime of robbing a baker, and the continued crime of attempting to flee is capture.

Yet today, the thief is to be set free. Allowed to run free among the civilized and conducted members of--

"CUT!" The voice cut over everything in a shrill scream; a scream that demanded attention.

Dozens of men and women came to an sudden halt when the woman's voice came over the narrating voice to the scene. 'Criminals' and 'guards' alike looked down from the rafters of the 'galleys' they were tending too. It was only the first scene of the movie -Les Miserables- and yet someone had already called cut not two minutes in. Eyes shifted to the director at the end of the dock they were shooting the movie on, only to see that he had his face buried in his palms. If the director hadn't called cut...

Voices started to mewl over in the back; actors and stagehands alike. However, a few eyes had already set on the one who called the to the scene. A sharp dressed person in a starch blue petticoat decorated in glittering medals and fine kept ribbons; their silver hair shimmering against the light and capturing specks of the sea air in its otherwise silky wave. One of the stagehands scampered up to them cautiously, taking the most nervous look one could imagine up to look the woman in the eyes. "M-M-Miss Trixie...? Um, only the director is allowed to call... Cut..." the stagehand's resolve fizzled into nothing with every word he said after their eyes met.

Trixie Lulamoon; a more imposing presence than the director and producers put together. Somehow dressing like the Inspector Javert only aided in the overall threatening energy she exhumed. Casually, she brushed off the stagehand with a wave of her hand and a proud beeline strut right for the director. Even over the muddled chatter of the crowds, Trixie's words rang far above any of them while she went towards her boss. "A director is to call cut when the order of the play is disrupted...!" As if talking to the stagehand that approached her, Trixie spoke with an authority.

Passing by one of the newbie actors still looking over their script, Trixie snatched the papers from them with a growl at them when it seemed they were about to protest; silencing the actor in the process. She quickly flipped through the pages while fluidly making her way through the throng of actors and actresses, still voicing her grievances without missing a beat. "And when the director allows a clear disruption to the show slip by, it falls to the star to pick up their slack...!"

With a flap of the script, Trixie waved the pages before the director's face the moment she was in reach of him. Slowly he withdrew his hand from his face with a tired sigh, waiting for Trixie to tell him just what he missed. "On page thirteen, the narration drags on for more then half a page; while the notes to the cameraman dictate that the scene 'roll over all the starving faces of the prisoners'." Trixie pointed out the page as she waved the script right in the director's face.

"Yes, Trixie. Is that a problem? We were running the scene exactly until you--"

"Until I saved your entire filming career," Trixie interjected, "For what could be a minute of screen time, the camera is not on the focal-point of your entire film, nor is the narration involving the key character."

"Trixie, in the narration it explicitly says Jean Valjean. He's the key character in this whole film," The director tried to reason.

"Oh please. No one will see your movie to watch a raggedy old man fumbling about for several scenes..."

"But that's how the play was written, Trixie..." the director found his face in his hands again.

"Yes-yes, I know. I read the book, of course. All in my effort to absorb my character. That's why I believe the cunning Javert would make for a much better focus," a few whispers came from the surrounding cast when Trixie made her suggestion, "Besides... All the world will be waiting on fated breath for moi to appear on screen. Why keep them waiting?"

"But, Trixie, the script's already written! If you had a problem with it--"

"The idea had only come to me now," Trixie dismissed the director with a wave as she turned and headed back to her spot on that 'galleys', "A rewrite to the script should take you no more then a night if you put your mind to it. Even a simpleton can pull that off. In the meantime, while we still have daylight, we best at least perform one musical number to make this day not a total waste."

While the director growled to himself, wringing out one of his own scripts with gritted teeth; Trixie clapped her hands together and drew in everyone's attention as she swept through the throngs of them. "Alright, alright, alright! Come now, everyone! From the top, let's do 'Look Down'."

For a moment, everyone just exchanged confused looks and worried glances to the director, hoping for directions from him. When no one struck up the song at her behest, Trixie grimaced and balled her hands to a fist before screaming at them, sparks of lightning erupting behind her in bright flashes of red and white. "I said sing 'Look Down'!"

Right on cue, every single actor on set jumped to action and ran the scene as if directed by the director himself. Lines of 'criminals' started heaving back massive ropes, dragging in a massive green screen prop that would later be edited to look like a boat, 'guards' patrolled overhead, and everyone started to sing the depressing song; much to Trixie's clear enjoyment. Returning to where she once stood before she saved the movie, a few eyes looked up at her amidst their singing. Vaguely, she could hear a few people singing an oft lyric as "Don't look her in the eye".

That worked just fine for her, and she loved it. People were either enthralled by her greatness, or shaken by power. Either way, she had them all wrapped around her finger.

My name is Trixie Lulamoon Esquire the First. Normally you hear of people not wanting to bore others with the details of their life. But in all honesty, your dull lives could only benefit from hearing the immaculate tale of yours truly. If you're truly lucky, perhaps it will rub off on you and you will be all the better for it. As I wrote in my best selling book -"I'm Trixie, You're Not, Let's Talk About It"- anyone is capable of greatness... Provided they have talent, good looks, and a winning attitude. Lucky for Trixie, I was born with all three. I'm an actress, a singer, a writer, and I'm sinfully attractive. How many other stars can boast that they have an entire generation stroking themselves to self-indulgent stories written by them in honor of me?

Many. But, not the point. I -The Great and Powerful Trixie- only mean to say that I am what some would call a "super star". Ever since that day in the Podunk town... I grew better... I honed my talents past greatness and beyond perfection. In time, the world loved me! I was on every street corner in Manehattan; from bay to bay. As I recall, it was my one woman show of "Les Miserables" that truly skyrocketed me to stardom. Oh, yes... Every role played by Trixie and Trixie alone. True, I had to expend a large quantity of magic to create astral projections of myself en masse... And the ordeal had me held up in a hospital for a few days after... But, the fruits of my labor bore right away.

Job offers came flowing in like water from a broken dam. Contract after contract. Day after day, I grew my fame until I reached the point I reside at now. Absolute fame and recognition. I can not be denied by anyone; I am truly the greatest and most divine creature in the world. This I have no doubt about... No doubt at all.

In my mind, I have no qualms. I mean... What would Trixie have to be irked over? She's rich, she lives in a high-rise abode, has adoring fans, boasts the most beautiful body nature could ever provide... Trixie's life is all but perfect. What could be wrong?

...I hate her. She ruins all of this for me! I cannot enjoy any of this because of her! All Trixie can see is her smug, holier-than-thou face whenever she closes her eyes! She shamed me! Whenever I sleep, I hear that-that-that... That voice! HER voice. Her condescending, self-important voice! The Great and Powerful Trixie has made many an enemy in her time here in Manehattan; competitive performers, uppity executives, slandering writers, creeping fans... But none of them I could ever bring myself to hate. I pity them because they will never measure up to the glory that is I; Trixie Lulamoon.

But her... That purple haired... Cretin. With her... Ugh. I hate her! I can only bring myself to hate her! I hate her! I hate everything about her! How her hair's so flat that it captures moonlight in it like the stream's surface. How she holds herself up as if she were so important; always so modest and picturesque. The way her nose wrinkles around the nostrils when she has something to say that she thinks is so obvious. She... Disgusts me... I hate her. I hate her with all of my being.

As much as Trixie had hoped for the day of filming not to go to waste, the cast and crew were only able to film the first full musical number and a handful of establishing shots for filler. By the time the shoot had wrapped up, the sun had barely moved noticeably in the sky. The day was still young, beating down on the set and crew like the sweltering summer it was. Distressed, confused, and lost with his own work, the director called for everyone to vacate the shooting until tomorrow; when he would hopefully have the rewrites to the script. Most if not all the crew besides Trixie remained on set. Most of the costumes were cut to resemble shabby prisoner clothes, so the sea air brushing against their naked legs and open pockets in their clothes felt better then just returning to some stuffy craft hall or trailer. Trixie on the other hand dismissed herself quietly from the relaxing cast and adjourned herself to her private trailer.

From the outside, one could tell the extensive differences Trixie had done to her trailer when making her order for one. The coloring of the trailer was a bright yellow only broken up by purple-ish hearts and crescent moons; while the roof was an apple red coating. When some asked about why she wanted it to look that way, Trixie would only tell them it was a symbol to her. The interior was nothing to scoff at, however. Fur carpeting dyed a misty blue with accents of white and purple, a leather love seat Trixie was known to 'drama-zone' on, a glass coffee table adorned with a fishbowl absent of fish but filled with cut gems, and a sixty-inch curved television built into the wall; just to name the basic essentials of her traveling home-away-from-home.

A small click came to the inside of the trailer as its owner turned her key to the door. Though the door slid open without a sound, it closed with a bang behind Trixie when she slammed it shut. Not a word was said -but who would a word be given to anyway?- and Trixie flopped down onto her couch. Right at the moment her head fell back and her silver hair draped over the lip of her love seat, a cooling sensation touched to the back of her neck and an ease filled her. A breathy sigh parted from her curled lips and she stretched out her long legs until they draped over the other end of the couch. Oh, yes... That child was right about keeping the ice-pack inside my pillow. So soothing after a long day of dealing with incompetence. Trixie's thoughts drifted inside her head.

A look of peace came to her and she could feel the twisted knots in her breast sooth themselves away. Her chest was finally able to breath; but only just as she felt the constricting feeling of her costume against it when she tried to take a deep breath in. Quickly but calmly so as not to rouse her own temper, Trixie allowed her fingers to glide up her form and undo each button of her petticoat until finally all the air in the world filled her lungs. Two perfect globes only made more alluring by the white undershirt she wore were finally able to spring to their full, unrestrained freedom. Trixie's fingers fell to her midriff, running small circles against her flat belly while she thought. Many thoughts filled her head when she would lay down in her trailer.

Jobs, her next public appearance, who was creeping up on the list of hottest hotties list, what her friends were up to, if she needed to exercise at all -not a chance-, who was the biggest power couple right now and how could she one-up them... All very important to her and took some time to consider. But, lately, another thought was corrupting her mind. Something was pushing its way more and more into her subconscious... And it sickened her.

Behind her on the armrest where her hair had draped over was a red cellular phone. It would never ring, nor did it ever buzz with reminder for her. Then again, Trixie never used reminders since her memory was already beyond photographic. But this phone never rang because it was her personal line; a line only her closest and most beloved people had access to. It was her phone to the outside world that was never tied up with pointless job requests and callbacks. Lazily, her freehand combed the arm of the chair to grab it. Yet, the moment her fingers touched against the cool plastic of it, she froze and a look came about her. Gone was the look of release and relaxation. Now she looked tentative... Unsure.

Just... Tap one, and let the phone ring, Trixie. Simple as that... But it wasn't that simple. Even when she lifted the phone, flipped it open and looked at the cold reflection of herself in the dark screen, she felt uncertain. She shut her eyes tight, thinking it might make the task easier. Her thumb went against the keypad and a low beep came from the phone. The speed-dial booted in and a series of beeps followed as the phone punched in the number for Trixie. The only real conformation Trixie received to tell her she called the right number was the robotic voice of her phone telling her the name of the one in her contacts. Trixie brought the phone to her ear as the tone started to sound...

Beeeeeeeeeeep...

Beeee--

A ruffle of sound came over the line and Trixie immediately felt better. Even when an awkward snort and grumble came in the background of the other line while the person fumbled with the phone, Trixie felt all the better from it. "Hrm... H-Hello?"

"Am I a good person?"

"...Trixie, it's three in the morning here..."

Part 2: She Calls her TTT.

That one sound was so unnerving to children. Maybe that's why no kid ever wants to go to the dentist. It's not the starch white walls, not the creepy smiles always seeming to face them no matter where they were in the office, not even the fact they knew they were losing daylight in what could've been a fun day by being there. Maybe it was those things; who's to say? But one thing's for sure: no kid ever likes to hear that sound.

Reeeeeeeeeeee-zzzzzzzzzzzzz...

The ace in the hole for all dentists. The bane of every little kid sent to those holding chairs. A tool of pure, unadulterated horror... The drill. Granted, only the kids who didn't take care of their teeth ever had to even see the drill; but what child ever took care of their teeth? They all knew about it. Either because they saw it in action, or because their older sibling told them a horror story about how it was used. But we know better now. Those stories were always given dramatic flair to keep our little brothers and sisters awake at night or have them fighting all the way to the dentist so they'd get in trouble with mommy and daddy.

Either way, every kid heard it at some point. Either before it was pressed into their cavity filled tooth, or in the distance as another victim was being claimed before them. It's a traumatizing point in everyone's lives... Everyone except someone who never went to the dentist as a child. Or at all for that matter. To someone who was born with a perfect jaw filled with perfect teeth and flawless bone structure, going to the dentist would seem so trivial. That is until that person was faced with an ultimatum by a producer: Go get a checkup for your teeth, or you're fired.

It was a request Trixie couldn't turn down... This time.

"A grave mistake on my part. Time zones are not my forte. I go on Trixie-Time."

The sound on the other line was quiet for a moment, only small swipes against the receiver from time to time gave Trixie any indication someone was still on the other end. After awhile a tired groan came and went before the speaker seemed to get back on the phone. "That may work for you..." the speaker's words were haggard and only broken up by straining yawns interjected in each sentence, "...but for the rest of us, it puts anyone close to you on an awkward line..."

"Would you rather I call back?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say 'yes'. But, if I do say that, you'll just call in ten minutes and break my sleep again..." the speaker shuffled on the other end again and distant footsteps came over the line, "I guess my day starts now."

"Wonderful," Trixie chirped, "Now, as for the inquiry I posed... Am I a good person?"

The sound of little pellets hitting what one could assume to be a bowl were muddled over the phone-line; that being the only sound that came from the other end of the call to Trixie besides the speaker letting out a high, biting hiss as she held her words. Trixie laid on her sofa for a moment, looking up at the ceiling of her trailer while she awaited an answer to be put to words. But, she already had a gut feeling what it was going to be with how she heard that sound over the phone. "Define good...?"

"So it is true!" Trixie nearly tossed her phone up above her and causing it to flick back shut, but she scrambled to catch it and keep it open. Sitting up, Trixie pouted and hung her head low. If her hair hadn't been groomed back and put into a tie to better suit her role in the movie, her silver strands would have draped over her sad visage. "I truly am a horrible person."

"Horrible's a strong word, Trixie..." Trixie's expression did not move an inch until she heard distant mewing over the phone, "You're not a good person by most stretches of the word. But, you're not horrible... You're arrogant, selfish, and petty."

"...But not horrible?" That somehow made Trixie feel a little better. Maybe that was the arrogance talking; taking the quickest route out of being wrong.

"You're..." the voice paused, but the soft mewing continued and started to multiply as new ones joined in, "...Like a cat. You have your moments of redemption. You can be kind, even helpful at times. But, you're usually always looking out for yourself. You claw when things don't go how you want it; you sneer and pout when attention's off of you. And..."

"And?"

"You're never at fault... But you're ready to have someone else clean up your faults that don't exist." Trixie pursed her lips, her tongue feeling against the back of her teeth.

Those teeth of hers... Perfect by every regard. Pearly white, flawless, and perfectly framed in her mouth. But now? She felt an armor piercing observation wound her and strike right through her.

Whining little toddlers... Trixie sat in the furthest corner of the office. Away from all of the grubby little children and their starstruck parents. The moment she walked in, every eye was on her; even though she was sporting a flawless disguise. A trench-coat, derby, and sunglasses; it worked in all of the movies. And yet, everyone recognized her the second she walked in. Thinking on it now, the two men in suits following her and refering her to "Lady Lulamoon" may have tipped one or two of the people off. After that, it just had to spread like wildfire. Everyone and their mother -literally- was speaking in not-so-hushed voices about the biggest star in the world sitting in this waiting room.

Who was she hear for?

Did she have a niece or nephew to pick up?

Maybe she had a kid of her own?

She looked really good for a woman who gave birth.

Heh. You're telling me.

Stop gawking! I'm sitting right here, Herald!

You're the one who said it!

Each of those comments burned her already hot face. Not so much those last ones, but the first few. Children. Kids. She just had to be here for someone else, right? There couldn't be any other reason, could there? But they all had their answer when a voice called from the front desk. The answer that stunned everyone and put them all in a state of silence.

"Trixie Lulamoon? The doctor's ready for you."

It was such a sickly sweet voice. The voice that all of the receptionists used when they called the patients in. They had to; children responded best to a friendly voice. But to Trixie, it was humiliating... Humiliating that because she never had a dental record, the only dentist that would take her in was a pediatric dentist. Maybe if she took more time to make an appointment... But Trixie never was one to wait.

She stood and walked the stretch of the waiting room, gaining gawking eyes as she passed kids and parents alike. Thank God there were no cameras on any of them... At least she hoped they didn't have any. She never took the time to look and make sure. The less time she spent there, the better. A receptionist led her through the office, passing room after room where other patients were getting treated. All of them too young to understand how juvenile this all was. Still, if she wanted that role...

Trixie was told to sit back and relax in the operatory white the doctor finished up in the other room. Granted they didn't call it an opertory, but Trixie knew what they were called... The role she was applying for was for a nurse in a hospital after all. Trixie had always prided herself on deeply researching every aspect of a role; even the aspects that she would never have to deal with. It was part of her method. So she sat there in the operating chair, putting her disguise on a chair nearby where parents would presumably sit to comfort their crying babies while a half-baked doctor worked them over. Seconds went by...

As too did minutes... And with those minutes went kids finishing their quick checkups and cleanings. But Trixie kept sitting in that room waiting for her doctor. What could be taking them so long? How hard could it be to clean the gunk off of a brat's cavity filled mouth? Trixie tapped her nail against the armrest; impatient.

When Trixie started to get up from the chair after growing bored with waiting, a mint green finger pushed down on her shoulder. It was a small, slender finger, but the force on it felt overwhelming as it forced her back down into the chair. Trixie raised an eyebrow at the green finger, noticing that it was a latex glove after a quick inspection of it. A glove on the hand of a young woman wearing a face mask and a pale green dress. The blue eyes of the woman pinning her down looked over Trixie lazily, studying her from tip to toe. When finally she took her finger off of Trixie's shoulder, she sat herself down in a swivle-stool next to the operating chair Trixie sat herself in.

A moment passed without a word between the two of them. There was only an exchange of angry eyes from Trixie, and uninterested eyes from the doctor or nurse. The woman crossed her legs one over the other and rolled her shoulders, letting out an audible crack from her joints and a deep groan from behind her mask. In that small moment, Trixie found herself thinking that the girl sitting next to her -ocean blue hair with a sky highlight- did not look the part of anyone working in the medical business. "I'm your dentist, little-girl-in-an-adult-body." The woman lazily closed one eye and started to stretch.

"It still hurts, you know..."

"It was a long process as I remember..." the voice on the other end made its first giggle since the call started, "On point again. You're not a bad person. You're a you person. Look... It's like this..." Trixie listened in as the person on the other end shuffled around, the sound of bowls being picked up and something clinking around inside of them. "If I gave my cats their bowl of pet-mix, they'll eat it and expect the same later and every day after... But... What if I gave them my cereal?"

"You have lost me I fear... Where is this analogy going?"

"Bear with me. If I gave them this bowl, they'd be hesitant to eat it. It doesn't smell right to them, it doesn't look right, and it doesn't taste right. But... It's different. And maybe they like different. Maybe when it touches their tongues, they'll love it and always want it. But, next time, it'll be the old pet-mix for them."

"So... Why give them the cereal?"

"Because I'm tired and can't see straight. I might just make that mistake and eat their pet-mix instead. Heh-heh-heh-heh-ehhhhh..." A beat followed and the woman on the other end, clearly more awake now, made a cough, "Not the point though. My point is that to them, it's a random event. And that random event may just change their entire world and everything they do. They want to taste it again, so they start acting different. Pining at me to get it again."

"Yes..." Trixie mused, "I believe I follow..."

A single, random event that changes everything. Something that turns a hissy-kitty into a cat unsure of what it wants and why it wants it. It made sense... Didn't it?

"Now, little-girl-in-an-adult-body," the doctor was standing at the other end of the operating room, her mask off as she pointed at a series of x-rays plastered against a bright screen, "Here's what a toddler's teeth look like," she pointed to the image furthest to the left, "See how small the teeth are? See how they round at the top and how -even though they're just growing in- new teeth are coming in under them?"

Trixie nodded, arms crossed over the bib she was made to wear in the seat. She wanted to spit on the way the doctor talked to her, but the cotton balls wedged against the insides of her teeth prevented her from even saying a clear word.

"Good," her words oozed with patronizing, "Now here's the x-rays of a child I had in here before you. This is breaching doctor-patient confidentiality, but I feel like you just need to see visuals for this," the light the x-rays were on clicked over to the next, "Now this one? This is from a child who had a few teeth fall out over the years from eating too much sugar. See how some of his teeth are starting to rot from around the gums?"

Trixie rolled her eyes, but the doctor ignored her and carried on to the third and final slide. "Now... Here are your teeth..."

The final x-ray flickered on and a bright smile came to the dentist as she looked it over. "It's a medical marvel you know. How at your age, you still have your baby teeth, your teeth are rotting from the inside without showing a hint of damage on the outside, how deeply your baby teeth have rooted themselves into your gums that you can't even feel how horrible this all should feel, and -best of all- somehow you've started to rot the teeth that are supposed to be replacing your baby teeth before they even got out!" The dentist started to laugh to herself, holding her gut and watering at the eyes while Trixie glared at her. "You poor little thing! You poor, poor, poor thing."

"Arf roo rone?" Trixie dryly asked, cotton clogging her words.

"As a matter of fact, little-girl-in-an-adult-body, we are almost done... You said you wanted this all done in one day, right?" The dentist pressed down on a peddle under Trixie's chair with her foot, making the seat lower down as far as it could go and start to recline, "And I pride myself on always getting my job done down to the the letter. So..." Reeeeeeeeeeeee... "Just sit back, relax, and ignore the drill pressing into your teeth as best you can. M'kay? How about we start with the back first, chief?"

Zzzzzzzzz!

"Thank you... I appreciate it. Truly."

"I'm glad... So, what will you do now?"

What was she to do now? She had a piece of her answer; enough an answer to clear her mind if only for now. But only for now. She would have to act on it. And acting on it meant being where the problem was... And that wasn't here. "I will leave the shooting for this movie."

"That's pretty rash... But, it suits you well."

"I will head back to where this started and confront them. Get my answers."

"Great... It's three in the morning here, I haven't a clue what we're talking about any more, and I do not rightfully care if it means I can go back to bed..." The woman on the other end yawned.

"Rest well, my friend. I will be coming soon... After I make a few more calls."

"Uh-huh, that's... That's great..." The artificial state of being awake finally faltered on the woman talking to Trixie.

A dull thud came over the line and Trixie couldn't help herself from flinching. "A...Are you alright?" Trixie got her answer in the form of mewing and soft snoring, "Yes. You're alright." Trixie clicked her phone shut, content with how the talk went.

Part 3: They Call her BSBFF.

The mornings were so quiet. So few people would walk the empty streets of the town that early; ironically making them the empty streets they were in the first place. Aside from the few morning joggers and those with an early commute needed to make it to work, everything outside remained near silent. Which made the library quiet. If no one was filling the streets, no one was making their way to the old library on the outskirts of town. Yet by rare chance, some days would bring the old place a few sparse faces to roam about. They'd skim through books, take the quiet as a cue to study, or opt in to use the vast rows of bookshelves as a place to rendezvous with their lover. The mornings weren't anything to write home about.

The afternoons were so quiet as well. Even as the sound of daily life filled the outside world and thumped against the walls of the library. Inside never had that sort of life to boast about. What few faces came would never stay long for one reason or another. A few quick returns, some fresh checkouts, maybe a purchase if it was a lucky day. But still nothing to impress with. The afternoons were as slow as the mornings without the benefit of the quiet outside. Afternoons just meant someone couldn't take a lunch break because "business would pick up soon".

Evenings were always as quiet as they came. The day was over. Kids were filling the streets only to head back home before mom or dad scolded them, car lights were growing bright so the working man could see himself home, and streetlights flickered on if only to keep the crickets company until daybreak. The only people dipping into the library at that hour were the lazybones trying to return their book right before closing time. They always made it too. Someone wouldn't ever close the shop whenever she saw someone making a mad dash for it. It's the effort that they at least tried to make it that matters; at least that's what they say. All the same, evenings were when the day was done and the night was just to begin.

Looking at it, life at a library was always quiet morning, noon, or night. Never any excitement, never any stress. It was as peaceful as it was quiet each day. And, honestly, that was the life Twilight Sparkle loved. A life encompassed by books and the quiet to enjoy them all. What more could she have asked for? Before meeting all her friends over her life, that would have been enough; to be alone with all the books she could ever read. Now, she'd love nothing more than to share them with anyone who came looking for an adventure, a mystery, a romance, or knowledge.

The library used to be just that: a library. A place filled with old dusty books meant for a scholar to set up shop inside of and maximize their time towards knowledge. And yet, it wasn't long after getting her library from her mentor that Twilight fashioned it into not only a place for anyone to rent out books or buy them, but also her home. She did have to empty out the top level to make enough room for her, but the prospect of never having to leave her 'study' was too good to pass up. Not to mention her assistant Spike needed a place to live.

The original thought was for the two of them to live there and welcome anyone who came to partake of any books they wanted. Even as the years went by, that ideal never faded away. No matter what happened, Twilight and Spike maintained their store and home. A place that freely welcomed anyone looking to learn or just looking for a place to hide from a hot day; friends and strangers alike.

"I'll be honest with you. Not because honesty's my policy or anything. But because I think you need to know," the words she spoke were dry when she addressed the sharply dressed man on the other side of the counter, "We don't want what you're selling, we don't care what you have to tell us, and I don't like your cheap suit."

Even with the face of a beautiful saint and the fiery red and gold hair to go with it, the woman behind the counter's words were like bolts fired from a bow. Sharp, precise, and taking personal shots against the person. The man only made a slew of stuttering objections about how poorly he was being treated while he walked away and out the front door. As the jingle of the door opening and shutting chimed through the empty library, the girl smiled.

Sunset Shimmer owed much to Twilight over the few short years she spent working the library. A place to sleep when no one else would take her, a job where she'd be at her best, and a friendship she treasured more then anything else. She combed one of her loose strands of hair back behind her ear as she thought about everything; resting her hip against the counter she worked at whilst she went into thought. She'd probably get a little scolding when Twilight found out how she handled that guy.

There's no avoiding that. Even as the thought came through her head she still huffed a little sigh as if she had said it aloud. Twilight was far too nice for her own good at times. Both Sunset and Spike could easily recall the time Twilight was on the phone with a telemarketer for two hours because she didn't want to hang up on the person. That was probably a lot of Fluttershy's influence coming through, honestly. Still, Twilight wasn't one to turn anyone away unless she knew them personally as someone that's trouble. Sunset on the other hand, while very much like Twilight in many ways, wasn't so open to accept. If they smelled like trouble, looked like trouble, or acted like trouble, they were trouble. Sunset knew that much.

She was trouble once herself. And it takes a dog to sniff out a dog some times.

"Sunset!" Like a shock to her whole body, Sunset sprung out of her thoughts and looked around the library frantic.

However, when she looked around the empty library, she saw just that: it was empty. That was when she eased up on herself and looked down, knowing now who yelled for her. Sure enough, a little guy near half Sunset's size was standing right next to her and just outside of her frantic field of view. Sunset chuckled a little bashful as she took a few steps away from the little guy. "Sorry Spike. Guess I lost track of time... Your shift now?" Sunset started to rummage through her pocket for the keys to the register.

Spike just as quickly threw his hands up and shook his head. "No, it's fine. Twilight just wanted me to tell you we're closing up early tonight."

"Closing up early?" Sunset drew her hand up and scratched her cheek, "That's... Strange. Usually she's fussy when I suggest we close up early. Remember that time the snow was up to the door frame?"

The two of them were already snickering, but Spike managed an answer. "Yeah. 'Someone might come looking for that new addition on how to survive the arctic!'."

Someone did in fact come looking for that book the after; but the snow was already melted at that point. Sunset swung one leg over the counter, voiding any need to walk around. As she went to lock the front door and turn the little neon sign Twilight was sure about bringing people in to closed, Spike started to fiddle with a little portable box TV Sunset kept at the front counter. Rain, shine, or snow, Twilight would keep the store open. So, Sunset had taken to watching TV at her workplace to help pass the time. "I thought you said we were closing." Sunset called back to Spike.

"Yeah," Spike managed a reply with what little attention he was giving to Sunset while he turned the little box on, "But Twilight didn't want me watching TV upstairs right now."

"So you're hijacking mine?" Even if Sunset was prodding him, it didn't really matter to her. She took to leaning against the other side of the counter to watch whatever it was that Spike was trying to tune into.

"Sorry," Spike peaked over his shoulder to give his friend a sincere look before returning to working the TV, "I just really wanna see this episode. They've been hyping it up for weeks."

Sunset frowned a little from the look she got. Reaching out over the counter, she ruffled Spike's prickly green hair and sighed. "Alright, use it. But I'm going to watch with you. And I warn you... I'm known to critique while the show's on."

For a second Spike turned and looked like he was going to protest. But, before he could, the screen flickered on and sound started to fill the empty library. "Oh! Oh! It's starting!" Spike abandoned whatever he was going to say and glued himself to the screen.

Sunset only shook her head and gave a playful roll of her eyes before joining Spike in watching whatever his show was. Whatever it was it was going to at least pass a few minutes of the day. And anything was better then minding an empty store... Just don't tell Twilight she thought that.

"We interrupt this scheduled showing of 'Planet Rises' for this breaking news! Just three months ago, the filming of the well-anticipated movie 'Les Miserables: A Story Javert' had started; boasting with it the record breaking budget of two-hundred million. And while filming was well off and scenes had been placed and planned out months ahead, the filming has come to a screeching halt just days ago. We asked the director who's name escapes me right now about this stunning development."

"Sir, why are to cancelling production of your film? Was the workload too much for everyone involved?"

"Uhhh... No. No it wasn't that."

"Then why? Why put a stop to a film so many have been anticipating as the next Summer blockbuster?"

"L-Look, can we turn off the cameras for a minute?"

"Is the truth that bad? Are there scandals behind the scenes of such a big budget movie? What are you hiding, sir?"

"I mean... We'd like nothing more then to continue filming. But... We can't."

"Why? Why can't you? The people want to know."

"We... Ummm... We were told not to film for a few days."

"I'm sorry, what? Someone told you not to film?"

"Yes."

"And you listened?"

"Yes."

"Did the studio tell you not to?"

"No... No-no. It was just one person. One of our workers."

"A worker told you to stop, and you did? You dropped all production because of one person."

"That is the gist of it, yes."

"Why didn't you tell them 'no'?"

"They were... Very persuasive."

"Well... Do you know when filming would continue?"

"Again, only a few days. They said they were going to see someone."

"Wait-wait-wait...! They stopped you from filming because they wanted to go visit someone?"

"Again... They were VERY persuasive."

"What did they say that was so persuasive?"

"The rest of the interview cannot be shown due to request from the director and fellow crew. However, he did allow us to tell you all what it was this member of the crew had to say which they found persuasive enough to halt production of all filming. He had but one stipulation: don't tell her I told you... I just now realize that I have divulged that information on live television. That being said, if you are watching this, that did not count. Now, to the message: 'stop filming or the Great Trixie will walk out. Don't think for a second your film will float without my raw acting talent'. We are currently attempting to ascertain the name of the worker who threatened the filming. Now, we return you to your scheduled programming. This is--"

They did not wait for the news broadcast to end. They did not wait for the show to come on. Sunset and Spike simply shut the television off with silence between them. Briefly they exchanged looks to one another; looks of worry in their eyes and faces holding back annoyance. Sunset beat her nails rhythmic against the counter-top she leaned against, biting her bottom lip as she thought. Spike on the other hand heaved a hissing groan between his teeth after a short inhale. "So..." Spike finally spoke up for the two of them.

"I wonder how long it'll take her to get here..." Sunset mumbled.

"Don't know, don't care," Spike walked off towards the spiral stairs leading to the upstairs and his room, "All I know is I'm gonna go make some calls. You gonna stay down here?"

Sunset gave a little nod and drew herself away from the counter, giving a deep stretch upward as she glanced over to Spike. The boy needn't any more information then that and vanished up the stairs. Sunset personally never knew Trixie, but she heard horror stories from Twilight and her friends. That was reason enough not to like the girl. And it was that reason that was why Sunset knew what was going to go down the moment that woman arrived: Trouble.

And this girl was one Sunset was sure Twilight would have no problem with her throwing out on her ear.

Part 4: She Calls her HPC.

Personally I never really understood why someone would stamp "log date" or "journal entry" on their research notes. It sort of detracts from the realism of what you're doing and makes it seem a little cartoony. Just a little silly, if I'm completely honest. I mean, I did that that with all my notes when I was little... It made me feel like a scientist in some way. But back then I was filling balloons with fruit juice to leave out in the snow so they'd freeze and turn into some sort of ball of pure frozen deliciousness; now I'm diluting physical matter in an attempt to make some means of creating blood that can be magnetized to a visible degree. While the short answer to doing that very thing is a "yes" it's a very ehhhhhhh "yes".

The difference between then and now is how serious I'm actually taking it. No longer am I using mom's pots and pans to do my work... Now I have my very own. Really, it was a great birthday present for Applejack to get me a new set. I ended up completely destroying my last set of pots and pans after an... "Interesting reaction" between some pancakes Spike was making that morning and an experimental parasitic gel I was home-brewing. If anything, that new set of dishes from Applejack and those amazing research findings were the only good things to come out of that day...

I keep losing my point here, don't I? Sorry. I haven't slept in... Um... Well I know the sun set at least three times. I shut the blinds after the third sunrise. So... I might have lost track of time. OH! I actually haven't! Spike keeps bringing me dinner, so I just need to count how many plates. See? Even with five days without sleep I can still think on my feet.

...Five days? Yeesh. Maybe I should take a teeny-tiny nap. I'm sure Spike and Sunset will give me an earful the moment I leave my room.

"Twilight, it's not healthy to work so long."

"Twilight, you need to change clothes at every other day."

"Twilight, your eyes look like a raccoon's."

"Twilight, you stink."

Well, Sunset usually tells me that last one regardless of how long I've been working. And -I mean- she's not completely wrong. Heh. But I will say I always smell worlds better than she did when I picked her off the street! I don't know what kind of messes she got herself into while she was out there, but she had the smell of a wet dog that ate a skunk tail first. That doesn't really do it the justice it deserves; but creative descriptions aren't my field of study. Though... How long has it been since she moved in? It has to be more then four months now.

I'm glad she accepted my offer... Spike and I really enjoy her company. She's a great friend and an amazing worker. She can do all of Spike's chores in a quarter the time. Though, that's probably more to do with Spike being half her size, really. Still, it's nice having extra hands around the house as well as the shop. And I won't lie...

I really enjoy having the extra time to research and study more. I used to have to sneak books off of my own shelves during work and read them at the front desk while I was working. I was a real rule breaker. So bad. It was a rush sometimes! But... I did feel guilty after a while... What if someone wanted to take that very book I was reading? They'd never find it! I had it after all; and it wouldn't have been stamped out, so they'd just think it was lost in the store or stolen. Doesn't that sound horrible? So, I stopped doing that...

But thanks to Sunset, I don't have to do that. Now I can just check-out books naturally and have a clear conscience. Which is good because you can't spell conscience without science and you need a conscience to do science!

...I'm more tired than I thought, aren't I? Yeah, I think I'll call it quits for now and head off to sleepy-time-juncture.

The doors of Twilight's library-house were well maintained. In fact, it was one of Spike's weekly chores to make sure each door's aging was properly handled. Lubing the joints, maintaining the locks, cleaning the undersides of the doors; excessive--yes; but there was no sound worse to a library regular than the sound of creaking doors. If the door was opened to fast, it would make a sudden and sharp groan! And if the door was opened to slowly (because everyone always thinks that helps), the creaking would just drone on and on.

CREEEEE! Or.. Creeeeeee-eee-ee-eee...

Neither one was pleasing to the ears. Especially when you're trying to read in a quiet environment; like a library is supposed to be. So it was left to Spike to make sure that sound never-ever existed in their house. And yet, that evening, though each door was checked over and fixed up by Spike the day before; the both heard it.

Creeeeeee-eee-ee-eeee...

Down in the library, Sunset's eyes went wide. She jumped to turn around, looking up the spiral stairs that led to where Spike had left to as well as... She couldn't think about it for long as she saw Spike barreling down the stairs, looking more frantic then Sunset herself. The young boy tripped over himself and bumped into bookcase after bookcase in his frazzled run to Sunset. The moment the two met, Sunset crouched down to meet Spike at his level; both their faces suddenly distraught.

"What do we do?" They both had blurt out the question at the same time, wanting the other to know the answer.

"Me? You know her better!" Sunset hissed, trying to stay quiet in the unlit library.

"What about you? You're the smart one!" Spike quickly shot back.

There was a bag between them both, and clearly neither wanted to be caught with it. And yet...

Creeee-eee-ee-eeee....

Spike ran his hands through his prickly green hair, sweat starting to beat against his younger frame. "Gaaaah! It's like a horror movie! There's always one squeaky door somehow! What do we do?! What do we say?!" Spike grew more and more panicked with each second that went by.

It would not be long until the drowsy beast stirred out from behind her door and into the two's realm. Sunset bit her bottom lip, watching her partner in this continue to break down more than her. All her plans revolved around Twilight stayed held-up in her room, blissfully un-involved with what would transpire the moment "she" arrived. And yet...

Creee-ee...

The door stopped. The footsteps started. More-so sliding feet against wood-paneling rather than footsteps, though. They would have to think of something fast. Sunset drew a coin from her back pocket, brushing some gathered lint off of it while she grabbed Spike by the shoulder. "Alright, alright. Let's be square with each other..." Spike looked at Sunset, slowly regaining his senses, "There is no way we get out of this without one of us telling her the news." Spike whimpered but Sunset continued, "If we don't tell her, she'll find out. If she finds out and knows we didn't tell her, you know how she'll get." The Twilight Disappointment Treatment was stuff of nightmares to them, "So, we'll flip a coin. If you win, I'll tell her. If I win, you'll tell her. Deal?"

Spike drew in a few calming breathes, his shoulders lowering from his defensive state as he nodded. "Y-Yeah, alright. That makes sense. Completely fair."

"Completely fair, right. Heads I win, tails you lose. Ready?" Sunset looked Spike dead in the eyes, face as straight and serious as could be.

"Ready."

The coin flipped from Sunset's thumb and index finger up into the air with a satisfying twirl and chime. When it fall back into Sunset's hand, she revealed it to Spike as tails. "It's tails, Spike. Sorry." Before another word could be said by either, the lights of the library flickered on overhead.

"Guys? You're still down there? I thought I said we could close early today... I said that, right?" Disoriented was her voice, but Twilight Sparkle's voice was unmistakable as it came from the top of the stairs.

In the time it took for Spike to look to where the sound came from and back to where Sunset was, Sunset had hopped the front desk and made a darting bee-line for the front door. She looked back to her young comrade and waved him off a salute before opening the front door and leaving into the drawing night. Spike huffed quietly to himself, but what could he do? He lost the coin flip fair and square. Backing out now would just lead to the scenario Sunset talked about. The idea of getting the "Twilight Disappointment Treatment" made his skin crawl.

"One of these days I'm gonna win a coin toss..." While looking towards the stairs he grumbled to himself.

Twilight's steps were subdue, each one sliding and thumping dull against the base of each step of the stairs as she descended. The stark white coat Spike had seen her in when she first entered her lab was a lot more dingy from the days. Black burns, splashes of unspecified liquids, wear on the coattails... But, the moment he saw her face, aside from the black rings around her eyes that looked much like the 'mask' of a raccoon, the soft and caring features of his dearest friend came through. Twilight stood there on the last step of the stairs with the most tired of looks on her face before yawning and stretching up towards the roof. "Mmm... Evening, Spike... Any news from the front lines?" Twilight may have been joking, but Spike cringed a bit at the question.

There certainly was news, and he was going to have to be the one to give it. After all, he lost the coin toss...

"Wait a second..." Spike narrowed his eyes, looking over his shoulder after Sunset Shimmer.

Twilight tiredly raised a brow, though it only prompted her to start and try to bat some of the sleep from her eyes. "Something wrong, Spike?" She half yawned her question.

How could he have missed it? Spike put the pieces together in his head, making a little click to an imaginary image in his mind. "...Where is she running off to?" The question Spike posed only served to confuse Twilight all the more.

"Just remember to run that little string between your pearly-whites and I promise you -doctor's honor- that you will be blinding those icky boys in no time flat!" The little girl hiding behind her mother's leg couldn't see it due to the mask the woman was wearing, but she could tell there was a big bright smile aimed right at her.

The little girl giggled and hugged her mother's leg all the more. That's what it was all about. Minuette was now content with her patient's reaction and gave all her attention to the parent. "Your daughter did very well in the seat. There was a small bit of inflammation towards her right molars, but it's strictly benign at the moment and will die down in a matter of days if she brushes with the toothbrush we discussed." The mother only nodded a few times to let the dentist know she was listening. "If you have no other questions, please checkout with the receptionist and I'll see you both at her next appointment." Still obscured by the medical mask she wore, her smile failed to come entirely through.

Both patient and mother excused themselves from Minuette and went off to where she directed. Out of sight, Minuette undid the paper facets of her mint-blue mask and took her first breath of fresh air; or at least as fresh as air can be in a dentistry. Heavy cleaning products assaulted her nostrils and lungs the moment she inhaled. But -oh- how she loved that smell and taste after a good checkup. Her lips curled into the most satisfied grin she could have, her arms looping around her own frame in a makeshift hug.

The day was done, the children pleased, and the sun wasn't even fully down yet? A more perfect day could not have been possible unless it started raining milk... Nope, still not happening. It was still a great day nonetheless. Minuette walked to the coatroom near the entrance to the clinic, riffling through big coats, small coats, windbreakers, and the sort until she found her own jacket. She slung it over her shoulder and looked over to the reception desk, still smiling that same smile. "See you tomorrow! I've got a hot date tonight," Minuette's voice was sing-songy as she addressed her receptionist.

Getting a thumbs-up, Minuette readied to walk out into the bright world of her evening. And yet...

"Good, you're still here." That voice... Like nails on wood... The sound of it did not hurt to hear, but it just never sounded like a good thing...

Minuette looked out in front of her at a fair skinned woman standing in her way. The silver hair was a dead giveaway as well as the shriek of her receptionist behind her the moment she saw the woman. Not a shriek of horror or fear... But the shriek of a fan. Minuette's cheery smile dwindled second by second the shriek went on and she had to look at the silver haired woman before her. That hot date with Mr. Drill and cam-shows would not be happening tonight.

Her most high profile "child" had walked in.

Part 5: They Call her BBPN

When I was a young girl, my father took me into the city... To have my teeth ripped apart by a crazy man wearing a white coat. Oh, I heard all the horror stories about this guy. For every finger he had there was a big, twisting metal drill or hook or claw or gun that he'd use to rake and wreck your teeth with. And if he really didn't like you, he'd put a cage in your mouth so you'd never be able to eat noodles again! This man was the worst of the worst; grade "A" scum.

I still remember the glowing review he gave my daddy that day.

"What perfect teeth she has!"

"I've never seen such immaculate enamel!"

"Her gums are better maintained than some of my adult clients!"

None of that really clicked with me as a kid... Partly due to me playing with that sweet mini Etch a Sketch the doctor gave me for being a good girl. But I do remember that daddy was smiling; he was just ecstatic over how well my teeth were. And I remember thinking that this guy who just clawed around in my mouth wasn't nearly as bad as my friends were hooting about. Sure, he scraped my teeth up and pushed his fingers against my tongue and stuff, but it wasn't all that bad.

On the car ride home, daddy told me how proud he was of me. Daddy was hard to impress, honestly... So, in that little kid brain of mine, I got to thinking... Maybe I should give up on my plans to become a princess with a unicorn that shot peppermint-patties and instead focus all that I was on something less amazing...

Even at that young age, I remember thinking how I wanted to make every kid as happy as I was right then and there. Every kid should feel like there wasn't something wrong with their mouth... And no one should be afraid to see someone who was clearly there to help you. I wanted to be a dentist... Like Herbie, the elf that didn't want to make toys. Which I never really got. The boss elf threatened Herbie that if he didn't get to work with making that toy, he was going to get fired. Why didn't he just get fired and become a dentist?

Elf toy makers wanting to be dentists aside, I decided that day in the car I wanted to be a dentist. I wanted to clean teeth for the rest of my life. Which doesn't sound glamorous, but the devil was in the details that I didn't fully get as a itty-bitty kid.

Right out of high-school, I toiled for eight years to get my DDS; all the while daddy cheering me on with pride in his heart... Mom was there too. She just cheered quieter than daddy. Anyway, I got my DDS, mild honors, and fifty bucks from Lyra who said I would drop out and become a mime. I'm sure she was just challenging me with that bet. After all, she still showed up for my graduation with everyone else. Man... They looked so proud. For twenty years I kept saying "I'm gonna be a dentist", and there I was, a certified dentist; a Dental Surgeon.

Granted, even with my professional degree, I decided to work on only children. Why? Early dental care is way more important in my professional opinion... Plus they're all just TOO ADORABLE! UGH! I can't help it! I just wanna pinch their little cheeks and UGGGGGH!

And yet... One person slipped through my cracks. A friend talked me into accepting one adult patient...

"Heeeeello! You've got Minuette DDS, that's Doctor of Dental Surgery. How can I---OH! Red! Heeeeeey! Haven't talked to you in years... Really? You'd think I'd remember that. Anywho! What can I do you for? Got a bleeder with some rotting teeth that needs fixing? Not every day I get--Oh? Yeah, sure. You've got my word. Oaths and stuff. Not a word leaves this call. Sheesh... Well how 'high profile' is 'high profile'?

"...Nah, I've got you. Can't have anyone swarming a place, right? It's not good for the healing process for other patients, it stresses out the client, it's a mess... Yeah. I can see the problem. Being a child star has to suck. A lot of early onset issues arise in those---Huh? Well how old are they...? Red, I deal in pediatric dental care. It's a personal thing. Can't you just---Ugh... You have me over a stump there... No, I understand. Trust and whatever...

"Alright, alright! Just stop shaking...! You are so shaking, I can hear the receiver rubbing against your chin... You do SO do that! Whatever, so who's this celeb I'm gonna have to work on...? Come again...? Oh, wow, Red, I just remembered -damn- I have -like- a dozen or so clients for the next month or so. I'm just swamped here. JUST swamped. I couldn't--No, it has nothing to do--I know that, Red, but--Red. Red? Red! I'm not saying---I can hear it's important but--But it's--Oh you would bring up the braces!

"Look, I just can't... Because a doctor shouldn't mix business with personal, come on... No I'm not being childish! You are...! I don't care what 'special conditions' she has, I won't---I'm sorry...? Really...? Uh-huh. Uh-huh... Fine... Yes, I'll do it. Just-just tell them to be here in the next three hours. I'll fit her in somewhere... Yeah, whatever, you're welcome I guess."

Gushing gums. Mashed molars. Broken bicuspids. Sized-down incisors. Ca-sixes rather than canines. A medical mystery in the mouth. Years of neglectful dental hygiene presented like a preserved time capsule with the outward appearance of a pristine condition. That's what waited for Minuette that day in her chair. It was a slog to work through and a nightmare to get x-rays of... And a nightmare to look at those x-rays when they finally came out. In all her years, she worked with screaming children, whiny brats, and uncooperative toddlers. But in the span of a single operation, she dealt with all three and more at once; and from a full grown adult to make it worse.

But Minuette kept her word. She checked the patient, cleaned their teeth, operated on her, and kept everyone that was there that day in her office's lips zipped that the client was even there. Every moment she regretted allowing Redheart to talk her into the whole mess. But a doctor's duty was to heal anyone they could... Even if it was grade "A" scum.

"Soooooo..." a subtle kick sent Minuette coasting across the room in her wheeled chair until she stopped herself right next to her 'guest' sitting in her operating chair, "Here we are again, Mrs. little-girl-in-an-adult-body," Minuette gave a playful tap to Trixie's nose as she lay there in the operating chair with the most disgruntled scowl, "You, me..." Reeeeeeee! "And Mr. Drilly-Drill!"

Trixie rolled her eyes at how condescending Minuette sounded in this moment, but she remained seated, laying back the way her dentist told her to be; like a 'good girl'. "Lovely. Can I get to my--"

The objections of Trixie were hushed as Minuette -sporting her minty green operating gloves now- pressed a single index finger to the woman's lips. "Ah-ah-ah. None of that. I told you already..." Minuette smiled a sickly sweet grin, displaying her perfect white teeth to her un-amused patient, "You've missed over twenty check-ups, little-girl-in-an-adult-body. So, if you want to talk to me now..." The way Minuette spoke in such a sing-song tone made Trixie want to lose her lunch... Yet that would only make this visit all the more grueling in the end, "...You'll talk while I fix your nasty, nasty... NASTY...! Teeth."

Before a word to object could arise from Trixie, Minuette snapped on a protective mask over her own mouth and started the whir of a her drill before having it dull away as she pressed it up into one of Trixie's teeth. Zzzzzzzzz! A wince and a small yelp were all that Trixie could muster as the vibrations went through her tooth and down to her jaw. "Well it wouldn't hurt so much if you just brushed!" Minuette scolded the adult pediatric patient.

"Y'r 'ra r'ss!" Trixie gurgled out as best she could between her gaping mouth and the metal tool being stabbed around against her teeth.

"Funny, you said something very similar the first time I did this. And I'll tell you the same thing I said back then," with a small jerk of her wrist, Minuette flicked the drill she was using to test around inside of Trixie's mouth, making Trixie kick her foot out in pain, "Each time this hurts is a reminder of a time you should've taken care of your teeth."

Only a minute in and Trixie remembered a dozen or so times she should have brushed... "Sooooo... Little-girl-in-an-adult-body..." Minuette's jerks and twitches of the wrist simmered down as she produced another tool -a small mirror on a stick- and started prodding that around deep in Trixie's widening mouth, "I can't imagine what you're doing in town for. It's not for the high school reunion... That was a year ago. It's not for a check-up... You never come for those. It's not for a movie... You walked out on your current one last time I checked..." She continued to muse all of the things Trixie was not there for, still mentally and physically taking into account all of the problems Trixie had with her teeth this time around.

With a small involuntary spit, Trixie answered Minuette's aimless musing. "Ahm theere fr' 'Fi'righ'."

"Is that so?" Still so entirely sweet in the way she spoke to an almost toxic degree, Minuette smiled under her mask, "Now why would you want to do something like that? Hm? And why bother me with it?"

Trixie shot the doctor a spiteful glare, but relented as she shut her eyes to collect her thoughts. There were many of them in this one-horse town... Many of them throughout the entirety of the world... But this one was the easiest for her to reach... The easiest friend of Twilight's she had. "Ah j'th wn' th'lk wat 'er."

Finally Trixie caught a break as Minuette removed her tools from Trixie's mouth and allowed the woman to rest her jaw for a second. Though her lips were obscured by the mask she wore, Trixie could feel the frown Minuette was making. For a moment, Minuette turned towards the desk opposite of where Trixie sat and began to write a few quick notes down in silence. Trixie ran her hand under her jawline, feeling out the small amount of lasting pain still vibrating through her after the small 'exploratory' work Minuette just subjected her to. The pain, in the end, would be worth it if this visit yielded her all the information she needed.

"...I don't believe you," Minuette's sweet tone was all but dissolved as she turned back around to look Trixie in the eye, "Trixie," for the first time since they met as patient and doctor, Minuette addressed the star by name, "I have known you since you we were little bitty tykes. Sure, probably don't remember me, but I just remember you. And that's why I know you have nothing good to say to her."

Trixie tried to sit up to rebuke the claim, but was swiftly put down as Minuette pushed her palm to Trixie's chest to keep her laying back. "Stay still, I'm almost done..." Minuette reached with her free hand to grab a rinse hose which she promptly popped into Trixie's mouth, setting the flow to a very low speed, "Now, Trixie, listen... I know you're not a bad girl," Minuette sighed with a relenting glance at Trixie laying down, a small surprise in the star's eyes when the doctor said that, "You're a crappy person with one of the worst personalities I've ever known, but you're not bad," that surprise Trixie had died into a dry glare again, "Sooooo... We'll try one last time..." As a bit of water filled Trixie's mouth, Minuette started to suction out the water with another hose while scraping at the backs of some of Trixie's teeth with a small hook, "Why are you here?"

Why?

Why was she here? Trixie knew in some part of her what the answer was even if she didn't truly want to admit it. It was something that pulled her away from the role of her life, to bolt across the country, that kept her awake every night since she felt it. It was her anger and hatred above anything else. A burning desire she and only she knew but one that only a single person could put an end to or have matter in some way. But why was that? She wondered... She sat in a pediatric dentistry wondering that very question. Though she had already known the answer in some way.

With a deep sigh that spat up a small splash of the water still being filled into her open mouth, Trixie relented and looked at Minuette with honest yet angry eyes. "Ah wa' ah' ell 'eh' ah 'a'e 'eh' 'ore den a'wa' elth. Erra' 'icth ah 'et 'eh', ah 'a'e 'eh'... 'Eth..." Trixie tried not to look Minuette in the eyes, her face going a bit red... But maybe that was from the water in her mouth or the lack of air while she spoke, "...Eh-aye 'ath 'othe..."

Minuette's lips pursed slightly, her hand scraping the back of Trixie's teeth stopping for a moment as she looked down at the little-girl-in-an-adult-body.

"Geez Louise, what a buttbag! You alright, Twilight?"

"Yeah... I think I made her mad..."

"Forget her. She's a poopnose."

"No... no I don't believe that. There has to be someway I can make it up to her."

"You didn't do anything! Twilight, sometimes a buttbag is just a buttbag."

"...Alright, Poopnose..." Minuette finished sucking the water from Trixie's mouth and helped her sit up, "I'll believe you... What do you want to know?"

Trixie took a quick moment to spit up into a dish next to where she was sitting before giving her dentist Minuette a thankful grin; her teeth almost looking as perfect as the dentist's herself. However, she quickly shook it off with an embarrassed red to her face. "About time."

"Buttbag..." Minuette mumbled under her breath and behind her mask.

"---So just go down the road here, take a left in about two blocks and you'll be there," outside of the clinic Minuette gave small points down the road for Trixie to follow.

Even with the directions given to her, Trixie scowled at Minuette with crossed arms. "Seriously? It was right there? Tsk... I could've just stumbled around town and found that..." Trixie turned up her nose, but started to smile with a hint of thanks to her.

"Whatever you say, little-girl-in-an-adult-body... Just remember what we talked about," Minuette wagged a finger at her would-be client, "Be a good girl, and the next talk won't have to come with a drilling... Also, we need to talk about a root canal--"

"I best be off then!" Trixie tipped a non-existent hat to Minuette and quickly bolted down the street she was instructed to go.

The dentist watched as her oldest and most childish client fled away from her into the drawing evening. She looked up to the sky, seeing how the sky turned from a bright blue to an oranging red. Certainly a beautiful evening was just around the bend. An evening that had been partly stolen from Minuette by a vindictive silver-haired man-child. But, perhaps there was a bright side... Maybe someone else would have the evening of their life now. All the same, the night had not yet begun and the evening was still young. Minuette rolled her shoulders a bit, electing a little moan of relief from her after an annoying hour of work.

"Alrighty then... Time to get home and--" Before Minuette could finish her thought, she felt something leap up against her back and nearly topple her forward before she caught her footing.

Minuette shot a look over her shoulder startled at what could possibly have hit her, but she quickly smiled sweetly at the familiar sight of green hair. "Well hi, Spike...! Why are you clinging to my back?"

"Because I want answers!" He grunted in a faux tough guy voice, which he quickly dropped for a momentary "Hi, Minuette," back to his newly captured hostage.

Mr. Drill would be playing alone tonight it would seem...

Part 6: They Called her TLM

I hate you...

I hate you all...

I could have been everything! I could have been anything! The world was mine. From the second I drew breath, this world became mine and mine alone. All i asked was that everyone get out of my way and adore me! That's all you had to do. That's all anyone had to do. But, no. No, that was too much for anyone. You all just had to get uppity with me and whine. Whine about how MEAN I was; or how CHILDISH I was being.

None of you understand!

None of you understood.

No one got it...

One could easily imagine the floor she danced upon had been decorated with hot coals with the speed of each of her steps. Her feet lept, strode, pranced and pounced upon the stage at a blinking speed. Each limb acted as a serpent; unpredictable and at times moving in a manner bewildering to the eye, yet always in an elegant and mesmerizing design that held the eye as a slave. One moment she would be at one end of the stage before bounding to the other side with the fluid motion of water across an oiled surface; unmatched and impossible to mistake. The crowds cheered, calling the dancer's name as she displayed footwork beyond their comprehension. As her preference drew on more and more, the floor she was allowed to use diminished as coin and bills alike were sent spilling over her feet from her adoring public.

As the cheers simmered down, the woman drew her feet to a stop and between huffing breathes, she bowed to the collected audience she drew in. Without a word, she went to her knees and began to shovel what coin or cash she could into her arms before any of her 'adoring public' had second thoughts about throwing money at her. Standing up, she couldn't help but show some disappointment at all the leftover money still scattered across the floor. With any luck she could get one of the stage hands to scoop up what was left before anyone else could get to it.

Arms full of her gains from her latest performance, the dancer scampered off pass the curtain of her stage to enter the throng of all the behind the scenes workers mingling about. Her arms tightened around the money she gathered, giving each person she passed a shift eyed glance that they would return in kind. Between each distrusting glance she gave someone, she would look out at the other wagons and trailers that made up her lovely caravan. Among the wagons, she would see other shows still going on; dancers, jugglers, magicians, clowns. All of them performing while other members of the caravan would mix into the audiences they gathered to lighten some purses and wallets.

She would love to ignore the darker trade secrets of the business, but it just came with the territory in the end. And it wasn't that great a secret, honestly. Without a thought more to it, she continued on threw the throng of other caravan actors and thieves until she found herself at the door of one special wagon. Above the door frame, decorated in glittering gold letters was the family name she was born to: Lulamoon.

Shifting the weight of what coins and dollar bills she scrounged up off of the ground against her chest, she struggled to open the door of the wagon. The moment she entered the wagon, she was welcomed by the bright, homey lights of her 'home' interior. As well as a man sitting back in a worn out armchair. The two of them shared a single glance at each other before the man looked at all the money she was carrying. She knew what he was going to say, and she had no intention of hearing it from him today. Much like every other day.

But just like every other day, he started anyway. "This is no life for her."

"'No life for her, no life for her', every day you say it's no life for her. But look at her," the dancer deposited what money she had into a large bin that held a large pile of coins. After which, she knelt down to look at a small girl -no older than five- sitting on a little blue blanket and playing with a 'witch's hat'. The dancer pinched playfully at the little girl's cheek, making both of them giggle. "She couldn't be happier."

"'Couldn't be happier' she says. 'Look at her', bah..." The man huffed, stroking his thumb and index finger against his mustache, "Her mama's dances for horny men's money and her daddy sells desperate people snake oil."

"We do well for ourselves! We always have!" She protested, though tried to keep a kinder tone for the sake of her daughter.

"You tell me to look at her, now you look at her!" The man shot up from his chair and stormed over to sit next to his daughter still playing with the hat her father wore for 'work'. Carefully, he lifted the little child and set her on his lap, placing a hand atop her shimmering, silver haired head. "Gypsies, tramps, thieves... Do you want that for Trixie? Do you want Trixie to be around this her whole life?" He whispered a pleading voice to his wife, still holding his little Trixie close.

For a moment, daughter and mother looked into the other's eyes. So young and unassuming, Trixie could not tell the pain in her mother's eyes. She tried her hardest to force a cheerful smile for Trixie, which made the little girl giggle happily and snuggle up into her father. "...Your sister lives in the next town, right?" Her husband nodded with a solemn look, "We'll... We'll have her take Trixie in... For now. She'll be able to make friends. And go to school..." With gentle tears threatening to break free, the both put their heads against the top of Trixie's, "She'll have a chance to be normal. Our great and very special Trixie..."

I was a just a baby when mom and dad handed me off to my aunt. They thought I'd forget about them, forget everything they taught me... The Great and Powerful Trixie NEVER forgets. I remember all the colorful people we traveled with, all the tricks they taught me, the smell of oils we'd sell as 'cure alls'. I also remember the things they called us when we left somewhere. Gypsies, tramps, thieves; among many more horrible, uncivilized things. The things you would expect from bumpkins and hicks... Like that Jack girl that lives in this town. Uncultured things, honestly. Even then I knew they were just jealous we were smarter than them.

I do wonder though... Could they have guessed leaving me there would be perhaps the worst thing to happen to me?

Coming in and being the new kid in class is a bit hard. New faces to learn, and you're the odd one out. All the seats are assigned so you're left with the dingy one with the broken left leg that makes it all wobble whenever you put books on the table. Every eye falls on you waiting to see you make a bad move that everyone can cling onto. It's a tough way to start...

Coming in and being the new kid in school is a bit harder though. Too many faces to put names to, making you almost sick at the shell-shock of it. Well, maybe not shell-shock but rather culture shock. Everyone's in a clique and you have no idea how to start one or join in on one. You're made an exile to sit alone at lunch, pair up in gym, and teaming up for drama class. It's the shortest end of the stick you could get...

Coming in and being the new kid on the block in a new town is in fact the worst. Take everything said before and amplify it to the umpth-degree. Why are you new? What did you do that brought you here? How many people did you kill? Did they ever find the bodies? When will you tell the truth? You're an enigma and everyone wants to know and will grill you until you tell them exactly what they want to hear. It's a horror story you never wake up from...

Then again, you're only a child when you feel that way. When you're older, you tend to see it not so bleak and horrible. But, you just can never see the reality from way down there when you're so small and young. That's exactly how Trixie felt upon first entering her new elementary school in her new town at the start of her new life. For the first time in her entire life she would be relieving an actual education outside of parlor tricks and card counting. Her aunt told her: "Trixie, no matter what happens, hold your head high and tell yourself 'I'm a Lulamoon'". Frankly, for the first time in her life, she wasn't feeling the magic of her name. Back 'home', she would strut around proud as could be with the knowledge she was a Lulamoon. They were jacks of all trades and the best performers you could ever see. But, something told her no one at this school or any school would 'get it'.

For the most part, on Trixie's first day there, everything went well. Though it all happened so fast for Trixie, she could only remember blurbs of time. A teacher bringing her before the whole class, everyone asking questions about her that the teacher had to answer, people muttering about her as she walked the hallways between classes. It was all a stark contrast compared to her life in the caravans. But, it also felt kind of nice. Kids her own age were everywhere, and some of them had some nice outfits. Sure, some of them were dressed like slumdogs or something, but that wasn't the point. The point was that things were different here. A bit more normal.

Before long, she found herself in the lunch room picking out her meal for the day. The only problem she ran into was at the end of the lunch line; when she had to pick somewhere to sit. Or rather find somewhere to sit. Friends had already conquered table after table, monopolizing every inch of the lunch room and making for Trixie to feel a bit awkward as she peered around while she stood in there out in the open. For a minute she thought she could maybe just sit on the floor and eat her lunch quickly before someone noticed; that was a branding she didn't need on her first day. However, her worries seemed to be answered as she noticed someone waving her down.

For a few seconds that felt like hours to Trixie, she looked at the girl sitting at an almost full table and wondered if she was actually waving her down. Trixie checked behind her and to her sides; no, not a soul was there. The other girl continued to wave Trixie down more feverishly, a wild smile on her face as she laughed at how weird Trixie was being. Trixie honestly didn't want to just stand there all day while people might be staring, so she hurried over to the girl and took a seat at her table.

The moment Trixie's rear hit the black plastic of the lunch room table, the girl that waved her down slammed her hands onto the table and groaned out the most exhausted sound one could think of. The other girls at the table snickered a bit aside from two of them that had their noses firmly planted into heavy books. "Finally! I felt my arm was gonna fall off!" The girl who waved Trixie down -a peppy blue haired girl with white highlights- threw her arms over the table in a faux tired state. "Lyra! Rub my armsies, they're tired!"

A minty green haired girl sitting next to the girl shook her head and started shoveling spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into her open mouth. "M'ah, m'ro! Mmm..." Lyra took a hard swallow, wincing a little as her food slid down her throat, "Ah... You wave, you pave. Pave meaning 'pay', but since pay didn't rhyme with 'wave'---"

The blue haired girl shot back to sitting up, ignoring Lyra as she continued to ramble on. "Welcome, newby! This is the 'cool table', so you're cool now. I'm Minuette, chatty-Cathy hear is Lyra," Lyra gave a little wave as she jammed more potatoes into her mouth, yet still continued to talk all the same, "Over there's Twink," a pink haired girl with a fair complexion smiled and waved a cutesy little hand gesture to Trixie, "The girl with her hand stuck in a jar next to you is Lemon."

"I swear, I came to school with both my hands free," a girl with icy blue hair whined as she waved around her right hand which had been jammed inside of a glass jar that also housed a pickle.

"Mere mo' m'ie'ing mo' m'et m'a mi'mm'le m't?" Lyra coughed out a bit, pointing her spoon in Lemon Hearts' direction.

The girl quietly lowered her head embarrassed, which made the other girls snicker. "Anyway, the two nerd-birds stuck in their books are Moondancer and Twilight." Even as Minuette introduced the two 'nerd-birds', neither one made a motion of greeting the girl. "So that leaves you... Who are you, newby?"

A teacher had introduced her in every class she took part in today. Trixie had never been given the chance to shine, to be who she really was. And now she was given that exact chance. She felt her throat dry for the first time in all her life, too afraid to speak. But she felt it, this was her moment. The moment that would distinguish her for the rest of her life. Trixie cleared her throat and readied her introduction. The one her aunt to her to announce if she ever had the chance. "My name is Trixie Lulamoon; the Great and Powerful Trixie!"

"My name is--"

A small thud interrupted her as one of the 'nerd-birds' lowered her book from her face to finally look at Trixie for herself. In that moment, the two of them looked at one another in a passing eternity. The girl had the biggest purple eyes one could ever see and the neatest, prettiest straight hair with different shades of blues and a little red. The little girl -Twilight if Trixie could recall Minuette's naming- made a little smile as she took in Trixie. "Trixie Lulamoon. You're the newest student to our school and actually just moved into town over the Summer. I remember one of the teachers said you had a talent for magic tricks and the sort. Does that mean you'll be taking part in the talent show tomorrow? I was actually just reading up on some 'sleight of hand' myself and was planning on displaying what I learned tomorrow, actually. I think it'd be rather interesting to see if my studies match your method."

All of the wind was taken out of Trixie's sails and she was left there dead in the water. This Twilight just took her introduction... She spoke with such articulation... And she just challenged her... All in the same breathe. Trixie just sat there stunned; dumbfounded. Now all the other girls (aside from Moondancer who was still reading her book) were looking at Trixie with bated breath. Would she actually be going to the talent show tomorrow? Such a brave move for a new student!

Trixie sat there, looking between each hopeful face looking at her then at the tray of food she took from the lunch line. She didn't even like beans... Why did she take beans? Why did she take a sloppy Joe? Why did she sit at this table? Why did Twilight steal her thunder? All at once, something snapped in Trixie. Something she hadn't felt since her mommy and daddy had her on the road.

Trixie started to laugh. She threw her head back, feigned a hand to her mouth and smirked a devilish smirk. "Oh-ho-ho! Twilight, was it? Certainly you will see I --The Great and Powerful Trixie-- at this talent show. And you shall witness the finest arts of 'sleight of hand' you could ever imagine!" Trixie stood up from the table, still smirking as proud as anyone could be, "Until then, bask in the wonder that is Trixie!" With a fluttering finish to her words, Trixie rolled a bow to Twilight and all her friends before scampering out of the lunch room; a new found confidence within her.

"...You see that, Minuette? You scared another one," Lyra glared at Minuette and made a gesture towards the tray Trixie left behind, "See? She even left her food? Who's gonna eat it now?" Everyone at the table quietly looked at Lyra for a moment, who was still glaring at Minuette, "...Twinkle, pass that Joe."

Everything was to be perfect. I would amaze that Podunk school with my showstopping abilities at their rinky-dink talent show. "Talent show", what a farce it was. A girl telling jokes with a dummy and failing miserably to do anything resembling ventriloquism. Some would-be jock lifting chairs over his head until he dropped one on his foot. Even a teacher doing a clown act... Which was actually sort of funny, I'll admit. It was the nuance of it all. There were so many more cringe worthy acts, but they were simply filler before her act.

Twilight's Magic Act. She signed up just before me. So of course her performance would be right before mine. She pretended to be "let down" that she wouldn't see my act first; but I knew better even then. You always save the best for last. Her act included this young pre-schooler with spiked green hair. A cheap tactic to get "awww" factor.

Her biggest mistake was having only one trick to show. Amateur hour... She sawed her assistant in half; the most overdone trick there is. Oh, but the audience loved it. They were eating out of the palm of her hand. She had them all fooled with her little parlor trick. Fake legs in one box, the assistant pulling their own legs up into the 'first box' to make it look like they were being cut in half; you see it all the time on television now. But EVERYONE loved it.

Which only meant they would LOVE my act all the more...

I will never forget that night...

Three simple tricks: the rings, cards, and my daddy's hat trick.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, you shall be wowed and amazed by the greatest magical styling you have ever seen. Shock and awe shall fill you at each passing moment as I --The Great and Powerful Trixie-- display mind boggling illusions. First, the ever popular Chinese Linking Rings!" In a flurry of motion, Trixie produced from beneath the lavish cape she adorned herself with a set of glittering silver rings.

The whole of the auditorium was filled with playful 'oooo's' and 'ahhhh's' both humoring her and genuinely being interested. Two spotlights were fixed on the young would-be magician as she held center stage, showing off the rings to all the audience to see. With each flick of her wrist, she sent shimmers off of the set of rings she displayed. The room fell into a hush as Trixie threw up her free hand, calling for absolute silence. "Behold! These sterling steel rings are -in fact- solid. Whole pieces of circular metal," Trixie tried to pull the two apart for the audience's information, only for the two rings to clang against one another soundly. "Yes. Perfectly linked together. But how did they get that way? By magic! I shall show you now by making the two of them---!"

CLANG...

"--Separate!" The hushed remained, as too did the linked rings. Trixie's eyes fell to the rings, her lips curved up into a smile, though it started to shake nervously. "O-Of course, without the magic words, no two rings shall come apart. That was merely to show you what would happen without it," parts of the audience chuckled for Trixie's impromptu joke, but the others remained eerily quiet.

"Here we go! Ala--"

CLANG...

"--Kazam!" A cough reverberated through the dark auditorium. Trixie's smile started to shutter even more and she began to clang the rings together feverishly, her expression getting more and more desperate until she heard something from the audience. Laughter. Her eyes were wide and she looked off into the vast dark of the room, hearing small laughs as she tried to pull her rings apart. She felt the cold of the rings between her fingers filling her entire body; growing more and more clammy with each second. Everything felt cold in an instant. Her expression dropped and she simply looked off into the void for what felt like an eternity. Though reality sunk into her within those quick few seconds when she felt something hot brush against her cheek.

Her nerves shot together and she began to laugh and toss the rings aside. "Chinese Ring Tricks, am I right? If it's not made locally..." She tried to laugh it off as she began to dig into the pockets of the cape she wore. Another set of chuckles came from the open void, though they felt condescending instead of uplifting now. "What we need is a little--" her hands fumbled to remove the stacked deck of cards she had stowed away.

As she took them out, the air in front of her was soon filled with white and black as well as the sound of fluttering paper. Her hands felt beyond empty as her cards shot up into the air and fell to her feet in a spectacular display. But not the display she wanted or planned for. As every card fell to the floor, everyone in the crowd started to laugh at the display. Those two spotlights on her began to burn and her entire body felt like stone. She couldn't move, though she was shaking all over. Quickly, she fell to her knees and started to pick up all her cards in a hurry. "P-Pay this no mind! Sometimes the show just has... Accidents," as she tried to dismiss all the mistakes, she grabbed at every card she could get to.

That is until one card below her caught her eye. It was face down, but something was off about it. There was a wet mark on it as she began to look at it. Then another one formed on the back of it; then another. Before she knew it, there were wet marks dabbing across the ground beneath her face and that hot feeling started to stream down her face again. She threw her hands against her face and felt them become warm as well as wet. She tried to fight it, but everything inside her urged her to do it.

Trixie stood up and stormed off the stage, her face buried in her hands. It was all Twilight's fault... She took her confidence away... She ruined her act... She knew this would happen... She had to! She would NEVER forgive her for this. NEVER! Though the spotlights didn't track Trixie as she escaped behind stage, the audience's laughter became an awkward quiet as they heard the young magician screaming back at them. "Stop laughing at me! Stop laughing! This is all your fault! I'm special! I'm Trixie! You can't laugh at me like this! I hate you! This is HER fault!"

"Geez Louise, what a buttbag! You alright, Twilight?"

"Yeah... I think I made her mad..."

"Forget her. She's a poopnose."

"No... no I don't believe that. There has to be someway I can make it up to her."

"You didn't do anything! Twilight, sometimes a buttbag is just a buttbag."

Every year after I tried again for the talent show... She beat me...

For flag day, I challenged her to every event... She beat me...

In middle school, I entered the battle of the bands... She did too... I took second...

I ran for class president... She won!

I auditioned for the play every year...! She took a role and I was background!

I applied to be in our High School's Equestria Games! SHE AND HER FRIENDS GOT IN!

I dropped out of High School to get away from her and become the greatest success in the world! SHE OWNS MY THOUGHTS! I HATE TWILIGHT SPARKLE!

Why did she ruin my life!? Why can't I quit her?!

Why?

...Why?