Shattered Diamond

Written Script
423 Friendship Lane
Ponyville

4th August 1003

Spoiled Rich
999 Snob Hill
Ponyville

Dear Mrs. Rich:

For the bloody umpteenth time, no means no. Are we quite clear with this? Probably not, given your low brain cells but if I must repeat myself, I shall. I am not having your daughter moved to the upper classes. She is an elementary level student and that’s the end of that, despite your delusions of grandeur that might say or imply otherwise. While I grant you she might be a smart little bugger, (Some might say smart-arsed if I’m too believe the rumors) I honestly, HIGHLY, in fact, doubt she is ready to be moved upwards to my level of teaching. To be honest, I would actually be concerned for her safety, scary and surprising (In more ways than one, yes, I do indeed have a heart despite all evidence to the contrary) as it may be. You see, some of the other students that are such a… delight to teach really do not like arrogant little fillies throwing their money around right and left and deriding those they believe below their station. Which, from what I hear of your snot-nosed daughter who was probably, thanks to you, raised that everything was hers and that she was entitled to it, fits her to a T. Or should that be a D? I don’t care. Honestly, I really couldn’t give jack-squat as to what she’s called. The only kids I could give a damn about are my own, and the ones I teach. They’re my concern, and last I checked, I do not teach your daughter, therefore I am not concerned one jot about her. Are we clear? ...I doubt any of this has reached you, arrogant and snobbish as you are, but I believe we’re done.

P.S. Don’t try and contact the principal about this. I’ve already asked any letters from you to be sent towards (Forwarded really, if you pardon the frankly terrible joke on my end of things.) the paper shredder he so delightfully keeps in his office.

Sincerely Yours: Written Script

Ponyville: Script residence: 11:00 AM

It was a well-known fact that one Written Script of Ponyville High was a complete and utter ass. And before you even ask on species, no, he wasn't a donkey or a mule. He was just a jerk. A complete and utter jerk. There wasn't really a large circle of friends he had, not that he was annoyed by this. He would rather be left alone. Sadly for him, he did have a nice side much to his often at times disgust. This might have explained his tolerance of his cousin, Raindrops, and the fact that he adopted a young bat-pony by the name of Potion Bubbles out of the Ponyville Orphanage some years back. Personally, he put that last one done to pity, but Raindrops kept insisting much to his annoyance that he did have a heart of gold somewhere down in there, it was just buried deeper down than most.

“I swear if she says that my heart can grow a couple of sizes one more time…” Script thought to himself in his half-awake state. However, he was suddenly jolted awake by a sound anypony knew all too well.

BRING! BRING!

An alarm clock was hit with one downwards swing of a hoof, smashing it into a small pile of gears and springs, along with two little clock hands.

“Damn things... Why do they have to be so cheery? Not exactly the kind of thing your drowsy ears want to hear in the morning thank you very much.” Script grumbled largely to himself. Least it was summer now, meaning he didn't have to get up quite so early to teach.

Now, you may be wondering why somepony like him would teach when he just didn't like others. Well, one of the few reasons he was able to put up with others, was largely to teach them a bit of culture. Made him happy... Well, that was the reason it did, he kept telling himself. It wasn't like he had a heart of gold buried in him... right? Celestia above, he didn't hope so. Then he'd never hear the end of it from his arch-nemesis. Him, having a heart. Pah! He got enough mockery and scorn from Good Eats as it was.

Script was a light gray unicorn of about 35 years of age, give or take a year or so. He’d stopped counting honestly. The way he figured it, nopony gave one jot about him, so why what was the use in giving out his age? After all, wasn’t like anypony, aside from that one pink mare, was lining up outside his door to throw him a birthday party.

After walking to the bathroom, he grabbed some toothpaste and with his magic and poured it on a brush before popping it in his mouth. After a quick few minutes of back and forth, his teeth were clean and he sighed.

“Another day. Another day.” The pony thought to himself wearily. Sometimes wondered why he bothered getting up in the mornings this time of year. After all, wasn’t like there was anything noteworthy going on in his life half the time.

“I suppose I can chalk that up to my own stupidity… Maybe,” He continued to think as he pulled out a bottle of pills from below the sink, opened them up and popped a few in his mouth. Hopefully, they’d be enough to get him through the day. “But then again, I’m not alone in earning myself a life of misery. There’s always somepony else to blame.”

Script pulled on a bathrobe, a leftover from his previous... tenant for lack of a better term and slowly trudged downstairs, his purple mane in a mess and his eyes drooping. I’ll be honest with you, right out. There actually was a better term than tenant Script could have been using, but he preferred not to use it as it brought up far too many bad memories for his liking.

As he walked down to the kitchen, he passed a portrait of him and a white furred pony with a very curly purple mane. On both of their horns were small gold bands. Script’s eyes wandered briefly to it, but they soon whipped away from it as quick as they could. Honestly, he didn’t know why he still kept that thing up, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he would be getting those times back anytime soon.

Script went to the kitchen and started up the coffee pot and switched on the radio, letting older tunes fill his eardrums as the coffee began to boil. Script groaned at the lyrics, they seemed to be almost mocking him really.

“Lonesome loser, huh? Showed what some singers know,” Script thought to himself. “I’m not alone, and I’m not a loser. I’m actually quite happy with my life.”

A voice that sounded suspiciously like his cousin nagged “Are you really?”

“Oh shut up, don’t need you at this time of day. Or any other day really. Bad enough you claim I’m a nice stallion, which all evidence otherwise proves I’m not and be a bother in general in the real world, but in my head as well? Can’t you take a hint and do me and my sanity a favor and bugger on off?”

The voice sighed sadly.

“Oh Script…” It told him, sounding quite sorry for him. “You really should be listening to me more often. Might actually gain you her back.”

“Shut. It. She isn’t a prize to be won, even I know that. Last warning, are we clear?” Script growled out, his tone becoming far more menacing. He was just about to set himself down with his favorite drink when…

DING DONG!

Script groaned, both mentally and aloud. He needed his precious coffee, for crying out loud.

"Alright already, hold your horse-apples. I'm coming... I'm coming." He muttered, before going to the door and opening it. In front of him was a light gray mare, similar in coat color to him. She had two gold eyes that seemed to move about of their own accord and looked at everything but him. For whatever reason the Goddesses had decided, he just couldn't bring himself to be rude. Not even be snarky at that! Mind you, even if he had a glare on his face it just wouldn't have been very intimidating on him, as he was currently clad in a pink fluffy bathrobe. Oh, he hoped Good Eats didn't see him in this. There went his reputation, right out the window.

“So, what have you got? Got some coffee, and ...Yeah. Bit self-explanatory there I suppose.” He said sheepishly, with the sentence turning into a yawn soon after. Derpy blushed.

"Sorry." She told him.

“No, no need to be embarrassed on my account. Not worth your time, trust me,” He muttered. Derpy raised a eyebrow. She handed him the mail, and he looked through it quickly.

“Let's see... Bills, bills… Oh, look, more bills. Science Monthly, yeah that's Potion's. “Gossip For You”, thought I canceled that after the divorce…” He muttered.

Yeah, somepony actually did try and have a relationship with him. Mind you, it didn't end well. Imploded would be the best term. But oddly enough, while he was with somepony Script did actually become a bit nicer even complimenting ponies on rare occasions. But soon as the marriage was over... Bam, right back to square one with him. Sigmane Freud could probably have himself a field day, it was often said.

“Well, there are two letters for you, don’t know if you want to read them but-” Derpy began and Script sighed to himself.

“Just give them to me anyway,” Script grumbled out. “I’ll decide for myself if they’re a waste of paper and my time and then think about sending them to the incinerator.”

Derpy nodded at him, before handing him the pair of letters. Script audibly groaned when he saw the address. What he didn’t see was Derpy flying off, but briefly turning her head back at him to send him a look of pity.

“Don’t know why I’m even bothering to read this, but…” Script asked himself as he opened the letter. It read:

Spoiled Rich
999 Snob Hill
Ponyville

5th August 1003

Written Script
423 Friendship Lane
Ponyville

Dear Mr. Script:

How dare you imply that my daughter’s not intelligent! I bet she’s more intelligent than half of the students you claim to teach, but-

Script soon burned the letter in a flash of fire. Wasn’t even worth opening. “Bitchy mare.” He thought to himself. His eyes drifted to the other letter, which oddly enough was sent to him from Spoiled’s daughter. An apology letter perhaps? Script scoffed. Yeah right, not in a thousand years would Diamond Tiara apologize for anything. She was just like her mother and that was the end of that.