|House M.D| Something to Smile About

by ProbableSarcasm

Rating: teen
Tags: Nurse Redheart, Other, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Doctor Whooves, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 12515

What happens when you overuse medication? Besides the obvious overdose, what happens? The opponent the medicine was fighting grows immune, and this is the case with what happened when you try to treat illnesses with magic for generations? Good job.

After the events of Season 8, House lost his reason to smile anymore

Until life as a Doctor sucked him back in, differently than he'd expect.

Either I have died and gone past purgatory and straight to my own personal hell.

Or I stumbled upon another group of idiots who somehow need my help, despite the fact I'm not even the same race as them. Like they would understand what they were doing if they somehow decided to treat the measles with a spell, it would make the bacteria stronger thus you just created more life of super mutants.

Good work, now lets play doctor.

Published 2015-07-28 17:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-09-21 21:23:00 UTC

Prolouge: The Puzzles I Sought

"Somehow, my ability to not care about patients is suddenly affecting you in a way that doesn't effect me,"

I was walking down the hallway, ponies in lab coats and and numerous colors of ugly ties passing the two of us. I would like to subtract one of us from this equation, but Redheart is very persistent with her way of getting it clear to me that I need to be more mindful about what I say to ponies. I, myself, was a human and a very handsome one in fact. My hair was clippered short, I had the stubble that drove girls crazy, also the Vicodin addiction that sealed the deal.

I could get into any girl's pants!

"You just can't tell a foal that he's being a idiot and his mother's being an overprotective nutbrain!" Redheart continued, much... much... much... much to my dismay,

"Not my fault they get their feelings hurt, they expect me to be big on smiles and chipper," I added, stopping by the circular front desk and turning to face the three foot Dean of Medicine. Formally known as Nurse Redheart, she is now Doctor Redheart. Word around the office, she was very nice until I came along. Then again, I noticed a nice shade of blue in the world since I have opened my mouth. That, or the rainbow gay pride pony has managed to completely alter my sense of color perception.

I took the bottle of Vicodin from my jeans pocket and popped two pills, I think, Redheart was giving me a headache.

"It's your fault if you get hurt because you said the wrong thing!" Redheart was even more annoying than Cuddy, or Foreman to be honest. Actually, all three of them were equally as annoying. All three of them big idiots in situations I can only explain in a method of keeping a lung in a incubator, but only one of them had a nice ass though: and that was me.

"Aw, is poor Wittle Red-sweet-heart worried about my well being?" I feigned a swooned voice, making it more obvious I was mocking her. I think she picked up I was mocking.

"If you're mocking my authority, I'll make you do three more clinic hours!" She warned, of course, I never did these clinical hours. Not as fun as treating real ponies with real problems, not a simple Earth Pony and his mother worried about magic not being able to solve something as common as the flu. No. I wanted to think, not just insult ponies, I wanted to do both!

"I'm not mocking your authority, I'm mocking you," I made a poker face and made a condescending-bright look on my face before painfully trudging up the stairs. I missed elevators, but the elevators in this hospital are for patients only. Which is stupid, doctors need to be in fit but that shouldn't mean people like me with a busted leg have to climb stairs. It's absurd.

"House, wait," Redheart called after me, a patient file in her jaws. I took the file, grimacing at the saliva. I hated the way ponies never, or rarely used their hooves around me. It's easier for them just for me to grab it from their teeth using my godsend gift of opposable thumbs. Either God hates me enough, he's trying to divine intervene my life with Wilson's....

Never mind, pretend I never thought that, mystery head dweller.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting with me, which is very nonprofessional," I teased, narrowing my eyes before opening them again. "Although I wouldn't blame you, all the ladies love the walnut wood."

With that, I twirled my cane like a baton. Successfully knocking a tray of food off the cart, and the cart, and a very pissed pegasus. I looked at the cart and didn't even blink. I looked back at the pegasus and with the most genuine voice I could muster, with the pride and Vicodin swallowed, the most sincere words I can think.

"Oops,"

Nailed it.

Thinking back to the hospital before Cuddy quit, this hospital is a lot similar to Princeton. Just more niegh-borly.

Too soon?

I'm not going to deny it, like anyone else in my position right now, I am crazy. Insane in the membrane, loco, nuts, I belong in the madhouse. How do I know this, you might add? Well, one: I'm not an idiot. Acceptance is the first road to recovery from pain, I accept that I'm in pain, I accept I have an addiction to Vicodin, I accept my romantic life is a wreck, I accept I might be Schizophrenic, I accept pain.

What I don't accept, is looking through my office window and seeing a very pesky purple unicorn sitting in my chair. Maybe if I walk fast enough, she won't notice me. Or maybe ponies have the T-Rex mentality, where if I stand still long enough: she won't notice me. Either way, I need to get back in my office to look at the patient folder.

Usually, I'd select my patients selectively. If it bores me, back downstairs it goes. Either in a very creative airplane or a crumbled ball, or I can throw it out the window but Redheart installed a screen protector. I think she wants me to stop throwing cases and start paying attention to them, but I think she needs to tell me that a couple of times and put it in a memo that will rest at the bottom of my trashcan of unimportant notes.

I opened the door to my office and sat across from Twilight Sparkle, possibly the Cameron of this world. I crossed my bad leg over my oter one nd started reading my patient's case. Coma, caused by blunt force trauma to the head. What was to diagnose? She got hit in the head by a piano, which in turn caused her horn to sporadically shot signals. Instead of outwards, it went inwards and fried her brain. She gets a new brain or she dies in a few weeks.

Boring.

I Frisbee tossed the file to the side and leaned back in the chair, looking at Twilight with an eyebrow raised. I breathed in heavily and exhaled, a big and long sigh. I interlocked my fingers and rested my hands on my stomach. I saw her look at the file and confusingly looked back at me, like she never seen me not take a case before. I simply looked at Twilight, my forehead wrinkled as I raised both my eyebrows this time.

"So what's the diagnosis, Doctor? Is my baby going to live?" Twilight glared at me, "What? Too soon?"

"Cadence's miscarriage was this morning, House, you'd think that's a little early?" I love it, she's been around me long enough to finally comprehend the basics of sarcasm. Sadly, she'll never truly understand that being cynical as me is an art. Also, I'd knew I'd get a reaction out of her knowing I just made a remark about the touchy subject of the miscarriage.

"My stripper was also early, but I don't see how that's relevant," I replied, shooting my lips down for my iconic (to me) condescending look. I noticed her chest inhaling are so I cut her off. "Why are you in my chair, do you want me to sit on you? I'll have you know that I'm paid for my services."

"Stop dodging my questions before I ask them," Twilight crossed her arms her lips pouting, she's been dying to know about me. You know, being the only human for an entire melliuim.

"Stop asking me questions you know I'll dodge," I replied, shrugging. "I thought it's that's simple."

"One question?" She pleaded.

"That's your question."

Looking back into the case, I noticed something interesting , my fellow head dwellers, and it caught my eye. There's no sign of magical scarring on the damaged brain, which means the horn did not fire magic. Now, I may not be able to cast magic, but I think I can recognize a problem when I see one. I spent weeks and a year studying Pony biology. I also have hired a extra hand, hoof rather, in situations like this.

Specialist in in Magic, and agreed to work for me in exchange for three bits an hour and information about my life monthly, I have Doctor Twilight Sparkle. I don't know how, but overnight: she managed to get the title of Doctor while it took me an entire year of studying pony biology and 20 years of prior experience to regain my two letters after my name. MD.

She has ties that I want.

And on the other side of the round table, sir author, was Doctor Whooves. An all rounded specialist in neurology, biology, and chemistry (and suspected time traveller). I have to pay him full time without the happy ending. At least I can make fun of him when he's wrong, but he might go back in time and murder me before I even utter my first words.

I looked over the case notes once more and threw two copies of the case on my desk. I wasn't able to convince Redheart for my own department, but enough for my own office with enough space for a desk, sofa, a chalk board for theories, and a chalkboard for lewd drawings.

"Female, age nine, you might know her but I don't," I said, sitting in my chair. I have a computer, but apparently Redheart put a block on my computer to not be able to look up anything that isn't medical related. How else would I be able to look at my favorite soap spoilers? At least there's TV.

"In a coma from a damaged Magical Lobe?" Twilight answered, a Magical Lobe is on the creative side of the brain of a unicorn, buried deep inside of the brain. Nerves and vessels pulse through the lobe, while oxygen and blood is fused together chemically to create a ionic bound. This bond sends the new chemical directly to the horn's Magical Receivers, which makes he horn go bright and make pew pew.

"Dinkie Do?" Doctor Hooves looked up from his coffee, reading the case file.

"Yeah, know her?" I retorted.

"Not enough to leave an impression on her, I know the mother though." Doctor Hooves replied, sipping his coffee more.

Twilight looked back up at me. "She got a piano dropped on her?"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah, piano fell on a foal, sad noises, anything, why is she in a coma?"

"Because she fried her brain because the piano fell on top of her?" Twilight rolled her eyes, crossing her forelegs. "It's common in unicorns who can't control their magic for Magical Discharge to go inwards. The intensity depends on a head injury, a light tap on the head might sting and a bowling ball to the head will obliterate the brain."

Doctor Hooves looked back at me.

"There's no signs of magical scarring," I answered, my eyebrows furrowing. "C'mon, c'mon! Think!"

Doctor Hooves looked up, "Maybe the piano rattled the brain, and she's in a coma from blunt trauma?"

"No way to confirm, and a brain doesn't just magically collapse from the inside." I shot down, "I need something we can test, not just ideas that sound cool!"

Twilight was deep in thought.

"Maybe there's a clot in her magical reciever, and a build up of magical charge caused the Magical Lobe to shut down?" Hooves continued, determined/

"That would have caused her horn to turn as limp as... actually, that's not a image I want to put in your head." I answered.

"Her eyes"

We both looked at Twlight.

We both waited.

"Fine, Doctor Twilight," I said, rolling my eyes, "What about her eyes?"

"If we open her eyes and there's blood, that would confirm a clot in the brain. Or if her eyes are orange, that means the clot is in her magical receiver, if it's green, she is cut off from all magic."

Not a bad idea.

"Confirm with a MRI and a CT scan, and pull it out." I nod my head, Twilight and Hooves stood up.

"What are you going to be doing?" Hooves pressed.

"Sleep, the couch looks comfy." I replied leaping onto the couch with a creak.

"Ahhhh....."

|Case 1: The Doctor is In| Cry Doctor

I had a dream, that one day I could take a nap on my own couch without a random pony just walking into my office and dunking cold water on me. That dream is deader than dead, as I felt the bone chilling ounce of water splash on my face and slither down my nose. I shot my eyes open, but that was a bad idea as more water was still being poured on me.

I shook my head, spitting and snorting, having water and bits of mucus shooting from my nostrils. I sat up and grabbed a napkin off my desk, blowing my nose hard. I took another one to wipe my nose before throwing both of them to the trash, looking at my assailant with a raised eyebrow. If they tried to wake me up by physical contact, waterboarding a doctor is the most next appropriate action.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you all of the Communist secrets!" I faked sobbing, hiding behind my arms. "Just stop waterboarding me!"

"House," The gritted voice of Redheart kind of made my heart jump a little, a little. I lowered my arms and wiped my face with my arms, as unusually bare as they are. I miss my old jacket, the leather one I had when I had that kick-ass bike. Ahh, memories made me emotional. No they didn't, I just said that so you'd think I'm reminiscent of my time at Plainsborough.

As for apparel, I'm sure you're curious, I'm wearing a black T-shirt with a white decal of a human skull on my rib; there was a decal of a deck of aces on the sleeve of the T-shirt. I was wearing worn blue jeans, with some white tape covering my bad leg to act as a brace until those nerds at the science-department can make a knee brace able for a human to wear. I was also wearing blue and grey tennis shoes with a region of the soles colored yellow.

I have a muscle infarction on my quadriceps, an extreme case and it hurts. A lot. and I'll be in pain forever unless I take Vicodin.

On my left hand was bandages, from a peculiar orange farm pony who decided that I needed to learn to shut my mouth. I had the bandages wrapped around my wrist and up to three inches from my elbow, on my right hand was a blue latex glove. I just wanted to wear something on my right hand, as my left hand is already covered. I don't know, judge me if you want to but I don't care.

My hair was clipped short, I decided that it was much easier to contain at my age with short hair. I also been stuck here for a year and some weeks, and I still could not get a clean shave. So I'm forced to cut my outgrown beard to hard stubble, it looks sexy but I think the white and grey hair sort of turns some mares off.

The hospital I'm in has nine floors for everything, completely sectioned for different professions of medicne such as Gastroenterology and Radiology. There was three wings of Green Day Hospital: Emergency Wing/ICU on the right wing, General in the middle wing, and the free Walk-In Clinic on the left side. I didn't completely understand why the ponies decided to split everything so splitting-ly.

If I want to get to the Emergency Wing from the Clinic, it's such a far walk.

I'm considering getting a wheelchair and bribe a nurse to push me around, lord knows those nurses are easy to manipulate if you have the correct amount of bits. That, and if you're the only bipedal organism in this world: you get bonus points for some reason. A lot of ponies admire me for the fact I can walk on two legs comfortably for a long period of time, maybe like forever until I need to sit down. I believe there was a green colored unicorn who really obsesses about me.

I got a restraining order, but she got a pair of boniculars.

Crap, I know how Cuddy feels when I crashed into her house and now I'm feeling bad.

Not really, I don't care.

I drifted my mind back to reality.

"Yes Massa?" I answered with a distorted and most likely racist voice, but I didn't care."

"Don't make me remind you of the last time I had to wake you up," Redheart warned, "Because if I nicely recall it, you got poked in the side by a big needle with no athestics."

"I'll sue for malpractice," I mocked.

"I'll fire you for sleeping on the job," She retorted.

Damn.

"That was low, even for you," I faked pouted.

"Low enough for you?" Redheart asked, crossing her forelegs.

"How low is it until you get under the belt?" I crossed my leg with my cane, "Mine, no human bits for you."

"Get up and go do your job before I drug you again and stick a needle into you," Redheart threatened.

I stopped sleeping in random examine rooms, because I ended up taking a nap in Exam 5 and woke up to a unexpected Lumbar Puncture. I had the right nerve to fire Doctor Hooves for it, but I decided just to use it against him. Maybe I can use it against him to finally tell me he's a time traveler so I can put my suspicions to rest.

"No, noo, no-no," I replied again, again with the racist voice. " Oh no-no-no, no need to fire me."

"House, either you're doing that case I assigned you or your doing clinic hours," Redheart surely had to get tired of telling me to do my job, maybe she'll stop after another three hundred hours owed? "And stop with that voice, you know it's racist to Zebras!"

"I know I got clinic hours, right away Mass, Ohh yess, of yess Massa, No please, Massa, Mmm hmm, I got a patient to attend to Massa!" I waved my hands in front of my heads as I got to my hands and knees to mockingly pray to Redheart. I lowered my head and neck to the floor and my forehead touched her hooves, which she moved with a wierded out look on her face.

Those three words will never be repeated.

Ew

Never.

Ever.

I'm not taking her to church.

I'm not praying to her.

I said that as I slipped out of my office, which painfully reminds me of Wilson's old office. Except with a chalkboard, and a nice paint job of mahogany. I like that color, reminded me of why I became a doctor. The color red, it's bright and in your face; making me feel more energetic. It made me feel fierce, unleash the inner pony in me.

It reminds me of myself.

Except blue is my favorite color.

Maybe I'll paint this room green to piss off Twilight's friend.

[Intermission]

Wait- did she say she'll drug me?

Kinky.

One minute of Clinic Duty, now approximately the rest of my life left of it. I'll never get out of it, I believe it's an endless cycle that Redheart trapped me into like Cuddy did and like Foreman tried to do. Too bad Foreman's not girly enough to seduce me with his annoying and idiotic thinking. Cuddy managed to do it by waving them hips around, I got forced to do it or I'll be smothered by her big ass.

Redheart, well, she scares me.

She has actually done something that Cuddy and Foreman wouldn't do (I'm not sure about Foreman, he would fire me the second I'm not useful), she has actually docked my paycheck. Now mind you, I kind of rely on the wages of being a doctor. My bank account's useless because, you know, I'm dead. The cash on me right now is useless, it's just paper to them.

I sold my paper and coin money for almost equal currency, but I forgot that Medschool is a gold sucking incubus. I was almost broke after that, and I'm damn sure I'm not rich today. I got money to pay for a lease on a house, but I prefer to eat so I live in a flat in the newly extension district of town called: New Ponyville.

Ponyville was a poor town, and the moment I came: everyone wanted to see the great human, I'm a tourist attraction. Ever since then, Ponyville's income has increased drastically to expand upwards and outwards. Green Day General is a big building in the new district, the clinic would be the first thing that you'd see. The Emergency room is on the other side of the building.

I stole a ride down the elevators, I didn't feel like going down those damn stairs. Seriously, let us doctors use the elevators; please, I'm a cripple.

There, my pager beeped sporadically.

My pager connected to the signals sent by Unicorns or by any means of creating signals to bounce through the air. I took a look at my pager and red the message, which is translated from Morse Code. Of course, I had trouble reading the dots and lines for a while and I still do. And as far as I was concerned: as long as I can get to the patient and hear them.

Of course, Dimpy or whatever the patient's name is, is in a coma.

At least they can't lie to me.

I tripped and fell once the doors opened, landing on my hurt leg's knee. I turned around to find an blue pony with rainbow hair, wearing bandages around her side. Rainbow Dash was holding onto the end of my cane with a impish glare, she has this sort of playful vendetta while she's in this hospital. I play along, I don't have a Wilson to talk to, or a Cuddy to get pissy with me (Well, Redheart can and will get pissy with me.)

She never quite healed from the "rain-boom" she keeps pulling off, as the G forces of the phenomenon literally turns her insides to jam: I was assigned to her case prior to this one.

Ah, the conflicting interests that led to my wrist being broken, I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was yesterday.

Actually, it took three weeks to solve it. I wrote her to be in recovery yesterday AND got my wrist broken for being honest.

Honest how the Orange pony and the little yellow pony was an idiot.

"Ah, good one," I admitted it, a glaring smile shot on my face. I got on my thighs and pointed both my index fingers at her with my thumbs bent, I don't have that many friends.

"How could you not see me, I was right beside you!" Rainbow Dash took a step out of the elevators to help me up, like a three foot pony was going to help a grown man whose almost six foot. I stumbled back to my own feet and took my cane back, using my shirt to wipe it clean of her mouth.

Teeth marks.

"I always wanted to be a dentist," I said expecting the marks.

"Really?"

"No, I need a new cane. And I doubt they sell one in my size."

My pager beeped again, and the message was clearer.

"I gotta go, now," I said, putting my cane down

"Aw, now it's going to be bored!"

"That's because your boring." I gave her my iconic (to me) look.

"Bite me," Rainbow Dash retorted with a glare..

I opened the slide door quickly, making my way to the side of the filly's bed. I almost missed the mother, but I hate mothers. Mothers always assume the worst, and while it's not bad to be realistic: it's terrible to be pessimistic. I looked at the monitors and they appeared fine, which was weird, because Twilight practically spammed my pager until I turned it off.

Good thing the grey mare was asleep.

I looked over the filly and looked up to my horrified employees, I felt my body growing colder as I turned the cheek of the Filly. There was bruises forming in streaks along her eye sockets and forehead, reaching her horn. I peeled open her eyes and took out a flashlight, examining her eyes and I almost reeled.

Her irises were dark green outlined with black, pupils red. Her eyeball itself was bloody red, and there was orange fluid has by the tinges of orange on the eye. Twilight looked the most frightened, while Doctor Hooves was busy hurling in the trashcan outside. I looked back at the filly and moved her mane from her horn, expecting the base and tip of it.

There was orange crystal like organisms forming on the base, and I furrowed my brow. The horn was completely cut off from the brain, the horn was manifesting a mind of it's own. Forming magical crystals at the base of the horn to release the pent up magic, there was traces of orange Gak around in her hair. I looked into her ear and was greeted with a fleshy cave of blood created by sores creating holes in the skin and bleeding.

The blood explains the bruising, but not the gak, not the crystals, not the eyes, and especially not the iris. What caused the sores? The gak was environmental varsity found by the entrance of the Everfree Forest due to it's orange color, the crystals were from her horn being cut off from her brain, and her eyes were from the magical receivers being blocked and clogged.

The sores. What caused the sores?!

I turned the comatose filly onto her belly and tilted her head downwards and lifted her body, blood spilling out of her ears onto the pillows and sheets. The mother still blissfully asleep, Jesus it's only 4:00 at night and your filly is bleeding from the ears!

The blood had pooled inside of her head, if there wasn't brain damage already: it's there now. The blood vessels probably already popped, that meant her skull was now a swimming pool of blood and magical chemicals. The Head-down&Body-up treatment is only a temporary relief of a pony bleeding in the mouth or orifice.

The blood dribbled to a steady stream of carmine red when the mother opened her eyes, her yellow eye stretching. I never met either of these ponies, but I swore her left eye traveled upwards. I peered at her and tilted my head and squinted my eyes at her crossed eyes, which caught and peaked my curiosity intensively bad.

"Dinky...?" She blinked the sleep out of her eyes quickly when she saw the blood, she shot up to her hooves with her wings shot open in shock and panic.

She started her shrill shriek, which made my ears want to bleed. "What are you doing to my litle Muffian!? Is that blood?!"

"Get her out of here, NURSE!"

I looked at her monitor and saw her blood pressure was rising, drastically. Dangerously.

This kid needs the blood sucked out of her, now.

"Well are you having fun there, Doctor?!" I glared at the frozen Twilight, then looked at Doctor Hooves who was wiping his face with a napkin. "Call the damn OR, we don't get this lil' brat to surgery her mother's going to wake up to a dead filly!"

That got Twilight moving, the nurses I called earlier moving the grey crossedeyed mother out of the room.

"Can I get some god damn help in here, you useless ponies?!" I screamed, I paid attention to the monitor and noticed a lethal increased spike in the clogged Magical Outflow. "Get me some Epitol, she's going to seize; and it's going to be your fault she dies if you lazy nurses don't get the hell in here!"

I looked back at the filly, who was either blissfully ignorant in her sleep...

Or in agony, afraid.

Alone

|Case 1| Discussion

Author's Note

One of the very few Filler Chapters, I apologize for the shortness but I've been tired.

|Case 1| Discussion

"Only I can touch the chalk board,"

I walked into my office, which contained of three doctors that shouldn't be here at all. Well, I'll allow two of them in here but three's a crowd and four is definitely an orgy. Doctor Hooves, or the pony who can't stand looking at blood but became a doctor. I wondered what he could have been if he wasn't a doctor. What kind of doctor hurls at blood in the ears, especially one caused by holes literally forming in the ears? It's really interesting, but asking Doctor Hooves what he would be if he wasn't a doctor might be boring.

Maybe he'll be a time traveler, still boring.

"You're two hours late, House" Redheart stopped her scribbles on my chalkboard, the best chalkboard in this entire building. Because that chalkboard happens to be my chalkboard, and I'm the best in this entire building. Maybe I'm the best around? I leaned on my cane as Redheart came closer and glared at me, I'm pretty sure she would have gotten in my face if I got back on my hands and knees.

"There's a filly literally bleeding into her head and you sleep in," Redheart snapped, her pearly forever scowl never leaving her face. My guess, I'm going to run out of Vicodin before I relapse into... well... Vicodin. I leaned on my cane with both hands and leaned forward, raising my right eyebrow. "Why is your pager is off?"

"I turned it off," I replied, wrinkling my forehead. "I wanted to sleep at night, and those pagers annoy me."

"The surgeons managed to take the magical cysts on the horn off, thankfully they weren't even benign..." Twilight sighed, I raised my eyebrow at that sentence. Usually not-benign meant cancer, which I don't have a friendly neigh-bor-hooded Wilson-Man to come save this kid in exchange for another failed marriage.

I turned to the other two disappointments I have as doctors, and tapped my cane on the ground. "And for my next trick, I will get answers from the hurling time traveler-"

"I'm not a time traveler," Hooves interrupted.

"-and the grape soda unicorn to tell me the results of the MRI and CT!" I continued, doing jazz-hands.

Both Twilight and Hooves blinked.

"You didn't do it, didn't you?"

"We can't," Hooves answered flatly.

"And here's the part where I tell you how to do your job as doctors," I turned to them, even Redheart turned to them. "Do your jobs you worthless employees, before I start cracking a whip at you."

"Here's the part where I tell you how to do your job as the one in charge," Twilight retorted, her front legs crossed. "She has a chrome plate in her ribs, her skull, and her L.' legs. It's in her file, if you read it."

"I did,"

I didn't, honestly. I like to skip over those things and just not care.

"So, how about that CT Scan I was promised about?" Doctor Redheart, who didn't completely steal my thunder, asked.

"We can't risk another clot in the brain, she'll literally burst," Doctor Hooves answered, "These clots aren't even regular clots, they look more of less..."

"Magical?" Twilight finished.

"Yeah," Hooves finished.

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place, maybe it's in her heart?" Redheart threw my ball at the wall and it bounced back, hitting her in the chest.

"Will we also also find a fairy in her liver?" I pondered, "Maybe we'll get wishes as long as we don't tell anyon-"

"Shut up, House," Redheart snapped, and pretended to flinch.

"Redheart's riding the red river..." River.

"House!" Both Twilight and Cuddy snapped.

"What about enviromentals?" I snatched the chalk away from Redheart and drew Squibb lines, "Her skin is covered in leeches, because she went into the river by Appe-Butt's ("Apple Jack," Twilight interjected) farm. These leeches causes the skin sores, and they get dislodged by ear flickering and baths. They're in her system, riding every blood stream and sucking the life out of every vital organ.

"They are also great for defense, as they clot pathaways and are immune to white-blood cells.." Hooves interrupted.

"Hooves," I called, pulling the q-tip out of it's packaging quickly.

"Hmm?"

"You're fired,"

"Wha--?!" I quickly swabbed his maw of saliva with the q-tip. "What the hell was that?!"

"Rehired," I'm going to see if this guy is a time traveler or not, "Now go pluck those parasites from her brain and obliterate them with radiation."

|Case 1 Solution|Gak is Whack

"So, good news and bad news, ladies and gentlemen," I called over the PA, holding back a very disgruntled nurse back with my gift of longer legs. The clinic was steadily filling with technicolor ponies, most of them for colds that's easily fixable, some of them not having health insurance, and most of them idiots who can't tell in yellow snot means they have Hay Fever or not. "Good news, a filly is about to die of her wounds because none of my doctors are useful."

"Hey!" Cameron snapped, glaring at me intensively. My leg was starting to really hurt now, like a tightening and stabbing pain in my thighs that ping down to my knee. Cameron, on the other hand/hoof, She was sitting on her haunches in front of me, her purple-pinkish irises seemed sharp like a circular saw blade. She had her purple tail folded neatly beside her hooves, her cutie mark was a giant star with multiple little stars. "I already told you what I thought it was!"

Wait, something's not right.

Cameron isn't being bitchy.

And I ran out of Vicodin and I need my Vicodin.

"You're idea will the writing on the grave of Guppy," I retorted, voice still amplified across the Clinic. My leg started to tighten the more I said my employed doctors' names, I don't even know why this is happening but it's painful. I need my Vicodin. "Magic Deformation would only cause her body and her eyes to shrivel up like Chase's testes every time he see's Thirteen, not a coma."

"Whose Chase?" Cameron, stupidly, asked. How could she not know, she's slept with him for a month in a half, most of them in very exotic locations. I'm pretty sure she's doing the same thing with Thirteen, and she's just playing stupid. Either that, or she's really— actually that stupid, I don't know, I need my Vicodin.

"Whose Thirteen?" Foreman asked, and I shot him a shut up and let me concentrate on my sarcasm look.

"Okay, how's Dimpy?" I asked, the microphone still on the entire time.

"Dinky," Foreman corrected, sitting on a chair, sipping what I think is root beer from a cafeteria cup and straw. I need my Vicodin. Foreman's spiky mane was something that I found annoying, which was flipped back down his head. "Besides, you were wrong about the leeches; ultrasound came back empty, back to square one."

"Excuse me, I'm a doctor at work slash cripple slash ex-serial killer slash two feet taller than you." I looked back at the nurse with my voice metaphorically filled with sarcasm, my leg was still being weakly pounded on by a nurse. I nudged her away by bending my knee and extending it again. She gave up and went around the desk, straight into Cuddy's office. I need my Vicodin.

"So, five dollars to whoever can come up with an explanation to a Filly untimely death. Two dollars if you can diagnose her. One dollar if you leave the clinic." I announced over the microphone, my eyes scanning the ponies with hidden acidic eyes. I looked over to the other doctors, and I ended up rolling my eyes. I need my Vicodin.

"So I should tell you her symptoms?" There was an unanimous nod, I need my Vicodin. "Okay then, our patient is in a coma from what looks like Inwards Magical Discharge (IDM), however, there are no signs of Magical Scarring which means no magic was fired at all; her horn is manifesting itself in crystal form, or commonly known as Manifestum Cornu which means there's a build up of Magical Charge.

Her eyes show clotting in her magical receivers, but unlike regular clots, this one can't be pulled out by an Angio-Gram. Our biggest and most deadliest, why is she creating sores mostly around her inner ear and horn? It's not environmental, no way in hell can it be infection, and definitely not lupus."

One pony doctor raised his hoof.

"Yes, you with the bat-ears!" I pointed my cane at him, sort of with an auction-man voice. I internally hissed in pain, and gripped on my thighs as if pressure would relieve the pain in any measure what so ever. "Step right up, don't be shy, I don't bite. I do eat meat and I'm pretty hungry, starving; Sure, I want Pony for lunch, come here!"

If I ever cleared a clinic fast enough in the past with humans, this topples my new record of being the most scary thing since... I don't know... cripples? Even the doctors took the liberty of running out of the hospital like a bat out of... well... a hospital. I think my metaphor flopped, I need my Vicodin.

"House!" I heard a sharp voice behind me, I gripped my cane hard for a moment. The only thing sharper than Redheart's voice was the pain in my leg, and I didn't have any Vicodin to numb it. However much pain I'm feeling, I refuse to be bullied by my boss who doesn't bully me at all and again my metaphor flopped.

Gimme my pills.

"Sweetheart!" A play on her name, while being informal, also obnoxious at the same time. "Have you came to quench thy thirst?"

Redheart flinched at the pet name, a small patch of her snout and cheeks seemed to blush dully, I'm pretty sure the words of the infamous Vince McMahon 'You're fired' forming in her chest as, I'm pretty sure is, frustration and embarrassment quickly surfaced in her piercing blue eyes.

However, the thirst remark flew over her head.

"First of all—" Redheart pulled my cane from my grip, and I landed in the soft cushions of the office chair that the nurses use. Now I was eye level with her, her hooves now digging into my knees as she props herself up to tower over me. Her firm use of dominance, required her hoof pressing against my injured thighs.

"Is it already time for my lap dance?" Cameron and Foreman quickly took a step back, gained their distance before I could flirt with them or Redheart fire them too, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of a pissy Redheart and a flirty, also in pain, Doctor House. Either equally a fate worse than death, especially getting fired by Redheart, she loves to make sure the town knows you're a failure.

"No, shut up," Redheart snarled, leaning on her right intentionally hoof intentionally, causing pressure on my infarction to generate static like pain. Oh god, she might be a sadist, which wouldn't be a problem if I didn't already live in pain almost everyday. I also don't like pain, I need my Vicodin.

Aw god, that hurts worse than any father whose ever punched me out

"First of all, you will never call me that again," Redheart ordered,

"How is your relationship with your therapist, I think you need to give him a call—" I heard Foreman, suspected black time traveler, commented.

"Thank you Foreman!"

"...uh" Foreman looked at Twili—Cameron, whom looked back at Cuddy.

No, that's not right. I shook my head and tried to comprehend that again.

Fooves looked at Camright, who looked at Ruddy.

What the hell...

I shook my head again,

Wait.

"Whose Foreman?" Hooves inquired, his flashlight shining in my eyes. "Pupils normal... despite somepony who pops Vicodin like it's sunflower seeds"

"House," Cuddy looked at me again, this time more confused than anything. "House, are you okay?"

No, she's not here.

Wait.

Hooves was just Foreman moment ago.

What's going on with my head—

Head.

Head

something about the head.

There was something environmental

but what!?

Is it in her hair?

I blinked, and it was like nothing ever happened, no one moved, there were no lingering subconscious of my former doctors.

"Am I understood?!" Redheart snarled, she must have missed my look of breakthrough thinking. I leaned in close to her, and swiped her prescription pad and held it in front of her. I also reached in my own pocket and held out an empty Vicodin bottle, the detoxing of Vicodin is causing me to hallucinate and become confused, obviously the pain is unbearable. I need more.

It was a brief pause before Redheart calmed down.

"Again? You had that refilled two weeks ago!" Cuddy groaned/whined, "You're going to end up overdosing in the next three months."

"House, it's all in your head," Cameron, not even close to bitchy. "Wake up, this isn't a game anymore. You're going to get ponies killed because of your stupid addiction!" There's the bitchiness.

"Sooner or later, you're going to crash," Thirteen commented, "And there'll be no one to pull you out of the wreck if you continue living like this."

"Thirteen's right, you know," Chase, the kiss up, added his two cents. When Cameron glared at him slightly, he got pussy-whipped again. "Okay, so is Cameron, but I'm not saying don't take the pills."

What was happening?

I don't understand.

"Chase!" Foreman chastised, "The whole point of this is to dissuade him from drugs so he stops making out of his head decisions!"

"It's not effecting me, I still get a job and paid, and a medical license."

Don't you own my Department of Diagnostics now?

I still don't understand, are they here now? Are they with me?

"House," A familiar voice called me and I felt my body chill up, this voice actually affecting me.

No, he's not here.

"I'm in pain," I avoided eye contact, the sudden appearance of Cuddy struck me in the heart like a dagger made of ice that was somehow burning my skin off. The other doctors only made my leg's pain go into overdrive, but his voice was like a fireball to my infarction, multiplied by twelve thousand suns.

"...Fine," Redheart took a pin from her pocket protector and wrote me a prescription. She handed it to me, but noticed something on my face, maybe I left some pony blood on my stubble and I was about to be dragged away by Royal Guards. I looked back up, noticing Doctor Twilight, Doctor Hooves, and Doctor Redheart studying my face.

"What?" I wiped my right eye, obvious liquid smearing across my hand.

"If I ever saw another pony in so much anguish, I'd say I was lying..." Doctor Hooves, murmured.

I felt my eye twitch.

"House, this is serious," Twilight cupped my face in her hooves, and I wanted to reel back but I couldn't.

I didn't want to.

"House, you're completely gray." Redheart's eyes widen like a dam exploding. "I mean... completely gray..."

"I miss them," I mumbled, feeling more and more... how can I say... conflicting. I felt at war with my brain, fighting it tooth and cane for dominance over it; and it looks like it's the battle of Gettysburg and I was on the Confederate side, getting my ass kicked I mean, not... you know... racist or anything.

That didn't work.

Something's wrong.

"There's gak in his hair..." Twilight announced, looking at Redheart gravely. "Discord's version of gak."

"Stop worrying about me," I shoved Twilight away, snatching my cane away from Redheart. I stood up, taking a comb from my pocket and marched my way down to Dinky's room.

Opening the slide door to Dinkie's room, I went straight for the grey mare who was petting her pretty pretty filly's mane. Too bad I have to separate them, I closed the door and jammed my walnut finish cane in the handle and pulled tightly: sucessfully locking the door with my own cane.

Yeah, I have two moments before the other ponies can stop me.

"Back off," I pulled the mare out of the way, to which the mare squeaked in horror/surprise. I sent the mare sprawling onto the marble floor, her displaced yellow/amber eyes staring at me in either fear or confusion, maybe both, I grabbed her fore-hoof and wrenched it forwards.

"H–hey!" The mare, or I should say Ditzy from reading the Foal's chart real quick, struggled and squirmed. "L–let me go! I just want to see Dinky get better!"

"Did she go anywhere near the Dark Forest?" I asked, still inspecting her hoof.

"Let me go–"

"Don't dodge the question," I didn't let go of her hoof, "Did she or did she not go to the Darkish Forest?"

"You mean the Everfree forest?!" Ditzy's eyes went wide, I scanned her face for any indication that she was lying. "She never told me she would go anywhere near there!"

"Everybody lies," I snaked, letting her go. She treasured her arm, holding it close to her chest. Ditzy retched dryly, maybe out of fear or out of something else. "And you are too."

"I'm not ly–"

"Your body's lying to you," I retorted. "You're hooves a bruising, despite me never putting any pressure onto it, your gag reflexes are out of control."

Ditzy was silent, I took that as confirmation.

"You work as a mail mare, right?"

"Yeah—"

"Did you get any ink in your eyes, any"

"One—"

"Jesus..."

I turned around and took a comb and fished over Dinky's hair, my head trying to come up with ways to break the news to her. The mare will be devastated, what of the filly...?

There it is.

Orange colored gak.

I grabbed a piece of it, and reeled back in a yelping pain. My fingertips now creating sores and blisters, which were now bursting in blood. I threw the gak onto the ground and stepped back.

"Doctor?!" Ditzy cried out at the sight of my blood, "What happened?! Are you okay?! Is Dinky okay?!"

I looked back at her.

"Better than you will be," I said, "You have Optical Radiation, stage four."

"I... what?"

Using this pony as a base for a mare with Optical Radiation Poisoning, (ORP), we can conclude two things about the diagnosis.

Obviously, the mare will experience the eyeball becoming unwieldy and the iris will travel to other places of the eye, sometimes across the working eye, sometimes random.

This is caused when the radiated optical nerve has became irreplaceable and irreparable, it'll slowly start to mutate the cells in and around the damaged eye before spreading to the brain, where it will kill the host. Afterwards, the mutated cells will keep the body in function, sort of like an undead zombie in a vegetable state.

Best news, She has two years to live.

Worst news, she'll start to become dumber.

Struggling to keep the tears inside, Derpy (I want to call her Derpy) looked back up at me. I was busy wrapping my hand in anti-bacteria and flavorless alcohol wraps, I looked outside to see the other ponies trying to get inside. I took my cane and unlocked the door, holding a piece of orange, now turning blue, gak in a pair of long tweezers.

"Magic coated, so potent it affected me." I declared proudly, even to a worried trio of ponies who were staring at the putty like substance. "Don't touch it, it'll literally rip through your skin and burst muscle."

"House! You're color! It's returning!" Redheart tried to suppress her smile, whilst Twilight and Doctor Hooves looked relieved.

"Ahem," I held the gak up higher. "This."

"That magic...." Twilight bit her lip, she was clicking the gears in her head, running the steam train, solving the rubrix cube, metaphors for thinking.

I'm back,

"That magic is Sombra's... I should have guessed it from the color of her eyes..." Doctor Hooves finished for Twilight; Hooves picked a shaken Derpy off the floor, whom seemed all too eager to embrace the pony. Hey, She needed some comfort from a doctor who hurls at the sight of blood. Also, Hooves owes me one hundred and twenty bits for the DNA test.

Hooves lied: He knew the mother more than he told, given that Dinky Hooves's sound much better than just plain Dinky.

"So, what about the kid...?" Redheart pointed out. "Is she going to life?"

"It's just gak that'll blister the skin and rip her muscles apart," I waited.

"Wha—" Doctor Hooves tried.

"Sh!"

"Hou—"

"SHSH!"

I looked at Twilight with over-exaggerated puppy dog eyes and a pout.

"...Okay, fine—" Twilight rolled her eyes, oh boy I'm enjoying this. "Doctor House, what's the diagnosis?" Her voice was literally dripping in venom of being wrong about Magical Deformation.

Okay, gak is literally everywhere; unless you live in a clean room or you completely scrub your house like a hospital, chances are: everypony's going to experience gak in some shape or form. It's pure logistics, nine out of ten ponies had it's run in with gak.

Gak is poisonous in large consumption, like a buffet of gak will kill you. Gak doesn't react well with stomach acid, and will cause Acid Reflux and vomiting to attempt to rid the body of this putty-like material. However, low particles of gak lives in food sometimes, even on Great Apple Acres.

In this instance, and if my history is correct ("Ahem!" Twilight growled, "You mistook Starswirl the Bearded for Starswirl The Beard, you know nothing about history."), when Sombra was defeated by the Elements of Harmony not too recently: his magic scattered across the planes of Equestria ad possibly further.

Magic isn't just a ionic bond, it's spirtual, emotional, ect. It can latch itself onto virtually anything it wants, for all we know: we could be coated in Rarity's magic and wouldn't even notice until we start speaking fancy.

Sombra's magic is violent, unstable, and very dangerous. His magic is impure, so touching his raw magic will literally kill you in one of the most painful way you can imagine, combine this magic with gak, and you got the excellent way to kill. Unless you have hair of any kind.

Gak cannot effect the hair particles of the mane or the coat of the body. And when magic binds itself into anything, the properties don't change. This is why the sores and blisters only happened inside of Dinky's ear, because that's the most exposed part of the pony body in relation to skin.

Treatment?

Flush the brain completely in distilled saline, replace the horn with a substitute; she should be find in a month or two for the brain to heal from the coma.

"So in general, Gak is whack," I rolled my eyes at the four slack jawed ponies in front of me. "Stick to weed, why are you looking at me like that?"

"You smiled—" Twilight replied.

"House, I've been working with you for almost a year" Redheart added, "I've never seen you more giddy about solving a case, and this was only in three days—"

"Wait, House can smile?" Hooves looked up, looking at me suspiciously. "Are you a changeling?"

"Pay me enough, I can be whatever you want."

"House, this is serious!" Twilight continued, "You're infected with Discord's style of gak! You could be suffering from a number of different illnessess, like depression, like huntington's, like lupus!"

"Oh god, it's never lupus, Twilight, how man times do I have to remind you?" I rolled my eyes.

I looked back at the still unconscious Dinky and winked.

"Everybody smiles."

Author's Note

End of the first case.

Wow.

Today was productive.

I even got the second case starting, so enjoy this!

If you leave a rating, don't forget about commenting! :rainbowkiss: I read all of them and I could learn from them too.

Case 2 and the rest will be better as far as story-wise, think of this like the First Episode of the show: They literally tell you nothing except the characters and the current situation. So you'll see more of the flushed out character and development of the team, not as they battle paradoxical illnesses, but the insanity of Doctor House that ensues.

I'm sure Pinkie'll enjoy the next chapter, as it'll feature her trying to make a poor wittle miserable doctor happy :pinkiehappy:

After this chapter goes live, as of 8/15/2015, I'll be working on the other patient and their problems, so this story will fall under Hiatus for a brief week or so until I can completely perfect the story.

If you have characters you'd like to have diagnosed by House M.D, PM me and we'll work something out.

I'm addicted to you! :heart:

|Case 1 Finale|House's Heartache & Wilson's Headache

Author's Note

A motive for House's reasons to avoid thinking of Wilson but not about.

In the form of a side story.

A short story.

Enjoy! :heart:

|Case 1 Finale|House's Heartache & Wilson's Headache

"House..." I looked up from my motorcycle, the unfair uncertainties and some what pointless questions flooded my mind. I was concerned about House, and his reaction to my cancer. I wanted him to understand that whatever he did, just to give me a few more months, if not weeks, of life had completely destroyed his many years at it. For once, I had accepted my fate of cancer; I'm not going to beat it and I'm not even going to bother trying.

I'm an oncologist, not a pessimistic pushover I was a few years ago. Those years of House walking over me, all those years of him taunting me, robbing me, having a detective freeze my bank account, forging my name, and many many countless of other sins he's committed to me; I have always been there for him, I just wanted to help him, to make him less miserable, for him to actually smile out of happiness rather than satisfaction or a high from Vicodin.

Why did I stick with him, if all he's ever done is treat me like absolutely dog crap in a lunch bag, that's been lit on fire, on a welcome mat?

Honestly, I've searched for the answers for hours — days — weeks on end, but the stubborn bastard just won't crack.

"Hmph—?" House looked up from his rather large apple fritter, with lots of fatty 'fruits' and a diabetic's paradise of powdered sugar on it. I guess he thought I wanted a piece because he offered me sum, to which I tactfully turned down but I think my eyes betrayed my actions. Maybe he looked at my shoes and got worried about how tight they were, or if I'm lying or some of his weird... yet awfully convincing philosophy about how if my nose grows one millimeter taller, I'm telling the truth but if I decided to bring a chicken to work: I'm lying.

Everybody lies, I guess.

"What?" House asked, wiping his face and hands on a napkin. "Ready to go again? I barely bent my knees to attempt getting off of this damn machine."

I chuckled softly, holding the urge just to sit there and just cry. The stinging and prickling felt like ants trying to escape my eye sockets, I sniffed, the sadness betraying my attempts to hold back my tears. My emotions overpowered my attempt at logical thinking, and it only hit me harder than I imagined, because it hurt me so god damn bad; Despite every bad thing that he's done for me, I feared for his safety to himself. I feared his own mind, because when I'm gone: what's there left for him? Nothing.

There's nothing for him.

He gave up everything for me, and it made me feel special at first

but it only grew to pain.

Nothing but the pain for the eventual death.

And if I have to leave, I wished that I would just leave.

Because his lingering presence only added fuel to my hurt.

And every pain that I feel right now just feels too real.

Too real to be a nightmare.

Too real to be anything else but reality.

But I don't, I don't leave.

I want to be with him for my last days.

Not because of my own selfish intent.

Not romance.

He has no one who will be there, and I finally see all the pain.

Not just the few glimpse of it, not just enough to know he's miserable.

I see his mental scars, I see that he bleeds internally and as much as he was a narcissist

He never flaunted them unless he was asked.

Unless he was provoked.

Unlike me, who took every opportunity to let it known as if it was my first line of defense.

I don't know what I feel, but whatever it is:

I never needed him as much as I needed oxygen before.

Because he needs me as desperately as he needs oxygen.

And that's selfish, I know.

I shakily took off my sunglasses and my helmet, turning the ignition off of my motorcycle. The tears falling slowly, but freely.

But my heart still hurt, not as much as my head.

"What will you do—" I began to ponder him, starting to stare deep into the slowly torrents of pain in the blue void that was his eyes eyes, the last piece of his humanity still clinging desperately in his eyes. It pained me to know that I was still the only thing that separated him and being alone, and to know that I was leaving him very shortly really really struck me in the heart, and made me think from time to time; what if I just stuck with the chemo; to keep him company before he loses it all? I can't even begin to comprehend when that pain will eventually—

I meant to use inevitable, but that word only causes my tears to fall harder. I wiped my eyes, knowing I had House's full attention. I heard the gravel beneath us crunch as House pulled me off of the motorcycle and onto the side railing, sitting next to me with his piercing eyes watching my face. As eerie as it was, he watched me cry like Walter White watched that woman choke on that one show, however, I swear I saw his eyes water slightly but that thought wasn't entertained as House, being House, pushed his feelings into the void that was his eyes.

I stumbled on my words, my own consciousnesses catching up with me as I tried to finish my question. I couldn't find the right words, as if my mind had been sucked dry by a vampire of the brain. I couldn't stop the tears from falling, and I feared the verbal repercussions that would soon follow, because House being House, would quickly swoop the opportunity to make me feel more like crap. I was looked back up to see him offering tissues that he's been keeping in his jacket's pocket, I suspect as much.

I took them, hoping they weren't the same napkins he used to wipe his face with. I took them to dry my face, trying to steady my breathing.

Through that whole scene, House didn't say an entire word.

Waiting for me to finish my question.

"What will you do... when I do go...?" I asked him, looking at him with shaky eyes.

"Besides the obvious drinking, crying, mourning?" House of course had to be an ass. But before I could reply, he cut me off. "I would visit your grave, everyday, for as long as my life means something to me."

"Promise me you'll stay yourself," I knew that was pointless. House would never promise that. "Promise me you won't hurt yourself because I'm gone..."

"If I did, then my life wouldn't be meaningful, would it?" House, still being an ass, but his words actually comforted me. "C'mon, we still got one more week. It's California in a few more miles.

We stood up, but I embraced him, tightly. Hugging him.

And if I told this story to anyone other than myself: you'd say I was lying.

But House hugged me back, and I knew he had tears running off of my shoulder and down my back.

House

I shot up in my blankets, the image of Wilson never leaving my head.

I reached for my Vicodin.

My heart hurt more than my leg.

My heart broke more than Scootaloo's wings.

My heart burned worse than that orange gak.

I twisted open the bottle and just pour a mouthful, I don't care if I overdose today.

I want my heart to stop hurting.

I want to stop missing Wilson.

I can't stop mourning him, and it was hypocritical.

I want to stop feeling alone.

Alone

Random Snippet|April Fools|

Author's Note

Far too long without a chapter.

Here's proof that this story isn't dead.

Random Snippet|April Fools|

"That's a gosh darn lie an' you know it!"

"Great, you're the idiot you make out to be," I retorted, simply walking down the corridor with a undeniable swagger. One case done that took less than twelve minutes, an all time best! I mean, this case was the most mind bending if I had to take so long to diagnose her with pony pox, such a simple disease that could potentially be so hard to get across her thick skull.

It was pony pox season, and it took less than twelve minutes to solve, if you didn't catch my no where near obvious attempt at sarcasm. Oh who am I kidding, this pony would never understand that sarcasm and lies are two arts of it's same, it's almost funny insulting her when she doesn't even understand. Although, insulting someone who does, well, that's a different story for another day.

"And don't forget who broke that 'arm' of yours!" Applejack growled, having no trouble with my pace, which was to quickly get as far as possible from this orange pony.

"You say that like you're proud of it," I quipped, returning my eye contact to her generally oversized eyes. Pony biology is just too wierd for me. "Spoken like a true psychopath."

"It takes one to know one!" Applejack snapped, "and I ain't no psychopath!"

"So you are the idiot you make out to be?" I jeered, "I knew it!"

"Why do ya' have to be so cruel?" Applejack hissed, and it lead to me shrugging.

"Why do you have to be so sexy?"

Applejack did a double take, her eyes widen and her face flushed in indignation and possible embarrassment. I mean, if her face turns anymore red and warm: I'm going to roast a marshmallow over her head. "Wait, what!?"

"April Fools" I looked back at the clock to see if that connected, and I'm only a few minutes away from April First. "Aw, oh god, hold on a second."

"Uh... whats April Fools..?"

"Shush," I kept looking at my watch, waiting for the Twelve O'Clock.

"We're not even going to--"

I held up my hand, trying to silence her. I fell to my hands and knees purposefully and lowered by head, as if I'm crying over someone in the most dramatic ways and uncool way ever. "My joke has flopped, I must grieve."

"House,"

"Silence woman, my sarcasm has not yet fallen and I will use it--" I opened my eyes to find Redheart looking over me with unimpressed look.

I blinked.

"It's a succubus!" I cried, holding my cane over me as I pretended to cower.

"Excuse me?"

"April Fools?"

|Case Two: Find Yourself| Pulling the Luck

SOMETHING TO SMILE ABOUT
Case Two—Find Yourself
By CondesendingSarcasm

I like to think of myself as a person who believes in life choices.

Okay, maybe that just sounds asinine – but if you think about it for a couple of seconds and take me as the drug addict I am, who believes he’s living in a world with technicolored ponies and the occasional magical dragon, I am smarter than your average person.

I believe in taking control of my life, my life choices are mine to make and mine alone. I don’t believe in a god—

Okay! Maybe the white horse hybrid is a literal goddess, but I refuse to worship her as such. I’m not ruining my perfectly good pants, as torn as they are now, just to bow to some sun-horse who has no divine intervention of my life.

Having gods for various things, things that are easily explained with scientific proof, and being expected – not a choice in the matter – to bow is just undermining my ideology of being a free thinker and as a man of science.

That, and a goddess of love is just stupid to have. I can come up with twenty different gods right now – and I can claim I have the power of Jesus Christ – but I don’t have a messiah complex or a god complex.

I’m just not bowing to a white horse with a horn and wings for the reasons that I would worship my own mother for. What has this freak of nature done for me is raise the sun and take my takes at a socialist rate.

“Princess Celestia!” Yeah, fuck this winged horse. “Welcome to my office, is it time for my trip to the moon? I heard it was made of cheese.”

In front of me is the princess without a king or queen, my two worthless ‘doctors’ who are bowing to either Allah or the princess, and at least three guards who are glaring at me with enough fire in their eyes to challenge the sun. I flash the guards a quick smile before looking back to Celestia.

“Oh yes, you brought your dogs!” A scowl from Twilight, a raised eyebrow from Celestia, and a disappointed look on Doctor Hooves. “Can I pet them, please?”

“Maybe later, Doctor House, you have a task to do for me if it’s not an inconvenient,” Celestia’s voice was always patient, tact as always. Such a voice that just rattles in noble-like softness.

I hate it.

“Actually, I’m busy with Clinic Duty.” It’s not a lie if it’s the truth, I need to do Clinic Duty for the rest of my life in exchange for Vicodin. Speaking of Vicodin, I have at least two pills swirling in my mouth with my saliva. “Besides, the case sounds boring. I mean, burns?”

The taste of pills stains my tongue in bitterness, it tastes horrible but great at the same time. Celestia knows of my addiction, and she doesn’t approve of it but there’s not a thing she can do about it.

“Doctor House, we both know that’s false,” I swallow as she clears her throat. “I realize that you dislike me—”

“Could I change my answer to ‘despise’?” I scowl at her, my face crinkling up because of how old I am. There’s a reason why I hate these ponies even more than human beings, and I’m sure you’ll find out why. “I really feel like we gotten so close – you know – with the whole imprisonment at first glance.”

“I apologized, Doctor House, and even compensated you with a position on my Royal Medical Team,” I stop leaning on my cane and end up walking around them, hoping to get as far away as possible.

“It didn’t occur to you that I might have had hard feelings about being interrogated by the Captain of your guard-dogs? I finally got the feeling of being water-boarded out of my body.”

Celestia glares, but I simply shrug it off. “They did no such thing, Doctor House!”

“Oh right, I couldn’t tell the difference of being denied health care and lack a proper cell wasn’t interrogation. “I scoff again, standing up from the bench that I currently sit in. “My mistake—the days of cuddling up to the cold ground while I writhe in pain might have just clouded my judgment about you.”

“House—” Celestia begins, but I cut her off.

“What about the ponies who are locked up in that wine cellar you call prison? Some of them were there for life because they had the audacity to arrive in your audience without instructions!” My turn to glare. Celestia didn’t, surprisingly, retaliate. “You left them to die and would have done the same to me if I wasn’t such a sexy thing!”

“You give yourself too much credit…” I hear Hooves say, but I ignore him.

“Regardless, you would have left me to die if you could have gotten away with it – like everyone else in that prison,” I wrap up this rant of mine. “Yeah, I don’t want to work for the very person who tried to let me rot in jail. Excuse me for my bipedal and sexy body, but I was dragged off because you thought your rule and power was threatened. Then you asserted your power by denying me Vicodin for my leg, because I wasn’t asking nicely.”

“House!” Twilight interjects. I shoot her a glare and a scowl.

“Could you, for once, sit still and just stay out of things that doesn’t concern you?”

Twilight steps down, hurt flashing across her face for a moment before it disappears. Damn these ponies are good at their ability to hide feelings.

“I don’t just dislike you, but you’re the best example of someone who uses theirnpower as a front to defend their actions.” I tap my cane on the ground, “I will never bow to you, because I don’t believe in Taxation without Representation – and being locked in a dungeon for ten days with barely anything – but there’s not a damn thing I can do about that. I can tell you where you can stick this case in, however!” I walk around them, both Twilight and Hooves had stopped bowing long before my rant – but now they look at me with either sympathetic eyes or with eyes fearing what Celestia would do to me.

The guards, on the other neck of the woods, didn’t stop me from leaving – something completely different than what they usually do when ponies try to leave Celestia’s presence.

“Doctor House, wait,” I managed to get three steps before the princess speaks up again. I growl and don’t turn around to face her. “I will pay you personally to take this case.”

Okay then, how much is in your wallet fair maiden?

“Isn’t bribery a federal offense?” I stop, my attention only on the amount of bits I’ll receive. I inwardly groan as I turn around to face Celestia. I notice Celestia had a look of remorse but it flushes away when I got a peek of it.

I thought for a minute, deciding my options of getting potentially rich… House being House—

“No still means no,” I turn again, walking further down the hallway. “Because you can’t afford my services! I will not give you the Sunny D, Celestia, if you can make up for all the negative feelings I have about you when I hit the sack!”

“Where are you going?” Hooves asked.

“To hit the sack and then possibly take a nap.”

I stop.

“House! Don’t punish me by denying him as a patient! Please!” Celestia takes a step after me, her eyes pleading. “Your quarrel is with me—and me alone! Please don’t let others suffer because you hate me!”

I turn around again, the amount of ‘trolling’ making a smug look on my face.

Of course I was going to take the case, I need every excuse out of clinic duty possible! Anything is better than a idiot parent who thinks they know more than me.

“All you had to say was please.”

“Wrong,”

“But what if it’s—”

“Wrong,”

“Doc!” I look up again from my Gameboy, Applejack baring her teeth at me in frustration. I look at my prized horse in the mouth and notice that her dental hygiene is worse than mine.

“What?” I asked, sitting on the examination table. I look to my left to see a seemingly fine Applebloom, but the way she a angles her left ear was off. Maybe she has something that reacting to the sensitive nerves of the eardrums?

“At least look at mah sis’!” Applejack snarls, “Since ya don’t want my input!”

“You think she has tetanus, you idiot,” I pass the Gameboy to Applebloom. Of course, the alien object it was – and lack of fingers – she drops the device onto the ground. I give her a look and she smiles awkwardly, and sheepishly, but I’ll let it slide.

“We work around a lot of metals, so it would only be right to assume—”

“Does she ever shut up?” I ask Applebloom, completely ignoring Apple-hack.

“Mm-Mm!” Applebloom shakes her head, but winces in pain. Holding her left ear.

“Hey! This is serious, Doc!”

“I forgot my fuck on Earth, where’s the direction to the nearest rocket?” I glare at Applejack, who seems to pipe down whenever I swear. Applebloom snickers at my words, but I ignore the eleven year old who has no idea what is in her ear. “There’s a reason I didn’t ask you what’s wrong with her, Applejack, so stop bugging me.”

“Lie,” Applejack rolls her eyes. Okay, for the fifty-three thousandth time, she caught me on a lie. I just wanted her to shut up and let me do my job.

I take out a magnifier and turned on the light of the handheld item. I took pliers from my pocket as well and hold Applebloom’s ear still as I peered into her ear. I find what I was looking for and then pull it out, holding up a leech who was sucking on the inside of her ear.

“That was sloppy, House,” I whip around behind me, Applejack doing the same. Both of our jaws slowly parting. I drop my tools as I stare at the Australian more, no way he’s here – not now not ever. So does this undermine my death theory…?

“What took you so long, Chase?”